It started out innocently enough, one could say. Oh, sure, I was instantly attracted to him, but I didn't go right up and boink him that moment, nor did I attempt to steal a kiss. In fact, I was scared to look at him, the way one might be terrified to look at sunlight. But he followed me, and pretty soon, I was looking at him though still afraid to smile.
I smiled after a couple of weeks, but after a year, no changes seemed to be happening. Restless with sexual frustration emanating from me at the sight of him but worried to cross the line physically just in case I was reading his smile wrong, I made him a Christmas card expressing my feelings.
Then I evaded the stables for two months straight, so petrified he would see me as clingy.
I finally came back, a couple of weeks before the show I was to attend but saw no eagerness in his manner. Dejected, I forced myself to pretend everything was dandy. It was pretty much the same...no changes happening between us.
Naturally, at the show, when he came up to me and told me how happy he was to see me and put his arm around me, I felt that familiar wishing, but even though my arm went so far around his waist it almost touched his manliness, I told myself to stop being an imbecile.
When I won, he was the one to tell me I was first. My stomach swarmed, hoping it meant something, but I shushed my heart and pussy with reluctance.
Until it was time to leave and he was waiting for me. One hug, sweet. Second hug, oh god (even though I initiated it). Third, he leaned down to give me a peck on the cheek.
Can I say I wondered if he had a boner?
Two weeks passed of me trying to show him how I feel for him without the words shirking my tongue...
Placing my arms around him now and brushing away the excitement of the past (recent as it is), I tilt my head up to him and pucker up.
Lowering his head just enough, he takes the bait. His mouth, electrifying my own, leaves my lips feeling tingly as he pulls away and glances at the people around. Not watching us, obviously. Who would think two people so diverse in age (me being twenty, him somewhere in his fifties or sixties but not looking it at
all
to me) would have a show to put on?
I certainly wouldn't if I'd never spotted him.
He just has all the right stuff to attract me. Well, I still don't know if I give him boners, but he's so sweet, and his face...well, let's just say most guys his age don't reel me in no matter how sweet they are. He does.
Though I've got to admit, I never noticed how tall he was until he had to bend to kiss my cheek. I don't care, all that matters is how he seems to care about me. I know it can be a play, but I'm pretty good at detecting fakes. Or, if I'm not, I can usually tell before the year is up, if not three months.
I wonder if my kiss made his cock jumpstart. I can honestly say my pussy is wet now. Dangerously wet. I can feel the moistness between my legs, and it is all I can do not to savagely grab him, rip his clothes off, and start riding him.
In fact, the only barrier stopping me is the people around. I don't want to gross them out, look like a slut, or make him look like a pervert if he allows me to do such an indecent thing to him.
"Come here," he whispers, pulling me into the tack container. I bite my lip to keep from moaning as I follow him behind the file cabinet, where he begins kissing me passionately, making me mew excitedly. His kisses deepen as his hands crawl up my shirt.
Shit. Holy shit. Take me already.
I don't say these words, just think them and kiss him hard. Again, I wonder if he is as excited down there as his mouth hints. Why oh why do his jeans have to be so concealing?
His fingers twist my nipples, and with one last, ardent kiss on the neck, he lifts my shirt and groans at the sight of my naked chest. "Wow, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, kissing my cheek sweetly. "Oh, wow."
