The Old(er) Ones Are the Best

'My goodness David, I didn't expect this!'

Laughing. 'I get that a lot, but what did you expect?'

'I don't really know, my mind has been a bit of a blur to be honest, but not this, is it yours?'

'Yes, bought it about thirty years ago, it was a mess and took three years to renovate, I rented it out for quite a long time, then renovated it again and started to live in it ten years ago.' Unlocking the front door I step back. 'Will you come in?'

She turned in a circle, taking in the surroundings. 'I love it!' Then stopped, facing the front door again. She looked nervous, that trepidation again. Then, the decision made, she took a breath, almost squared her shoulders and muttered, 'I've come this far.' And stepped over the threshold.

I followed her in and closed the door.

She jumped at the door closing, I smiled at her. 'Welcome to my house Stella, just watch your head, some of the doors are a bit low.'

She stood in the hall, clearly still a little nervous but visibly relaxing with every minute,she's peering through the doors into the rooms beyond, still trying to work out what she's got herself into. I leave her alone for a minute, watching her take it in.

While she's slightly distracted I kick off my shoes and socks.

'Oh David it's lovely.'

Smiling, I take her hand. 'You've not seen it yet but thank you, shall we see what else you love?' And I led her up the stairs.

I heard her mumble, 'Oh dear.' as, fingers tightening on my hand, she followed me.

Leading her into my bedroom I let go of her hand and left her standing in the middle of the floor, then wandered around the room closing the sheers but leaving the heavy curtains open; it left the room suffused in a soft light. I completed the circuit and, after closing the door, stood at arms length in front of her.

All this time she'd been standing where I'd left her, slightly wide eyed, torn between watching me and looking around the room.

'David, you have a four-poster bed.'

I laughed again. 'Yes I do Stella: a bit stuck with it actually. I bought it from the people who had the cottage before me and they bought it from those before them and so on. Too big and heavy to move without breaking it up, and that would be a real crime. It's quite old apparently and I wouldn't change it for the world.'

'It's fabulous, if a little......scary.'

'Scary? Oh I hope not.'

And I took my shirt off.

She gasped, looked down and a very quiet moan escaped her lips.

I step into her, her eyes flick up, look into mine.

I lean forward that last inch, touch my lips to hers. She closes her eyes, her lips are soft, warm and dry.

My tongue flicks out. That quiet moan again. Traces the shape of her mouth; the outer edges, along the top lip, into the corner, along the bottom into the opposite corner, the gap between them, trace from one side to the other.

A slight pressure and it becomes a kiss, a kiss with intent, a kiss that says that there is more to come. That moan.

Her lips seem to yield, they open imperceptibly, they say yes. I feel her breathing quicken, another very quiet moan. I lick her lips again, push my tongue between them, touch her teeth, bump slowly from one to the next. Press against them, they open and the tip of her tongue touches mine, they explore each other, her kiss gains in intensity, passion, need.

I search for her fingers, find them, interlace the fingers of one hand with hers, brush lightly up the back of her arm with the other. Feel small shivers running through her body.

She breaks the kiss, gasps for air, her eyes still closed.

My fingers reach her shoulder, up the back of her long neck, under her hair, behind her ear, a light, delicate touch following the contours of her face: stroke her forehead, brush across her eyebrows, around her eyes, down the sides of her nose, over her cheek, round her lips, along her jawline and down the side of her throat.

Dip into the indentation at the base of her neck, along her collarbone to her dress.

Slowly follow the neckline down into her cleavage. Toy with the top button, flick it open. An intake of breath and a small noise in her throat. A hand shot up and gripped mine as her head flinched back and her eyes searched mine. I pause.

Wait for her as those feelings once again cross her face: nervousness, trepidation, indecision. Then decision, acceptance, want. The grip on my hand softened, released.

Her eyes close.

A flick, a slow move down to the next button and it parts, then the next, and the next, all the way down past her waist.

Push a finger through the gap in her dress, the slightest of pressures against her suspender belt, up onto her stomach, her skin warm to the touch, up, dip into her navel, up, push up between her bra clad breasts. Back to the base of her throat.

Let go of her hand.

Ease her dress off her shoulders, down her arms. Let it fall to the floor.

She's all curves; long, gentle curves that flow in smooth lines from her long legs over her hips through a narrow waist to wide shoulders. She has large breasts and her bum follows a long S shape from her back into her thighs.

