As she guided me into her room, tugging on my cock to direct me, a change had clearly come over Beth. Two hours or so, she had been a nervous teenager, fairly easy for me to fluster as I maneuvered her into giving me a blowjob on the pool deck of her parents' secluded house in the country. Now, her self-possession seemed greater than mine, and I was the one who was nervous about how things were going to shape up in the development of our "relationship".
Although I've always been fairly book-smart, no one has ever been able to accuse me of being a rocket scientist in my personal life. The impulse control and logic that served me so well in my work were often absent when it came to women. I had, for example, married the wrong woman in my mid-twenties, after only a few months of dating. And today I had put the moves on the eighteen-year-old daughter of my best friends, mostly because she was hot, I was horny, and there was an opportunity. But what had I thought was going to happen?
If I was honest, I guess I hadn't thought it through beyond we'd have a little fun for an afternoon, and that it would be a one-time episode that neither of us would tell anyone else about, or at least I had hoped that was the case, since her telling people, whether her parents, or anyone else, for that matter, would have a disastrous effect on my personal and professional reputation, even if I hadn't done anything illegal.
But we were beyond that point. Maybe I had harbored a sort of porn-world fantasy of having sex with the toned, golden-skinned, teen-aged goddess sunning herself topless by the side of the pool in her beach chair, but I hadn't really taken into account that she was a real person. With real desires. Not to mention that I was getting the more than sneaking suspicion that she was considerably more intelligent than I had given her credit for.
And her desires were clearly more involved and advanced than I or anyone could have imagined. As it turned out, Tim and Amy had raised her in a very sex positive household, with Amy even discreetly providing Beth with a couple of sex toys. But most importantly, she had discovered their supposedly secret sex drawer.
So while I, in my pre-internet teenage years, had occasionally been able to get my hands on Penthouse or Hustler, or the occasional VHS porno, which I’d get rid of soon after watching it, for fear my parents would find it, Beth had been steadily absorbing a diet of hard-core porn in a house where sex was not something to be ashamed of. Further, she had inevitably had to wonder about how her parents put some of the toys and equipment in that drawer to use.
Stepping into her room she released her hold on my cock and took a step away from me, putting her hands behind her back (accentuating her perfect breasts marvelously). She seemed to realize that I’d be inevitably be curious about her room, her private place, and have to at least look around. And I was curious.
There was something almost as intimate about being with her in this room as some of our earlier actions had been. Her room was “older” than I had pictured. For some reason I had imagined that there would be some remnants of a young girl’s love of horses or dolls, and there was none of that. No posters of teen idols were anywhere to be found.
The furniture was spare, with elegant modern lines. A full-sized bed covered with a white comforter abutted one wall, under a large window streaming in light and a small breeze. Next to the bed stood a simple night table with one drawer and a lamp and several books. I left the cuffs and lube there, mentally noting as I did that the bed had a slatted headboard that would be easy to loop the cuffs through.
Her room had hardwood floors throughout, with two area rugs to soften it. Opposite the bed, closer to the door, was her desk, which was about as free of clutter as a workspace that actually got used could be. Neatly arranged whirred a bank of computer equipment, with various lights occasionally blinking. On the other end of the room stood two large oversized shelves, filled to overstuffing with books. One of the shelves housed a heap of trophies and awards.
Curious, I took a few steps over and saw that most of the awards were academic ones: Junior Engineering Society, Math Club, Debate Team, quiz bowl. One framed certificate stood out. “Holy shit, babe, you were the state champ in the 800 meters this spring?!”
She blushed, a bit embarrassed it seemed at the attention, before answering, “Yeah, well, it wasn’t that fast. I mean, it was fast enough to win, but I wanted to go faster. I thought I could was ready to break 2:08, but I was only able to run 2:10. Still, it was a PR, a personal record.” She was embarrassed but pleased. Her running was clearly something she was proud of, even if she was deflecting the praise, and condescending just a bit by supposing that I might not know what a PR was.
