"Ready?" She asked, her face consumed in unequivocal lust.
My sultry French friend-with-benefit, Colette, pointed my soon-to-explode cock directly at her gaping mouth, stroking my shaft frantically with one hand while furiously rubbing her pussy with the other.
Colette was fifteen years my senior and approaching fifty years of age chronologically. Yet, she would unquestionably be the winner of the Ms. Eastern European highest-libido contest, if ever a promoter would be smart enough to invent such a competition. Simply put, she was a wanton slut disguised as a wealthy, educated widow. I was her boy-toy, and proud to be of service.
Utilizing every last ounce of waning self-control, I rolled over on my side as to maneuver my body so that I could access vital trigger points of her own. I roughly grabbed her silky jet black hair with one palm, to further indicate my eternal need for control, and let my other palm graze over the rim of her anus.
Colette enjoyed anal play the way bees like honey. I eased my middle finger into her tight cavity and grunted a reply, igniting the pending mutual launch sequence.
"Set."
She wrapped her small, manicured fingers around my throbbing thickness and swirled them like a corkscrew, her fist slamming against my swollen balls. As a reciprocal gesture, I pumped my digit into her hot rear tunnel and scraped the walls of her rectum with my fingertip. Through the thin membrane wall of flesh, I could feel her own fingers invading her cunt.
It was time. I pushed hard in her asshole and relaxed the muscles within my lower abdomen to facilitate my release of hot seed. Her eyes rolled back into her skull as she threw her head back and roared a wall-rumbling squeal.
"Go," I gasped, as the first hot shot of man love splashed onto her cheek and separated into a thousand little pieces, like a milky firework cascading into the night sky. Her own asshole pulsated on my finger as I rocked her world on both ends. She writhed and flopped like a caught flounder as she opened her mouth to try, vainly, to catch the explosion of semen that was turning her lovely face into a carnal paintball canvas.
I grabbed her skull even harder and threw her head back and forth like a rag doll in a hurricane, the better to smear her face with my cum, all the while reveling in the sensation of her own ejaculate dripping from her slit and onto my palm, now cupping her mound.
After the fifth, sixth, seventh spurt of jism had coated her countenance fully, I began to wipe my cock all over her forehead, chin, and then finally forced my length down her throat to cleanse me. This caused Colette to shudder and moan in one orgasm after another after another, my finger still massaging her anus while she assaulted her own dripping pussy.
God, she was such a fucking slut.
Eventually, I eased my finger from her ass with an audible 'pop', and brought it slowly to her lips. She hungrily consumed the musky flavor of her own ass, mixing it into a cocktail of various sexual nectars from our bodies. She then leaned up playfully to kiss me, but I recoiled, as she knew I would. I would eat ass occasionally (after all, I'm a gentleman), but was rarely in the mood for sloppy ass seconds.
She giggled in delight, slapped my dick across her face once more, the equivalent of cleaning the plate, and jumped off the bed to wash up and get a hot towel. I watched her forty-nine-year-old ass cheeks wiggle and bounce slightly she walked.
Not bad for forty-nine, I mused, not bad at all. Besides, she more than made up for a few soft sags here and there by her over-active imagination and willingness to do anything, anywhere, anytime. I was an apt student at age thirty-four myself, eager to be mentored. Colette made my cock her own personal chew toy four or five times a night. I literally could get it out of her mouth by inserting it into her cunt or ass. Nobody sucked cock with the enthusiasm of Colette.
Tough work, sure, but somebody's gotta do it.
She climbed back on the bed with a clean face, ready for the next deposit, no doubt, and began to wash my dick and fingers clean of residue. We made meaningless post-coital small talk until, satisfied that her housekeeping was complete, she again took my soft cock into her mouth and began to pay sweet oral homage to it.
"I love this fucking cock, so strong, so big, and always so fast to recover for the next rounds," she mumbled admiringly betwen licks and slurps. "In fact," she leered up at me with a twinkle in her coal-black eyes, "I was bragging about this cock of yours to an esteemed colleague of mine today."
Colette was a senior executive for an international pharmaceutical company. Her husband, who had passed away several years ago, was one of the co-founders of the company, and assured Colette was never have to work a day in her life had she so chosen. However, after his death, Colette threw her energy into the company, raising its profile and stock price even higher.
In fact, the only thing that Colette had more passion for than her career was cock. Young, hung, and lots of it, preferably. On that level, even though I was thirty-four, I could more than hold my own.
So, ours was an unlikely though symbiotic relationship.