Her matching underwear is all black; with translucent panels and thicker, patterned edging, stockings with lace tops, held up by thin straps from a narrow suspender belt, small, fine lace knickers and a bra with cups that completely cover her breasts, the faint outline of her areola and nipples just visible though the semi-transparent fabric, the whole set is elegant but also showy. I don't know if she'd dressed for herself or for me, either way she looked damned sexy and incredibly sexual.

I step behind her. Quickly, quietly, I remove the rest of my clothes.

Touch my fingertips to her waist, trail them up over her back: just meandering, following the curves of her warm skin, the lines of her muscles, the shape of her bones, from her waist to her shoulders my roaming fingers explore.

Trace the shape of her bra; pinch the fastening between my fingers and thumb, the hooks and eyes part: slowly release them, the two ends of the band hang down. Slip the shoulder straps slowly down her arms, ease it off her hands, drop it on her dress.

Step round until I'm standing back in front of her, take her hand.

Her eyes open, she glances down, sees that I've removed my trousers. Her eyes widen, blink at my semi-erect cock; looks shocked, surprised even.

Looking into her grey eyes I take half a step back towards the bed, a light pull invites her to follow.

She takes that first tentative step, then the next.

I keep moving back until I'm against the bed. Without releasing her hand I climb up on my knees, keep moving back. Without hesitation; maybe even with a faint smile, she follows me. I stop when my feet touch the pillows but I keep a gentle pressure on her hand, it's her moving towards me now. Even when I stop pulling she keeps moving until our bodies touch: chest against chest, stomach against stomach, hips against hips, thighs against thighs.

A faint gasp as she feels my cock lift, harden.

Kiss her soft lips. They're immediately receptive.

A hand on her waist, I twist, ease her round and down until she's lying on her back.

Her eyes close as my mouth slowly retraces the path my fingers had followed earlier. My lips and tongue float across her face, she moans as I softly kiss her closed eyes, follow the angles of her face, pause at her lips; I love just how soft and responsive they are. I brush my lips across them, backwards and forwards, breathe her warm breath, follow the line of her jaw, suck her pearl earring and earlobe into my mouth, let them go. Find the pulse below her ear, follow her long neck down. A bitter taste of perfume at the base of her throat. Down between her breasts, feel the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her breathing against my lips.

Brush across the soft, warm flesh of a breast, find her areola. It's small, the colour only marginally darker than her lightly tanned skin. Her nipple is large; at least half an inch long, the instant my breath touches it it tightens, she gasps.

Flick my tongue across it, kiss it, suck it into my mouth. My left hand finds her other nipple, toy with it. I'm going carefully with Stella; no spanking, no hair pulling, no bums, nothing but mainstream, for now. I could be totally wrong, but I had the feeling that she hadn't stepped outside her comfort zone for a very long time, if ever, and I didn't want to take her too far out of it today, there was the real risk that she would run a mile.

Stella's areolas have tightened beautifully; they're clearly enjoying the attention they're getting and I was thoroughly enjoying giving it to them but I wanted to move matters along.

My fingers leave her nipple and drift down onto her stomach, I leave a wake of tiny goosebumps as I circle her tummy button before stroking across the band of her suspender belt then, again, the warm skin of her stomach to reach her knickers. I cover the triangle between her thighs, her heat radiating out against my fingers, press down as her legs ease apart, pinch my fingers together, push them under her knickers, through coarse hair, gently pinch her outer lips, rubbing and gently scratching them, she groans and bends her knees, pushes her chest up against my face,

Her hips and bum keep moving, pressing down against the bed then up against my hand, I can feel a faint rumbling in her chest as she groans.

I let go of her, find her clit, tease it with a fingertip; just stroking it, no real pressure, just very lightly with that one fingertip.

It didn't take long: I'm beginning to realise that she's a pent up bundle of passion, just waiting for an outlet. I was lucky enough to be the one providing that outlet, for the moment anyway.

She bucked, once, as though a switch had been flicked; on, then immediately off. Her thighs squeeze together, she groans and her fingers clench the sheet.

I ease my hand down, push a finger into her, then two. She's wet, hot. She spreads her legs. I push deeper, sinking my fingers in, push even further, as far as I can. I shuffle up, kiss her on the mouth.