“2:10?” I asked in amazement. “That’s spectacular!” I had been part of a running club for several years, and even run some not-too-shabby road races. On occasion some of us would hit the local track for a workout, but only the hotshot studs right out of college would get anywhere near 2:10 for the half mile. “You must have been heavily recruited, I mean you could almost pick your scholarship,” I almost babbled.
Smiling, clearly pleased at the attention, she said, “Quite a bit, actually, but I have good scores and grades, so I was able to get in to where I really wanted to go. I may decide to run, but I don’t have to -- it didn’t get me in.”
As she spoke, I started to connect some dots. Tim and Amy had been telling me about Beth’s accomplishments for months now, but in my haze of distraction surrounding my separation and divorce proceedings, I had almost tuned out their stories of her accomplishments and her upcoming move to Cambridge, where she’d attend MIT. How had I even wondered if she was smarter than me (than I?) -- the kid was brilliant.
And the track success clearly helped explain her gorgeous body, her legs in particular. Muscles rippled under her sleek skin, and her tummy was flat and toned, the abdominals tapering down towards her mound with more than a hint what a friend and I used to call “the diagonals” in our teenaged years when we were lucky enough to see them on a hot girl at the beach. Her waist was trim and small, without looking overly delicate. Her breasts stood large, firm, and proud, tipped with dark pink nipples, erect and tight.
Her eyes were roaming over my body just as much as mine were on hers, and it was flattering to feel her attention, as she looked me over up and down and smiled, eliciting a bit more of a rush of blood to my cock. As I ate her up with my eyes, I realized how tan she was all over, with her bikini area barely paler than anywhere else. Even my own non-MIT-attending brain was able to eventually figure out that the bikinis she’d been wearing must have been in deference to my recent presence at their house.
As she was standing in front of her full-length mirror, I could also look over her shoulder to see her perfect derriere in the reflection, topped with those cute dimples that I have always found so attractive. I also caught my reflection, and I was pleased to see that I looked good enough not to look like a troll next to her.
Having grown up an unathletic teenager, my formative years had been spent not liking my reflection. In college, however, I had grown into a better body, and I had also discovered running, swimming, and basketball. I had experimented with weights, but soon discovered that my body responded in a way that I found too bulky. Instead I turned to body-weight exercises. Push-ups, pull-ups, dips, and endless abs work. The results were good, I thought. I stood an even 6’0’’, with a 32” waist. Broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and abs that were nicely, but not ostentatiously, cut. Years of swimming and running (even if nowhere as fast as Beth) had left my legs trim and lean.
My own “diagonals” led my glance, as well as Beth’s, to my cock, which I had considerable pride in, even if that was immature at my age. Unlike most guys, I had never been worried about it being too small. Large even when flaccid, my cock’s size and even appearance had always received compliments.
Amy, Beth’s own mother, caressing it lazily after making love one night back during our late college romance (before she met Tim), had pronounced it “perfect.” “It’s just the right size to totally fill me up, but not so big that it’s uncomfortable to suck. And damn is it nice to look at when it’s all hard for me!”
She had even commented that she liked how it had just the right amount of curve. In the last few years, I had started trimming my pubic hair close and keeping my shaft and balls shaved smooth, originally in an attempt to make oral sex more appealing for my wife. Despite that failure, I had liked the look and feel and kept up with the grooming.
Beth saw me looking in the mirror, and she stepped close, leaning into me, so we both faced the mirror, and I slipped my arm around her waist. She leaned her head on my chest, and I was struck by her beauty. She seemed almost to hum with vitality, as if lit from within. I dropped my guard and said to her quietly, “Beth, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
She accepted the compliment gracefully, and she chose to deflect my accidental seriousness by responding, “And you don’t look too bad yourself Mist-, Mike, for an old guy, that is.”
I snorted and forgave her the “old guy” comment. For one thing, it was funny to hear her accidentally revert to calling me “Mr. Slater.” She had recovered well, but even though “mister” and “Mike” started with the same letter, what she had started to say was clear. For another, she had grasped my cock in her hand and was starting to stroke it again.
My erection had flagged a bit during our conversation about running and school, but her attention almost instantly brought it back to complete hardness. Beth was watching what she was doing, as she had before when she examined me on her parents' bed, but this time she was watching the action in the mirror, instead of directly, and something about that was particularly arousing.
