I wondered if other eighteen-year-old girls thought about mature men like I did. Men in their forties, fifties and even their sixties. I thought I was a freak after every single orgasm I gave myself whilst dreaming about sex with men so much older than me. I'd go stir crazy on my clit thinking about older cocks. Visualising myself on my knees stroking and sucking them before spreading my teen legs to let him fuck and use my young, tight cunt.
It started as an innocent curiosity, but what I really did was deceive myself into thinking it was just a bit of fun the first time I spoke sexually to a man twice my age online. I then deceived myself further by calling it just a phase I was going through, when I started trading faceless nude images with those mature men.
When I meet a guy my own age, that I really like, then I'll put it all behind me, I deceived myself once more. I thought my fascination with mature men was something I could control if I really wanted to, but I couldn't.
So, I began paying particular attention to the mature men around me, like on buses and trains. I'd see their gaze scan up and down my teen body before coming to rest straight into my eyes. I'd blush and look away shyly with a nervous smile before checking to see if he was still looking at me. I'd get goosebumps, wet knickers and stiff nipples, then I'd relive the experience the next time I masturbated. Only, in my fantasy I imagined him fucking and using me for his gratification.
The only thing I could just about control was holding off accepting one of the many offers I received online. I badly wanted to do it, but I was still only eighteen. With a clear mind I would think of all the dangers it posed, but in the throes of an orgasm, I wanted nothing more than to meet a mature man for sex.
Eventually, plucking up the courage to confide in a friend, I asked her if she'd ever meet a guy online. She said she'd consider it if she could trust him. I then asked what she thought about older men. She said twenty-five would be her cut off. Anything over thirty would just be weird, she said. I retracted and didn't say another word.
Soon enough, I lost control of my common senses and took the risk of meeting a mature man from the internet. I'll always feel bad for it, but I sought out a married man who had so much to lose by stalking me afterwards. I only wanted to experience the thrill of having sex with a guy old enough to be my father. I didn't want to welcome a psycho into my life.
The guy I eventually met was a forty-eight-year-old businessman named David. He was five-ten tall and average build. Nothing physically stood out about him, but I liked that. He was an everyday normal guy like my dad's friends. If he was to be believed then he was also married with two teenaged children, but we didn't go into too much detail about that. It was irrelevant for what we were seeking, me in particular.
David and I spoke for several weeks on webcam, having both normal and dirty chats. I loved telling him to show me his cock before he'd slowly instruct me to strip off. He was a boob man, which was great for both of us because I was DD top heavy. He'd stroke himself and ask what turned me on while I felt up my body and gladly shared my fantasies. He'd ask me to offer my big tits to the camera and tweak my hard nipples for him. He would then ask me to spread my tight pussy lips and show him the sticky wet pinkness inside. It of course always ended with the two of us cumming together.
The day finally came when we decided to meet in a bar for drinks, where we slowly melted the ice until the alcohol gave me the confidence to join him in his motel room around the corner from the bar. David didn't seem to be as nervous as me, but he was very aware of the situation. He never pressured me, and he was very conscious about me not drinking too much. It felt like being on a proper date in the moments I forgot about the sole purpose of our meeting.
I made an effort without looking slutty. I wore a casual black dress, which didn't reveal too much cleavage, red heels and matching black bra and knickers. David also made an effort by turning up in a pair of smart trousers and a shirt. A few people looked at us oddly when they saw us drinking and laughing together, but nobody asked questions or bothered us.
Then, the moment finally arrived when we left the bar and made our way to the motel. Having bared my soul to David during our chats online, he took immediate advantage as soon as we were inside his room. I was politely welcomed inside but then told to get on my knees. I giggled at his seriousness and complied.
I quickly learned it was no laughing matter when he pulled out his cock, called me a slut, and told me to suck it. He was only ordering me to do what I'd confessed to dreaming about. But it was all very scary and nerve wracking to be actually doing it. I grabbed his cock and licked the head, which was already leaking pre-cum.
"Mmmm, you want this so bad don't you, Louise?"
I giggled and swallowed the spongey head, then cupped his balls while looking up into his eyes. My first mature man. It felt as if I'd achieved something. My first badge to becoming a slut I guess you could say.
"Lick my balls you little slut! Mmm, yeah, that's it! Mmm!"
I licked and then sucked his testicles softly into my mouth while stroking his shaft. David continued groaning as he ran his fingers through my hair and down my back. It felt good and I started moaning as I licked my tongue along the length of his cock.
"Now take it you dirty slut! Suck it deep!" David hissed, grabbing and twisting my long brown hair.
It was to be the first time a guy used my mouth like a pussy. He held my head by my hair, stretching it from the roots, and hurting me a little, as I stretched my mouth around his thick cock and tried to suck deeper. I wasn't a virgin, but I was too inexperienced to be engaging in sexual activity of this nature, and with a man of David's age.
He wasn't a boy or a horny jock out to get sucked off by some random girl. He was a man who'd found a girl wanting to explore her inner slut for the first time. I'd always imagined it being me holding all the power, but I hadn't the experience or knowledge to know how to handle such a situation. So, under David's instruction, I worked my arse off trying to live up to his demands.
He let me practice taking his cock to the back of my throat, which thankfully wasn't huge, but it was girthy, before he'd had enough and decided he wanted to use my mouth his way. He started thrusting his hips and forcing his length deeper down my throat. I coughed and gagged, just about managing to stay with it. But then I had to stop and just hold onto his thighs while he fucked my face.
It was sloppy with saliva and noisy with chocking sounds and grunts. I was called every name under the sun until David finally decided to stop before he came. I welcomed the break. I needed it. My poor mouth was battered, and my mascara had run down my cheeks.
"You look so fucking hot and slutty, Louise. Are you ok?" David looked so horny.
I nodded and then he hauled me to my feet where he thrust his tongue down my throat like an animal. My mind was spinning as he unzipped my dress and removed it down my body. I gasped for breath when David dropped to his knees and started kissing my navel and the tops of my thighs.
"Oh, fuck, Louise," he sighed heavenly. "I can't believe you're really here."
From respect to rough, to being almost worshipped, I giggled again and soaked up the moment. It was very surreal looking around a stranger's motel room while he kissed my tummy and pulled my knickers down. David had seen my shaven pussy on camera many times before. He'd watched me rub and stick a couple of fingers inside it to, but this was the first time he was seeing and smelling her up close.
