The pretty freshman, now all tuckered out, fell asleep next to me. I was elated. Deep down, though, I probably realized that I could never keep a girl like that for very long.
Even so, it was a shock when I called her the next week to arrange a date and found her cold and distant. She brushed me off by telling me that she had an appointment with her teaching assistant. Well, good luck to him, the bastard!—
G.V., Sacramento, California
BOTH SHE AND HER RECORDS WERE GOLDEN OLDIES, BUT THEY STILL MADE GREAT MUSIC
I’m a thirty-five-year-old man, and my girlfriend and I have been going together for three years. Rachel and I have always had a good sex life and to this day I have no complaints. Rachel is tall and sleek and has lots of long dark hair. She also has a very large, very close Jewish family that meets all the time for parties, holidays and just for the hell of it.
One of the key figures in this family is Rachel’s aunt Sybil. I often got paired with Sybil at holiday dinners, because we share an interest in old records, and we hit it off in spite of the vast difference in our ages. Sybil is in her early sixties, and is the antithesis of Rachel; she’s on the short side, and still has a fleshy kind of sexiness, with big breasts and powerful hips. She has dyed red hair, and she likes to show herself off in classic open-toed high heels and old-fashioned dresses that show off her bosom. Though she never married, she has a reputation in the family for having led a pretty wild life when she was young.
The last time the family got together for Passover, I was seated next to Sybil as usual, and we sat talking and laughing together for a long time after everybody else had moved to the other room. As we talked I couldn’t help being very aware of Sybil’s still highly attractive body. The dress she was wearing gave me a constant view down her capacious cleavage, where I could see the tops of her lacy bra cups, which just barely contained those great breasts. In addition, the hem of her dress had ridden up a bit, showing off a lot of stocking top, and her still firm and solid thighs. Hard as I tried not to stare, I couldn’t help myself, and I knew that Sybil was aware of it. To my surprise, all this flamboyant fleshiness, plus her closeness and the way she had of constantly touching the person she as speaking to, was getting me very turned on, and I had to make an attempt to hide the growing bulge in my trousers.
Sybil is too sharp not to notice such a thing. I saw her eyes flick over my crotch, just before she smiled at me knowingly and asked, “So how’s your sex life with Rachel these days?”
A little embarrassed, I replied that it was fine. “That’s good,” Sybil said, still smiling. “Life without good sex—” She shrugged. “What’s the point? But then, you’re a good-looking man, you know that. And I have always loved the company of a good-looking man. So listen, you want to come over some afternoon and listen to those old Patti Page records I’ve got?”
I couldn’t believe it. I was being openly propositioned by my girlfriend’s sixty-two-year-old aunt! I said I would like to very much.
Later on, feeling pangs of guilt, I mentioned to Rachel that Sybil and I had made a date to listen to some old records. Rachel couldn’t care less about old records. “Good,” she said. “Do it. She needs the entertainment.” Little did my sweet lady know just what she was approving.
So I went over to Sybil’s place one afternoon, and she opened the door to me in one of her great old dresses, which still fit her as though it had been poured on. She could have been a famous movie goddess, a bit on in years but still sexy as hell. She poured me a drink, put Patti Page on the turntable, sat herself down next to me on the couch, put her lips to mine and slid her tongue into my mouth. It was all over for me right there. I was hard in an instant, and now I found myself making out with a woman almost thirty years my senior.
Sybil was an expert at making out. She knew how to move against me as we kissed so that it drove me crazy, and within minutes I was running my hand inside her low-cut dress and feeling a long, hard nipple inside the bursting bra cup. She let out a little purr, and I can’t tell you how sexy it was to hear it, while my fingers kneaded that delicious nipple. The way her thighs worked against mine I could tell she was getting very turned on indeed.
I slid the top of her dress down then, and undid the front of her black lacy brassiere. A pair of the most beautiful breasts I’d ever seen dropped into view, and I sucked one large hardening nipple like a man possessed, while she writhed beneath me.
