It was another hot morning as I sat in my car, waiting for Kacey to get off work. For the last couple of weeks, we had hooked up a half dozen times, whenever I could get away from the house long enough to pick her up. We fucked only twice, but I had used her ass both times. She bravely withstood the pain, and told me she enjoyed doing that for me. I had bigger plans for her, though. I called her my slut; at first teasingly, but she latched onto that, and told me repeatedly that she would do anything I wanted. She was asking, so I intended to push that.
In reality, I had two objectives: to enjoy all the things I'd ever wanted and could not, or would not, get my wife to do. But I also wanted to distance myself from her. I knew there was no future for us, and I recognized that an 18-year-old would eventually look for something more than what I could give her. In truth, I didn't want her to drop me. Self-centered, I know, but I couldn't deny it, even as I pushed her limits. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Since that last anal, I had her blow me and nothing else. I told her I didn't have time to get her off, and she was getting more and more frustrated and horny. At the same time, she loved taking my cock. I praised her as a cocksucker, even as I fucked her face, often bringing tears and a lot of drool. Other times I just let her enjoy sucking my cock. Thinking about her mouth would make me instantly hard, a good thing for a 67-year-old!
I was hard that day, idly stroking myself through my pants. When I saw her coming across the parking lot, my cock stiffened even more. She was wearing grey yoga pants and a loose top, highlighting what I considered her best feature - those lean legs. I had told her what to wear. I loved playing with her pussy through her tights, or under her skirt, but never letting her cum. I parked in the lot across the street so others didn't see me waiting for her and started rumors, but it also gave me a chance to watch her come to me. The anticipation on her face thrilled me.
"Hey," she gushed, getting in on the passenger side. She glanced down and grinned. My cock stood tall inside my slacks, and she reached for it. "Happy to see me?" she asked, and laughed. Her laugh was infectious, tinged as it was with desire. She began to stroke me with her left hand.
I started the car and brushed her hand aside. "Who's my little slut?" I prompted. She told me she was. As I pulled out, her hand went back to my cock.
"Are you gonna let me cum today?" she asked. She tried to keep her voice light, but I could hear the need.
"But you got to cum last night. Didn't you!" I made it a statement, testing her to see if she'd been masturbating. I didn't doubt that she did, often. She couldn't lie, and often told me when she had.
"But it's not the saaaame," she whined, and I had to smile. I let her amuse herself with my cock as I drove, and as I headed away from the direction of her house, she seemed to brighten, and gripped me a little tighter.
"Careful, I told her." I pulled to the side of the four-lane when I got a chance, and told her I had to make a call.
"Hey, what's up?" Dave knew we were heading his way; he and I had already made plans for this. "You coming?"
"Not yet," I said tersely, "but she's trying to get me to." We both laughed, and I glanced at Kacey's face. Her hand stopped moving, and she was looking at me quizzically, knowing I was talking about her with someone. Dave said something else, but I wasn't paying attention, looking into her eyes. "I have to talk to her," I told him. "We'll be there soon. You got anything to drink?"
By now Kacey was holding her hands out, as if to say, what? Her expression seemed to be a mixture of emotions - confusion, a little fear, and I knew, arousal. She would do it, I was pretty sure. She was my slut.