Time Well Spent Pt 02

I awoke the next day with a raging hard on and when I remembered my coming assignation with Mrs. G, it became adamantine. Clearly, timekeeping was a sacrosanct with Mrs. G so I ensured I had plenty of time leeway. This found me firstly waiting in my car and then loitering outside the doorway of the cabin. The sense of expectation was exhilarating. I paused until I heard the antique clock inside start to strike. Before it could ring a second time I had sharply rapped on the door. It almost instantly swung open to reveal Mrs. G sporting a very self-satisfied expression. She looked me up and down and commended me with a twisted lip, raised eyebrow and a husky "Very good." Whether she was commending me on my appearance or punctuality was indeterminate but anything that increased the likelihood of my pendulum interfering with her clock work was very welcome.

Then came the instructions. She waited until I had completed a task before issuing the next.

"Come in... Shut the door... Lock it... Put the key in your pocket." This last command was said breathlessly and had me a little puzzled. Why should I keep the key? She sensed my confusion and gave a knowing but somehow timid smile. In a hoarse voice she enlightened me, "Now I can't leave even if I wanted to." I involuntarily gulped.

I looked beyond her to see that the couch had already been folded out into a bed. The observation brought a smug smile to my face. It was a clear declaration of what her expectations were. I looked back to her and took note of the curl of her lip that I had observed yesterday. I now simply interpreted it as her being in a state of heightened sexual arousal.

She continued in her characteristic blunt fashion, "I am pleased with your punctuality. We have precisely 60 minutes."

I handed her the small posy of flowers I had brought with me. Her response of "How touching," was dripping with disdain. "Do you really think I would appreciate a $10 bunch of gas station flowers?" She tossed them contemptuously onto a side table. "Let it be clear that this is not a romantic liaison. This is fornication; pure and simple. You do understand that don't you?"

(Did I mention that she was blunt?)

Embarrassed and belittled, I nodded my understanding. I hoped the heat I felt in my face was not causing me to obviously blush.

Without further preamble she shrugged off the white satiny robe she was wearing. To my astonishment I discovered she was completely naked. This was a visage that I had not been able to experience during our prior encounter. I had been curious about the rest of her body, but I was not expecting my interest to be fulfilled 30 seconds into our assignation. She was in a very tidy state for a woman of her age but there was one, or you could say two, features that instantly captured my attention. I had previously noted that there appeared to be no sign of cosmetic surgery on her face. I was however presented with, for a woman of her age, an utterly improbable pair of breasts. They would not have looked out of place if they had graced the chest of a playmate of the month. I was reminded of the headlights of a 1920's car. She thrust out her chest and gave a little shimmy that had her D cups emulating jello during an earthquake.

"What do you think?", she said with a small smirk on her face. "My husband bought me these as a birthday present, but I think he was the one that got the present." She was evidently rather proud of her remarkable rack.

I pondered my reply and decided on a simple murmur. "Very impressive." What actually struck me was that, while her breasts were undoubtedly gorgeous, there was actually something rather ridiculous and somehow sad about them when attached to this fifty-something year old.

She glided over to me and placed her hand on the tent my rigid cock and was producing in my trousers. She moved her hand in a circular motion as though she was giving my knob a good polish. She growled softly. She shimmied her torso so that her pink, pert nipples grazed across my chest. Their perfection was too good to be true.

Her next words jerked me out of my mammorial mesmerism. "You have me at a disadvantage. Should you not disrobe as well?" Take off your clothes in other words. Well, that was just fine with me.

As I hurriedly undressed, my eyes were drinking in her naked form. This ensured my main man was at full, vital, rigidity by the time I took off my underwear. Mrs. G. gave a little round of applause and tilted up onto the tips of her toes as he came into view. "Oh Lord. I must say he does seem keen to get down to business. I am flattered."

We were facing each other. At that moment our only points of contact were her nipples poking my sternum and my cock poking her stomach.

"How old do you think I am?" she abruptly and tersely interrogated.

