A Slow Seduction Of Jasmine Pilcher Ch 07

It's been, ahem, 13 years since Chapter 6. I hope you think it was worth the wait. If you're just joining this story, you really should read at least the first chapter to understand what's going on. Scroll to the bottom of the page and click on my name to view earlier chapters.

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My lust for Jasmine Pilcher was sated to the point I could barely stand.

She, on the other hand, looked ready to go another round. Her face was flush, her body unashamedly naked, my jism dripping from various cavities and topography. She touched a finger coyly to her lips but I waved her off, like a fighter who knew he was beaten. There would be other bouts on other days. I had no doubt about that. Time to go home and rest. Order a big Porterhouse and cook it rare.

Except I was wrong.

Oh, sure, I made it home. I ate the steak and had a big chocolate shake too. A week later, I was again ready for action. When I saw the overstuffed lusciousness of my Jasmine at choir practice, she acted as if she didn't know me. As if she had never known me. It was my fault. I'd given her too much time alone and her bouncing and enthusiastic lust had deteriorated into guilt over her uninhibited behavior.

I hate when that happens.

Of course, all this did was serve to make her even more attractive to me. The big, bouncy bosoms, the gloriously fat ass, the chunky feet with the painted toe nails, and the eyes that seemed so kind but reflected a kind of crazed hunger when properly aroused. I had to get it back.

So I ignored her and reintroduced myself to the newest member of the choir, Ms. Carol Stranger. Yeah, I know. Weird name and lots of jokes about it. "Don't be a Stranger." "Strangers in the night." Etc.

Carol and I had a kind of history.

She and I attended a Christmas party last year, she without her rich but morbidly overweight contractor husband. There were sandwiches. There were chips. There was this. There was that. There was alcohol.

Carol was tiny with a face like a pretty pixie. Fine blond hair, cute figure, and just over five-feet tall. She had the sweetest little ass you could imagine. It made you want to cup both cheeks in your hands and raise her over your head like a bowling trophy. Nice legs too. But she was tiny and slim. I like 'em with more meat, as you probably know.

Anyway, Carol had been imbibing most of the night and while the two of us were collecting our coats in a back bedroom, Carol threw her arms around me and darted her little pixie tongue in and out of my mouth until I finally reciprocated with my own. She moaned and said how horny she was and since we were both half drunk, this made perfect sense. I was smart enough to offer her my knee to hump against and she did for a while, then made a frowny face that just melted my heart.

Carol locked the door, unzipped the tight pants she wore, took my hand and forced it inside her panties against her wet and hungry twat. I grabbed one of those gorgeous butt cheeks and pulled her against me while my fingers played a country tune I know against her clit. She came quickly and loudly. I withdrew my hand, kissed her chastely on the cheek because it seemed appropriate somehow, and left the party.

I hadn't seen her since but, as the song goes, Here She Comes Again at, of all places, a church choir practice. She giggled when she saw me and shook my hand, the same hand that had made beautiful music against her cooze at that Christmas party. She looked like she wanted me to play more music - and not church music - but I didn't want to have a run in with her supersized husband and, as I mentioned, I like my women big and old. I needed her to help me get my True Love, er, Lust, jealous.

So I was being flirty with Carol, and she touched me like women do when they want you to know they're interested. Meanwhile, Jaz was trying to pretend she wasn't paying attention but her face was getting red and her singing - never very good, frankly - was more off key than usual.

During a break she whispered that she knew why I was doing this and that it was inappropriate. I played dumb and said, "I'm sorry, have we met?"

For some reason, that made her laugh and she touched me a couple of times like, you know, women do when they want you to know they're interested. So I forgot about Carol which was okay because she started touching a tall accountant with a bobbing Adam's Apple and I assumed lots of things would be bobbing before the night was over.

I whispered to Jasmine while we were in the middle of practicing Climbin' Up the Mountain, Children, that I missed sucking on her titties and squeezing her ass. I told her a bunch of other things I missed or wanted to do, and she grew red again and her breathing increased so that those tremendous and sensitive hooters rose and fell like notes on sheet music.

We skipped the post-practice snack (heh-heh) and she took me by the hand out of the church. Fortunately it was dark by this time because once she got me in her car, she slobbered wet kisses over my face and neck, and squeezed my crotch so hard I thought my nuts would pop out of my eyes.

I jammed my hand under her long skirt, over the fat legs that she accommodatingly opened for me and against her cunt. No panties. This was a surprise. She was leaking like a newly cut grapefruit and I was glad for her that the car seat was vinyl.

She came real fast and real loud. If she sang that loud in the choir - and could carry a tune, which she can't - we wouldn't need any other choir members. I was afraid someone would hear, even with the car windows rolled up, but everyone was feasting on Oreos and coffee inside the church.

I was almost afraid to let her drive, but Jasmine pulled herself together - even touched up her smeared lipstick in the rearview mirror - and drove us to her home. As we walked up the sidewalk to her door, she was actually shaking with anticipation and pent up lust. She smiled wickedly at me twice, her lipstick a little bit smeared which made me hornier than ever.

Once inside, I leaned her against the door and reached way down under her skirt to pull her incredible fat ass toward me so that she could feel my rock hard cock against her belly. She moaned loudly and for a moment I was afraid she'd pass out on top of me and that would be all she wrote.

Instead I forced myself to pull away.

"No, I can't," I said. I did everything but hold the back of my hand to my forehead like a tempted virgin in a silent film melodrama. "I promised myself I wouldn't do it again."

