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This story is based on real life experience. Nobody in it is under 18 years of age. To set the scene, these events took place a good long time ago, long before porn videos and the internet instructed youngsters about sex, and anatomical awareness was, at best, hit and miss.
I got married too young. Who didn’t? The old story – seemed like a good idea at the time. Along came our lovely daughter, but my wife Joy got fatter and lost interest in sex – not that she’d ever had much. But then, I probably hadn’t helped, as my knowledge of the subject was gained from toilet walls – I was hardly God’s gift.
Jane was four when Joy and her nice but interfering mum took the three of them for a week at the seaside.
I went nervously to a party thrown by a guy I knew from the rugby club and his wife. Ann was there on her own, a quiet, slender girl in her early twenties with brown, shoulder-length hair and slightly crooked teeth. We danced together in the darkened room for much of the evening, then I gave her a lift home to a not-very-salubrious part of Leeds. When I leaned across to kiss her goodnight, she returned my kiss hungrily, snaking her slim arm around my neck. My sex-starved cock rose and stood to attention.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said breathlessly.
‘Can I see you again?’ I heard myself saying.
‘Why not? Come and call for me – at Nº 63 – next Wednesday night?’
‘OK,’ I said, giving her a card with my office number on ‘just in case she wanted a chat.’ I drove off, watching her scurrying off in my mirror, awkward in high heels nd tight skirt. I had never taken a positive step towards infidelity up to that point, though it would be wrong to say that it hadn’t crossed my mind – a guy in his early twenties who isn’t getting it – well…
Came the evening in question, and I invented a story about a meeting at the rugby club or something, and went along to collect Ann. I was dismayed when my knock on the door of Nº 63 was answered by a young guy wearing track suit bottoms and a white vest.
‘I’m looking for Miss Ann Steels,’ I said.
‘It’s Mrs Ann Steels. I’m her husband,’ replied the guy, with a scouse accent.
Muttering something about being from Social Services and having been misinformed, I left rather hurriedly, thinking that was that, and had a pint or two before making my disgruntled way home.
I was more than a little surprised, then, when our receptionist, Pat, yelled out that there was a call for me next morning. It was Ann – and to my further surprise, she sounded amused, rather than angry.
‘Sorry about last night,’ she said, ‘the bastard came home without telling me. How about Saturday night?’
I thought quickly. Joy usually went to her mother’s on Saturday nights, and I was playing cricket – first match of the season – so she wouldn’t expect me home anyway.
‘That would be great,’ I said, ‘but could we meet somewhere else?’ I didn’t relish running into hubby again.
‘OK,’ she chuckled, and we arranged to meet near the market. I got there early, and thought at first she was going to stand me up, then there she was, my first illicit date, tottering across the busy street in black suede stilettos, wearing a tight blue and white cotton print dress. When she got into my car, the dress rode up above her knees, which were sharp and bony, and asking to be touched. I have this thing about slender knees, and they felt so very good under my touch. Ann turned towards me and gave me her slightly crooked smile. I kissed her lightly.
‘Where to?’ I asked.
‘Somewhere nice and quiet,’ she replied. I could hardly believe my ears. I drove as quickly as I could out of the city bustle, and we were soon in quiet spring dusk, leafy lanes seeming to beckon me. I found an unmade road that looked promising, beside a copse of young trees, and pulled off it onto a patch of dried mud.
There was no real shyness about Ann as I took her in my arms and kissed her searchingly, slipping my tongue in between her teeth and finding no resistance, so that I wondered briefly just how used she was to this kind of thing. But then it didn’t matter any more, as she allowed me to help her over into the back seat, giggling at the awkwardness of the manoeuvre. We kissed again, and I ran my hand up under her skirt, its tightness restricting my movement.
‘Wait!’ she said, breathlessly, and struggled to pull the hem up, wriggling, and saying that she normally stepped into this dress, as it was so tight, and that she didn’t want to tear it. But soon it was around her waist, and in the dim interior light of the car, I could see that she was wearing a tiny pair of black lace panties. I didn’t have to work hard to take them off – she lifted her arse of the seat to help.