A hand grasps the back of my head, pulls me into her, her tongue writhes against mine, she moans, crushing my lips to hers, her hot breath filling my mouth.

I ease my fingers out of her pussy, thrust them back in. She breaks the kiss, pressing her head back into the pillow she cries out.

Rub across the ridges along the top of her canal, fuck her with my hand, pushing deep inside, rubbing across her clit with my thumb.

Her hips push up, then down into the bed, my fingers move faster and faster, her hips rolling under them. She's gasping and mewling, her arms flung wide, fingers clawing at the bedsheet.

I press against her, pushing her down into the bed, fingers still driving into her as her hips press up against them. The mewling turns into a low growl, gets louder, a hand grabs my wrist, pushes me in. A shiver starts in her leg, accelerates through her body until she's shaking from head to foot. Stops, then starts again, rippling through her thighs and bum, then slows to a stop.

She sank into the bed, taught muscles released. She lets go of my wrist, I ease my sticky fingers out, take my hand out of her knickers.

I lie on my side, leaning on a bent arm, watching as her ragged breathing calms. Her eyes still closed, mouth open.

In a moment of foresight I reach into the top drawer of my bedside cabinet, take out a tube of lube and drop it on the bed behind me.

I roll onto my knees beside her.

Begin to stroke her skin, fingertips fluttering up and down in small circles, feel those goosebumps rise. Circle her flattened breasts, flick across her nipples then down to the soft skin of her stomach, scratching along the fabric of her suspenders.

I shuffle down the bed, small kisses on her warm flesh, a faint saltiness of fresh sweat on my tongue.

A faint moan as I start to pull her knickers off her hips: expect to have to unclipped her suspender straps but she's wearing her knickers over the top of them. Off her hips onto her thighs, the musky smell of sex released, keep pulling them down her stockinged legs to find that she's still wearing her shoes. Ease her knickers over them.

I lift her foot, move myself between her legs. I smell the leather, kiss the instep, lick the smooth warm surface. Kiss her ankle, move up her leg, the silk of her stockings smooth against my lips, her knee on my shoulder as I nuzzle the inside of her thigh, across the top of her stocking to reach the ultra soft, exposed skin, nibble her, edge closer to my goal, burrow into the crease at the top of her thigh, her heat on the side of my face. Turn my head that last fraction, push my nose into the sparse patch of pubic hair.

Hear her gasp as her groin pushes up against my face, a hand on the back of my head.

Follow the shape of her pussy with my lips and tongue; the hood completely covers her clit and is a clearly defined triangle, her outer lips are rounded, hairless, with the peak of her inner lips directly under the hood of her clit, they protrude slightly from her outer lips and flare to expose her entrance.

I lick and nibble along the folds of flesh; I can hear her soft cries whenever I find a spot more sensitive than the last, the hand on the back of my head attempting to guide me. I move up and down the length of her, from one side to the other, delving into the dips and hollows.

Another gasp as my tongue burrows to find her clit. I tease it out of its hiding place, nuzzle it between my lips, press against it with my tongue, roll it around. She's pressing me in, humping my face. I follow her movements, keep her clit in my mouth as her gyrations get faster, more erratic, feel her riding a building wave. Until it breaks, and she tumbles over the crest and she jambs her hips up against my face, holds me there, clit mashed against my mouth. She's not moving, I'm not breathing. She begins to shake, hardly anything at first; just a faint vibration, but it quickly builds into a full-on thigh quivering orgasm that sweeps through her body from her knees to her shoulders. It eases off then rolls through her again. Then a third time, much less fierce, that just ebbs away into nothing.

Her hand releases my head and she collapses onto the bed, releasing a whoosh of air.

I take a breath: my face feels bruised, my lips ache.

I push up onto my elbows, look up the length of her body. I can't see her face; just her chin above her heaving stomach and chest. I look back at the site of my very recent efforts; although, at the end there, all I was doing was trying to breathe. She's red, glistening, slightly gaping. I really want to fuck her but I need her to be a bit more with it, otherwise it'll feel like I'm taking advantage.

So I lie there, between her outspread legs, resting on my elbows, watching her breathing slowly ease.

Then her head lifts, she looks around, then peers down at me. Pushes herself up onto her elbows, blows an errant lock of hair and says, 'What are you doing down there mister?'