Jasmine was gasping, the back of her skirt still bunched up and resting on the top of her ass. "Do ... do what again, sweetie?"

"You're a friend. A dear friend," I said. "But I embarrassed you. I made you feel guilty. I can't do it anymore."

Jasmine pulled her skirt down and twisted it around her generous waist until the seam was where she wanted it. She put her hands on her hips, took one more deep breath, then smiled. "I've got a few beers in the fridge," she said. "Do you want one?"

She brought me a beer and placed it on a little doily on her end table. She sat on the couch with me, but left a space between us. She smoothed out her skirt and we talked about the choir, the recent snowstorm, the pastor and his lousy Sunday sermons.

"I know men are weak," she said with a grin, as if she were telling me something I didn't know. "It's their nature. They can't help themselves. It's that simple."

I nodded and took a sip of my beer, then I slid closer to her as if I were seriously interested in this discussion.

She patted my thigh lightly then snapped it away when she realized it had lingered there a little longer than necessary.

"It's just the way of the world," she said. Was she trying to convince herself or me? I didn't care.

I nodded seriously at this dull woman's insight.

"Otherwise we'd have everybody running around ... rutting all day!" She blushed when she said "rutting" and I nodded again, then moved to the other end of the couch and was pleased to see she looked disappointed when I did.

I stood up with my now-empty beer glass and walked over to her. I held out my hand for her to shake. She looked confused at first, then offered hers. I shook it warmly and placed my left hand on top of hers.

"That's why we'll remain friends," I said. "The best of friends."

Jasmine dropped my hand reluctantly as I pulled away. I went to the sink and rinsed out the beer glass then walked toward the door like I was getting ready to leave, pretending I didn't know my car was back at the church parking lot.

"Sit down, Fred," she said.

I did.

"Friends can speak ... frankly, can't they?" she said.

I nodded.

"We can hug. We can kiss," she said. "That's what friends do, don't they?"

I hung my head in mock shame. Believe it or not, I didn't really enjoy toying with this woman, but I did love breaking her down.

"When I'm close to you," I whispered. "I want more than hugging and kissing. I guess it's because I'm weak, like you said."

"Oh, honey," she said while waddling over to me, her great tits arriving at my side about a half second before she did. I patted her broad back chastely. "If I'm feeling ashamed or embarrassed, I'll let you know, okay?"

Jasmsine gave a big smile and I noticed one of her teeth was dinged with lipstick. I returned the smile and gave her a bigger hug, my pecker beginning to rise thanks to my weird turn-on by lipstick-dinged teeth.

She patted my back in a consoling way but there was lusty jitteriness in her manner. "I'll be back in a minute," she said, and went into her bedroom.

I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my shirt, my pants and my underwear. The furnace kicked on and that slight breeze stirred my cock so that before long he was staring up at me with his one eye, seeming to wonder what was going to happen next. I had the same question.

Before long, Jasmine came from the bedroom wearing a long white nightgown, her breasts stuffed into the top, her bountiful cleavage on full display.

She looked at my hardened member, mouth open, then up to my face.

"Are you shamed yet?" I asked her.

The little rose spots on her cheeks that bloomed when she was aroused, bloomed now. She shook her head no.

"Then come over here," I said.

She walked over slowly and we kissed hard, mouths in constant motion, our tongues slapping while our hands explored each other. Jasmine dropped an open palm on the end of my cock and I could feel her mouth smile against mine as she rubbed the pre-cum.

"I love when you do that," she growled in a husky voice. "That's how I know you want me."

We were against the couch back so I turned her around and threw up the back of the nightgown so, at last, I was face to face with her great ass, its delicious crack and the holy of holies, the asshole I wanted so badly to fuck.

"How about now? Embarrassed?" I said.

She was breathing hard so that her belly rose and fell against the couch back, her tree trunk legs shuddering some. She managed to shake her head.

"You wondered about the pre-cum. Do you know what I'm going to do with it, Jaz?"

She did nothing for awhile, her feet shuffling slightly on the floor. Then she nodded. "Do it," she said.

Now I was breathing hard too. "Are you ashamed yet? Wouldn't want you to be ashamed."

Jasmine moved her pudgy hand toward her clit and began stroking it. "I want to be ashamed. I want you to fuck me in the ass. "

I swiped my juicy cock over her ass crack and moistened the dark hole I'd been lusting after for a long time. Jasmine was huffing like an old boiler, diddling herself and actually wiggling her ass in encouragement.

"Here it comes, darling," I said and pushed the head in past the sphincter. I could tell she stifled a yelp but it was followed by a hearty head nod.

More cock into the fat, virgin asshole which slowly opened wide to accept me. I began pumping while reaching over the couch back for both tits.

"Pull the nipples," she said. "Pull my tits hard, darling. Harder!"

I squeezed her great tits like they were udders and I was hoping for milk. I withdrew one hand and slapped her fine ass and she moaned while I continued to fuck her in and out, like I was pushing a fat filly toward the finish line. She got there a few seconds before I did. I gushed into her rectum for what seemed like hours and then she fell on her knees, leaving a line of my cum up her back as she dropped.

"And now," I huffed, my cock still hard, still leaking cum. "How do you feel now, Jaz?"

She hung her head, sweat glistening off her bare back. Was it shame again? Or something else?

"Now I'm yours," she said. "I'm all yours."