While I sucked her nipple I moved my hand down to the hem of her dress and slid it up the inside of her warm, full thigh. My fingers moved up, encountered the garter straps at the top of her stockings, and moved on to her hot, moist cunt. She was wearing garters but no panties. I gasped again as her hand adroitly undid my trousers and slid them down so that my cock popped up into view. Her fingers caressed it lightly. “Just beautiful,” she breathed into my ear. “Would you like me to suck it, darling?”
“God,” I said breathlessly. “Would I!”
And in a moment this sixty-year-old sexpot was kneeling between my thighs and giving me the blowjob of my life while I caressed those massive breasts. Sybil knew how to bring me right to the point of coming, then make me wait. When I thought I couldn’t take it any more, she said in a low voice, “So what do you say we fuck now?”
She led me into her bedroom, with its king-size bed, and I undressed her, piece by piece, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor, dropping her slip and bra, till she was standing in her pearl necklace, her garter belt and stockings and high heels.
“What would you like?” she smiled.
“I want to lick you,” I said.
So Sybil sat on the edge of the bed and spread those beautiful thighs, and I dove between them and lapped up her delicious juices. Sybil wrapped her legs agilely around my head while I did that, locking her stockinged ankles behind it. Then she started to come, letting out deeper and deeper moans, her hips twisting and spasming convulsively.
“Fuck me now,” she whispered harshly. “Fuck me with that beautiful cock of yours.”
We slid together onto the bed like practiced lovers. She braced her high heels against the sheet and spread her stockinged thighs wide as I eased my cock into that fabulous, experienced cunt. Sybil had a gift that I’d never encountered in any other woman: her cunt could suck you like a full, thick-lipped mouth, while swallowing you down more easily than the most talented throat. But just as with her blowjobs, she knew when to slack off, and how to keep you going and going and going. Licking her lips, her eyes misting and her cheeks deeply flushed from her orgasms, she must have come a dozen times as I reamed her with powerful strokes. One of her hands was down between my legs, caressing my balls and my ass and the base of my cock as it moved in and out of her. I’d never felt anything like it in twenty years of fucking.
At one point she flipped herself over and had me give it to her from behind. After a few minutes of that she effortlessly rolled back. “Come now, come,” she breathed, drawing me down to her and enfolding me in her arms. I let out a yell as I plunged deep into that bottomless wet cunt and poured out an endless, hot river of come. Sybil cried out and convulsed beneath me, her suctioning cunt squeezing every last drop out of my spasming cock.
“Well,” Sybil panted, “wasn’t that a nice way to spend a pleasant afternoon?” If I’d had the strength to talk, I would have agreed with her.
Patti Page had long since sung herself out on the turntable when Sybil took my now limp dick into her mouth and got me hard again, and I shot a load of come down her eager throat. Later still, as she was letting me out at the door, she said, “Maybe we’ll do Theresa Brewer next time, yes, darling? It’s so nice to share the old music with you.”—
Name and address withheld
IF THIS IS HOW WAITRESSES SERVE THEIR CUSTOMERS IN PORTUGAL, WE’RE ON OUR WAY
While on my way home from a long European business trip, I stopped for a few days in Lisbon, treating myself to a boutique hotel with a bar on the roof terrace, overlooking the ancient Portuguese city and harbor. On my first night at the bar I noticed the waitress right away. She seemed Portuguese, but not as conservative as most of the women of that country. She had long, very black hair pulled back in a bun, and dark mischievous eyes in her exotic face.
Because of my traveling and the cares of business, it had been two months since I’d had sex, and after a couple of drinks I was feeling ready for something more than cocktails.
The more I looked at the woman, the more inviting her glances became. When she brought over my last drink, I noticed she had turned the lights out and closed the door to the bar. I was the only customer left.
“You’re closing up—do I have to leave?” I asked.
She shook her head and put a sexy CD on the sound system, the music spilling into the warm night air.
I could hardly believe it when she walked over to me and started unbuttoning her oversize blouse. The high, full breasts that had been hidden under the big shirt now gleamed in the moonlight. I pushed my chair back as she reached me, and ran my hands under her long flowing skirt, my fingers exploring her long muscular legs. As I slid my hands upward, her skirt gathered around her waist, and the higher I reached, the more skin my fingers discovered. She wore nothing underneath—no underwear, no barrier to her tight round bottom.
