I moved to Eastern Washington at the age of 22, settling into a raw, rural world of endless farms, shimmering lakes, and dusty mines. The air smelled of fresh-cut hay and pine, but with my long hair whipping in the wind and out-of-state plates, I felt every suspicious glance. I wasn’t one for bars, so connections came slowly.
I spent hot summer days at a small lake nearby, the sun baking my skin on the pebbled beach, cool water lapping at my feet while speedboats droned in the distance.
That’s where I met her—an 18-year-old high school senior with sun-kissed skin and a mischievous smile. We clicked instantly, her laughter light and teasing. Her parents guarded her fiercely, so stolen moments were precious. Toward summer’s end, after graduation, we slipped away to secluded spots among the pines.
The scent of her coconut sunscreen mixed with youthful arousal as we started with oral—her soft, warm lips sliding down my shaft, tentative at first, then hungry, her tongue swirling while she moaned softly around me.
When we finally fucked, the air filled with the wet sounds of our bodies slapping together. Her tight pussy gripped me as she turned insatiable, a true nympho, nails digging into my back, begging for more.
She’d drop to her knees anywhere, the taste of my pre-cum on her eager tongue, sucking me dry with greedy gulps. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
She faded away; I wasn’t ready to commit.
Next was the tall farm girl, her parents’ place thick with the earthy smell of hay and manure. I bucked bales under the relentless sun, sweat soaking my shirt as she drove the tractor, her massive tits bouncing with every bump.
One lunch break in the dim, hay-scented barn, she seduced me, pushing me against the rough wooden wall, her calloused hands yanking down my jeans.
She towered over me, her body strong and curvy. Her pussy was impossibly tight, slick with desire, the musky scent intoxicating. Even average-sized, it took a full minute of slow, exquisite pressure to sink fully inside her velvet grip, her sharp gasps echoing as she stretched around me.
Once buried deep, she went wild, her moans turning to cries, her hips bucking frantically, the wet friction driving us both insane. Her orgasms were cataclysmic, her walls pulsing and milking me as she shuddered, hot juices coating my cock.
Strangely, oral wasn’t her thing; she’d push my head away from her dripping folds and only licked me teasingly once or twice, never taking me in her mouth.
Winter’s chill loomed, jobs vanished, so I moved to a bigger city. The air there hummed with exhaust and tavern smoke. I worked as a VW mechanic, hands greasy with oil, then crashed with roommates in a creaky old house.
They dragged me to taverns, the air thick with beer spills, cigarette haze, and blaring jukeboxes. Women flowed in.
First was a minx whose perfume, sweet and floral, lingered as she pulled me into the grimy men’s room on my birthday. On her knees, her hot mouth devoured me, tongue lashing the underside until I exploded down her throat, her swallows audible over the muffled music.
Next was a laundromat girl, detergent-scented skin, soft curves. We dated for four months. Her mom’s house smelled of home cooking and subtle jealousy.
I swear the mom listened through thin walls to our rhythmic fucking and my girlfriend’s gasps, her own suggestive comments laced with husky desire and hints of her lack of sexual encounters.
Then the stunning redhead at the tavern, fiery hair cascading, her perfume spicy and alluring. I lusted hard for her, cock throbbing just watching her sway. My roommate Wally did too. I struck out repeatedly, so I eased back.
That’s when my future wife entered, another rush.
She wanted cross tops. I scored them, delivered to her place thick with incense. In thanks, her lips crashed into mine, tasting of mint and urgency. Hands roamed, her skin silky, nipples hardening under my palms. I buried my face between her thighs, inhaling her musky sweetness, tongue delving into slick folds, flicking her swollen clit while fingers curled inside.
She sucked me greedily, wet slurps filling the room, her throat taking me deep like a starving whore. I came hard, flooding her mouth with thick ropes of cum; she climaxed simultaneously, gushing on my face, her cries muffled. Afterward, she grimaced at the salty-bitter taste she claimed to hate, the taste of cum. Never again, would I cum in her mouth.
Back to the redhead.
One night, the tavern air heavy with spilled beer and chatter, she arrived dressed to fuck—tight skirt hugging her ass, top straining over full breasts, heels clicking.
Wally scored, but at the door she beckoned for me to come also. Heart pounding, cock already half-hard, I followed, imagining a threesome.
Her house was normal, small, nothing special. Her mom—another redhead, mid-40s, radiant with soft curves—was in a loose dress that concealed what lay underneath.
Beers passed, cool and bitter on my tongue. I took a bathroom break. When I returned, the room was empty. The young redhead and Wally were gone. The mom’s eyes gleamed, her voice low and sultry. “They left you with me.”
I started to leave. She rose, the dress clinging to heavy breasts and rounded hips, her perfume warm and inviting. “Do you want an older woman?”
My cock surged. “Fuck yes.”
She led me to her bedroom. The sheets were clean, soft, and scented with lavender. She dropped her dress; it pooled at her feet. She was naked then, and glorious—full, pendulous tits with stiff pink nipples, a trimmed red bush already glistening. The musky aroma of her arousal hung thick in the air. “Strip,” she purred.
I did, my cock springing free, throbbing. She pressed my hands to her warm, yielding tits—heavy, silky, nipples pebbling under my touch. Her fingers cupped my balls, stroked my shaft, voice husky: “These will do perfectly.”
She pushed me onto the bed, legs dangling. Kneeling, her breath hot on my skin, she engulfed me—warm, wet mouth sliding down, tongue swirling expertly, cheeks hollowing with suction. “Cum, baby, I want to taste you,” she moaned between strokes.
The room filled with wet sounds and my groans. Three minutes later I erupted, thick jets of cum, pulsing into her throat as she swallowed greedily, humming in pleasure.
Then our positions reversed. She spread wide, her scent intoxicating—sweet musk and raw desire. “Eat me,” she said. I dove in, but she stopped me, guiding me. “Let me teach you.” Hours of lessons followed: tongue light, then firm on her clit; fingers curling to hit her G-spot. The taste of her flooded my mouth as she came hard, thighs clamping my head, hot nectar coating my chin.
She shuddered through multiples, voice breathy with commands.
The weekend blurred into marathon days of training—Saturday and Sunday, her body my classroom.
She taught rimming: my tongue circling her tight, puckered asshole—pink and crinkled, earthy and forbidden—until she quaked. Only then did she let me fuck her, sliding into her soaked, velvety cunt. Her walls clenched my hard shaft; the slap of skin and her moans were deafening. My young cock pounded deep, unloading a massive load—hot cum flooding inside her as my orgasm ripped through me like a freight train, leaving me drained and gasping.
Spent and sweat-slick, I collapsed onto her breasts. She wore a wicked smile. “Clean your mess.” I hesitated, not fully understanding, until she gripped my balls—sharp pain flaring through my groin.
I submitted quickly. Tongue diving into her creamy pussy, I tasted the salty-bitter mix of us—sticky cum oozing onto my lips as she pushed it out, forcing me to swallow. I found it strangely erotic, the intimacy filthy and profound.
At the door, her taste lingered in my mouth; I could still smell the mixture of our orgasms. The next weekend brought more sex, more training. I returned week after week—three months of intense, sensory overload. Her scents, tastes, and sounds are etched forever in my brain.
Roommates pried; I shared only half of what went on—nothing about eating my own cum. No woman since has escaped my tongue’s mastery. Some crave the cleanup, the warm slide of my mouth on cum-filled folds. My current partner adores it, moaning as I lap her clean.
That older redhead was the ultimate educator—every lesson unforgettable. But the full story, the one that still makes my pulse race hardest and gives me the strongest erections, is when she included her daughter.
