agentlost1956

Paul’s eyes seldom left
her breasts and Marsha deliberately displayed them for
him. She sat with them resting on the table with their
nipples very much in view. When she went to get them
more coffee, she was rewarded with a view of his cock,
fully erect and jutting up from his groin. He was
ready again and Marsha marvelled at the resilience of
youth.

As she poured his coffee she said, "I think it’s my
turn to be pleasured; you’re getting behind on your
payments."

Her right breast was inches from his face. "I’d like
to pleasure you some more," he paused, then added,
with a grin, "Ms. Sims."




She made him kneel in front of her. She caught the hem
of her skirt and slowly pulled it up. It was
everything he’d hoped for and more.

Her stockings proved to be hold-ups, with black lacy
tops, her panties were simple, white cotton. The
latter were brief, but not the frilly black things
he’d imagined. She moved closer and dropped the skirt
over his head.

He was under her skirt! His cock was hard to the point
of hurting. It was almost instinct to slip his hands
round behind her and up the soft backs of her thighs
until he was holding her ass, his spread fingers
pressing into her softness. Her hands went behind his
head and pulled him against her, against those
panties.

She was so wet. She smelled of honey on hot toast he
thought, yes, honey on hot toast. He nuzzled her, his
nose and mouth against the soaked cotton. She moaned
as he squeezed her ass and she writhed like an animal.
This was like nothing Paul had ever done before.

There was a delicious wickedness about the moment. His
head was up a woman’s skirt, his face against her most
intimate area. ‘This time yesterday I’d never
even...,’ Paul lost track of his thoughts.

Marsha pressed back against him he felt her buttocks
tense as she thrust. Then she was struggling to get
away. Paul emerged from under her skirt looking
confused, wondering if he’d done something wrong.

He watched as she pushed dishes and mugs to the other
end of the table.

She turned back to face him. "Pull my panties down
Paul."

He edged closer on his knees and reached up under her
skirt, fumbled for a moment and then drew them slowly
off her hips, down her thighs. She stepped out of them
and backed away a little and perched her ass on the
edge of the table.

"Would you like me for dessert?" She didn’t wait for
an answer but said, "Bring the chair closer so you can
sit between my knees and I can rest my feet on the
arms."



With her skirt hiked up and her knees wide apart, Paul
could see everything. It was like no sex-ed class he’d
ever been to. And now she wanted him to go down on
her. He’d seen it all in porn movies, knew what he was
supposed to do. But this was a real pussy; it was
slightly open and glistened wetly. She wasn’t shaved,
although he guessed she kept herself trimmed.

Nervous excitement and uncertainty had robbed Paul of
his erection and he sat staring, first at her face and
then between her legs. Nylon clad legs, white thighs
and that fur fringed opening into this amazing woman.

"Do you want to pleasure me Paul?"

His nod and a mumbled "Yes," showed his nervousness.

"Heard bad things about pussies?"

"No!" he replied too quickly.

"They bite and smell bad and give you diseases?"

He shook his head, gulped and said, "I think yours
smells like honey on toast."

She chuckled softly, "That’s awfully sweet Paul. Well
I promise she doesn’t bite and she hasn’t got anything
nasty to give you."

Paul shifted uncomfortably on the chair, very aware of
her nylon-clad knees on either side of him.

‘Would you like to touch?" When he nodded she added.
"Touch and look. Explore me. Maybe you’ll let me look
at you later. I should like to do that; you have a
lovely cock."

Reassured a little he edged closer and reached out a
hand, touching her pubic hair with his fingertips.
Surprised at the soft springiness, he stroked her
carefully and glanced up at her.

She looked down at him between her breasts and smiled.
"That feels nice."

Marsha reached down with both hands and gently peeled
herself open. Paul gazed at the display of glistening
shades of pink.

"Do you really want to pleasure me Paul?"

He swallowed and said, "Yes I do."

"One thing Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Please do it soon, I’m probably every bit as horny as
you."

She guessed that Paul’s knowledge might be limited to
sex-ed classes in school and porn on the web. Maybe
too, some clumsy fooling around with a few girls.
Getting himself off had been a simple business but
faced with what she was offering must be a bit
daunting.

Marsha knew all too well what was going on in his
head. He wasn’t her first young seduction. Trouble
was, she needed what he had so much of and, she needed
it badly.

"Just bend forward and kiss me Paul. Do things you
think I’d like and I’ll tell you …"

She didn’t finish the sentence. He’d kissed the top of
her slit. She’d felt his face between her fingers. Her
legs defensively tried to close but his shoulders were
between them. Marsha lay back on the table and waited.