As an aside, I am sure you know to always tread warily when a woman starts talking about her age and appearance and solicits your opinion. Even worse is when a pair of sisters ask who is the younger. You have entered a minefield and you had best start tiptoeing. When asked for an age estimate, always go ten years younger than your real estimate. "Forty," I replied.

She smiled archly and slapped my arm. Her touch was electrifying. I dearly wanted to get up close and carnal with this prime grade gilf.

I raised a point that had worried me over the course of the last day. "Are you sure your husband won't check in on you?"

She raised one of those stunning eyebrows as though to indicate I had asked a question like; what color is Tuesday?" "My husband hasn't set foot in my studio for over ten years; besides he is at his golf club." She added in a rather cold voice, "I would appreciate if you don't mention him again." She said studio, I thought boudoir.

Her face pinched into a quizzical expression. "Before we begin, I have a question. Do you usually come in such volumes? I had to change my panties twice after you left." It was my turn to smirk. I had always been rather prolific in the ejaculate department. "I'm not complaining," she continued. "In fact, I quite relished it, having you seep out of me for a prolonged period of time, but it was certainly something of a revelation."

I was emboldened. "Maybe you need a top up," I salaciously suggested.

Her eyes flared and one of those adorable eyebrows climbed up her forehead again. I feared that I had crossed an unspoken boundary. Had my crass vulgarity offended her? She hissed at me, "I'm counting on it."

She moved closer, raising her arms up and around my neck in the process. She ground her pubis against me. I drank in the heady smell of her. It was a sweet, fruity, soapy smell that pointed towards the fact that she had recently bathed. The fragrance was intoxicating if, as I had noted yesterday, somehow naive. She mashed her remarkable boobs against me. I was reminded of some sort of paired pneumatic shock absorber system. I raised my hands and gave each of them a good firm squeeze. There was a look of satisfaction on her face as she witnessed my appreciation of her stunning, albeit artificial, upper deck. I shifted my attention to her nipples and after a few seconds of gentle fondling, I gave them a sharp pinch. I was actually conducting something of an experiment. I had noted during our tryst yesterday that she had relished the pain caused by my banging her head up against the end of the bed. How would she respond to a firmish nipple tweak?

The conclusion of my investigation was clear. She groaned and sagged at the knees. After a moment she rose back up and wrapped a leg around one of mine and began grinding her pubic region against me. She was staring fiercely at me, and I could see her teeth were clenched. She was making a low growling sound. Response noted.

After few more leg grinds, she drew me towards the bed and crawled onto it in a manner that reminded me of the languorous motion of a cat. As she rolled onto her back, I looked down at the wet patch she had secreted on my lower thigh.

At first her hands were at her sides and her legs were together. In a similar manner to her actions yesterday, her hands went above her head and her legs parted and cocked back. It was a very submissive posture.

In a voice hoarse with lust, she murmured two words that really lit my fuse. "Take me."

In an odd way it was somehow stimulating to have a woman ask you to fuck her and you had not even kissed her yet. Foreplay was clearly not her forte.

Not wanting to disappoint my carnal collaborator I moved up onto the bed until I was kneeling between those wantonly splayed thighs. She wriggled as though embedding herself into the mattress. She was preparing to receive a boarder. I looked down at her most private place. Once again, I could see liquescent evidence of her arousal.

I pondered my options. She clearly wanted to get the show on the road in that most conventional of sexual practices; missionary position intercourse but, as we had a little more time today, I decided to do a little digital exploration of her little lubed purse. She shuddered when she felt my index finger running itself up and then down between her nether lips. After a few vertical swipes I started a gentle penetration with at first one and then two fingers. It felt like I had inserted them into a delated balloon filled with warm olive oil. The entrance to her canal was one of the tightest I had ever had the joy to experience and her vagina itself was also delightfully snug. The heady thought of once again embedding my shaft inside that tightest of sheaths made me shudder. Her head had become bent forward in an attempt to watch my finger foray. I watched as her eyes flicked from my fingers to my face and back again in a regular rhythm. Her expression indicated she was not expecting this attention and was a little surprised if not anxious about it. I was starting to build a picture of her sexuality that held an interesting contradiction. While she was bold enough to be unfaithful, she was actually rather conservative from a sexual practices' perspective.

