My morning wood was nodding toward the beautiful smooth ass sleeping next to me. The creased temptation belonged to a young, big breasted, blonde stripper who came home with me last night. She had been tired and drunk. It had been so easy to kiss, touch and fuck her until she had a few orgasms and fell asleep. This morning my mind started to care, "She worked late last night and needs to rest. Don't wake her by slipping your dick into her body. True, she would be so beautiful on her hands and knees, but let her sleep." My body wanted her. My ears wanted to hear her ask to cum. My stomach wanted to feel each slap into her soft cheeks. My balls wanted to be pumped dry into her womb.
Just as my feet hit the floor and my cock swung back and forth from the recoil, my re-programmed thoughts overcame the fifty years of stupid lessons that have kept me from enjoying life to the fullest. "What's her name" will just have to suffer through.
She groaned in protest as I raised her onto her knees lining up her almost bare tiny-lipped cunt. A few dips of my fingers past her cum caked folds revealed that she was still soaked and slippery from last night's play and my deposits. As the swollen head of my dick disappeared into her, caring thoughts flickered through my mind, "I wonder how old she is? I wonder if she's happy? Make this good for her." Then new thoughts followed, "Take her, fuck her, go for your own pleasure. Quit thinking, you dumb son of a bitch."
The first few strokes were shallow, wetting my dick and opening her. When I bottomed out I could feel the dimpled mouth of her cervix barely kissing the tip of my dick. My new thoughts had freed my body. Every stroke into her, every churn of my hips was just for me. I positioned her body to touch my cock exactly as I wanted it touched. My hands felt her body any way they wanted to. I was not there just to please her. My nose inhaled the wonderful pheromone washed skin of her back because it wanted to. My finger dipped into her asshole because it wanted to. My dick pushed hard and deep not caring if she complained. My thrusts were powerful because I wanted them that way. I heard her head bump into the wall but my pleasure was more important. She had to push back in self-defense. Her cunt tightened; she was cuming; the new me liked the power but had not been satisfied.
I heard a growl escape from her but my nut was nowhere close. Cruelly, my sex filled mind thought, "Bitch, you are not finished yet. This early in the day, I can keep twirling your body on my cock as long as I want to. You are just going to have to take it until I decide to cum."
Take it she did. I loved her body's feeble complaints followed by her orgasms. When my balls started to tighten, my hips tried to push my dick through her into her mouth so she could taste my salty offering. I kept humping through three pulses and then froze just to feel the throbs travel through my body and out the tip of my jumping cock. I collapsed on her, pushing her flat onto the bed. Her body was still reeling from her climaxes and was trying to breathe under my weight.
Soon my little fuck toy said, "Damn, Old Man, get off me, I have to go pee."
I rolled off her and watched my cum run down her thigh as she walked away toward the bathroom. The little cunt was going to have to pay for the "Old Man" comment. I couldn't let it pass. It was that comment that triggered my driving need to re-program my entire life.
Just as the toilet flushed, I stood beside her, bent over and slipped a finger deep into her used pussy. I curled that finger using it to pull her up and lead her to the shower. The shower washed away her make up, making her look even younger. Her body was fun to soap with my hands; her cunt was tender. She wiggled away when a finger and my dick showed too much interest in her ass. She started to leave the shower; I pulled her back. "Get on your knees and suck off this 'Old Man' dick."
Her body bristled at the command but she responded to the strong pressure from my hands on her shoulders and she knelt before me. As soon as her fingers closed around my almost hard cock, she pushed the head through her lips. I wondered why she had bristled. She loved to suck cock and was good at it. She was experimenting. I don't think she had run into an uncircumcised one before. She certainly did not object as I hardened and fucked across her tongue, deep into her mouth. She knew how to play with her teeth, tongue and lips. When she wanted me to finish she used a hand as an extension to her mouth. She twisted her fist around my sensitive cock and licked the ridge around its helmet. Her other hand rolled my balls and pulled on their sack. My sack tightened and she began to suck harder than I have ever been sucked before. With the first rope, I leaned into her until my pubic bone pressed into her lips. I could feel her swallow, as my cock gave up the last of its offerings directly into her throat.
I pulled "What's her name" to her feet and kissed her passionately tasting and smelling my cum. "That was magnificent my pretty one. Now get dressed. I'll take you to breakfast and then drive you back to your car." I could see her trying to remember where she was and where her car might be.
Later while driving home, my thoughts wandered back to how and why my life was different now.
When children are born they are so malleable. My father was career military. My family was old time southern and my mother raised me. The result was a very self-sacrificing, overly caring, driven adult male who liked women way too much. Often putting them on a pedestal. I would charge a machine gun nest but feared a woman's rejection. I wanted to please women so much that they could easily control me. A woman's pleasure was more important than mine and I would suppress my needs in hopes of seeing that she was happy with me. Over the years, my ladies were sexually happy, but they all learned quickly to take advantage of me financially and emotionally. I could count on ten fingers the times that sex was truly mind blowing for me. After three thousand dollars of professional help the diagnosis was that I cared too much about pleasing and should seek balance by being more selfish; I should demand at least parity in sex and relationships.
That sounds so easy and fun but it was difficult and frightening. Besides my great fear, I worried about not pleasing a lady enough or seeing disappoint in her eyes. I could never truly relax or believe a woman would want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with her. Getting older was the trigger that finally forced me to face the diagnosis I had heard twenty year ago. Until recently the ladies came on to me or at least responded when I flirted with them. I'm educated, playful, active and interesting. I have money, a good body and women have always liked my voice. But at 60, I see the female heads turn more often toward the dim, broke, studly hunks. I don't feel like an 'Old Man' or a 'Sir' but I was hearing that way too much from the hot things that I wanted.
One of the studly hunks that the girls drool over is my youngest son. When we would go out together, his cool demeanor and apparent demand that the ladies cater to him worked so well that I was in awe. I had to at least risk trying a more in control approach.
My first success was with a hot little black stripper who had more admirers than "Carter has Pills." (Now that phrase shows my age.) Her bouncy, double jointed bubble butt could hold my interest for hours.
Business was slow on a rainy Tuesday night at the small local strip bar. The only four customers were regulars, playing pool and not paying attention or money to the two dancers. Sweetness came over and pushed her body between me and the pool table. Her beautiful butt wiggled into my crotch and she said, "How come you don't pay attention to me like you do the other dancers?"
"The young studs keep you too busy. An old guy wouldn't have a chance."
"I like older guys."
"Just older guys or older guys with money on a rainy slow night?"
At least she was honest, "Older guys with money. The weather doesn't matter."
"Well, Sweetness you have your choice of table dance locations. Pick one. Dance for me and give me a hundred dollar anatomy lesson."
I had already seen every inch of Sweetness from her athletic pole work behind the rack. After a few lap dances, I had touched most of her and learned much more. I knew her favorite position, that her boyfriend was a 'missionary position' guy, that she liked oral but her boyfriend wouldn't do it, that her guy didn't work and that she really did like old guys. As she sat on my lap, she wiggled, looked puzzled and said, "Don't you like my body?"