Paul didn’t really know what to do. He knew he was
supposed to go down on her. This was cunnilingus he
knew, that strange word for oral sex with a pussy. Was
he supposed to lick or kiss or what? He had teeth and
tongue and lips. He tried to remember the porn he’d
watched, it looked easy enough in the movies. He‘d
listened to others tell all about their talents when
eating hair pie. He raised his head and looked. All
that pink wetness, the trimmed hair. She still held
herself open and Paul could see the hole where his
cock was supposed to go and above it what he was sure
was her clit. The thing that was supposed to make
women freak out.

He heard himself say, "I don’t know…," His voice
tailed off.

"Just kiss me Paul, everywhere and then go back and
lick each spot you kissed. Listen to what I say and
what noises I make while you do it. Bite me here and
there, little nibbles. Save my clit for last. You know
about clits do you?"

Paul said he did and watched as she moved a finger and
said, "This little guy here."

"I see," he croaked. He’d been right.

"Save that for last Paul."



God, he was wonderful, Marsha thought. Clumsy and
hopelessly inexperienced. But he tried and he was
patient and learned fast. She encouraged him, guided
him. Her cries and moans of delight were genuine and
Paul responded just the way she’d hoped he would.

It took a while and there was no quick orgasm for her.
But he learned, and his tongue and lips were soon
doing exactly what she wanted. Her pussy got its
kissing and licking. His hands replaced hers.




Her arousal mounted slowly. She became more vocal. Her
hips and ass were never still on the table. Paul just
lost himself in his efforts. His face was wet, wet
from her juices, wet from his saliva. Somehow, his own
urgent needs seemed to move aside and the excitement
of pleasing her gained in importance.

He knew she needed him. He realized he could supply
that need. It felt good, a sort of power thing maybe,
but more than that.

Her wetness spread. She seemed to open like a flower.
He could, and did bury his face between her thighs.
They were wet and slippery thighs, wet so that his
ears slipped easily against them. Her trimmed pubic
hair was wet. His face was wet. This was like nothing
he’d imagined.

He lifted his face for a moment and looked at Marsha’s
pussy. Every shade of pink surely? It glistened. She
moaned and squirmed on the table, her legs opened,
wider, he could see into her.

Paul slid his hand down the backs of her thighs, to
beginning curves of her buttocks. He took a deep
breath and pressed his face back into all that
pinkness, thrusting his tongue into her.

She gripped his head with her thighs and humped her
pussy urgently against his mouth. His hands gripped
her ass and he fought her bucking hips as she began
her orgasm.

She screamed that she was coming and come she did as
he tongue-fucked her with an eager hunger of his own.



Marsha lay exhausted. She remembered nothing, yet she
remembered everything. How long since she’d come like
that? She’d seemed to flow out through her own cunt, a
river bursting its banks. This boy -turned-man had
done it. His clumsiness, his sweet ignorance and his
wonderful persistence.

With a moan she lifted her head and looked down. He
was looking back at her, a worried expression on his
face.

"Are you alright? He asked.

"I never felt better, never, never," she said with
total sincerity.

"You came didn’t you?"

"Oh yes, I came, I mind-blowingly came."

"I did that to you? Made you come?"

"Yes Paul, you made me come."

He sat up. "Again?"

"Again Paul? No not yet."

He lifted her right leg up onto his shoulder. She
tried to resist but she felt as weak as a kitten. He
did the same with her other leg and wrapped his arms
round them.

"You said three of yours for one of mine."

With that his head slid down between her wet thighs
and he was at her pussy again.

"Paul no! Not yet. I have to pee. Noooooo!"

His tongue slid over her clit and Marsha’s protests
stopped.

In seconds, it seemed, she was coming again, coming
against that wonderful pussy eating mouth.

And he didn’t stop, those lips, that tongue kept
kissing and tormenting. He lapped and sucked until she
turned inside out. Until she knew she’d die of coming.
Marsha became all cunt.

Somehow she squirmed away from him, across the table.
She fought and struggled and brought a leg over his
head and curled up, wrapping herself around her
spasming, clutching pussy. If anything touched her
clit again she’d die. Tears flooded her eyes. She felt
herself slide into blackness.



She awoke. God she had to pee! Paul’s very
worried-looking face was inches from hers. He was sat
with his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his
hands.

"You OK?"

"Yes I think so. I thought I’d die."

"I’m sorry."

"Sorry! Don’t you be sorry. That was wonderful. I’ve
never come like that Paul."

"You were amazing," he said, awe in his voice, "You
just came and came. I didn’t know it happened like
that."

