Ricky sat at his little, Parisian-style table on his first floor terrace sipping at a cool beer and ostensibly reading Time magazine. It was one of the first really warm days of the beginning of summer. He'd be fifty soon and was wondering what sort of present he could afford to give himself. Looking down at the two teenage girls, sunbathing on the communal lawn he knew what he would like to have.
The one with the long, soft, golden curls probably had an Algerian father and a redheaded mother. She had delicious freckled, honey skin, big, green eyes, pouting lips and beautiful little titties, pert under the skinny tank top that showed inches of her perfectly flat belly as she stretched, leaning back on her hands. He tapped his own belly remembering, or trying to, when it also used to be flat. The tight shorts she was wearing actually outlined the lips of her sex or so he imagined. He put his glasses on just to check and wasn't disappointed. There was something feline in the way she stretched her long neck allowing the sun's warm caress to touch every part of her face.
"What a gorgeous, lazy basker she is," Ricky punned.
The other girl was the colour of dark, burnt caramel with perfect features - long plaits swayed around her sculptured face, she had a small nose, almost oriental eyes and the sort of lips you could spend hours kissing and then send off on a long exploration of your body. She was wearing a short summer dress that she kept pulling down as it rode up to that beautiful, hard, round bottom each time she moved. He had already had a glimpse of her white panties, thick black pubes bustling. And when she turned over he saw that her high, well-developed, African breasts were just as firm as her ass, huge nipples...
It wasn't surprising that Ricky wasn't really able to concentrate on the magazine, especially as he could hear practically everything the two nymphets were saying.
He had a raging hard on and was wondering about the definition of Dirty Old Man.
"This isn't fair! Of course all men are dirty. We can't help it if we think of sex every nineteen seconds."
He had come across (so to speak) that fact on Internet and reckoned it was more or less exact.
"But we can't help getting older. People never accuse teenage boys of being Dirty Young Men," he thought. "And at what age do we become old? Are we suddenly supposed to stop looking at sexy young girls when we get to forty, or what?"
It was only since his forties that Ricky had really turned on to teenage girls. As soon as they started to develop tits he was interested and the girls in France were so much hornier than the ones back in England.
The teenagers were talking crudely about boyfriends and sex and it sounded as if they were frustrated.
Honey was pouting, "Jerome always wants to fuck me but he never takes his time.. he comes too quickly. Shit! I get so frustrated I have to go home and finish myself with my fingers. I need a really good fucking…"
"You ought to get yourself a real man, an older man. They know how to please a girl," Caramel gave a sexy grin, showing her perfect, white teeth.
Ricky reminded himself to make a dental appointment and get his own checked.
