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Let’s start out with a joke this time, to evoke a light-hearted mood.
The guy goes to the check-out counter of the supermarket with a salad for one, a pre-wrapped sandwich, and one can of soda.
The cute young clerk eyes his purchase and says to him, “You’re single?” The customer grins and nods his head. “You can tell by my meal, huh?”
And the girl says, “No, you’re fuckin’ ugly.”
It was that round, tight, perfectly sculptured bubble ass that caught my eye in aisle six of the Food Lion in Fairfax, Virginia.
I saw her for the first time on Labor Day weekend, and it was one of those rare occasions when you just can’t help but to stop in your tracks and gape. It helped that I saw her from behind, and what a behind! The bottom of her ass cheeks were peeking out from beneath an almost obscenely small pair of baby blue short shorts as she leaned over to peruse an item on the shelf. My immediate thought was that she had to be around my own age with a fit body like that, early thirties I guessed, as I couldn’t see the front of her yet. She had a light brown, almost auburn page-boy hair cut that stopped just above the shoulders, and the shoulders were toned, exposed by the thin spaghetti straps on her tank top.
Her back was almost muscular, and in my humble opinion, the back is a feature of a woman that is overlooked by most men while enjoying many of the other natural beauties of a woman, kind of like an inexperienced fisherman tossing back a smaller, tastier fish in a quest for larger aquatic treats. Sometimes, you have to enjoy the smaller, more subtle pleasures, and this beauty’s back, combined with that taut bubble ass, were causing an instant zucchini in my own khaki shorts. I guessed she was a former gymnast, and as it turned out, I was close enough. Ice-skater was her former hobby, albeit several decades ago, at least on a professional level.
She turned suddenly, perhaps sensing someone’s presence, and she first glanced at my face, curled up in a rather silly smile of appreciation, but then her gaze turned just as quickly to my crotch, where there was no disguising the intent there. Busted!
I saw her face for the first time, and it was clear that her backside belied her chronological age. Though very pretty, her face had some lines and wrinkles that, surprisingly to me, only caused her to appear even more sexy. Her dark eyes seared unemotionally into my crotch like a laser.
My mouth opened in an attempt to find something witty and charming to say, but before I could do so, her lips curled in almost a disgusted sneer, her eyes never leaving my crotch. She turned back to the item of her attention, which was clearly not my cock, leaning even farther over now, causing the shorts to stretch almost half-way up her butt, and I was inexplicably overcome with mortification. I turned on the heels of my sandals and my hard-on and I scurried down the aisle, with me secretly cursing my erect member under my breath. “Well, dickhead, you got me in trouble again, can’t you EVER show any restraint?”
Busted and rejected, and I hadn’t even swung the bat. On my next several trips to this Food Lion, I eased tentatively down the aisle, hurrying in and out, such was the trepidation I harbored of seeing her again. I really pondered going to another supermarket, but what the hell, this was so convenient, almost right across the street from my townhouse complex, so I just ‘grinned and bore it’, so to speak.
It had to be over a month later when I was back on perhaps my fourth or fifth visit since that fateful day, and by now, I was pretty much assured that I would never see her again, when I heard a sultry voice over my shoulder in that very same aisle six. “What, no smile today for me?” I turned, just KNOWING, without really knowing, that it was her.
This time, it was she that greeted me with a smile, but I confess I lingered on her mature, confident face only long enough to again notice the dark eyes, but this time, I saw the hint of some freckles that had the beginnings of age spots on her cheeks and nose. This only added to her sexiness, but the fact that she had on a tight brown cotton sweater that accentuated a pair of full, disproportionately big tits on that petite, barely five-foot-frame frame certainly added to the allure exponentially. She wore faded jeans this time, and though she was facing me, I instantly envisioned what that marvelous butt of hers looked like encased in tight denim.
Once again, I was betrayed by the less-than-little guy in my own jeans, and once again, her gaze inched downward to that very spot. Only this time, she did not turn away. In fact, she smiled, and put her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue in mock petulance.
“My, my, is that a zucchini in your pants or are you just glad to see me?”
Her sense of humor served as an immediate source of comfort as well as an aphrodisiac, as if I needed more incentive to lust after this beautiful creature perhaps fifteen or twenty years my senior. I had always had a thing for older women, ever since my encounter maybe ten izmit rus escort years ago with my sexual mentor, Beth (see ‘Story Time’). Turns out, Brenda, which was this woman’s name, later admitted to me that she had never before had a lover so young, so our collision of worlds in aisle six resulted in quite the fortuitous mating of libidos.
