Driven By Lust 1

Driven by lust

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She's a huntress whose preferred prey is the younger the better. A maneater who will drain your balls and your spirit and then throw you back to where she found you.

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Her hand went up and down, without sympathy, threatening to pull his cock out by the roots.

"Come on, baby, get it up for Margo, that's a good fuck toy."

There was a plaintive wail from the lips of the guy lying next to her. "I can't do it. I've delivered five times since we came back to your house. I don't have anything left."

Five times? She hadn't been counting but that sounded about right. Plus the one she taken up the ass in the storeroom at the club, before they went upstairs to the restaurant for a meal. Paid for by this young fucker, of course. How old did he say he was? Twenty-five? Twenty-six? His name was Rick. Or was it Nick? Something like that. Who gives a fuck? Certainly not her.

When she visited the club, and selected someone, she always took them into the storeroom to check out their size before bringing them home. Five to six inches might be average but she wasn't going to give her precious time to anyone without a minimum of seven inches. He'd just made the cut. His performance in bed wasn't any more than average and he couldn't use his tongue for shit. How could they get to their mid-twenties without the expertise to make a woman feel at least reasonably happy? They might not have fucked a woman until they were in their twenties but surely they'd eaten out some college girls before then?

She'd got the key to the storeroom from the manager of the club the night she'd fucked him in exchange for free drinks all night, dinner in the restaurant, and a hundred dollars to cover her taxi fare to the club and home again.

"Come on, stud. Get it up or get out. It's one or the other." After a few minutes it became obvious it wasn't going to happen so she decided to cut her losses. She got out of bed, picked his clothes up off the floor and flung them at him.

"If you can't get it up you're no use to me. Get dressed and get the fuck out of my house," she snarled.

Another plaintive wail. "But it's 4am. Can't I stay until morning? Please. Then you could drive me back into town to collect my car."

"Drive you into town? Who do you think I am? Your fucking chauffeur? Get the fuck out of my house. I won't tell you again. If you aren't gone in five minutes I'm calling the cops to tell them I've got a burglar. You've got a phone and a card, haven't you? Call a taxi?"

"But a taxi from here back into town will cost a fortune," he cried. "The taxi here was expensive and it'll cost even more at this time of night to get back to town.

When the fuck will he shut up, she thought. He sounds like a five year old. These millennials are such fucking wimps. She picked up the bedside phone and poised her finger over the buttons. "Last chance," she said, menacingly. That did the trick. She heard him fall on his way down the stairs and then a few seconds later the front door slam. She looked out of the bedroom window and laughed harshly as she watched him stumble down the drive, jacket in hand, trying to stuff his shirt into his pants.

There was just one more thing she needed to do before she got back into bed for some well earned sleep. She went into the bedroom next to her own, not bothering to shut the door. In the light from the corridor she could see the man fast asleep in bed. She climbed onto the bed, straddled him, pulling his head round. As he opened his eyes he was staring straight into her cunt.

"Time for your late night snack, darling. Or your early breakfast. Whichever you prefer to call it." He didn't make a sound, just opened his mouth ready for her cum filled cunt to envelope him.

"Five loads tonight, darling. There is one up my ass as well but that's been there for hours so we won't bother with that one. Ready or not here it comes."

Her cunt, widened by her toy boy's efforts, covered his mouth completely and his tongue began its work as usual. Sometimes it wasn't necessary, and he had a nights rest, on those evenings when she stayed at home. It didn't take long before she felt his tongue come to a halt. He was very quick nowadays. Much faster than he used to be. But he'd had a lot of practice.

Now for the grand finale. She lifted herself up a fraction, leaned forward and planted her ass on his face, completely covering his mouth and nose making it impossible for him to breathe. It didn't take long before his arms were flailing about, trying to grip her and pull her off him. But it never worked. You would have thought by now he would accept what was happening without a struggle. His nose was rubbing against her clit with his efforts as he tried to gasp for breath. Her body shuddered as the orgasm arrived. She never tried to hold on as she did when a cock was in her cunt. His arms fell to his side and she counted three-two-one and lifted herself off him.