I closed my eyes as she caressed me, and as I did my other senses seemed to heighten. I became aware of the soft breeze blowing in through the screened window next to her bed, which rippled the sheer curtains into the room, and it cooled all of my body, and the sweet smell of early summer and the outside garden. The smell of Coppertone sunscreen and the clean smell of her shampoo filled my nose as waves of pleasure started from my cock and radiated through my body.
My breathing seemed to become strangely loud as my pleasure increased, and her own breaths came heavy and ragged. I opened my eyes to see that she had brought her right hand between her thighs, and her index finger was working industriously between her lips. Her face was pure lust as she watched herself pleasuring both of us in the mirror.
I couldn't take it anymore, and I decided it was time for us to step things up, to get closer to what we had come into her room for in the first place. I turned her around in my arms, so that I was behind her. My cock slid up between her cheeks and trapped against her lower back as I pressed my hips into her ass. I brought one hand to her breasts and the other down to her wet pussy. I ground against her, as I had before outside, but this time there was no hesitation from her, and she rocked her hips back against me as eagerly as I was thrusting against her.
"Do you like my tits, Mike? You really think I’m beautiful?" She moaned as I played with and tweaked a perky, erect nipple. Before I could even answer, she continued, "Ohhh... that feels so fucking good!" as I sank my right index finger deep into her pussy. She gripped my finger tightly, and I marveled at how wet and tight she was, as I worked it back and forth, rubbing just under her clit every time I withdrew my finger before pushing it back in. Oddly, her language, "coarser" than I had heard from her so far, surprised me a bit. I realized that it didn't make sense, and I was relieved that I could allow myself to be blunter in my language as well.
"I love your tits, darling," I murmured in her ear as I thrust my erection up again between the cleft of her buttocks. "Almost as much as I love your perfect little cunt." At that word, she sighed loudly, and I felt an extra squeeze on my finger from her pussy. I wondered how far I could take the dirty talk.
Without letting her go, I walked her towards the foot of her bed, and when we got to it, I pushed her down face first, controlling our fall as I fell onto her. Her legs spread a bit and my cock's head slid against her lips, and almost between them -- it took every ounce of restraint I had not to push myself into her virgin pussy at that very moment.
Instead, I held myself above her, holding her wrists together in one hand, while with the other I reached for the cuffs I had left on her bedside table. I looped them behind the middle slat of her headboard and fastened each velvet-lined cuff to a wrist. As soon as she was properly restrained, I moved her long honey-colored hair to one side, and kissed the back of her neck, fragrant with soap and clean sweat, very gently, in contrast with the force I had used to push her down onto her own bed. She trembled as I kissed my way down her neck, her back, and left a trail of kisses right down to the dimples above her buttocks. More playfully, I deposited a loud kiss on each cheek as I got up and stood at the foot of the bed.
She lifted her head, first to one side and then to the other, trying to see me, but the angle was too difficult, so she asked, with nervousness trembling in her voice, "What are you going to do to me, Mike?"
At this my confusion grew. What was I going to do with her? But it was more than that. In terms of specific sexual acts, I knew what I wanted to do to her, and what her implicit desires pretty clearly were. And if I happened to overstep my bounds, we had our "avocado" safe word in place. It was more that I really had no idea how much she was acting and how much was real. What did she want me to do? What did she expect me to do? If I did more or less than her fantasy, would she not enjoy it, even if she didn't resort to the safe word? Or would she just think less of me? If I called her "a dirty little slut," was that how she wanted to be treated? Or, given her earlier explanation of her hatred of slut shaming, would she find it crass or despicable?
Clearly she wanted to abdicate responsibility, to give herself permission to be particularly wanton, because it was ostensibly me "making" her do everything I wanted. I also felt pressure because of our age difference. At forty-five, I felt I was supposed to be the experienced lover, the one who could teach her about sex. If I didn't live up to her expectations, it might seem to her as if I was just bad at sex, whereas if she were doing this with someone her own age, any less than perfect experience could be chalked up to lack of experience.