When I look back, with the experience of years, I shudder at the memory of my idea of foreplay in those days. A quick stroke at her moist crack while I struggled to pull on the dreaded condom, but then, her slim arm around Escort Çankaya my neck, she kissed me deeply, while using her free hand to guide my stiff, rampant rod into the welcome hot wetness of her cunt. She whimpered as I found her inner depths, then moaned, a pretty ‘Oh!’ at each stroke. I remembered thinking – so this is a fuck! Her slender legs wrapped around my buttocks, I thrust hard, shamefully few times, and, whether it was faked or not, I couldn’t tell, she screamed when I shuddered, stiffened, and filled the condom with as big a load as I had ever shot.
Afterwards, we went to a big soulless pub, and I found a coin on the carpet, which I still have to this day.
The following week, Ann was waiting for me when I rolled up at the same spot. She was wearing the same shoes, I noticed, but a short, pleated green skirt and a white blouse. I lost no time in driving to last week’s spot and it wasn’t even fully dark when we arrived. But Ann was a girl of few words and smiled her crooked smile as she got out and went around to the back seat without having to be asked to clamber over. When I joined her, she already had her blouse unbuttoned and I found that she was bra-less. Her small breasts were perky and firm under my hands, and I liked the way her nipples grew hard to my touch, and the way she groaned as I felt her. But I wanted to be inside her again, and reaching up under her skirt, I pulled down her panties – white silky ones tonight, I noticed. But when I fumbled for my wallet to produce a condom, she covered my hand with hers.
‘You don’t need that,’ she said, ‘and it’s nicer without.’
She pulled my stiff dick out of my trousers, fighting her way around my underpants, and flung herself back on the seat, legs wide apart, the musky smell of her sex filling my nostrils. I thrust myself within her, feeling the delicious sensation of her vaginal muscles gripping and releasing me as each stroke slid into her slippery depths, her moans heightening my pleasure so much that I couldn’t hold off for more than a very few plunging drives. Then I came, flooding her as she yelled my name and bit my neck ferociously. We stayed like that for a long time, and, when it was quite dark, I felt the stirrings of desire once more.
‘You’re getting hard again,’ she murmured in my ear, and then kissed me, working her tongue around my mouth irresistibly, at the same time reaching down to massage my cock as it emerged from her, so that she was giving me a simultaneous hand-job and fuck. This time, I made it last, of course, and, looking back, I think she must have had an orgasm, as she bucked, writhed and stiffened under me, shouting something unintelligible, as I again shot my load inside her.
Little did I know when I dropped her off outside her home that I should never meet Ann again. Although we arranged to meet the following week – same time, same place – I got a bout of ‘flu and was laid up, with no number to call her on. I was desperate to see her again, of course. When I went up to her house one evening, and waited across the street, not wanting to run into her husband again, my heart leapt as I saw her come out of the gate, wearing the same tight blue and white dress she had worn that first time. But then she looked nervously up and down the street, trotted along a short way, and slid into the passenger seat of a grey Rover. As it drove off, I saw her pecking the black-haired, well-dressed driver on the cheek.
I went back to some semblance of married life. I had a disastrous flirtation with a nurse after a dance one night, when I simply couldn’t get it up. My wife had stopped asking me where I went when I had a late night, and separation was only delayed by our daughter, whom I loved dearly. I worked in a small builder’s office – not exactly a place for vast reserves of crumpet, but the receptionist, Jill, prim and proper at first sight, had a certain something. I started going slightly out of my way to give her a lift home after work – no, I’ll be honest, it was well out of my way! One night, she said, ‘Keep doing this, and people will put two and two together and make five.’
I remember replying, ‘Five’s not such a bad score, is it?’ – and then we were in a clinch, kissing hungrily. I had to wait, though, until her period was over, then, when I was supposed to be at a rugby match, we had a not enormously satisfactory shag in the car beside a reservoir, on a bleak, cold afternoon in December. My liaison with Jill didn’t last long – I found out later that I was one of a great many who had fallen into her web, and that her husband had turned out to be gay. But she did introduce me to her friend Jenny – ‘You’ll just love her!’ she told me. Jenny was a tall, willowy girl, with a ready smile, legs to die for, and an insatiable sexual appetite, as I soon found out. Having had a bad experience with the violent father of her two-year-old son, she was living with her mum, on the outskirts of town. She had to keep her mum sweet to ensure Çankaya Escort that her babysitting duties continued.
The very first date I had with Jenny, I had agreed to give her a lift from her cousin’s house some distance away. It was dark, raining, as usual, and chilly.