He lay there peacefully. Sound asleep. She was able to time it perfectly now and stop just before she suffocated him. She was sure she would enjoy the experience but then it would take away her other pleasures. She really did enjoy her finale and, although he struggled, he had accepted his fate for years. Which was a pity in a way. But she still enjoyed the battle with him knowing she would always win and him knowing she would always win.

It was easier now he was older. He'd just had his seventy-eighth birthday. He was fifteen years older than her, looked more like thirty years older, but that was mostly because she didn't look anywhere near her own sixty-three. They'd celebrated their ruby wedding anniversary two years ago.

He'd been a handsome, virile man when she'd married him, the difference in their ages hadn't mattered, until she began fucking around on her thirtieth birthday. She'd gone away for the weekend with her girlfriends and they found her a birthday present. He was staying in the same hotel, on his own, and they shared him for the weekend. That's when she got a taste for extra-marital cock.

Unfortunately for her husband, looking after her, hard work, and a liking for alcohol for dealing with the stress had taken his toll of him and by the time he reached his mid-fifties he was already looking as if he should be retired. It was a long time since she'd fucked him, a couple of decades in fact, and she'd never allowed him to fuck anyone else during their entire married life. Adultery was the privilege of wives was her philosophy.

How long was it since she'd begun cuckolding him? She couldn't remember exactly. She could recall people telling her on her fortieth birthday life begins anew now and thinking it's already begun for me.

One of the reasons she was so successful at picking up young guys was because her genes had been good to her. She only looked to be in her forties and had coloured her grey hair a bright red. She hadn't coloured it to try and make it look natural. So many women, as they got older, did colour their hair, often blonde, to try and look younger but to her it never looked natural. She'd coloured hers an outlandish shade more to hide the fact she needed to colour her hair.

The only thing which gave a small clue to her age was not her hands but a slight indication of her getting a turkey neck, but not enough to particularly notice. But she did facial and neck exercises to keep age at bay and was thinking of laser treatment for her neck. She didn't think she was a vain woman, although people who knew her might disagree, but she was keen to keep a body that matched her sex drive. Not to please the guys she fucked but to please herself. A mirror was her constant companion, there were plenty of them in her house and they all got used.

She was able to mix the elegance and sophistication of an older woman with the enthusiasm of someone younger. Whatever she had it had all the guys, not just the toy boys, falling over themselves in their keenness to impress her in their desire to fuck her. Although even forty year olds were toy boys to her. But forty-five was where she drew the line and even then, apart from a satisfactory cock, they had to look good for their age.

One thing they had to have in common was the ability to pay for their pleasure. If they, even the eighteen year olds, didn't have a credit card with a big enough balance available, she wasn't interested no matter how good looking or well endowed. She wasn't a charity worker or philanthropist. Occasionally she would make an exception, but only after she'd checked out their size. No point in missing out on a good thing. Money wasn't everything although it was most of the time.

She'd tried a few fifty plus men, but they'd been so full of themselves when she was with them, and they were more interested in talking about themselves than her.

She woke up earlier than usual. Just after nine whereas she wouldn't normally be having breakfast until brunch time. As she shook the sleep from her eyes, yawned, and ran her hands through her tousled hair she suddenly realised what had occurred to wake her early. It was the noise coming from outside. At this time everything was normally quiet and peaceful in the neighbourhood. Those who worked were long gone. Kids were in school and their moms were back home watching morning tv after throwing the laundry in the washing machine and filling the dishwasher. But today there was the sound of many people coming through her open bedroom window.

She crawled out of bed, walked towards the window to see what was happening, then suddenly remembered she was naked and wrapped the curtain part way around her before peering out of the window. People were moving into the house opposite! At last. The house had been empty for almost two years and its appearance was detrimental to the neighbourhood. Good news for every house owner in the street. Three large removal vans; about a dozen men; a tremendous amount of furniture going into what was, admittedly, one of the larger houses in the immediate area. About the same size as hers but with not as much land.