I could see that her breathing had become heavier, clearly sign posting to me that my actions were stoking her up. I contemplated my next sortie. A trifle of oral I decided. In slow motion I rearranged myself on the bed so I could move my mouth to her, what appeared to be freshly shaved, pussy lips. I held eye contact with her as long as possible and I clearly saw the moment when she realized what I was about to do. Scandalized and scared but intrigued was my interpretation of her state of mind. As I lasciviously drew my tongue up the length of her oiled slit and across her clit I felt and heard her head thud back onto the bed and her whole body tensed. Her aroma was intoxicating. It was a pungent, earthy smell that made my head swim with lust.

I used both of my hands to hold her rather fleshy labial lips open so that my languid licks could do the most good. In doing so I made an extra-ordinary discovery. Her clit was the size of a small marble! It was by far the biggest I had ever had the pleasure of sampling. It was almost like an eye looking up at me expectantly. It was the pearl in her sopping oyster. I swirled my tongue around this orb. She moaned in manner that almost described pain, but I was not deterred. I continued my tongue tickling and as a result, her movements and sounds became more pronounced. She was starting to shudder in what appeared to be an erratic and uncontrollable manner. Thus encouraged I sent the first wave back in, inserting a pair of fingers into her. I curled them up, hoping to get into the neighborhood of her g spot. That really set her off. Her hands flew to hold my head and pulled it forcibly into her crutch. I held my ground and kept at it. My finger movements became more vigorous. Not to be out done, my tongue rose to the challenge and also increased tempo.

Out of the blue, she wailed like a banshee and bucked her pelvis up at my head, giving me quite a powerful pussy punch. I tasted blood and realized that the violence of her motion had split my lip! I retreated a little and looked up to see what state of play she was in. She looked up at me with a dreamy look and a weak smile. I correctly concluded she had climbed her summit.

I moved up and over her until our faces were adjacent. "That was... was... unexpected," she gasped. "I don't have much experience with that sort of thing. It was... different." Not the most effusive appreciation of my efforts but I was satisfied that I had satisfied her. I lifted my hand that had provided the finger stimulus to her face. I traced a still moist finger across her lips and then insinuated it into her mouth. I tickled her tongue.

In a low husky voice, I commanded her to suck it. This was met with a grimace but a few seconds later she started a gentle hoovering that took my finger deeper into her hot, moist mouth. Soon I could feel her tongue swirling around my finger. It was deeply erotic.

All the while I was maneuvering until I was in a position where my penis was hovering at the mouth of her woman cave. Onto the main event. My base desire was to ram myself instantly and deeply into her, but I cooled my craving. Let's have a little fun here.

I began a series of small, shallow thrusts. No more than the head of my penis entered her. Her tightness induced in me a delightful series of sensations. She wriggled impatiently underneath me trying to capture more of my length. I backed away to deny her the penetration she so clearly desired. She looked up at me with an expression that was part quizzical and part irritation. "What do you want?" I selfishly asked.

She again squirmed and writhed, trying unsuccessfully to impale myself on my shaft but I kept her at bay. Her hands were feverishly trying to guide my member into her.

"What do you want?" I repeated.

She looked up at me with a look of discomfort. "Do it!" she hissed.

"Do what?" I innocently replied.

Her magnificent eyebrows knitted in hirsute consternation. She hissed her answer, "Fuck me you bastard!"

Ah! The magic words. I checked my alignment and gave a monster lunge that embedded me in her right up to the root of my staff. It knocked the breath out of her, and she gasped for air. Holding myself deep within her I reveled in the sights and sensations. Her eyes had rolled back in their sockets and her head was tossing from side to side. I felt completely enclosed by her moist, clutching vagina. It was spasming. I thought of it as a sort of involuntary version of the Singapore grip. Each clasping contraction caused me to experience an indescribable sense of sexual pleasure.

After I had allowed her a minute or so to collect herself I started a workman like rhythm, each thrust bottoming out as deep within her as was physically possible. Her face assumed a grim rictus that creased even further with each penile incursion. I felt her hand move between us down to her crotch where I could feel it go to work. She started huffing and puffing until, in a shorter time than I expected, she did what I now realized was the characteristic back arch that indicated she had again orgasmed.