In the meantime, I had to answer her in some way. "Whatever I want to, you delicious little --" Crap! I hesitated. Was I going too far? Did she want me to call her a slut or a whore? Or would it throw cold water on her mood? I wouldn't mean them in a demeaning way, but could she know that? It would be hot if she liked it, but-- Jesus, I was overthinking this. I had a gorgeous, brilliant, eighteen-year-old girl with a serious infatuation on me tied down to her bed, at her request, and I couldn't answer a simple question.
I tried to cover up by giving her ass a healthy smack with my palm, but even as I gave her the first spank, she asked me, "Delicious little what, Mike? Delicious little bitch? Am I a dirty little whore? Is that what I am? What you want me to be?"
I couldn't tell if her tone was mocking, or if the questions were serious. And I still didn't know how she wanted me to answer. I didn't answer her right away, but instead left a series of hard spanks on her buttocks, reddening them slightly even as I realized that I was slapping her harder than I had intended. Beth didn't appear mind; she was trying to rub her mound against the sheet below her as she squirmed with every slap.
I remembered reading somewhere that in many sexual situations, the partner who appeared to be dominated was the one actually in control, but I had never bought it. It didn't make sense. If someone with a riding crop is making someone with a ball-gag lick their boots, how could you possibly say that the one with the whip isn't in control? (I know, if you have a ball-gag you can't lick someone's boots, but it made sense as I thought it). My current situation was starting to make me rethink my reaction to what I had read. Here I was, more than twice her age, and all I could think about was how to make sure this turned out the way she wanted it to.
I took a chance, "You're my delicious little slut, Beth. Stick out your ass, so I can get a better view of your pussy." My heart was in my throat as I said the words, hoping that it wouldn't backfire. Her only response was a muffled moan as she pushed her ass up a bit to give me a better view. I took the opportunity to slide a pillow under her hips and tummy, which allowed for a better view and better access, without her having to push up as much.
The view from behind was stunning. Her position presented every inch of her perfectly, and I could see the shell pink lips of her pussy, clearly wet and aroused, as well as the perfect bud of her puckered asshole. I reached out and trailed my index finger from her clit all the way "up" to her anus, which I rubbed and pressed against with my now wet finger.
"Yes, Mike, I'm your little slut. Your dirty little slut," she whispered as my finger traced little circles on and around her back door. My gamble had paid off, and I breathed a little easier. I changed my position so I was kneeling next to her and at her side. I kept my right hand between her legs, playing with her pussy, exploring it with my middle finger.
With my left hand I caressed her back, working my way from the small of her back to her nape, touching her as gently as I could, and prompting shivers when I reached the back of her neck. My cock stood out hugely, bobbing almost grotesquely, and I could say that I don't remember having an erection as massive as that one since those nuclear powered ones from adolescence, that seem able to pound nails. The head was purple and tight and needed attention.
I slid over a bit, still playing with her pussy, and presented my cock to her lips. “Mr. Slater, no, it’s too-- I can’t...I’ve never-- please don’t make me,” she demurred. Slow on the uptake as always, I was initially taken aback by her refusal, until the words “I’ve never.” Then it became clear that this was part of her fantasy, the willing and conscious giving up of responsibility and choice that she had explained to me in her parents’ bedroom.
“Suck it!” I instructed, pressing my cockhead against her lips, which she opened, allowing me to thrust my engorged organ into her mouth. The awkward position didn’t allow her to move much, but she did what she could with her tongue while I thrust in and out of her mouth, rocking back and forth on my hips. Her tongue swirled over and around my tight head, occasionally pausing to explore the opening.
On every outthrust, she sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks, and the feeling drove me crazy. With my free hand I held the back of her head, pushing her onto my cock until she couldn’t take me any further, before pulling out almost completely, her lips caressing the sensitive ridge. Fortunately, the position was awkward and uncomfortable, or I would have cum right then, and far too soon.
I pulled back, and my cock glistened with her saliva. Beth’s expression was one of pure excitement and animal lust, which contrasted with the youth and innocence of her face. In that moment I saw that her hesitance earlier was only an act, and that any future nervousness or reluctance would similarly be feigned. I took my hand away from her pussy, and she moaned her disappointment, trying to reach my cock with her mouth, but I had pulled back just enough for it to be tantalizingly out of reach. She ground her hips against the pillow for relief, and said, “Please!”
