I just stood there blinking when the door opened and it wasn’t Gloria.
“She’ll be here in a minute,” the girl said, already turning to head for the room’s far exit. “Close that behind you.”
Holy shit. She said she had a daughter, but she never said she was this hot.
“Wait, wait …”
She turned, rolling her eyes, one hand on the knob of the interior door between the main house and this refurbished garage.
She had her mother’s blue eyes, but colder, and long, straight, red hair several shades darker than Gloria’s. Those eyes pulled mine away from her exquisitely curved body in its jean shorts and tee. I didn’t want her to think I was a pig.
Except I realized, under her harsh blue stare, that I had nothing ready to tell her.
“Look,” she said before my brain could produce words, “I don’t want anything to do with … this.”
Her gaze indicated the cozy little boudoir with a sweep, but didn’t pause long enough to settle on anything.
“So if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go now.”
The revulsion in her tone – not just for me, but for what the room represented – finally gave me something to say. “She’s a good person, you know. You don’t have to approve of what she does, but she’s a good person.”
The auburn eyebrows lowered. “Fuck you. Of course I know she’s a good person.”
Then with a yank of the doorknob she spun and disappeared into the house.
I went to the corner loveseat and sat down, face burning. Why had I said anything? Why hadn’t I just let her escape the moment she first turned away?
Because you are a pig, I thought. I’d seen that gorgeous hair, those long pale legs, the way her bottom firmly rounded out her daisy-dukes – and I hadn’t wanted that vision to get away. I yearned to interact with such a thing of beauty, and of course to see more of her front with its fresh young face and soft breasts mounded up beneath the cottony whiteness of her shirt. It wasn’t enough to just stare at her ass as she left, you had to be a jerk and try to get more.
Sound came in through the closed inner door, a raised voice: “… telling them about me now? … hole acted … knew something about me …”
A softer noise followed, too low to hear the words, but undoubtedly Gloria’s voice.
Then, “… don’t give a shit how long … fucking this guy … my goddamn privacy!”
After a couple more indecipherable words from Gloria there came a pause, followed by the slam of a door somewhere at the far end of the house.
Then another pause.
When the knob turned, Gloria stood there in the black silk kimono robe she almost always wore for me. She had no makeup on, and after the contrast of her daughter’s youthful face, she looked lined and tired, even more than normal.
She smiled at me, though. Weakly, but with all her usual sincerity.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, moving in and pulling the door to behind her. “I really -”
“No. Fuck, that was totally my fault.” I stood up scowling and steaming at myself. “If I’d thought two seconds, I’d have known she wouldn’t want to talk to me. It was rude, and I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I’d ask you to apologize for me except then I’d just be intruding into her life again and making you the messenger.”
Her smile deepened and she met me in the center of the room, pressing her face to my shoulder as we embraced. The silk of the kimono and the silk of her flesh underneath sent some of the tension flowing out of me. Her hands pulled tighter at me than normal, and we held each other longer before letting go. I took the time to breathe in the fragrance of her hair, that rich, healthy smell marketing guys wish they could put in commercials to sell more shampoo.
“I dropped a glass and then cut myself cleaning it up,” she explained, showing me the band-aid across the base of her right thumb as her hand rose to shift a scarlet wave of hair from her forehead. “If it had been pretty much anyone else, I would have just let them wait outside, but she was right there and I knew it was you and -”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I had her hands in mine now, and she had her face tilted up to take me in with those blue eyes.
“So.” She swung our hands out and in. “What do you want to do?”
The loveseat had been very comfortable, and I couldn’t get enough of how she looked in that robe. I nodded over one shoulder. “Have a glass of wine?”
She smiled and released my hands, trailing her fingers out of mine and sashaying backwards toward the standing bamboo screen in the far corner of the room. “Sure.”
Settling myself back into the cushions, I listened to her rummage in the little micro-fridge she kept hidden behind the screen with her computer desk.
“How’s your week been?” I asked.
“Okay,” she said, with a sigh that admitted it wasn’t true. I heard a cork, then wine glugging into one glass and another. “Not the best week I’ve ever had, I guess.”
She ataşehir escort came back out carrying two goblets of deep burgundy. “But it’s getting better now.”
