Then she told me that she was the caretaker of a large shore home that was situated only about three miles south of the shopping center. She also told me that her employer did a lot of crabbing. “If you like,” she said, “I’ll show you the place.”
She was a very good-looking woman with a winning personality. When I asked if I might encounter a jealous husband, she replied, “Hardly. I’ve been a widow for over six years.”
When we got to the place, I saw a spacious bungalow. The grounds were large and well-kept. In the two-car garage sat a pretty, two-tone Cadillac. She told me that her employer used the Caddy only for things like business meetings and special occasions.
At the rear of the house, the grounds sloped down to a
T-shaped pier that extended about sixty feet from shore, and she pointed out the swimming area to me. About thirty feet to the left was another pier. An adjoining boathouse contained a twenty-eight-foot cabin cruiser that was out of the water, suspended by slings. The boat had recently been painted and was ready for the summer, still three months away. My hostess showed me how the boat could be lowered and raised on the slings, and when she closed the winch controls and turned around, we were standing face-to-face. Without a word she put her arms around me, and we were locked in an embrace. We kissed passionately, and then she said, “I decided during lunch that I wanted to do that. I hope I don’t have to apologize for being so forward.” My answer was to lean forward for another kiss, and I noticed that her lips were parted to receive my eager tongue. As she Frenched me, I let my right hand drop lower and lower, until I was holding the left cheek of her ass—and it felt great! She apparently was enjoying it every bit as much as I was. Next I went to work on the interior of her mouth with my tongue. She began moaning and groaning. She moved her groin against mine and her breathing became irregular. I really think that she had at least one orgasm just from these preliminary activities.
We finally let up, and she said, “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the place.” Beyond the boathouse was another building that housed two rowboats, a couple of outboard-powered vessels, and a whole lot of tackle and gear for crabbing, fishing, waterskiing and various other water sports, all of it neatly stowed in its proper place.
The house itself was spotless. The basement contained a utility room for washing clothes, a bathroom, a Ping-Pong table and a standard-size pool table. She mentioned that the owner liked to shoot pool and was a pretty good shot. I said that I’d like to challenge him to a game someday, to which she smiled enigmatically and said that such a match was a very distinct possibility.
The ground floor of the house included a beautiful kitchen-dinette, living room, bathroom and one large and one medium bedroom. Everything was clean and attractive. In the large bedroom I noticed a picture of a handsome man on the bureau. A few minutes later, while I was examining an old print of a sailing ship, I saw her put the picture of the man into a bureau drawer.
We got into another clinch, but not before she had removed her jacket and I’d seen that her tits were small. That was entirely okay with me, however, because I prefer small boobs. During lovemaking, I like to be able to fit a whole breast in my mouth.
She was really getting excited as I French-kissed her and played with her tits. When we finally broke, she said, “My bust isn’t very big, but it sure is sensitive. In fact, it’s one of my weak spots.” I assured her that her breasts were just right for me, which seemed to make her very happy. As we moved toward the bed and lay across it, I continued kissing her and removed her frilly blouse and bra. Her firm tits had beautiful rose-colored nipples that were getting harder by the second. I kissed her forehead, her eyes, her neck and then one of her tits, causing her to moan and her body to tremble. I know that she had another orgasm then.
I started kissing her from her tits down across her stomach to her sweet-smelling mound. When I got there, she covered her pussy with one hand and pushed my head away with the other, so I worked my way back up to her tits and started all over again. The same thing happened again when I got down near her cunt. The next time, as I was kissing her belly all over and she was moaning with pleasure, I put my hand into her panties and, with her cooperation, slid them off. I think she must have thought I was going to fuck her then and there, because she raised her legs high in the air. But I quickly put my middle finger into her pussy, simultaneously kissing her pearly love button. At that, she lifted her ass at least a foot off the bed and screamed, “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
I worked on her clit and cunt hole with my fingers, causing her to have orgasm after orgasm. She held me there so firmly that I couldn’t have pulled away gracefully even if I had wanted to. When I finally let up, she put her hands on my face and said, “What you just did to me was wonderful. I enjoyed every moment of it, but we’d better stop.” She told me that she had been celibate since her husband passed away six years ago. She added that she sure didn’t want to get pregnant at this age. Rubbing my hard-on against her leg, I told her not to worry, that I’d go out to my car and get a rubber. She said she would wash up while I was gone, and I ran out to my car as fast as I could.
She was still in the bathroom when I returned. After another fifteen minutes or so, she emerged in a pretty negligee. (I think she had taken a douche.) We promptly got into it again and it wasn’t long before her negligee was off. I started kissing her pussy again, and she didn’t deny me this time. After I tongued her awhile, she lifted her ass again. I kept running my tongue from her clit to her absolutely delicious cunt hole, sending wave after wave of excitement through her body. She kept moaning and pressing her crotch against my busy mouth until she must have come three or four times.
Finally, I put the rubber on, coated it with K-Y jelly and started to enter her, inch by inch. I was surprised at how tight she was, considering her age and the fact that she was so wet. So I took my time, and it felt exquisite. After I got all the way in, I stopped to let her cunt adjust to my size, but then she took over and started humping me hard. She kept it up, using everything she had, and I started to pound into her, too. She locked her legs around my back and went right along with me, never missing a stroke.
Finally, when she started pumping faster and let out a hell of a scream, I knew she was peaking. I kept pumping away. When she screamed again, I let go of my wad.