I grin at her. 'Coming up there.' And, climbing to my hands and knees, I crawl up until my face is above hers. 'Hello Stella.'

'Hello David.' Her voice no more than a whisper.

I kiss her, my mouth wet with her cum. I reach out, fumble for the tube of lubricant, find it and, one handed, flick the top open. Then, breaking the kiss, and supporting myself on my knees, I smear some on my cock.

Stella's eyes are on mine, I can't tell if she knows what I'm doing.

I slide my knees out behind me, the tip of my cock touches her stomach and she flinches, frowns, puts a hand on my shoulder. I edge back, reach down and guide myself, touch her again, push forward and the glans sinks in.

She gasps and her head tilts back, her nails dig into my shoulder and her stockinged thighs squeeze against my legs.

I push forward and my slick cock slides halfway in, she bites her bottom lip and her eyes lose focus, I pull out a little then push in until my hips press against hers.

'Oooooh!' Suddenly she's shaking.

Move against her, push hard against her groin. Both hands grab my shoulders, her nails making serious inroads into my flesh. Her eyes wide she yelps, 'David! David! David! Oooofff.'

The shaking gets stronger, peaks, then begins to diminish, her panting slows. I stay just as I am; pushed up on my hands, elbows locked, cock still rampant inside her, pressed up against her cervix.

Then, once her body has settled, I begin to move. Slowly, gently. Just short, careful thrusts. Still fully inside her, just coming out that little bit then back in.

Her eyes close and she relaxes into the moment.

Imperceptibly, steadily, I increase the length of my stroke until I'm pulling all the way out then pushing all the way back in. Her hips lifting with each thrust, nothing frantic, just an automatic response.

Her eyes are still closed, her face still relaxed but I can see the pace of her breathing is beginning to quicken.

I keep it like that, nothing fancy, nothing complicated, just plain old missionary. Reaching as far into her as I can, the shape of my corona pushing past the lips of her pussy with each long slow, swooping thrust, then pulling all the way out leaving nothing but the very tip of me inside her.

I can feel her control slipping, the roll of her hips starting to get ahead of mine. I pick up the pace, keep up with her demands, trying to meet her needs.

She flings her long legs across my back, a shoe pressing into my buttock, the heel digging in as she pulls me in with each shortening push of my hips.

Her head rolls from side to side, eyes screwed tight, teeth grinding together, a keening growl from the back of her throat.

Her building orgasm begins to overtake her. One minute her arms are thrown wide, fingers grasping the sheet. The next they are gripping my waist, exhorting my efforts, then back to the sheet.

My hips smack against hers, cock ploughing into her.

Her head thrashes around, one of her hands at her side pulling on the sheet the other now squeezing her breast, pinching the nipple.

Her legs urge me on. Her body in total abandon as she begins to reach a crescendo.

Her eyes fly open. She frowns, focuses on my face. Her fingers grip my waist, nails digging in as she locks herself to me. Push my cock deep into her, grind my pelvis against hers.

She cries out and her head presses back, her legs squeeze and her pelvis shudders.

The shuddering continues unabated for what seems an age then begins to ease, I feel the grip of her legs loosen until she just seems to wilt, to go soft and floppy. Her legs fall off me and her hands drop, her body sags into the bed and her face melts into sleep.

I'm not going to force my own conclusion. She's out of it, for a while she's going to be as good as unconscious. To just keep going and cum into her comatose body would be a waste.

I roll off, push up on to an elbow and watch her. She's now completely still; serene, arms and legs splayed wide with no evidence of her seeming complete loss of control. Her eyeballs are still under closed eyelids, her mouth slightly open, lips glistening, hair all over the place: I had the random thought that her hairdresser would have a fit.

She took a deep breath and her eyes opened. She looked at me, eyes cloudy, unfocused, momentarily at a loss as to where she is. They clear and she smiles, pushes herself up onto her own elbow to mirror my pose. We lie like that for a moment or two, not moving or saying anything.

Then her eyes shift, scan down my body, a faint whimper and her eyes widen: she reaches out and touches me, just a fingertip; as though she's never touched an erect cock before, then her thumb, like she's picking up something delicate. She watches in fascination as her hand moves up and down my turgid shaft. She jumps as it twitches at her light touch, her other fingers join her finger and thumb, slide down its length until her palm bumps against the head.