Handing me my glass, she settled on the other end of the loveseat, one leg tucked up under her, the shimmering black robe gapping open down the front to reveal her sternum and the inner curves of her breasts. I felt heat in my stomach without even sipping the wine.
“How about yours?”
“Also getting better now,” I said, reaching out with my glass to touch its rim to hers. We both drank, she a few more swallows than I. Her free hand made its way up my arm where it rested along the back of the sofa, fingers teasing at the hair there, then smoothing the hem of my shirtsleeve.
“Why can’t everything be this easy?” she asked, her eyes seeking the answer in my face.
I shrugged. “Some things just fit nicely and other things just don’t.”
Gloria’s eyes darted back toward the door into the house. Then she nodded in acknowledgment and took another long sip of wine.
“Are you all right?”
She laughed and leaned her torso forward, bringing her palm up to my cheek and giving me a clear view of her down-hanging breasts through the widening gap of her robe.
“Oh, Denny, you’re always so concerned. I’m fine. And in just a few minutes, I’m going to be fantastic.” She tweaked a flame-red eyebrow up with that last bit, and surging forces inside me washed away my sense of worry over her mood.
I leaned forward too and put my mouth on hers. Despite the wine and a hint of toothpaste or mouthwash behind it, I could taste that she was smoking again. But the clutch of her hand at my collar kept me from thinking about it too hard. Her tongue played a game of hide and seek with mine and her lips sealed my mouth with a heat that almost seared.
She was breathing hard when we pulled apart. All the weariness had left her face – her eyes shone lucent and intense.
“You’d better come up with some really good conversation or else take me to bed,” she said.
“I’ve already screwed up at least one attempt at conversation today.”
She knocked back the last of her wine, set the glass on the floor and rose to her feet, pulling me after her by the shirtfront. I managed to get my glass to the end table, still half-full, as she expertly unfastened my belt. By the time I got out of my shirt, Gloria had my pants and boxers down, then held each of my shoes firmly in turn to help me step out of them. The sash of her robe had come free while my shirt blocked my view, and now she flipped the kimono open and around her shoulders by its lapels to let the silky fabric flow from her arms to the floor.
I could only marvel at her as she knelt there before me, hands on thighs, eyes locked on my face. This woman might have been a hard-worn thirty-five or well preserved in her mid-forties. I had never asked her, but her college-age daughter and the fact that I’d been coming to see her for over ten years suggested it was more on the latter end. Her breasts gave downward a little more than when I’d first nervously entered this room. Her tummy swelled out farther, and her thighs had gained an inch or two. But she wasn’t yet fat or droopy. And the creases at the corners of her eyes, and the bags under them, hadn’t gotten so deep that she couldn’t hide them with a little makeup when she wanted to look younger. She had a spattering of freckles at the bridge of her nose, a few more between and edging out across her breasts.
She looked so real like this. So completely sexual. And so glad to be with me.
Her right hand lifted from her thigh, her eyes broke from mine, and with a simple, easy motion her grip surrounded my shaft and her lips parted and rode softly up and around my tip. I’d been hard from the moment she took hold of my belt buckle; now I burgeoned to that incredible stiffness you can only appreciate before sex begins, when all your vitality seems concentrated into hardening that beam. Gloria’s blue eyes closed. Nothing moved but her tongue, caressing the belly of my glans. Her breathing remained quick and shallow. A low moan vibrated out of her throat and through my penis.
Pulling back, she looked up at me and milked my cock with her hand, one stroke only.
“What do you want?” she breathed.
“Anything,” I said. “Everything.”
She shot her head forward, sucking me all the way in and flattening her fingers against my belly. I felt her lips work insistently at the root of my cock, felt her esophagus constricting the far end, felt her tongue and her drawn-in cheeks all in between. Then she yanked away with a gasp, leaving a strand of saliva hanging between her mouth and my pulsing, teased cock. Her grip pumped tight along my spit-slick length as she returned her stare to my face.
Twice more, the same way: all the way down, hold, hold, hold, all the way off, popping her lips on the release.
Then she went down and bobbed, kadıköy escort steadily, every wet, plush part of her mouth gliding and delighting the length of my cock.
