Terry Deever’s cock is hard, and getting harder. He is in the drawing room of a large house in the most well-to-do area of the city. A woman (whose age he judges to be about fifty) is sitting next to him on the sofa. She is running her hand along the inside of his thigh, into his groin.
She says, “I want you to fuck me? Can you do that?” When he doesn’t reply she continues, “My cunt is very wet.” She takes his hand. “Here. Feel.”
How Terry came to be in this situation, and what happened next, is an interesting story.
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Terry Deever’s good luck began while he was still at school. The choice of after-school activities was limited. He didn’t fancy martial art, drama or chess so, on a whim, he joined the camera club. The master in charge was an enthusiast who saw in Terry a natural pupil.
In time, he guided Terry to a college course where his talents developed to the point that he emerged as one of the top three graduates in his year. Then he needed a home for his qualifications. Sports photography in freezing weather didn’t appeal. Nor did joining the paparazzi with a long lens hoping for a shot of a royal nipple or a flash of aristocratic knickers.
He found a position with a public relations agency but soon grew bored with being the junior on a commission to illustrate a factory brochure. That was when he saw a vacancy advertised at a long-established studio in the city centre. The business was mainly portraits or covering weddings, office balls and the like. It wasn’t exciting but Terry did it well and struck up a rapport with the elderly proprietor.
The next stroke of good fortune occurred when the proprietor decided on early retirement. He had a villa in Spain and an invalid wife whose doctor recommended the move to a warmer climate. Offered the chance to take over, Terry pooled his savings with a legacy from a grandparent to persuade a sympathetic bank manager to make up the deficit. At age twenty-eight, Terry had his own business (plus overdraft).
Now he had the freedom to develop the increasingly popular, and valuable, video coverage of events that had previously been dealt with by stills and albums. For a year, Terry went to night school after hours to learn the intricacies of video editing. Once launched, it needed only the most trifling changes for Terry Deever to become Terence De Vere. His product was good and word of mouth did the rest.
As he prospered, he needed to take on an assistant, went back to his old college for a recruit, was offered a choice from the top three who were about to graduate and chose Chloe, the one with big tits.
So it came about that they had been commissioned to cover the Gladdings’ wedding. Larry Gladding had the Volvo main dealership for the west of the county with three showrooms and a steady turnover. The wedding of his only daughter was a no-expense-spared operation. Ten days later, Mrs Gladding asked Terry to call round in the afternoon with the proofs.
Which is where this story begins.
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He is in the drawing room of a large house in the most well-to-do area of the town. A woman (whose age he judges to be about fifty) is sitting next to him on the sofa. She is running her hand along the inside of his thigh, into his groin.
She says, “I want you to fuck me? Can you do that?” When he doesn’t reply she continues, “My cunt is very wet.” She takes his hand. “Here. Feel.”
She moves the gusset of her knickers to one side and he feels. His finger finds a hard clitoris, slick with her juices. She is, as she says, very wet.
“But not like that,” she says. “A proper fuck. You know what I mean?”
He does. Nods, unable to trust himself to speak in case he breaks the spell.
“Look,” she says, “I saw your assistant at the wedding. Pretty girl with all the assets. You like big tits?’
He feels the need to find his voice, but is wary of saying the wrong thing. “I think most men do.”
“And are they good? Hers, I mean. I take it you’ve had your hands on them.”
“As a matter of fact, no. Chloe has a partner. An older woman.”
“Oh dear. But never mind. I think I may be able to satisfy you on that account. Do you want to see.” Her hands are already on her blouse buttons when she has another idea. “No, I’ll tell you what, I want to see, too. Show me your cock.”
She holds out her hands, pulls him to his feet and kisses him, tongue exploring greedily in his mouth. This is the moment when a bridge is crossed. In a frenzy of fumbling, buttons are undone, zips are opened, and garments fall to the floor.