‘I don’t need to go straight home,’ she said, an invitation if ever there was one. I found a quiet lane to turn down.
‘The back seat’ll be better,’ she said, before I could, and scrambled over. Her tongue was searching my mouth as soon as I joined her, and she helped me with the buttons of her blouse, then reached behind her and unclasped her bra, so that her small breasts were free, nipples hardening under my fumbling fingers. I ran a hand up her long, long thigh, hooking fingers over the top of her tights as her woollen skirt rode up, and she co-operatively raised her bum from the seat to help as I pulled the offending garment down to her knees. The pungent scent of her sex filled the car as I felt the hot wetness of her crack, and she moaned as my fingers parted her labia and flicked at her clitoris, then plunged deep into her sopping cunt. Meanwhile, she had dragged down my zipper and wrestled out my eager, stiff, weapon. She guided me into her, making a murmuring groan as she did so, and her vagina was the only place in the world for me at that moment. It didn’t seem to matter to Jenny that I couldn’t make it last long, but, after I gushed torrents into her, she locked me inside her with her legs around my back, laughing gently, and saying, ‘You’re not going anywhere just yet, love!’ And I didn’t, not until I had cum again, only perhaps fifteen minutes later, slower and less frenzied perhaps, this time.
I knew it was time to leave home then – I could no longer live a complete lie, and, making access arrangements to see my daughter, I moved out to live in a flat, not too far away from Jenny’s mum’s.
I was wondering just what I had done, and feeling, I suppose, a bit low, when I picked Jenny up from where she worked as a part-time secretary.
‘Turn off here!’ she said, on the way home, and I drove up a quiet road, until she told me to pull in – a space for only one car, so that, although the occasional vehicle passed, we weren’t going to be disturbed. After leaning over and kissing me briefly, she immediately pulled down the zipper on my trousers. My cock responded, and was already stiffening when she extracted it. Then she did something nobody had done to me up to that moment, swiftly bending, and taking me in her lips, looking up at me as she did so.
‘Oh Jenny!’ I breathed, ‘I’m going to…I mean, I can’t…’
Coming up for air, she said, ‘It’s alright, love, its alright!’ and resumed sucking my whole length, giving me a new sensation so delicious I could scarcely believe it. I still felt ashamed when I came copiously in her mouth, but she showed no sign of not having enjoyed the experience, merely wiping her lips with the back of her hand, and murmuring, ‘Mmmm, perhaps you can return the compliment soon.’ I struggled, in my naïveté, to grasp her meaning, but just knew that she was something special.
My chance to ‘return her compliment’ came quite soon. Jenny came to help me organise my pathetically few belongings in my new flat. It was a chilly night, so I plugged in the electric fire I had rescued, and dug out a bottle of whisky, then laid out a sheepskin rug in front of the fire. We sat and sipped cheap scotch as we thawed out, after unloading the firm’s van I had borrowed. I leant over to take her in my arms, but she pushed me away. ‘No, wait!’ she said, and got up to go to the bathroom. Having done much of the unloading, she knew I had a robe hanging behind the bathroom door, and she was wearing it when she returned – and, as I soon discovered, nothing else.
She squatted beside me in the warm glow of the firelight.
‘This is better than the back of your car,’ she remarked, as I pulled her into my arms to kiss her, then, exploring, found her bare breasts just waiting to be fondled. I bent down and kissed them then, taking a hardening nipple between my teeth, which wrung a gasp from her, then she was pushing my head gently downwards, so that I traced her slim body, down past her ribs, to the flatness of her stomach, down, down to the soft fuzz of her triangle, until I tasted, for – shamefully – the first time, the bittersweet flavour of femininity, and explored with my lips and tongue the mysterious folds of her crack. She guided me, hands either side of my head, as I traced her outer lips, ands when I plunged my tongue in between them, she obligingly opened her legs wide, and groaned with evident pleasure, as I invaded the hot wet depths of her cunt. I soon discovered that what she liked best was when I lapped the whole length of her slit, from her little puckered arsehole to her clit, and back again, making her writhe and moan as I did so. She pushed me away, and I thought I’d hurt her, but she said, ‘I want you inside Çankaya Escort Bayan me love, now!’