I didn’t answer her or touch her either for a long moment. Getting off the bed, I walked to the other side and opened the drawer of the nightstand. In the drawer were two toys: a very slim bullet-shaped metal vibrator, as well as a substantial dildo, realistic and flesh colored, made out of silicone, which turned out to be a vibrator as well. I took them both out and held them in my hands thoughtfully. She turned her head to watch me, and she asked plaintively, “What are you going to do with those?”
“Shh…” I responded, and I rubbed the head of the dildo along her visibly wet pussy lips, getting it good and wet with the juices of her arousal.
“Aahhh!” she sighed as the head pressed into her pussy. The deal had been I could not put my cock in her pussy, at least not until later, but anything else was on the table. Slowly, inch by inch, I pressed the plastic penis into her pussy until only the last two inches were visible. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” she repeated over and over as I fucked her with her own toy. I worked it in and out only a few times before stopping, leaving her on the edge of climax. I was surprised at how quickly she had approached the peak, given how little I had actually touched her so far, but the situation was clearly a long-cherished fantasy for her.
I left the dildo sticking out of her as I opened the little bottle of lube and squirted a bit onto my fingers and onto the bullet head of the metal vibrator. The sight of Beth handcuffed down to the bed, her ass in the air, with a dildo sticking out of her pussy, was a sight I tried to engrave into my memory forever. I used my lube-slick fingers to moisten her anus, and I rubbed the slickness into her. “No, please!’ she begged as my index finger gently but firmly invaded her ass. “You can’t, Mr. Slater! Oh my god no!”
Her body contradicted her words, however, as she continued to rock her hips, rubbing her clit against the pillow beneath her. Her ass was exquisitely tight on my finger, and I fingered her slowly while I also took the dildo with my other hand and exerted a bit of pressure on it, both forward and backward. I didn’t really move it as much as rock it back and forth in her pussy while I fingered her anus.
I pulled my finger out of her tightly gripping asshole, and I replaced it with the pointed smooth head of the vibrator. It was no bigger than my finger, and much smoother, and it slid in very easily, even though her anus held it tightly. I only penetrated her about an inch with it, which was as far as I wanted to go. She had abandoned any pretense of refusal, and instead was making little moaning noises in her throat as she surrendered to the sensations.
Without giving her any warning, I turned on both the vibrator and the dildo at the same time, and it was as if an electric shock had coursed through her. Beth’s body went stiff, and she let out a guttural grunt. I considered fucking her with both toys at the same time, but I wanted the true penetration to come from me, so I simply did what I had been doing with the dildo, but with both toys at the same time. I rocked them gently back and forth, in both her pussy and ass, watching her closely for signs of impending orgasm.
When it was clear that she was getting too close to cumming, I turned them both off and removed them abruptly, eliciting a frustrated wail from Beth. I took pity on her and switched on the dildo again, working it underneath her in such a way that she could touch the vibrating head with her clit if she pressed herself down in just the right way. And she took immediate advantage of the situation, pressing down against the fake cock’s buzzing head hungrily.
As she tried to provide for herself the pleasure I had stopped giving, she didn’t notice me applying lube to my cock until it was coated and dripping. I walked over next to the headboard so she could see my glistening cock. “Are you ready dear?” I said quietly, “I’m going to put this in your tight little ass now.”
At this point her resolve faltered. As good an actress as she was, the look of apprehension on her face was at least half real at this point. “Mike, I’m actually not sure-- You’re bigger than anything I’ve put up there.”
Keeping my face blank, I thought fast. “Mr. Slater” had given way to “Mike,” which was more real and less of a play-act. But if she really wanted me to stop, she’d say “avocado.” So all that was really happening was that the reality of my thick, large cock going up her ass was bumping up against the idea she’d had in her head, which was not as immediate or real as my all-too-present erection.