A woman, who was presumably the new owner, came out of the house. A little stocky but Ivy could see she was not fat, even though she was dressed casually. She did look quite attractive for a woman who seemed in her mid to late forties.

She was followed out of the house by a man who must have been her husband, judging by their body language and them both giving instructions to the removal men. They looked like a couple to whom she could give her seal of approval. She was about to turn away and head for her bathroom when two others came out of the house. A teenage boy, presumably a son, and an older boy who wasn't wearing a removal firm uniform and, at a guess, also a son. From the looks of him he was definitely over eighteen, maybe even early twenties. Definitely someone to put on her radar. She could feel her cunt already tingling in anticipation and decided she'd have to go over and welcome the family to the neighbourhood.

She headed for her bathroom, walking past the open window without bothering about being naked, and knowing if anyone looked across the street she was in full view. A few moments later she was under the cascade of warm water as it washed over her, her hands rubbing the sweet smelling shampoo into her hair, and then down over her face. She kept her eyes closed and tilted her head back, enjoying the feeling of the water cleansing her hair and the feel of it running down her back. It was a large shower, big enough for at least three, although she'd only ever had a twosome. She couldn't remember how many times she leaned against the wall, supported by her hands pressed against the tiles, with a slippery cock up her cunt, or in her ass, wet skin against wet skin and his knees pressed into the back of her legs.

She sat down on the bench seat she'd had specially installed a few years ago and thought about the number of times she'd knelt on it or had some young stud sit on it while she sat on his cock. Then have him on his knees cleaning his cum out of her. She'd had some good times in that shower!

About an hour later, after a breakfast that would have been enough for two people, she dressed ready for her welcome-to-the-neighbourhood visit. She didn't have to worry about what she ate because she wouldn't put a pound. Never had. In the same way as she looked twenty years younger than she actually was her body never denied her either.

What should she wear for her greet-the-neighbours visit? She decided on tennis shoes; fitted jeans which weren't too tight but did show off her ass; a wool sweater slightly too big because she didn't want to shove her tits in anyone's face, so to speak; minimum amount of makeup but she did make sure her hair was at its best. If there was one part of her she always wanted to look good it was her hair. She did wonder how to fix it but in the end decided to just let it fall naturally onto her shoulders. Although she did arrange one lock to fall over her eye, allowing her to keep brushing it away, attracting a man's gaze to her face, when she gave him the look she had practiced over many years, telling him she thought him attractive but she wasn't necessarily available.

She waited until the husband and sons were inside the house, and the woman on her own, before she made her way across the street.

"Hi there. I'm Margo Watts. I live opposite and wondered if I could be of any help with refreshments for you and your family." She emphasised the word family, subtly making it clear the workmen weren't included in her invitation.

"I'm sure you're having a hectic day and probably won't have time to sort anything out." She gestured across the street at the ornamental bench seats between the house and the lawn. "Feel free to use the seats. In fact, how about I make us a coffees and we can sit chatting watching the men doing all the work."

She gave her the engaging we-are-going-to-be-such-good-friends smile she used on these occasions. "We both know what men are like but I'm sure they can go for a few minutes without supervision."

"Thank you, Mrs Watts, that's very kind of you. I'm Ann Harris." Margo held out an arm and, without realising, Ann allowed herself to be escorted across the road.

"Nice to meet you, Ann, and it's Margo. If we're going to be neighbours we should be on first name terms, don't you agree?"

"Yes, of course, yes. I didn't expect such a warm welcome to the neighbourhood. Not that I expected anything else," she hastened to add.

"I'll get those coffees, Ann. Milk? Sugar?"

"No sugar for me, please." Ann giggled. "I've got to watch my figure."

"You and me both," laughed Margo. Not the first time she'd used that line. But there was no doubt in her mind that, unlike her, Ann probably needed to go to the gym to keep what figure she had whereas she went to the gym for only two reasons.