I lay back, where she had shoved me, and she dragged my rampant prick out of my trousers with some difficulty – I was hard as a rock. Then, without further ado, she straddled me, impaling herself on me so that I was deeper inside her soaking cunt than I had ever been. She flung her head back and rode me, controlling me with agile vaginal muscles, then screamed as if being murdered when I could hold off no longer, and we collapsed, completely spent. ‘Thank Christ my landlady’s gone to bingo tonight,’ I laughed, ‘or she’d have been knocking at the door, for sure.’
After that, we used my flat quite a lot for our encounters, having a quick fuck at lunchtimes several times a week, which was quite a feat in Jenny’s brief lunch-break, though I could easily ‘lose’ myself for an hour during the day, as I had sites to visit.
Then she announced one day that her Mum had agreed to baby-sit for a whole weekend for her , and she had told her she was going to spend it with a school friend in York. I took a hard look at my bank account, which was having a tough time coping with maintenance payments, and decided I could just about afford a night in a half-decent hotel. ‘Let’s go to Harrogate!’ I suggested, on the phone that morning, and when we met at lunchtime, she showed me a sheer, brief, orange-coloured baby-doll nightie with tiny matching panties she had just bought for the occasion. The idea of sleeping with Jenny beside me appealed greatly, especially when she gave me a sly sort of half-smile, and said, ‘We can try something new, if you like.’ I guess I had long known that she had a deal more experience than I had, but I didn’t resent that at all.
We didn’t think much to the stuffy hotel restaurant – ‘Christ, the waiter’s wearing gloves!’ said Jenny, so we went round the corner to a very ordinary Chinese and ate very little anyway – eager to get to bed – or I certainly was.
I sat on the bed, just in my shorts, while Jenny took an age in the bathroom. It was worth waiting for. Her long, long legs looked longer and slimmer than ever under the briefest of nighties, and the tiny transparent panties were tied at the sides with big bows – just asking to be tugged open. I tugged. She backed away, though. ‘Don’t let’s rush, darling,’ she said, ‘let’s dance.’ The room had piped music on three channels, and she chose one that seemed to suit – slow rock, I think it was – and started to sway to it, as I got up to join her, the bulge in my shorts showing clearly my excitement.
Jenny soon had her hand down the front of my shorts and was stroking my vibrant cock. Then she wanted better access, and eased the waistband down so that they were around my knees. Laughing gently, she slid onto the bed, and I lost no time in joining her. Quickly she guided me into her and I felt the now faamiliar hot wetness of her cunt enveloping me as I lost myself in her sensual embrace. I came too soon, as I knew I should, but it was soon after that that I knew a new sensation. Slowly and deliberately, making sure I was watching, she took her long, manicured index finger into her mouth, then reached around my back and, without any announcement, pushed it deep into my arsehole, still watching my face intently.
‘Oh, that hurts!’ I said, squirming a little, but feeling something completely new and unfamiliar.
‘I know it does,’ she said, ‘but you’ll learn to like it.’
‘Yes, darling – I know.’
‘So you…you want…?’
‘Yes, love, I want.’
So this was her ‘something new?’ I was already hard again, moving gently, as she wrapped those long legs around me, the sensation of that long finger scratching the tender tissues up my arsehole staying with me after she had withdrawn it. I sought her little puckered hole to return the compliment, and when my own finger penetrated her, she groaned with intense pleasure and dug her nails into my back as I thrust my throbbing weapon deep, deep within her, pounding her, my finger keeping close company with my cock, until she screamed , and raked my back painfully as I came, a great gushing spout, into her very soul.
When I awoke, it was full daylight, and Jenny was sat up beside me, looking at the alarm clock she had brought. I reached out for her, but she pushed me away. ‘No, wait,’ she said, and trotted off naked to the en-suite bathroom – still a luxury in those days. She seemed to be gone an age, and when she returned, she was wearing the baby-doll top again. I thought she looked lovely. She grinned at me a bit sheepishly, as she grabbed her pillow and the cushion from a chair near the bed, and placed on top of the other, halfway up the bed, then crawled carefully on top of them, face down, her belly supported by the height of the cushion. Impatiently, she pulled at my arm, so that I slid around behind her, as she pulled my own pillow over to lay her head on. It was only then that I understood. Knees wide apart, both her hands were behind her now, pulling the cheeks of her arse apart, and I could see that she had smeared some colourless gel around her anus, where what had last night seemed to be a tiny little, puckered hole, now gaped appealingly.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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