It was early afternoon the next day when I finished Mrs. Segal's lawn. Her husband had passed away about two years ago, and she had stayed on as one of the coffee klatch. She always had a cold drink ready for me when I finished, and on this hot afternoon I was really looking forward to it.
I knocked on her patio door, opened it and called out. She came into the kitchen from the front and, with a beaming smile, told me to have a seat at the table while she got me a drink.
She returned with a cold glass of ice water and set it on the table. Then, to my amazement, she straddled my lap, placing her hands around my neck. She leaned forward until our faces were inches apart.
"Phyllis, Candy and I were having coffee this morning, and they both positively gushed about the personal service you did for them."
She began to move her pelvis on mine, forward and back, side to side. Her tongue made a languid circuit around her lips, glistening with her saliva. Eyes were half-lidded, but there was fire in them.
"You know, my husband has been gone for almost two years now. Ever since, my companions have been rubber and plastic. He and I had an enthusiastic private life, and I miss it terribly. Listening to the two of them brought back old memories that rekindled a fire in me that rubber and plastic can't quench."
She moved in those few inches that separated us, now running her tongue in a circuit around my lips. Her hot breath on my face caused my mouth to open. Hers was immediately on me, her tongue caressing mine. She was panting lightly, her gyrations on my lap increasing. Her hands moved up, her fingers running through my hair, holding my mouth to hers.
She moved her head back. "They said you had been blessed. My husband was also blessed, and I am so looking forward to you bestowing your blessing on me."
While this is going on, Mr. Johnson got a wake-up call and was preparing for action. I'm sure she could feel what was going on under the few layers of cloth between us. And whatever reservations I may have had evaporated. She was smaller than the others, but she still rated a solid 8 on the MILF scale. So when she leaned back in and resumed kissing me, my hands reached around, grabbed her ass, held her on my burgeoning erection.
Presently, she pulled back. "Let's go somewhere where we can do something about this." With my arm draped across her shoulders and a hand full of tit, her hand down the back of my shorts grabbing me by the ass, we ascended the stairs.
Hers was a woman's bedroom, all pinks and pastels. The bed was turned down, anticipating our arrival. "Take off your shirt." As I lifted my arms over my head, she pulled down my shorts and boxers, and Mr. Johnson announced his relief at freedom. Dropping my shirt, I saw the look on her face, somewhere between Christmas morning opening a gift she had desperately wished for, and a starving wolf discovering a succulent lamb. A gentle nudge sat me on the bed so she could remove my shoes. She stood, and in less time than it takes to write it, she disrobed.
Holy shit, now it was my turn to stare. She was maybe 5'6", but everything was perfect. There's a saying, "The closer to the bone, the sweeter the meat". If true, she was all sugar. The others had fleshed out a little with age, but Ruth Segal looked to have the same body she did in college. She smiled at my wide-eyed, jaw-dropping reaction. "Like what you see? It may be a little older, but everything still works as well as in my younger days. Here, let me show you."
A hand on my chest put me on my back. She crawled onto my chest, wrapped her arms around me, and, with surprising strength and agility, rolled us over and over again, so we were on the bed and she was on top. Her mouth met mine in a soft, sensual kiss, where our tongues alternating caresses. She pulled back, giving me a quirky little smile, before moving her mouth to my neck. She planted several wet tongue kisses up and down, me hoping they weren't hickeys. From there, she descended to my chest, laving one nipple while gently pinching the other, then changing sides. As she continued south, she paused to give a smooch to the belly button, licking the rest of the way to Mr. Johnson.
