“Never?” There was surprise in her voice, and perhaps a hint of concern.
“Never,” I admitted, a little embarrassed after her shocked reaction.
“A blow job?” she asked. Her question almost took my breath away.
“No.”
“A hand job?”
“Once,” I replied sheepishly as I finished her final toe.
“Well,” she said, her foot again sliding over my crotch, “good for you for waiting for the right person.”
I laughed. “That’s one way to look at it.”
Her foot seemed to drag ever so slowly over my hard dick, before she swung her legs off and rose from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” she announced.
“Okay,” I mumbled, embarrassed at revealing my virginity situation. More importantly, I was disappointed that I’d screwed up the thrill of massaging her feet and feeling her foot resting on my dick.
A few minutes passed before I heard her return. She didn’t come into the living room, but instead stayed outside the door and said, “Derek, close your eyes and stand up.”
“Uh, okay.” I did as requested, even though I was worried that the bulge of my hard cock would be obvious. The sweats I was wearing weren’t the best for covering up a raging erection.
A dozen seconds later, I heard her voice again, sounding closer now. “Open your eyes.”
I did and gasped.
Mrs. Barnes was standing before me in all red lingerie, with panties and stockings that were held up by clasps. A Santa hat on her head completed the outfit.
“Merry Christmas, Derek,” she said, covering the three feet that separated us and reaching out with her hand to my crotch. “Is this because of me?”
“Yeeeeeees,” I moaned, astonished at this sudden turn of events.
“Is this my Christmas present, Derek?” she breathed, slowly rubbing my dick through my sweats. I loved how she repeated my name. It felt sensuous.
“S-s-sure,” I stammered, bewildered by what was happening, even though it was literally a dream come true.
“I’m not being too forward, am I, Derek?” Her hand continued to glide slowly over my hard-on. “I don’t want to be presumptuous and assume you want this.”
“I do… I do want this!” I said and then added, “Very badly.”
She smiled, then, leaning in, pressed her lips against mine.
I’d kissed girls before, two to be exact, Sandra and Jamie, but this just seemed more real. Raw. Intimate.
I kissed her back, feeling her hand slip inside my sweats and underwear to my throbbing dick.
She slowly stroked me and rolled her fingers over my cock head. Her touch was like magic; like nothing I’d ever experienced.
When she broke the kiss, she lowered herself before me, tugged my sweats and underwear down in one smooth pull. My six-and-a-half-inch dick (I knew its precise measurements) popped out.
“What a lovely dick,” she purred, taking it in her left hand before leaning forward and wrapping her lips around it.
“Oh my God,” I moaned. I watched wide-eyed as she slowly engulfed my dick. You can imagine what a blow job would feel like, but nothing can prepare you for the amazing sensations of actually getting one.
“Mmmmmmmm,” she hummed, bobbing back and forth on my dick while I watched in complete disbelief.
Unfortunately, it probably wasn’t even a couple of dozen bobs, with my entire length inside her mouth, before I knew I was going to come. I managed to croak, “I’m… going… to….”
She let me slip from between her lips and murmured, “Come in my mouth, baby. I need your cum so bad. It’s been so long.” Before I knew it, she was sucking my dick again.
She switched from long, slow sucks to fast devouring gulps, taking my whole dick in with each hungry movement. After only a dozen or so lip-wrapping strokes I couldn’t hold back any longer, no matter how desperately I tried, and I grunted and shot my load in her mouth. It was easily the most intense and longest orgasm I’d ever experienced.
She didn’t slow down. Instead, she swallowed every drop for a good minute longer before she pulled back. “Mmmmmm, I needed that.”
“That was amazing,” I breathed, basking in a daze of pleasure.
“I haven’t had a cock in my mouth in a decade,” she said. The look she gave me was surreal, a look of lust and satisfaction.
“Didn’t Jack just die a couple of years ago?” I asked, then wished I hadn’t. What kind of fool would want to wreck the mood of a once-in-a-lifetime experience by mentioning her dead husband?
“He had erectile dysfunction, and then came the cancer. Even with Viagra he couldn’t get it up.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking down at her, still on her knees before me.
“It’s alright.” She shrugged and rose. “The past is the past.”
Hoping that the experience wasn’t over, desperate to make sure it continued, I moved my hands to her panties and rubbed her.
“You don’t have to,” she moaned. I felt the moistness seeping through her panties.
“Oh, but I very badly want to.” I moved my hands to her hips and pulled her panties down, happy she was wearing them over the top of sexy seasonal garters.
Her entire body trembled slightly as I took them off and admired her hairy pussy. While I had limited experience with vaginas, I had a lot of experience admiring them in pictures and porn, and I’d always found a hairy pussy more visceral and visually appealing. The pussy almost wrapped up, I suppose like a Christmas present, in a forest of pubes.
I was tempted to lean forward and lick her right there, since she hadn’t stopped me from sliding her panties down her nylon-clad thick legs. I wanted her to be comfortable, though, and rose again. “Sit down on the couch, Mary.” It came out almost like an order.
“Very well,” She sounded as if she was in a flustered daze too, not questioning me at all, though her cheeks were already blushing red.
She sat, and I slipped down before her. I grasped her nylon-clad legs and pushed them apart.
“I imagine you haven’t had this for a long time either.” I leaned forward and buried my face in her forested pussy region.
As I did, I discovered that her pubes were quite wet already, her scent unbelievably strong, exotic and captivating.
“Oh, Derek,” she moaned, even before my tongue had parted the hairs and found her hidden peach.
“You smell absolutely heavenly.” From my extensive online research, I knew that many women were insecure about their natural smell and taste.
“Oh, Derek,” she moaned again. For an instant I simply briefly enjoyed being overwhelmed by her scent: so unique, so unlike anything else I had ever smelled. And much more present than the almost non-existent scent of the one girl I had orally pleasured. She had had very little hair on her pussy.
“Heavenly,” I repeated.
“Please, Derek, lick me. I need it so bad.” The desperation in her voice couldn’t possibly be fake.
I wanted to make her happy, to give her pleasure she hadn’t experienced in years. I wanted to return the favour of the amazing orgasm she’d just given me. Extending my tongue, I forced it through her forest and found her very wet pussy.
“Oooooooooh, yes!” she moaned the instant my tongue made contact. Her cry sent a rush of adrenaline through my body: not only was I eating the pussy of one of my fantasy MILFs, or rather GILFs, but what I was doing was working as well. That first moan had been louder than any sound Kate had made when I went down on her.
“Mmmmmmm,” I responded and began to lick up and down between her pussy lips.
“That feels so good, Derek,” she murmured, surprising me by raising her right leg over my shoulder.
“You’re absolutely delicious, Mary.” I wanted to assure her I was enjoying this as much as I assumed and hoped she was. I’d done plenty of research on women, on how to eat pussy, on how to best make a woman come, and I hoped my dogged efforts would overcome my limited experience to give her the orgasm she seemed to crave so much.
“Thank yooooou,” she moaned, placing her other leg on my opposite shoulder. This gave me more comfortable access to her delicious pussy and let me go deeper with my tongue.
Following a tip I’d read in an erotic story somewhere, I began with the alphabet technique, simply recreating the alphabet between her lips. According to the story, the unpredictability of the movements created a wild pleasure that built up steadily.