One was to keep fit. The other was to check out the fit guys who went there. It was also an easy way of checking out their manhood without getting into a clinch. She always wore lycra shorts to show off her legs and a tight top to show off her tits. They weren't small but, thankfully, they weren't bra busters either, just the right size to give her slim five feet eight frame the womanly look men wanted to see.

The workout clothing the guys wore wasn't loose fitting, particularly the shorts, and their cock was easily defined pressing against the material keeping it imprisoned. Some of them were show-ers and some of them grow-ers. The former were easy to pick out because they stayed more or less the same all the time but it was the grow-ers with whom she had most fun. A toss of her hair, a sly glance, licking her lips as she gazed first at their eyes and then letting her gaze slide down to their crotch. She always got the response she wanted. Always. But, as with many men, just because they had what it takes didn't mean they had what it takes to satisfy her. They got one chance and if they couldn't cut it she threw them back in the pond. There was always someone ready to replace them.

Margo was quickly back with the coffee and she moved the small table from between the two benches to in front of them. She sat down next to Ann, both took a sip from each cup, and suddenly she jumped up.

"I'll be back in a moment," she exclaimed, as she ran back into the house. Seconds later she was back with a plate on which was several pieces of cake.

"Almost forgot," she said, which was a lie. "I thought you might like some cake. There a fresh cream cake or, if you prefer it, there's lemon drizzle. I baked them yesterday."

Which was another lie. Maria, her part-time housekeeper-cum-cook-cum cleaner-cum general factotum, who came several times each week, had baked them. Margo would have to be starving before she would attempt to do any baking. She'd never been the type of wife who was happiest when in the kitchen. The bedroom was the room in the house in which she was happiest. Although there were other parts of the house she found useful from time to time.

"Was that your husband and sons I saw with you earlier?" Margo inquired, in the non invasive manner she always adopted when she wanted information but didn't want the other person to know she was digging.

"That's right. Robert, that's my husband, and our two boys. Roger has just reached the magical teenage years and Ralph is home from university and will be busy looking for a summer job."

"Neither of you are old enough to have a boy as old as Ralph!" Margo exclaimed, in mock disbelief. "You must have been a child bride, Ann."

Ann gave her one of those smiles which said you're making fun of me at the same time as thinking I wish you were being serious. "Robert's forty-seven and I'm forty-six. Oh, here they come now."

Margo looked up and saw the three of them walking across the road. Robert in the centre with the boys either side. Who the fuck gives their kids names with the same initials as their father? She switched her mind back to checking them out as they got closer. Robert was about five-eight, average looking, still had all his hair but there was signs of it receding, and a stomach which was dangerously close to escaping over his belt. Margo put him down as a possible on her list rather than a probable.

Roger looked a typical kid who was just at the point of growing into a youth. A cheerful face with an impish grin. In a few year's time he would be breaking a few hearts.

Ralph looked as if he was a good fit for her perfect category mould. A few inches taller than his father - how many parents these days aren't smaller than their kids - and a lean build. He had the look of an athlete about him not just in his body but the way he held himself and in the way he walked. Margo hoped that was the case because she knew from experience athletic and young generally meant stamina and a quick recovery time. They were also capable of being able to deliver a lot of cum each time as well.

She wouldn't have anything to do with the really overweight ones, no matter how good looking. She didn't even bother checking them size wise, and even the tubby ones she would always ride instead of having them lay on her. But when she was on her back with her legs in the air every guy with a big cock was the same, or when she was kneeling with her ass high and a guy pounding her cunt, or her wind tunnel. She'd farted sometimes, just for the hell of it, when face sitting and then apologised, pretending she didn't realise it was going to happen.

Now it was a question of putting Ralph through the interview process. She just had to come up with a good excuse but, fortunately, she had worked up an extensive list over the years which fitted sons, husbands, boyfriends and anyone else she wanted. There was no substitute for practice and she'd whittled out the excuses which didn't work for her, supplied prompts for the guys who needed them, and she'd developed an expert eye for weeding out the guys who would be more bother than they were worth.