Unforgettable

UnforgettableIt started with a kiss.I had gotten a job a few years after high school with the local aid agency that supplied food for low-income and senior citizens. I was up to the challenge of meeting government deadlines and negotiating with vendors, and though I wasn’t into the office politics or into the county handshakes that got you favors, I kept a pack of cigarettes and a convenient bottle in my lower desk drawer, which my alcoholic boss greatly appreciated. I had turned 21 and took every advantage to legally party, and as I reside in a Southern state, it wasn’t hard to avail. When an older Latina was hired to work along side me, I had no idea that I was training the new woman for my job. She was the wife of a man who worked in the petroleum industry, and who had contributed tens of thousands of dollars to a politician. I had turned 21, so I had not sticky connections with politicians. Her name was Marta and her accent from El Salvador was still thick though she had been married to an American white man for thirty years. As she was also thirty-two years my senior, I afforded her respect though she was lively and youthful for a woman one year older than my mother. I say this of Marta because she would change before the end of the workday from her dress and blouse ensemble to a pair of tights that covered a low-cut leotard of which she would cover with a tee-shirt before going to the gym. She had full 38D breasts and was unencumbered by shyness about her body as she often told women in the office of stories of sunning naked on public beaches in South America. Though she was in her fifties, I found her heavy curves to not be unattractive in any measure.One fall afternoon, she rose from the cubicle and as many of our co-workers had cleared out before 4:30, she and I remained in the office. She went into the office’s bathroom to change and I went outside to bring files to my car. When I returned, bahis firmaları she had reached for the office phone but set it down. She told me that she freaked out and thought I had left and was going to call to get someone to escort her out. While she was telling me this, I was checking out her purple leotard and when I saw the outline of her nipples more pronounced through the fabric, I had to catch her looking in my eyes as she talked. She asked if I wanted to go to the health club where she was a member and have a few drinks. I left my car in the office parking lot as she would pass the building on her way back home. We walked out and she gave me the keys to her Dodge Dynasty.Marta chatted about the position, her working to just get out of the house, and how she was not sure she would stay with the agency. I told her that being bilingual in an office in this Southern city was an asset as even in the early 90s, there was a sizeable Hispanic community. I asked her about foods that she liked. She told me that she was unaccustomed to eating in cars, had only had sandwiches as finger foods, and preferred dining in restaurants. I would find out that she was in her second marriage. Once we got to the club, I noticed everything was way over my budget, but Marta told me that she had invited me so she said, “go for it.” Over Johnnie Walker Red (for me) and Manhattans (for her), she talked about playing semi-pro tennis, having most of her meals here rather than go out alone, and her dreading her imposed curfew of 9pm when she returned home to a husband that could not sustain a hard on with his, in her words, “abysmal thing.”When we walked outside the health club, it was a dark and cool September evening and we had been getting pretty toasted for three hours. She had ordered a chef salad and I had two turkey subs in Styrofoam containers. I sat behind the steering wheel. She thanked me for accompanying perabet her to the club and apologized for being afraid at the office earlier. I reached over with my right arm and cradled her in my shoulder. I gave her a firm kiss on the forehead and told her that “we brown people have to stick together.” She looked up at my face and giggled as she was the same skin hue as the White receptionist but was regarded as a minority and erroneously as Mexican. I removed my arm to start her car but she remained leaned against me in the front seat, I reached back around her shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and asked her if she was all right and would be OK to drive later. She had placed her hands on my leg and with a squeeze said she was fine. She squeezed my thigh and then rested her hand in my lap. I moved my hand from her shoulder and cupped her right breast. She brushed her hand upward and felt my erection straining at my slacks. She said “Pepito.” I rolled her nipple in my finger as she squeezed my dick. I asked her what that meant and she said it meant “little Peter.” I told her that it was hardly little and unzipped my pants with my left hand. I guided her hand to my stiff dick, which she grabbed firmly. Though this woman was over 30 years older than me and one year older than my Mom, I was going to give her my dick with a passion.She got out of the car and leaned against it. I came around to the passenger’s side and did a slow grind against her. It was at that moment that I thought of how exposed that we were. While Marta was connected, I was expendable so I asked her if we could pull the car around someplace as I had hopes for a quick blow job. She pressed her key fob and the trunk popped open. She instructed me to get in the back seat. When she opened the back door on the driver’s side, she had a beach towel and a large, black garbage bag. “Lay these beneath you,” and while I lay against perabet giriş the towel, Marta undid the buttons that held the bottom of her leotard. Her pussy surprised me for she was hairless. I had not considered that she was in same-sex workout classes and perhaps vanity compelled her to be shaven but for a grandmother no less, her shaved pussy was hot. She mounted me and started whispering in Spanish as she rode on top of me. I enjoyed grinding inside of her as I could feel her tightness grip my dick. She placed her hands on my chest and rocked up and down, which felt amazing. She gasped and took a breath and rather than the rhythmic gliding up and down on my dick she did for ten minutes, she put the full weight of her body upon me. With an audible “ahh,” she squirted and pissed down my dick, the towel, and soon I could feel her wetness at the edge of the garbage bag. This was so fucking hot that I thrust harder and harder and with this, her pussy juices splashed all over my chest. I reached around her back and pulled her into me. Each thrust into the sloppiness made me pound harder and harder until I came and she lay against my chest into her own pussy milk as she felt each throb and spurt of cum inside of her. The liquor and the heat from our fucking had steamed the windows of the car, and when I exited the car, I could see wisps of steam rising off my body. I drove back to the office while she arranged and wiped off herself in the back seat. When we got to the office, we went inside. She came out of the bathroom, lay two garbage bags on the hard, brown-carpeted floor, and while on her back, we fucked for a half-hour before she had to go home. When we lifted the bags from the floor, a pool of her juices had seeped between the spaces and the carpet had a wide spot of wetness. Though married and separated by over thirty years in age, we would have a relationship that outlasted my employment as I would remain her lover until my engagement. Her hunger for sex with me is unforgettable and helped me to learn as a young man not to be hung up on statistics but get to know what ignites a woman’s passion. Best tools for success I ever learned.

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