“Jesus, Gloria,” I gasped. She laughed around me, gobbling, licking, sucking. Her fingertips brushed against the circumference of my ball-sack, gentle and evenly spaced, whispering up and inward, down and out and around, to a slower rhythm than her sluicing, sleeving mouth. “Fuck, honey, you’re going to make me come already …”
She pulled off, and now her laugh came out cleanly without my cock to impede it. “Den, you know me better than that.”
Getting up, her hand still wrapped around my dick, she rose on tiptoes to kiss me again, free arm going around my neck, breasts nestling against my chest. Then she kissed her way along my jaw and whispered in my ear, “You’re going to come inside me, and before you do I’m going to make it last and last until you’re all but crazy.”
I stood there, eyes closed, holding her as she pumped my cock with firm, rotating strokes. The entire rest of the world faded away except for her hand, her breasts, the muscles of her back beneath my arm, her lips along my neck and her whispers rolling promises of pure ecstasy through my head. Slowly she tugged me toward the bed, turning us through a slow pirouette, then pressing harder against my front and kissing to urge me back, and back, until my calf brushed the satin-sheeted mattress and I lifted one leg and then another to kneel atop it. Gloria kept her lips locked with mine and her hand around my erection as we moved up onto the bed – me easing down to lay my head into the pillows, her following to crawl into place above me.
She broke the kiss and sat up, straddling me just shy of my groin so that her hand gripped my hard-on right at the juncture of her thighs. I opened my eyes to watch her.
Her left hand spider-skated around my bellybutton, massaging the paunch I could never quite seem to exercise away. Her right cupped itself around the front half of my erection, so that the underside of my cock pressed into the abdominal softness just over her clean-shaved groin.
Her hips rolled, thighs pressing down on mine, hand and belly swaddling my cock in pleasure.
“Good,” I said, cupping her knees with my hands, then caressing up the gloss of her legs to her still-moving pelvis. “Terrific. Like always.”
“Tell me when you’re ready.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything yet. We watched each other, the only sounds our breathing and the faint noise of skin on skin and skin on sheets, murmuring to her movements. She still looked tired, but happy – maybe as happy as I felt. A slick film spread down between the tip of my cock and her stomach as the intensity of my hard-on brought viscous clarity welling up and out.
I could totally get there like this, I thought. More and more slick fluid would bead and flow from me. Gloria’s fingers would press me more firmly against the lush swell of her tummy, while kneading and working the upper surface of my shaft. She would cycle her hips faster and faster, and the combination of those sensations and the look in her eyes would coax me into orgasm and bliss. But while she would enjoy it – and I would be overwhelmed by it – her pleasure would be personal and emotional, not raw and sensual. And I would feel selfish.
“I’m ready,” I said.
With a smile, Gloria lifted up onto her knees and edged forward by inches, rubbing the glossy, lubed head of my dick along and down her stomach as she went. When it reached her mons, she parted her upper labia with the bulb and circled it round and round her clit. By now her left hand had moved up to my shoulder to support some of her weight as her upper body leaned forward and over me. Red waves of hair dangled down around her face, just long enough to tickle my upper chest and throat if she dipped her head.
Trapping her lower lip between her teeth, she maneuvered my cockhead into place at her slit, where I felt her heat and wetness. Ever so slowly, she pressed down with her hips, cunt kissing and then parting for my swollen tip, enfolding me, sinking her groin steadily toward mine as she swallowed me into and into and into herself. The damp fingertips of her right hand crept up my belly and across my chest now that she no longer needed them to direct our penetration.
Finally she settled fully and firmly into place, the mouth of her pussy flush and tight at the root of my cock, the ridge of her pubic arch driving her clit hard up against me. This was a moment I could never get enough of – Gloria all above and around me, motionless, warm, smiling, breasts and hair hovering inches from my skin. I slid my hands from her pelvis and waist up and around to her ass, full and fleshy and pillow-soft.
“Is there anyone you want me to be tonight?”
Some ineradicable caveman instinct annoyed me by flashing her daughter’s image through my brain. We usually role-played bostancı escort every third session, maybe fourth, one fantasy or another – sometimes just me closing my eyes and picturing whatever hot chick I might have seen and drooled over recently, sometimes more elaborate and interactive scenarios. But I didn’t want that tonight, and I certainly didn’t want to bring her daughter into it. In the abstract, she’d probably think it was funny – Gloria’s had plenty of opportunity to become jaded about male depravity, and it’s pretty hard to surprise her. But I had seen the strain of their relationship in both of their faces just a second ago. That was not going to make a good ingredient for hot sex between the two of us now.