We chatted for a bit, and I found out that she was indeed a former ice-skater who had never quite made it to the Olympics back in the eighties, but she channeled her love for sport and fitness into a career both as a fitness trainer and a coach of gymnastics and swimming at a local university in Northern Virginia.
She commented on my nearly empty shopping cart, and I told her the joke which started this little story, and she tossed back her head and giggled delightedly before looking at me intently with those ‘come-fuck-me-dark-eyes’ of hers and said, “Well, you may be single,” glancing at my finger which had no ring, “But you’re far from fuckin’ ugly. To the contrary. Why do you think I approached you?”
“I thought it was to arrest me, quite honestly, after my behavior last time,” I confessed.
Her eyes blazed into mine, resulting in the dual effect on me of both anxiety and arousal.
“You only made one mistake last time.” She waited for my reaction, but I just turned my palms upwards in the universal unspoken gesture that says, “I have no fucking idea what you mean, please help me.” Or something like that.
She continued, “You weren’t bold enough.” She licked her lips seductively.
“I like bold.” She stepped closer to me, so that our bodies almost touched, oblivious to other customers in the aisle.
“I like it when a man takes control, is confident.”
She was so close now that her ample tits rubbed against my chest, and she lifted her face up to my own. “Kiss me.”
I leaned down, not really caring who might be watching this blatant, impromptu seduction of a man and woman almost a generation apart in age, with the intent of kissing her lightly and softly, but she took her hand and wrapped it around the back of my head, and her tongue snaked down my throat hungrily, eagerly. Her warm, wet tongue traversed my mouth, the hot, wet kiss of a knowledgeable and ambitious woman, a unique type of kiss that I hadn’t quite experienced until then, and certainly not in the cereal aisle.
Brenda released the kiss after perhaps twenty seconds, which seemed like an eternity, and the soccer mom nearest to us took her Cheerios and hustled in the opposite direction. “You can really kiss, wow, you passed the first test with an A-plus,” Brenda panted huskily.
I struggled to regain both my breath and composure after the surprise interlude, as Brenda leaned into me and whispered into my ear, “How would you like to come at dinner tonight at my place?”
I was confused at her choice of syntax, and clumsily tried to rephrase her inquiry. “Do you mean come to dinner at your place?”
She frowned slightly, subtlety rubbing her pelvis against my own, grinding her hard body into me so that I could feel the soft heat emanating from beneath her jeans. “No, silly boy, I said it correctly. How would you like to come AT dinner?”
She gave me her address, which was only two blocks from my own unit, and directed me to be there in forty-five minutes. As I watched her amazing, rounded fifty-one-year-old ass wriggle up the aisle, I called to her, “Um, should I bring anything?”
She stopped, turned, and looked down to my crotch again. “Yes, it’s a BYOZ party.”
She laughed at her own joke and at my puzzled expression, before clarifying. “Bring your own zucchini.”
I had made a decision in that subsequent forty-five minutes. If she liked bold, well, bold she shall get. Even though her brazen ambition had me on my heels in the grocery store, it was also a truism that I had about seven-and-a-half inches of hard confidence that I packed within my own jeans, and dammit, I was not afraid to use it. Also, through the grace of God, he had blessed me with stamina that one of my many former girlfriends had once termed ‘Superhuman’. Still relatively naive in such matters, I assumed it was natural for all men to be able to sustain a hard-on for hours and after several ejaculations, but the frequency of my repeat carnal business from women soon reinforced otherwise. Apparently, I was quite the swordsman, I was beginning to realize. I had been so focused on my work lately that I didn’t absorb that it had been several months for me without sex. The combination of my own pent-up sexual energy and Brenda’s was going to result in a carnal rendezvous for the ages on this night.
I knocked on Brenda’s door, resisting the urge to use my throbbing hard-on, which easily could have achieved the task. She opened the door adorned in white lingerie from head-to-toe, fishnet stockings held up by a garter belt, with a white string thong over the garters (for easy dispersal, I learned soon enough), and an ivory lace underwire push-up bra which made her chest look huge on her izmit escort compact torso. Since food was the theme tonight, I analogized that her tits looked like ripe, firm cantaloupes. She had on a pair of four-inch fuck-me pearly white stilettos. She held a small device in her hand, and did a small pirouette as she grabbed me and pulled me through the vestibule, permitting me a panoramic three-sixty-degree view of her smokin’ body. If AARP had a contest for a poster woman, she would have won, hands down. Ninety-eight pounds of pure dynamite wrapped in a fifty-plus package, a mini-Raquel Welch.
