I had moved to this city for college. I was alone and didn't care to make many friends. I'd always been like that, more of a loner than a socialite.
One "friend" I was interested in making, though, was someone I met while at the local gun and ammo shop. Living alone in a big city, I bought a pistol for self-defense and I wanted to learn how to use it and take care of it. The gun shop held private lessons that I signed up for.
The man that gave the private lessons was John, an older man, 52 years old and unmarried, I believe he told me. I was 19 and unmarried. Every time I came into the gun shop for ammo or information, he was there.
He always stared at me, looking at my body without trying to hide it. He would make small comments, like "It's a good thing a pretty, young woman like you wants to take responsibility to defend herself." He was disguising his lust for me with weak attempts.
I got the hint. And somehow I wanted him back even though he was so much older than me. In fact, his age made him even more sexy to me in a strange way. He was as fit as a younger man, and he was tall, strong and most likely wise in the ways of pleasing a woman.
So I signed up for private lessons with him, half expecting and not expecting him to make a move on me. Every time he looked at me my pussy stirred, but I told myself not to be so slutty. He was an older man for decency's sake!
During our first two lessons, we stayed in the indoor shooting range, so nothing much happened besides me learning the basics about pistols, but his hands sometimes lingered on my shoulders or on my hips a little too long when he corrected my shooting stance.
During the third lesson we left the indoor shooting range and drove in his truck to the outdoor one about two miles up the road.
It was a cool fall day. I was wearing a sweater that was a bit big for me and no bra, so the cool wind blowing through the fibers for my sweater made my nipples harden. I wondered if he noticed.
After setting up the targets, he stood behind me and told me to start shooting. I loaded up the gun, took stance and took aim.
"Wait," he said. I lowered the gun and took my finger off the trigger. He put his hand on my shoulder, "Unload the pistol and put it down for a second."
I did as I was told, walked over to set the pistol in the back of his truck and walked back over to him. As I walked my hard nipples rubbed against the rough fabric of my sweater and I started to feel my pussy tighten, which I cursed myself for. I should have worn a bra to prevent this horniness.
"You're not standing correctly. I noticed that in the first two lessons," he said, giving me that look he always gives me. That unwavering, almost predatory gaze that made my heart pound blood to my pussy.
I stood with my back to him. He approached me from behind and grabbed my shoulders.
"You have to stand up straight," he said as he pulled my shoulders back. He moved my brown wavy hair from the back of my neck and reached around me to put his hands on my hips. I could feel his warm breath on my neck and my knees got weak.
In my sensible mind, I continually cursed myself for wanting this, for getting tight and horny as he gripped my hips and started breathing heavily. My pussy would not let me stop him.
"You also have to spread your legs a little more. Like this." His hands moved from my hips to my sensitive inner thighs. He rubbed them slightly and spread my legs apart.
My cheeks were burning red. My pussy was moistening and my nipples were burning with every slight movement of my sweater. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I was letting it happen, and I couldn't resist him.
My rational self was fighting this. He was 52 years old. I was 19. Wanting him was the sluttiest desire I could think of. But my pussy is a slut pussy, and I wanted him despite my inhibitions.
His hot breath in my ear and his strong hands on my thighs caused a soft moan to escape from my lips. I looked up at him, placing my hands atop his, and he swung me around so that my breasts pressed against his chest.
He engulfed me in a long, deep kiss, wrapping his strong arms around my waist, slightly lifting me onto my tiptoes. I kissed him back, linking my arms around his neck, unable to resist this robust and bold man.
As soon as we broke the kiss, he backed me up against his truck. He grabbed my wrists, which were small enough to fit in one of his hands and pinned them above my head onto the truck.
With his other hand he reached under my sweater and felt my waist, then moved up to my breast. As he squeezed my left breast I let out another unexpected gasping moan.
"Did you do this on purpose to tempt me, pretty girl?" he asked as he pinched my nipple and squeezed my other breast.
Both desire and inhibition held back my tongue. I was speechless and my pussy was soaked. The fall wind against my wet jeans sent a chill up my spine.
John's hand left my breasts and grabbed my throat, slightly choking me, and tightening his hold on my wrists. I was completely under his control, and I was loving it.
"I asked you a question," he growled into my ear.
With my voice weak with surprise, embarrassment and overpowering desire, I whispered back, "No, not on purpose."
"Some how I doubt that," he said, smiling at me. He let go of my throat and lead me to the back of his pickup, lowering the tailgate on his truck and lifting me to sit on it.
I sat on the tail gate with my legs open and we started kissing again. He embraced me and pressed the crotch of his pants into the crotch of mine. I could feel his cock grow harder through our pants as he kissed, and I'm sure he could feel the warmth and wetness of my pussy.
Then he reached one hand down to unbutton my jeans, never letting me break from our wet and passionate kiss.
I could feel my clit swell as he slid his fingers into my panties, gliding along my soft, shaven pussy lips. I couldn't help but break the kiss and gasp with pleasure.
"Let me see this pussy of yours you beautiful little slut," he said to me as he laid me on my back and pulled off my shoes.
I felt a twinge of reluctant horniness when I heard that word from his mouth. I could feel my panties were soaked as he pulled off my jeans and my wet panties were exposed to the cool autumn air.
"I'm not a slut," I said to him, as placed his finger directly atop my swollen clit through my wet panties. His touch sent an electric warmth throughout my body and I regretted what I said.
Immediately he stopped and looked at me with that look again. A small, amused grin appeared on his face.
"And why do you say that? With your pussy soaking wet and your nipples hard as stone?" He suddenly grabbed my hips, flipped my body around so that I was bent over the tailgate, my feet on the ground, my ass exposed to him.
He pulled down my panties so that they lay around my ankles and then he grabbed my ass cheeks, playing with them and squeezing them.
"I know you're a slut. You come into the shop with your pretty face and your young sexy body. I know you come looking for me. And I know you're looking to cum for me, isn't that true?"
"I--uh," I hesitated to answer him and I felt him slap my ass. The slap startled me, but turned me on at the same time.
He kept slapping my ass, starting softly and getting harder with each slap in the same spot. I felt my ass cheek start to burn and I cried out in a bit of pain and a lot of pleasure. I could feel my pussy juices start to leak down my thigh.