She moved closer and swung her leg over mine. Nearly panting, I looked up at her, never releasing my gentle hold on her ass as it came into contact with my jeans and growing hard-on. When she straddled me her breasts landed right at mouth level. I took one rosy nipple into my mouth and suckled, pulling at it with my lips and twirling my tongue around the hardened bud.
Her head fell to my shoulder and she moaned softly in my ear, gently grabbing my lobe with her lips.
I lifted her up and shifted her mound onto my erection. She grabbed my jeans and worked the fly open. My cock sprang free, and the naked flesh brushed against her vagina. It was hot and wet.
I stood up quickly and sat her in the chair. She gasped and smiled. I kissed the smile as I slid one finger into her inviting opening. It was juicy and tight. I pulled her to the edge of the chair and put my head between her smooth tan legs. They tightened around my ears when my tongue found her clit. She groaned and arched her back, throwing her head back and pulling the remaining pins from her hair. I could sense she was close to climaxing, and she called out in Portuguese, “please … please …”
“Please what?” I lifted my head to ask.
“Please, now,” she begged. Her eyes were wide and her face flushed. The trace of cockiness she had displayed when coming on to me had disappeared. She was a woman needing to be fucked.
I pushed my jeans down and grabbed the arms of the chair on either side of her. I wanted to slam into her juicy core, but held back, rhythmically bumping the head of my rocket against her slick portal.
Frenzied with lust, my Portuguese delight grabbed my ass in her hands and pulled me inside her, thrusting her cunt up as her fingers grabbed onto the swell of my cheeks.
I was beyond holding back, pumping hard and long, stroking her as she rose up to meet each thrust. With the sweat pouring off both of us, I ground into her, and she came over and over.
Suddenly she looked up and cried, “Wait—not inside me. I want your cream here.” She brought her hands up to her tits and circled them with her fingers, rubbing her tight nipples with her thumbs.
“If that’s the way you want it, sweetheart,” I said as I picked her up and laid her on the tile floor, never breaking contact between our wet, hot bodies. As I resumed fucking her I accelerated my motions, pumping in and out of her like a piston, watching her face contorting with ecstasy as she matched me thrust for thrust, moaning and begging me to come on her breasts. Harder and harder I rammed into her, getting closer and closer to the edge, until at the moment of release I pulled out and shifted up, grabbing my cock and spurting my seed over her dusky heaving breasts.
She sighed and shuddered as I pulled back to catch my breath, looking at the picture she made, her shirt still on, but unbuttoned, her gorgeous chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, her skirt wrapped around her waist, legs spread and twitching every now and then as she came down gradually from her orgasm. Finally she turned her head to meet my eyes.
“Thank you,” she smiled, with the sparkle back in those big brown eyes. “Would you like me to clean you off now?”
I could tell she didn’t mean with a napkin. My too-long-deprived cock, even moments after being drained, had already begun to twitch slightly, just from the sight of her in that sexy position. Now, hearing her invitation and looking at her full, sensuous mouth, it showed definite signs of bestirring itself.
I moved up, straddling her body, until my still half-flaccid hose hung over her mouth. That mouth opened sexily, her tongue reaching out as if beckoning to my tool, which I slowly lowered between those waiting lips. The touch of her tongue made me groan, and when that mouth closed around me and the tongue went to work, the process of revitalization was completed in less than a minute.
True to her promise, she cleaned me off, using her tongue like a washrag and her lips like a vacuum cleaner. I couldn’t hold still, and she gave a moan of pleasure around my dick as I began to fuck her face. I did it slowly at first, going gradually deeper, and soon found that she could take as much as I could give her. Her hands came up to clutch at my ass, encouraging me to speed up the rhythm of my mouth-fucking. Then one of them slid down to my balls, stroking them and squeezing them gently, driving me absolutely wild. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out.
I wondered if she wanted me to come on her tits again, but if so she gave no sign of it, continuing to pull me into that siphoning mouth. And then I felt that, familiar surge before I spurted into her throat, and she gulped down each spurt as it came.
She smiled at me again as I fell back, panting. “Thank you,” she said softly. “And there will be no need to tip for the drinks, sir.”—
B.D., New York, New York