I desperately had to have my hard cock deep in that anal cavity, and soon, I decided. I’d only fucked two women anally in my life, yet I knew that this woman would teach me many tricks to facilitate my sexual continuing education this evening.
She closed the door and pushed me against it, kissing me deeply once again, shoving her tongue into me urgently, exhibiting her desire to take control immediately, and for now, I was a willing passenger. I groped down and out of curiosity reached for the instrument in her tiny hand, and determined that it was a vibrator of some sort. I leaned back and looked at her inquiringly and asked, “What’s this?”. I fondled the small instrument in her palm.
“This is a rabbit, John, I thought it would be nice to have as an appetizer.” She led me by the hand into her living room and eased me onto her plush couch. “Have you ever had rabbit?” She stood in front of me and peeled her thong to one side and eased the device into her glistening folds, and the small hum of the vibrator mixed with her soft squeals before she extracted it from her cunt after a few seconds and then offered it to me, pushing it to my lips. “Tastes like chicken, try it.”
I sucked on the vibrator’s cock-shaped head, now covered with her sweet nectar, and she moaned delightedly as she observed my enjoyment of her juices. She knelt in front of me as she took the vibrator back into her own hand, savoring her own taste as she wrapped her lips around the shaft of the rabbit. “Sometimes, it pays to have varied taste in cuisine, don’t you think, John?” She eased my hips up off the couch and began to nibble at the buckle of my belt. “I like to be hands-free when it comes to removing certain items, you won’t mind if this takes a little longer, I hope?”
For the next several agonizing minutes, she tugged at my belt, successfully tugging the belt through each of the belt loops around my waist, and then, dramatically, took the entire leather belt between her teeth and spit it out on the floor at my feet. My penis was now literally dancing within my jeans, titanium hard, such was the erotic show. The encore was when she took the button between her lips and sucked it out of the small slit in the waistband, and she next took the denim in her mouth and began to tug it downward, slowly, like a puppy in a game of tug-of-war. Except she was meeting no resistance from me.
Finally, excruciatingly, my member popped free from the jeans once they reached mid-thigh, and my blood-engorged manhood slapped against her small, pretty face. I’m not sure which one of us got more excited upon seeing my girth virtually cover the entire length of her face, but I groaned lightly as she gasped in delight, finally taking my shaft within her tiny palms, which served the purpose of making my cock look even larger.
“This is what I’ve been waiting for, my God, it’s beautiful,” she gushed, admiring the view with her lust-filled almond eyes. “I’m going to use this cock for my pleasure all night, just as you’re going to use my tight body for your pleasure.” She stopped at gazed at me for emphasis. “In all of my holes.”
I raised my butt from the couch, simply as an altruistic, gentlemanly gesture, you understand, and pulled the jeans off of my ankles, and sat there naked from the waist down. She reached back again for the rabbit with one hand, and began to caress my testicles with the humming little pseudo-mammal, and with the other, she took a glass of chilled chardonnay from the coffee table, and brought it to my cock, dipping my shaft into the glass, covering it with the wine. She must fancy a nutty chardonnay, I surmised.
Brenda swirled the wine-filled glass around my cock for several seconds, as if allowing the wine to properly breathe (on my cock, that is), and looked up at me, obviously proud of her seduction thus far, and inquired, “Is the glass cold, baby?”
I again thought of an old joke and replied, “Yeah, and deep, too!”
When she removed the glass from my cock, she placed the glass back on the coaster within reach and began a surprisingly, soft, slow, gentle, oral massage of my cock, augmenting her sucking and licking with the thrill of the vibrator that sensuously caressed my balls. As frantically as he kissed, her blow-job technique was just the opposite, she took her time and savored my taste, still never using her hands. One hand expertly manipulated the rabbit’s increasingly erotic sensation on my nuts, and the other dipped to her own crotch and she teasingly kocaeli escort massaged her own clit as she sucked me.