She laughed. "It doesn’t Paul, not very often." She
reached out and touched his lips. His face was still
wet. "Thank you, sweet, wonderful Paul."

She struggled up onto an elbow. "Now, I’ve got to pee
before I burst. Help me up."

She rested her hand on the table, bent over as the
need nearly overwhelmed her. She clamped a hand
between her legs and said "Ooooh!" through clenched
teeth.

"Can I watch?" asked Paul.

"If you want to." How sweet, she thought. Back to
being a boy, with a boy’s curiosity. She looked up at
him and smiled. "If you’ll let me hold you when you
go."

"I’d like that."





She made it, accident free, to the bathroom. Unbidden
he knelt in front of her.

"Give me your hand." She guided it between her open
legs. "Cup my pussy, hold me tight." The delay was
costing her dear; she needed to let go so very badly.
"Ready?"

He nodded. Nothing happened, of course at that moment
she couldn’t let go. How crazy is the human body?

This was so weird, she thought. Sitting here trying to
pee, hunched over the pain, needing to go so badly and
this young man’s hand on her pussy.

Finally she started.

"Oh my God!" His surprised words made her open her
eyes. He looked back a broad grin on his face. "It
tickles. This is so very sexy.

She felt his fingers playing in her stream, teasing,
exploring.

"I can feel where it’s coming out. It’s so hot too."
His hand tightened as if to stop her flow. Now she
felt it heat as her whole pussy was flooded. Suddenly
the whole thing became very sexy to her as well, to
her great surprise. She looked down, he’d not been
erect in the kitchen but now he was now, fully erect.

"This is turning you on isn’t it?" She asked him.

"Yes it is. Do you mind?" he looked embarrassed. "I
should never have asked, you’ll think I’m weird."

"No Paul, you’re not weird. There’s nothing weird
about enjoying your body or someone else’s." Her
stream slowed to a trickle. "Stand up and let me enjoy
you for a moment."

His hand left her pussy and he got to his feet. He
looked at his wet hand uncertainly and half turned and
rinsed it under the washbasin tap. Marsha picked up
the hand cream dispenser, squirted some cream into her
palm and reached for his cock.

"Your poor cock’s been quite neglected hasn‘t it?"

It looked huge in her small hand. It was so hard, so
wonderfully hard. She began to pump him slowly. Marsha
watched the muscles in his thighs move as he his body
tensed and he had to focus on keeping his balance.

"Oh yes, that feels so good. Marsha that feels
perfect."

She smiled at his first use of her name. Now, with two
climaxes behind him, his youthful hair trigger was
gone and she could enjoy him.

How she loved his cock, its length, its strength. She
wanted to pump it like this and then she’d get it in
her mouth. Keep him wanting, keep him near the edge.
Just love his cock until he begged to get it inside
her. She wanted it inside her now. Oh, how she wanted
it up inside her, up, deep, deep inside her.

She pumped, alternating slowly with quickly, tight
with loose. How he loved it, how she loved his
reaction. If she stopped he tried to fuck her hand.
And all the time, that play of his muscles in his
strong legs as he tried to stay upright.

Finally she stopped. Paul protested, "No, please don’t
stop, don’t stop now."

Gently she pushed him away. She grabbed a handful of
tissue and dried herself and stood up and flushed the
toilet.

"Don’t worry, we haven’t finished yet. Anyway, isn’t
it nice to go to the edge like that and then stop?
There are all sorts of games to play with cocks and
pussies." She’d love to tease him and his cock
forever but it really was time they fucked she
decided.

She looked down at his cock, still delightfully erect.
"Will you wash off that cream, or shall I do it? I
imagine it tastes terrible."

"Tastes?" he asked, looking puzzled, then grinned,
"Oh, right, yes I see?"

She ran the cold tap into the washbasin and picked up
the facecloth. "Come on, let me wash your lovely
cock."

He stepped up to the vanity and Marsha took hold of
him and began to wash him.

He sucked air through his teeth. "It’s cold," he
protested.

She put a squirt of hand-soap onto the cloth and
bathed him carefully. Cold water or not his cock
stayed firm.

"No steady girlfriend yet?" she asked him. She was
enjoying herself.

"No, I never seem able to keep them. I guess I’m too
shy and boring."

"You weren’t shy and boring with me today, Paul. With
that tongue of yours and that lovely cock I’d never
let you go." She turned off the tap and gently dried
him with a towel.



"Well then," Marsha said in a tone that seemed to say
that the time had come.

