You want great furniture and live in Ohio, you think Amish. Granted it takes going down the gravel roads and reading hand painted signs, but most of the time the only thing better than the craftsmanship is the price. That's what got me pulling into an Amishman's place just last week, the guy at the harness-maker's shop saying this Junior was the one to see about a roll top desk for my husband's birthday. Too bad Junior had something else in mind that just about made an old lady like me blush.
Maybe it's just me, the gray haired granny who didn't give up her cherry until two days before her wedding, but certain elements of the physical relationship between a most willing woman and an even more willing man should be kept out of sight. Things like dressing up like chickens maybe. Not that Junior was out in the barn in a rooster suit, don't get me wrong. More like a birthday suit, but that's a little ahead of the story. One thing for sure, this Amish has got the act of passion pretty down pat.
Actually she was going down on Junior, not Pat, me apparently not making enough noise when I'd pulled up to the house. Hell, I thought the sound of a car would have attracted some attention in a world of horse and buggy. The car door closing too, or even my footsteps out to the barn itself. Apparently not is one of the great understatements of life. Like it or not, I was about to be an eyewitness to some old-fashioned loving.
Part of my brain was telling me to get the hell out of there. I'll call it the rational side. The other part, the Literotica side, was telling me to keep my feet glued to the floor, there was a story here. Plain People Pussy or something like that. One side telling me to be good, one telling me to be the pervert. Obviously the peeper side won, I'm putting words to print about as fast as he was putting it in her mouth.
She is a beauty, that Amish maid with the cornstarch complexion and fire in her eyes. The prayer cap, that little white piece of organdy the women wear in public, had come off, tossed over to one side and long, long chestnut locks had fallen. Junior's flap on his pants was open, his cock more than ready for a pleasing. It's not that I'm an appreciator of fine peckers, don't get me wrong. I'm a prude, the last good girl on earth at times, but it was somewhat hard to miss. Especially one that hard.
I think I was grinning but I'm not real sure. I was sure this demure little holy woman had done this before, no doubt. Maybe I just had this image that people backwards by choice wouldn't be doing anything but missionary to make those dozen kids they all see to have. Apparently Mrs. Amish has to take care of her man now and then when the bad time of month came just like I used to do. This one had made it an art form though.
We're talking the worship of the male appendage that gives womanhood so much pleasure when properly maintained. I watched transfixed as a mistress of the blowjob did her thing, gentle kisses slowly giving way to long, passionate licks of the ultimate treat. She was absolutely driving him wild, him reaching once and then again to guide her head, each time the fair one shaking him off. So much of a paternalistic society where he tells her what to do. This little bitch was in total control and had only begun.
Her lips wrapped around the head of his penis and then she pulled back, the suction of sucking sending a pop through the tomb still barn. She giggled and then wrapped her lips onto him again. Beard but no mustache tossed his head back, driven wild by this little tart. I knew I had to get out of there but I couldn't move. I was totally, completely engrossed in the unbelievable. Jesus Christ, I couldn't wait to see my lover again and try some of this myself. The thing with the pop, definitely. Sucking him outdoors, that had potential too. Just the overall quality, no doubt this time prisoner called Amish knew a hell of a lot more about blowjobs that I did and she was just getting started. Made me wonder if she swallowed too.
That was a bizarre thought but I do that a lot, one visual image triggering some sort of journey through the mind for me. Even stranger is the fact my husband thinks blowjobs are repulsive, so disgusting he never let me do one. I'm serious, he'd eat me in a heartbeat but I never could return the favor. It wasn't until I took a lover more than ten years ago, me the 50 year old, that I got that cherry popped. I swallowed that first time, I swallow every time he lets me but I guess it's not for everybody.
My best friend Wendy swallows but she always insists her man drink a lot of fruit juice before she does the job to him. Deb, on the other hand, never swallows. She won't do her man that way unless she's got at least her shirt off and usually her bra too. Deb says it gags her, she'd much rather get a face full or let him come over her boobs. Not that she's big, no bigger than I am. Certainly not huge like Wendy. We've all been tit banged and all, but only Wendy is really carrying a set. Yeah, it made me wonder if Mrs. Amish liked to swallow or spit. Too bad I'll never find out.
It was a scene right out of my own life, just a week ago Tuesday, the man loving a blowjob but not about to let the lady get away without pleasure herself. Like the crude girls say, he'd take being sucked but he'd much rather be gonna fuck Somehow in my daydream I'd missed him taking her head off his stick, his hands sliding down to her armpits and now lifting her to her feet. They stood there looking into each other's eyes for just a moment and then he lifted her long blue dress up and over her head. Bra and a half slip, pretty in lace, this little Amish woman. Then again, unless that bra was all brag, she wasn't so little after all Me and my stupid modern mind world, I start wondering if he's going to upright her right there against the barn post.
Me, personally, I used to think upright was all right, tolerable usually but it was also the only way my husband ever got in deep. Real deep, nailing the little wife against the bathroom door once in a while. Taking a lover changed all that, teaching me big things come in smaller packages and upright is one great way to get banged. When my man takes me that way, it's almost like he's impaling me on his pecker, that gorgeous head damn nearly coming out my throat sometimes I think. Yeah, I like it like that, at least with him. Chalk it up as another thing I'll never know about the Amish.