She gradually lowered the rabbit’s head to that incredibly sensitive area between the base of my shaft and the top of my anus, and she must have accelerated the speed of the device, for it began to hum louder and flicker against my pubic bone, causing me to get even harder, though I truly did not think it was possible.
When she ran the rabbit head over the rim of my asshole, my balls literally ached and began to tremble like a mini-volcano, and sensing my impending release, she began to take her mouth and wrap it tightly around my cock shaft, not harder, just tighter, and her tongue tickled my cock head.
Just before I exploded, with impeccable timing, she released her mouth from my cock and reached for the glass of chardonnay once more, and she eased the tip of the vibrator head into my ass. Immediately upon insertion, torrents of my hot, warm, creamy seed shot directly into the wine glass which she had placed on the tip of my cock, and I watched, mesmerized, as I shot load after load my semen into the glass, and watched it mix with the wine like an eerie science experiment. I had never imagined anything remotely close to this, nor could I have conjured up such a clever and unique gesture, and the more I was amazed, the more I came and came, an ejaculation that I have not since replicated.
Brenda mercifully extracted the rabbit from my anus and placed one finger into the wine-glass, swirling it so that the milky cum on the surface began to mix with the less dense wine below it, and she brought it to her lips and took a long gulp. My cock still twitched and pulsed and shivered as I watched her tilt her head back, swallow, and then bring her mouth to the glass again, and she licked the rim, snaking her pink tongue around the top, and then took another deep swig. Her cheeks were swollen due to the cocktail double of wine and cum in her mouth, and she brought her lips to my own, slithered her tongue inside my mouth like a tiny jaws-of-life, and eased the tangy liquid combo into my own mouth as she lowered her hand to vigorously rouse my cock, shaking loose any last vestiges of sperm.
I could clearly taste my own cum mixed with the chardonnay, and I won’t even try to disguise the reality that I liked it, although I’ve not since been able to procure that vintage anywhere else. “Um, excuse me, garcon, I don’t see it on your wine list, but do you have a bottle of 1991 Cum of Some Young Guy, perchance?”
Turnabout is fair play, as they say, and I took the impromptu ‘shot glass’ from her hand, picked her up in one motion, flipped her lithe body onto the couch, and gripped the tiny strand of silk that covered her pussy and pulled it tautly, deeply into her steamy snatch, causing her to yelp in delighted surprise, and poured the remains of the cum-filled wine glass onto her belly button.
We watched together as the COCK-tail dripped down her stomach, going downstream in the small crevice of her tight belly, easing over the slight triangular wisp of auburn-colored pubic hair that topped her slit like a Christmas tree ornament, finally oozing beneath the stretched fabric digging into her cunt, with small currents running into her asshole. I pulled the thong even more tightly into her cunt, causing her inner labia to fold around the fabric like a blooming flower, and began to ever so softly lap the wine off of the very sensitive area just on top of her mons and finally let my tongue graze over the very tip of her swollen clit, peeking from beneath her hood on the side of the thong.
I lapped at the nectar as I pulled her legs apart lewdly, placing one of her limber legs on the arm of the couch, and I began to reciprocate the gentle, unhurried, oral assault on her wonderful, clean, tight and vulnerable pussy. My tongue explored her outer labia first, and I watched the six-pack wiggle and heave as I stuck my tongue into her hole, tongue-fucking her gently, lightly, making sure that she understood that I was going to duplicate her own ‘hands-free’ technique, and that I was going to prolong and control her inevitable release just oh, so shy of the brink of carnal torture, teetering on the edge of frustration and ecstasy.
For the next twenty minutes or so, I blatantly ignored her verbal exhortations to use my fingers to fuck her, to make her cum, to suck her clit, and instead, I leisurely nibbled and sucked on her exquisite inner thighs, occasionally letting my head drift southward to giver her anus a brief rim licking, before starting my ascent upwards again to blow my hot breath onto the distended flaps of her cunt, savoring her flowing juices the entire time.
She was nearly frantic with the overwhelming need to cum by now, which was exactly the reaction that I wanted to evoke. I gazed up from my vantage point between her legs, my tongue licking at her pink vaginal jowls, and was pleased to see that her eyes were shut and her hands hung onto the pillows on the couch in a death grip. I raised my head from her cunt and whispered to her, “Look at me.” She either ignored or did not hear my whispered plea due to her own groaning, so I repeated my demand, louder this time. Her eyes finally opened, and she looked down at me with glassy, tear-filled pupils.
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