When his boxers disappear to reveal a cock sticking out at right angles, she takes it in her hand. “Oh my. I was right. I just knew you would be big. I knew it. Now I need to see how you use it. Very good for a tit fuck, would you say?”
Her bra is with the rest on the floor. She uses both hands to cup her substantial breasts and thrust them towards his face. He licks a nipple. It is lile a small dark pebble. She makes a sound of approval as she pulls his head into her chest. But her intention is more basic. She pulls away. “Shall we fuck?”
For the first time, Terry asserts himself. As she moves to remove her knickers, he asks her to wait.. He has been wondering if it is possible to get his cock into her while she is still wearing them. But that only gives her another idea. She says, “Are they important for you? I don’t mind. Do you like the colour - midnight blue, it’s called?” She turns round and bends forward, stretching them across her arse. “If my knickers get you going perhaps you would like me to lie across your lap so you can spank me.” She is already pulling him back on to the sofa and getting herself into position.
Terry has no experience of spanking but it doesn’t need much figuring out. First, though, he lets his left hand reach under her body to grasp the tit that is hanging down. His right hand smooths the silky fabric of the knickers across her buttocks. She widens her legs so he can feel between, pushing the sopping gusset into her cunt. “Nice,” she says. “Now go for it.”
He raises a hand and brings it down on a taut backside. And again. After the third time, she says, “Harder. Don’t go mad, but I think harder than this will be good.”
He thinks maybe this is new for her, too. This time his flat palm stings her arse. The little yelp she gives is a sign of approval.
“Better,” she tells him. “More of that, but soon I want to fuck.”
He counts a dozen slaps before she decides she can wait no longer.
The knickers are removed in a single smooth motion. She arranges a cushion for support as she lies back with her arse on the edge of the sofa. She spreads her legs, crooks her hands behind her knees to pull them up, and says, “Would you like to taste me?”
Needing no invitation in this regard, Terry kneels and applies his tongue. The lips are puffy and slick with juice. He holds them apart with his fingers and inserts his tongue. Finding the clitoris is easy. He licks and she bucks against him. Cunt juice smears across his lips and chin. How does she taste? Very good.
He is more than ready to get into her and she has been quivering with lust but she teases herself one last time. She wants his cock in her mouth. “Don’t cum,” she commands. “I want that in my cunt. Save the full blow job for anther time. I can swallow if that would be good for you, but not now. Next time we’ll do that.”
“Next time?”
“If you are as good as I think you’ll be, there’ll have to be a next time. Maybe lots. Oh, Terence, there\s so much I have to tell you. But fuck first, talk afterwards.”
Terry doesn’t cum in her mouth but only by a great effort of will. She has voluptuous lips and an ingenious tongue. At the same time, her hand steals under his balls, her fingers curling subtly. A thumb applies pressure across the base of his cock, helping to hold him in check from an uncontrollable ejaculation.
When she lifts her head to announce it is time, she asks, “What about a condom? I don’t need one but I’ve bought some if you would prefer that.”
“Thanks, but it’s better without.”
“Good. I hoped you would think so. I want to be able to feel you in there.”
Finally, they fuck. She resumes her position on the edge of the sofa, her spread legs an obscene invitation. When he stands between them, she takes his rampant cock in her hand and feeds it slowly into her cunt. “All the way,” she instructs. “I want to have it all. Like ... that .. yes ,,, push slowly ... that’s it. That’s good. Don’t move yet. Just press hard on top of me. When I tell you to start to move, don’t get carried away. Not too fast too soon. If you get close, tell me, and we’ll stop. As long as it’s good for you, it will be for me, and we want to make it last, don’t we?”
Terry certainly wants to enjoy every minute with the hot wet flesh folded around his shaft and sucking at his knob. When eventually she asks him to start moving, he does so with the utmost caution, careful not to excite himself too quickly, concentrating on letting her feel the full, stiff length pull almost out and then slide, inch by inch, back in again.