Paul looked expectantly at her. She undid the zipper
down the side of her skirt, undid the snap on the
waistband and let the skirt fall. She turned and
walked out of the bathroom clearly expecting him to
follow.

He did follow, his eyes intent on her buttocks. All
she wore now were the stockings. He supposed it was a
beautiful ass. The asses on girls he tended to watch
were tight, little things. Marsha’s was wide and
round. If Paul had had the word Rubenesque he’d
doubtless have used it.

"Like this old lady’s fat ass Paul?"

"I wish you wouldn’t keep saying you’re old."

"Very diplomatic," she said. Reaching the centre of
the living room she stopped and turned. "Maybe I’ll
teach you to appreciate my ass some time."

Paul’s eyes moved up to her heavy breasts and big
nipples.

She gestured at the sofa, "Sit down and let me
pleasure you for a while."

Paul sat and she knelt in front of him. "Would Paul
like his cock sucked?"

Paul gulped and nodded.

"Well, ask nicely." She moved forward and nudged his
knees apart and waited.

They both looked at his half erect cock. "Well." she
said.

"What?"

"Ask me nicely if you want me to do it."

He swallowed loudly and his face flushed red. "Please
suck my cock."

"Again."

"Please suck my cock Marsha." His cock was fully
erect, Marsha smiled and looked down at his soaring
erection.

"I think perhaps I will."

She bent her head and kissed the very tip of his cock
then parted her lips and took him in.

This wasn’t Paul’s first blow job. It was his third.
The earlier two had been strange affairs, both by the
same girl. Both had been marked by nervousness, fear
of discovery and hopeless inexperience. It had been in
the dark and cold and uncomfortable. The first time
he’d not come. The second time he had and the girl had
thrown up over his shoes.

This time? Warm and very comfortable and he could see
the action. Best of all Marsha seemed to know very
well what she was doing. Paul relaxed and let it all
happen.

She looked up at him, her eyes very round and very
big. She spoke with her lips moving against the head
of his cock, "Has anybody done this for you before?"

He nodded, "It was a disaster." Paul almost laughed at
the memory.

"This won’t be, I promise. You’ve a lovely cock and
you’re going to love what I do to it."

Her left hand held the root of his cock and her right
lay on his thigh. He was very aware of her big soft
breasts moving gently between his thighs.

Her mouth began to work on him. Its heat enveloped
him. Her lips were a clinging ’O’ that slid up and
down him while her tongue swirled and caressed him
inside her mouth. Her eyes never seemed to stop
staring up at him, watching, seeming to be checking if
he was enjoying her efforts.

His comments were made up of "yeses" and "Oh Gods" and
incoherent sounds; all very positive.

Marsha said nothing of course, her mouth being very
cock-full. But she slurped and sucked and swallowed,
just like they did on the porno movies he watched. But
this was his cock and his very own cocksucker. Paul
was in a very special heaven.

She took it slow and easy. After two comings Paul was
easier to control. Earlier he’d have gushed like a
fountain within seconds of her mouth engulfing him.
Now he was as horny as ever but able to savour
Marsha’s efforts.

It was wonderful. She sucked, hollow-cheeked, up the
length of him until he almost slipped out. After a
teasing pause she slid down him again, down and down
until her lips reached her curled fingers. No deep
throating, no gagging, just a slow and steady, suck
and slide. Almost imperceptibly his arousal grew, his
balls seemed to buzz with energy and he knew he could
come again. He lay back in the cushions and watched
this gorgeous woman seem to devour him. His cock
glistened with her saliva, the tracery of veins, blue
and purple stood out on his shaft.

Would she let him come in her mouth? Would she swallow
his come? Somehow he knew she’d do anything and
everything to and with his cock if it took her fancy.

He wanted to grab her hair and fuck her face. He
wanted to jam her head down on him, force himself down
her throat. He didn’t, he couldn’t. He didn’t know why
but somehow it would demean him and disgust her. So he
just let her suck at him and work her magic on his
swollen, desperate cock.

Then, with an awful suddenness, his climax took hold
in the very pit of his groin and he knew he must come.

Marsha knew it too, it seemed. Her mouth was gone and
her fist squeezed his cock at its base with a painful
fierceness. His muscles clenched and squeezed, his
come seem about to boil out of him. But it didn’t,
somehow she’d choked him off. When she finally eased
her grip, one drool of his come poured gently out of
his cock-tip. Marsha lapped it up with a dainty pink
tongue. She looked him in the eye and swallowed.

Sweat broke out on Paul’s forehead and he stared at
her hand and the cock it encircled.

"Nearly," she said. "You taste good by the way."

She played gently with his cock and asked, "Want to
try that again?"