“I want you to be you, Gloria.” And I really did mean it, even if I couldn’t help marveling over how much she and her daughter resembled one another.
“Okay,” she said, smiling. “Here’s some Gloria for you, then.”
Without moving, she started to fuck me – tightening the muscles deep in her vagina, relaxing them, tensing and releasing the ones along the middle of my shaft, squeezing me hard at the spot just behind her pubic bone, and then starting over again from inside. This created a slow roll along the length of my cock from tip almost to root. She’s always had great control of those muscles, but she developed this particular trick sometime after we met, and it’s only gotten better over time.
A moan ghosted up from my diaphragm. I gripped the round rich flesh of her bottom more tightly.
“And how about this?” The tail end of her spine flexed, taking our merged sweet-spots through a tiny, beautiful orbit. Inside her, the vaginal contractions continued brilliantly along my shaft.
“Ohhhhh, yes. Do that again.”
“And some more.”
The swirling caress of her groin widened, grew constant, and joined with a new movement, her whole body easing forward and back atop me, drawing my cock out and feeding it back in at intervals synchronized with her rotations and the internal fondling by her cunt.
“God damn, Gloria.”
“Fuck me,” she demanded, now riding me in earnest.
“Oh, shit, yes.” I pulled her to me, one hand still on her ass, the other up between her shoulder blades, pressing, holding as I thrust up in return to her steady grind. The swollen mouth of her pussy dripped its slick, wet treasure down along my girth onto my scrotum and into my pubic hair. I could feel her drenching me with every thrust.
“Uhhh, Denny, yehhhsss …”
Her mouth dropped to my neck, tongue constricted to a slippery, insistent point that scrawled saliva along the track of my jugular to my earlobe, which she nipped and then sucked as she quickened her pace. Forward and back and forward and back she rocked in my arms, devouring me in the clenching tube of her vagina, driving her engorged clit against our juncture.
“Uh!” Just minutes into it, a panting, moist breath nestled into my ear as her lips parted and let the earlobe free. “There – Denny – ”
” – Denny – Oh, God – ”
She stiffened above me, her rhythm suddenly spasmodic.
“UHHH! Yes, fuck me!”
I did my best to pound it up into her as her head and crotch both thrashed.
“Yes, Christ, I’m coming – hh – hh – fuuuuck!”
Her cunt twitched and vibrated around me, gushing, throbbing. The groan that went along with it could have been faked by any decent actress, but I doubted even Gloria had enough control to mimic that incoherent physical reflex cascading through the length of her vagina. As it trembled its way to stillness, she fell down onto me, limp, her mouth finding mine and slathering kisses across it.
“Mm, Denny, mlbll, mmgnuhh …”
I rolled us over, staying inside all the way, sealing her lips with mine and taking my turn at control. Gloria’s legs fell open to either side of me. Her breasts, now parted by gravity, heaved with her breath and glistened under a sheen of perspiration. I kissed her, pulling a few inches out and then slowly re-entering. The tight clutch of cunt-flesh had disappeared with the end of her orgasm; she now parted delicately around me as I slipped deeper. My sweat rolled down my sternum to join with hers, slicking and lubricating us so that our bodies glided almost as easily as our genitals.
“You’re so amazing,” I breathed into her ear. When I raised my head again, I saw her smiling, eyes closed, her face wonderfully sated. Lower, I felt her hips begin to work with mine in graceful, wavelike rolls. Neither of us moved with the power we’d used before, keeping things slow instead, enjoying the languid connection where our bodies met and meshed.
Her eyes opened and examined mine. She brought a hand up and trickled the fingers through my hair.
“Do you want me to come again?” she whispered. And she did mean come, not pretend to come.
I waited a few gentle strokes before answering.
“I can never get enough of you coming. But I want to do what you want.”
She put both hands to my cheeks, then traced down with her fingertips to grasp my shoulders. Her feet came up to hook around thighs just below the buttocks.