If you have the opportunity, get a woman with small hands to grasp your erect cock. No matter your endowment, it makes it look enormous. Her two hands began a firm milking motion as she licked her lips, her rapt gaze waiting for a reaction she seemed sure was coming. And it did. Suddenly, a clear bubble appeared at the tip, spilling over and running down over her hands as another appeared, then another after that. Her eyes lit up and, with a wide smile, she leaned in and licked it up, from what had run down to what was forming at the top. She took the entire head into her mouth, gently sucking, while her tongue danced around the rim and over the top, scooping and swallowing the fluid as quickly as it appeared. Her left hand descended to cradle my balls, her mouth moving to allow her tongue to caress the spot below the head where it met the shaft. She swooped up to catch another bubble, before moving down to take first one, then the other ball into her mouth. Then she was back up top, cleaning up the slick that had continued in her absence.
Suddenly, her tactic changed. A firmer grasp, hands twisting as they pumped up and down, head trapped against the roof of her mouth by her tongue, sucking with a purpose. The effect was almost instantaneous. My hips shot up, full-body tingling, tunnel vision, and that delicious lower-pelvic cramping announced the arrival of my orgasm. "OHFUCK, OHFUCK, OHFUCK, I'M COMING, I'M COMING," was all I could get out before Mr. Johnson delivered her creamy treat. Her response was a moan, "Mmm, mmm, mmm," deep in her throat. Then she lifted her head, looking me in the eye as she exaggeratedly swallowed several times. "I love your taste."
She knee-walked up my body until she had a knee on either side of my head, her calves on my shoulders, and her butt on my chest. Guess where her pussy was?
She reached forward, running her hands through my hair until she could grab two handfuls. Holding me in place, she rotated her pelvis forward, brushing my lips with her labia. "Phyllis and Candy both were taken with your French. I thought maybe you could do something like that for me."
Her hair was cut short, but not waxed or shaved, skin irritation showing it was recent. She had planned this. The labia were parted, glistening with the slick sheen of her excitement. I could also see the inner lips were stiff with arousal, as was her clit, a pearl standing proud from the hood, the surrounding area dark red with engorged blood. Extending my tongue, I penetrated between the outer labia, licking up and down, both inside and out, the inner lips. She caught her breath when I rubbed my nose across her clit, then lifted my chin to take it into my mouth. When I took it gently between my teeth and teased it with the tip of my tongue, she thrust her pelvis onto my face, rutting against my mouth. She was breathing heavily now, vaginal secretions coating my tongue and overflowing onto my face. Low moans indicated she was close. I locked my lips over her clit, creating an airtight seal, and applied suction while forcing my tongue against it, using a circular motion. The low moan became a loud howl as she came all over my face.
She shifted back, her shining eyes looking down into mine. "Votre Français est vraiment magnifique, mon cher."
She moved back in, apparently not caring that my face and mouth were covered in her essence. And if there was any residual semen in her mouth, I couldn't tell.
Mr. Johnson had been patient, but now he was demanding action. Grabbing her by the ass, I rolled us over with her beneath me, her thighs on either side of my hips. I reached between us, rubbing the head up and down her cleft until I found her slot. I moved forward, seating slightly inside her vagina.
Her hips were making a rocking motion, trying to speed insertion. "Oh yes, this is what I've been waiting for. Get that thing in there and fuck me hard!"
With a combination of her copious lubrication and her toys, I was balls-deep the first stroke. After only a few strokes, she whispered in my ear, "Give it to me. I'm not some China doll. I'm not going to break."
Your wish is my command. I took two handfuls of her ass and began railing her. The effect was almost instantaneous. Her moans gave way to cries of "YES, YES, YES," a long, shrill "AAAHHH," following which her eyes rolled back into her head and she went limp.
OHMYFUCKINGGOD, I'd fucked her to death!
I leaped off her, bent to check her carotid pulse while holding my ear next to her nose. There was a pulse, and I could feel her breath against my ear. Just fainted. That must have been some kind of orgasm.
I lay beside her, covering us with the sheet, until she recovered. I held her for a few more minutes until she said she had to use the bathroom. When she returned, she indicated willingness to resume, but Mr. Johnson was scared into impotency, so I said that I had to get home. She kissed me on the cheek and made it clear that she was available if and when I wanted to resume.