“I’m not giving you a choice, you little whore.” (Shit, had I taken it too far?) No, a little smile raised the corner of her lips before she clamped down on it and made a show of looking worried again. This time the worry was more obviously put on, and I went back to the foot of the bed and climbed between her legs. I pressed the head of my cock against her puckered rosebud, gently but firmly, and pressed forward. It pressed in a bit, but popped out and my cock slid up and between between her buttocks. I tried again, this time using my finger to press down on the head as I thrust forward, and after some resistance from her anal ring, it seemed to pop in. “Unnnhh!” she cried as my cock began to push into her rear. “No! Mr Slater, don't. It’s too big!”
“Relax, Beth,” I reassured her, “Just get used to it for a bit. Your body will relax and it will get easier.”
I couldn’t help but remember my first experience with anal sex. Hard not to, since it had been with Amy, Beth’s mother, in that summer we shared before I stupidly lost her. I had suggested it very nervously, and she had put her arms around me, smiled, and said, “I’m yours any way you want me.” And it had been glorious for both of us.
“Oh God, Mr. Slater, please stop. It’s too big!” As she squirmed, I waited, and soon her body relaxed a bit. It was a good thing I had to wait, because the situation and the amazing tightness of her ass would have brought me to orgasm far too soon after having been on the edge for so long. Her ass gripped me like a hot velvet vise, and I couldn’t get the thought that my cock was actually up Beth’s ass out of my head. As if on cue, she whimpered, “I can’t believe your cock is actually in my ass!”
With that I thrust in another inch, provoking another moan and shriek from Beth. Sooner than before, she relaxed and accommodated the intrusion. She also remembered the vibrator below her, and started to thrust her hips down so as to press her clit against the toy. Not too long after that I was buried in her balls deep. I allowed myself to enjoy the sensation of being in her so fully. Even though her hands were cuffed, I leaned forward and held her wrists in my hands, as if I were pinning her down without the cuffs. I kissed the back of her neck and whispered in her ear. “I’m going to fuck you in the ass now. I hope you’re ready, you little slut. Are you?”
No answer. “Are you?” I repeated, giving her a little poke with my hips.
Again no answer. This time, sitting back up, I slid my cock out almost completely, and super slowly. Just as slowly I pushed back into her, pinning her hips down to the bed and pressing her mound against the pleasure of the vibrator below her. And this time she couldn’t resist.
“Oh my god yes! Fuck me, Mike! Give it to me. I’m ready. Oh fuck I’m so ready.”
With that, I started sodomizing her in earnest. For the first few strokes I pulled out almost completely, as it was incredible to see the engorged head of my cock almost emerging from her anus, but it was clear that it was more pleasurable for her if I penetrated her completely and then only gave her shallow thrusts, although forceful ones. It was more comfortable for me also to lie on top of her. “You feel so fucking good, Beth. You make me so hard! Your ass feels incredible on my cock.”
I felt the cum rising in my testicles as I pinned her down, and she was making inarticulate noises of pleasure as she ground her hips down against the dildo’s vibrations. Her ass, incredibly, somehow seemed to grip my cock tighter, and she started to scream, “I’m going to cum
!” My relief was immense. After all the build-up, my body had been on the edge for far too long, and I knew that I was lucky that she was going to have an orgasm so quickly. I couldn’t last any longer either. As her orgasm ripped through her, her ass contracted on my cock, and it was all I needed to send me over the edge.
I could not remember a more powerful orgasm than the one that boiled out of me at that instant. Jet after jet of hot cum spurted out of me, filling her bowels with cum. I grunted loudly, almost like a roar, as I gripped her wrists tightly and fucked her as hard as I could with the last few strokes. We were each in our own world as we came down from our orgasms, but soon Beth realized she could make me shiver and shake by squeezing my cock with her ass.
My head was too sensitive and the feelings too intense, so I had to pull out of her. When I did, a large glob of cum immediately slid out of her ass. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. My legs trembling, I sat up, reached underneath her, and switched off the dildo.
Collapsing next to her, I felt my heart stop as she looked me in the eye and very sweetly said, “Smile, Mike, you’re on candid camera,” with a nod towards her computer.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/anal/a-treasured-memory-chapter-3.aspx">A Treasured Memory, Chapter 3</a>