It was with considerable self-restraint that I slowed my movements to allow her to recover. There was an innate desire to charge ahead and discharge, but I wanted to savor the encounter.

When her breathing had returned to normal, she surprised me with a titillating request. "I want to see you come. I mean, actually ejaculate." It was said as an instruction not a request. I had no problem with this but was unsure by what method she would be able to witness my fire hose impression.

I offered to let her know when I was getting close, and we could make suitable arrangements. In the meantime, I decided it was time for a change up. I withdrew from her and forcibly flipped her over. She gasped in surprise but was compliant. I raised her up onto her hands and knees and shuffled up to her rather alluring bottom. I ran a hand gently over her plump but appropriately proportioned cheeks. Her skin was so soft that I could barely feel it. This contributed to my penis to be at a rigid 90-degree angle. It was clearly pointing the way home. I gave her baby-like bottom a sharp slap. She squealed and lurched forward. Her head turned. The look was of consternation with a hint of trepidation. After admiring the mildly red welt I had created, I forcefully seized her hips and pulled her back onto me. With impressive accuracy I plugged straight into her snug bull's eye. Our groans were in unison. My hands were firmly fixed to her nicely padded hips, and thus we went to work.

We moved together in a perfect unison. Like the clockwork mechanism of the antique clock on the wall, she pushed back, and I thrust forward. The confluence of our movements resulted in a wet, meaty, smacking sound, occasionally punctuated by a little farting sound as air was forced out of her tight canal.

This doggy style dance lasted for several very fulfilling minutes. In search of new objectives, I reached under her and procured two very full handfuls of bosom. It made me bend forward over her, but it was very satisfying. After a further few minutes I gave her nipples a farewell tweak and returned my hands to that position of excellent leverage, her hips.

I raised my right hand to her shoulder and used it to tug her back onto me even more forcefully. She began grunting with each lunge. Ever the experimentalist, I asked myself how I thought she would respond to a spot of hair pulling. In for a penny, I thought. I sensuously ran my hand up from the base of her spine up her back and into her fine blonde hair. I paused for a moment and then abruptly grabbed a handful and jerked backwards. This yank was opposed with a fervent lunge forward by my hips Unexpectantly her pussy clasped me even more tightly. In retrospect I guess it was a sort of mild donkey punch. Her strident squealing was very satisfying and encouraged me to repeat the process another dozen or so times.

I didn't want to push my luck too far however, so I eased back into more conventional hands on hips pounding. To be fair, another minute of that remorseless assault would have had me blowing my lid.

As I look down at her delightful derriere, I could see her little anus winking at me in synchrony with my thrusts. I was sorely tempted to retarget my meat missile at that lesser bullseye. I wet my thumb in my mouth and then tenderly stroked it over her nether orifice.

She jerked forward away from me, and I almost lost my precious billet. "Wha, what was that?", she gasped. I repeated my thumb swipe and she squealed. "Don't touch me there!". Her words were meant to be authoritative but communicated fear more than any other emotion. It was a difficult decision, but I decided to shelve that plot for another day. I gave her arsehole a final, wistful tickle and then, grasping her firmly by the hips, resumed my piston-like pumping of her primary passageway.

Over the next few minutes she became increasingly vocal. Well, if not vocal, at least noisy. Her visceral grunts and groans were really starting to rev my engine back up again. I felt myself returning to that very pivotal juncture. I asked her if she still wanted to witness firsthand my fluid finish. Her head nodded animatedly in agreement. I disengaged, turned her over and straddled her waist.

I savored her appearance. He face was flushed and her normally perfectly coiffured hair was scarecrow-like. I took her hands and made them cup my balls while I started a vigorous stroking of my well-oiled shaft.

"Oh yes!", she husked. "Come on me. Come on my breasts!"

The first statement welcomed me. The second was accurate but the third was an underestimation. Unbeknown to her, the volume of my ejaculate was matched by a prodigious range. Three feet was a standard initial volley for me.