They did try it again. Twice more and each time she
managed the same trick; drawing him and his cock to
the brink and somehow stopping him from happening.
Twice more the trickle. Twice more her tongue sampled
him.

Paul felt helpless in this woman’s mouth and hands.
She was playing with him. He was loving it but the
torment was beyond belief.




She sat up and moved to his right and leaned forward
to rest her elbows on the sofa. Her ass was up and
out, two beautiful hemispheres.

"Now fuck me Paul, just come around behind me and fuck
me the way you’ve wanted to all afternoon. Fuck me
doggy style."

Stunned as much by the crudity of her words as by the
sudden arrival of what he most wanted, he struggled to
get up. He practically fell when he stood, his legs
were wobbly and he felt unsteady. She’d drained him of
energy it seemed.

The idea of fucking her to death now seemed a more
difficult proposition.

"Hurry Paul," she said her voice urgent, "I need that
lovely cock."

Paul got to his knees behind her. He was again unsure
of himself now the moment had arrived.

She was so exposed. Her out-thrust ass so naked. Her
anus peeped at him from between the soft-looking
swells of her buttocks. Her pussy was there too, He
always thought of the vagina as being at the front but
now it seemed to be at the back, where her pubic curls
all but hid her.

"Paul!"

He edged forward on his knees and bent his erection
down, trying to aim it.

Her hand appeared between her thighs and grabbed his
cock and guided it and him forward. He felt himself
being positioned. She thrust herself back at him.

Paul’s virginity was gone; gone in a hot, almost
sucking moment. By instinct he thrust too and his cock
speared up deep inside Marsha.

"Oh God! Yes! Sweet Jesus, yes," her words rushed out
of her in one breath.

They both seemed to freeze in that instant with Paul
buried deep, deep in her.

"I’ve wanted your cock ever since I saw you in the
store today," Marsha told him.

"It feels so good, so hot, so, so…," he had no words.

"Doesn’t it?" said Marsha.

"Oh God!" he exclaimed as she clenched the walls of
her vagina seemed to suck him.

"No, Paul, now fuck me, hard as you like, hard as you
can."

Fuck her he did. Hard as he could, hard as he wanted.
Perhaps nearly as hard as she wanted. When his climax
neared he stopped and waited; Paul had learned that
afternoon.

She came before he did, violently and loud. Paul
crouched over her while she came, his hands squeezing
her lovely breasts, thumbs and forefingers pinching
and pulling at her nipples. Her orgasm seemed to roll
on and on, her pussy kept trying to pull his cock into
her.

Afterwards she cried into the sofa’s cushion. He asked
if she was all right and she said she’d never felt
better. "Now do me some more."

Paul sat up again and grabbed at her waist, his
fingers digging into her softness, finding her
hipbones. He began to fuck her again, staring down
watching his cock going in and out of her. Watching
the brown pucker of her anus. Seeing the white-blonde,
downy hairs in the valley of her spine. Wanting to
fuck her forever.

His chest heaved; he heard his breathing, felt the
hammer of his heart and slammed mercilessly against
the softness of her ass. Slamming, slamming, fucking,
fucking, determined to make her beg him to stop.

But Marsha didn’t beg for mercy she just urged him on.
Asked for more, more cock, harder cock.

At last his body surrendered, his balls tightened, an
awful contraction happened deep inside him and he was
coming. Coming and coming, a desperate attempt to
empty his entire self into her cunt.

Spent at last he lay over her. His trembling hands
found and cupped her pendulous breasts. He heard her
crying again and knew it was all right. He could have
cried himself he felt so happy.

"I’m still alive," she murmured.

"What?"

"You didn’t fuck me to death did you?" There was
laughter in her voice.

"I guess not." Paul’s lungs and heart were back near
to normal but he knew he was changed.




They stood by her front door. Paul was dressed but
Marsha was still in only her stockings. She was aware
of a slow trickle down the inside of her left thigh.
She went up on tiptoe and kissed him.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," disbelief was in his voice. She wanted
more? Maybe after he’d slept. He needed sleep now.
"I’d like that." He knew he’d like it but right now he
needed to rest a while.

"We could do other things," she said.

He wondered what other things there were; they’d far
exceeded the span of his knowledge that afternoon.

"Mind you, the three for one rule would no longer
apply."

"It wouldn’t?" He’d thought it too much for her.


"No, you’ve passed your beginner’s course now." She
lifted her right breast with her hand and gave the
nipples a slow sucking kiss. Paul’s cock stirred at
the sight.

She released the nipple. "I’ve always thought five for
one about right."

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