Afterward, I just lay there for a few minutes to regain my composure. She did the same. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily. For a moment, I thought she had passed out, but then she opened her eyes and looked at me. She pulled my head down and gave me a long kiss. My flaccid cock was still in her. “You have made me do something that I haven’t done in an awfully long time,” she said. “I enjoyed every second of it. In fact, it was fantastic. I’d never had sex like that before.” She said she had no idea of how many times she had come, since she hadn’t bothered to count. When I pulled out of her, she moaned a soft sound of disapproval. I lay there, cuddling her and talking, and I found it hard to believe when she told me she was sixty-three years old. She told me that her late husband would kiss and hug her awhile, rub her titties, rim a hand around her crotch a little and then put on a rubber and screw her. He’d been okay in bed, she said, because he nearly always gave her an orgasm. But he had rarely kissed her on the mouth, the titties or anywhere else. Certainly he would never have done what I had just done.
I began kissing her and playing with her tits again, and it was obvious that she was getting aroused. She asked if I had another rubber. When I said yes, she said, “Why don’t you take a quick shower in the basement while I shower here—then we can continue our discussion?”
That’s just what we did, and, when we reconvened, she had on an even sexier negligee, but I took that off pretty quickly. Again I started at her forehead and kissed my way down her body. Before I even got to her nipples, she was squirming and moaning and groaning with passion. When I got to her clit, I kept pulling on it with my lips, which really set her on fire. Her clitoris was almost an inch l
ong. As I mouthed it, I couldn’t believe the jumping and bouncing she was doing on that bed—the sheet was soaking wet from the juices that flowed from her cunt.
I had some difficulty getting another full erection. Even so, although I was only about half hard, I told her to get on her hands and knees. She was reluctant at first. But when I promised not to hurt her, she did get down—and I entered her pussy slowly, doggie-style, and only then did I get a full erection. I must have pumped in and out of her for more than twenty minutes while playing with her clit and titties. It was unbelievable how she kept having orgasms. When it appeared that she was about to collapse on the bed, I held her up by her hips until I unleashed my jism, filling the entire reservoir at the tip of the rubber.
After we’d rested awhile and gotten dressed, she told me she could not believe that she’d ever have another sexual experience to match this one, but she looked forward to doing it again in the near future. She reminded me that the crabbing season was still a good ways off, but that was no reason for me not to pay her a lot of visits. I took her phone number and promised to keep in touch so she could let me know when the owner was away again. “I am the owner,” she confessed. “I didn’t lie to you. All I said was that the owner was away, which was true.” She told me that her husband had owned a trucking company that he’d built up from scratch and it now belonged to her. She had a fleet of eighteen dump trucks. Her brother ran the business. He and his wife resided next door to her. He’d often suggested that she should go out with some nice fellow once in a while and enjoy herself, but she hadn’t followed his advice. She had gone out with one guy, but he came on too strong, trying to run his hand up her dress before they even sat down to dinner. She just wasn’t ready for anything like that so soon after her husband had passed away.
As I was getting into my car, her brother arrived and she introduced me to him. He was a good-looking, well-built man who gave me a firm handshake. He said he had seen my car in the driveway and thought he’d better check it out. She told him that I would be coming back to go crabbing when the season began. I think he suspected that his sister and I had been intimate that afternoon. When he left, he seemed to wink at me.
As soon as her brother was out of sight, she gave me another big hug and kiss. She said she hoped I wouldn’t forget her too soon. I assured her that I would be back real soon. I could never forget a wonderful woman like her.
Oh, one more thing. She never asked me if I was married, which I am.
RAINY DAY PLAY
The October afternoon was warm, the sky cloudless and blue—an ideal Indian summer day. I was on vacation and headed for what we in Wisconsin refer to as “up north,” a mythical land of pristine wilderness that exists primarily in people’s imaginations Still, it is possible to find pockets of solitude there during this time of year. I was headed for one now, a small national-forest campground that is seldom used after the summer tourist season.
Anticipating a leisurely week of fishing, canoeing and hiking, I drove unhurriedly, stopping often to enjoy the weather and fall foliage that was now at its prime. Crimson maples, golden birches, terra-cotta oaks, all glowing in a final blaze of glory before the snows of winter fall to lock the land in mystery and frigid silence.
It was dark by the time I reached my destination. I was disappointed to find that a single tent was pitched in the otherwise vacant campground, a two-person mountain tent set up next to a Toyota that bore a canoe on its roof. Probably a couple or two guys out for some fall fishing, I thought. My favorite spot was unoccupied and well away from the other tent, so my good spirits returned as I pitched camp by the light of my gas lantern. I erected my four-man tent and stowed my gear inside. I hung a tarp over my small picnic table. The food and cooking gear remained in the back of my car as a precaution against furry things that go bump in the night. Then I hauled my canoe to the lake, leaving it on the shore. Finally, I visited the rustic facilities and retired to my tent to grab a few Z’s before dawn.
The beautiful dawn I expected didn’t come. The sky was dark, dirty and gray when I awoke. A steady downpour beat against the tent. The campsite was awash in rain. Donning damp clothes and a rainsuit, I visited the facilities before squishing along the muddy trail to the lakeshore. Angry black clouds scudded low over the lake out of the northwest. Whitecaps churned across the steel-gray waters. The slanting rain obscured the opposite shore. I thought about yesterday’s sun and warmth as I returned glumly to my tent to catch more sleep. Soon I was snug and warm in my downy cocoon, dozing contentedly. The rain was thrumming a monotonous staccato against the tent.
“Hello in the tent!”
I abruptly became fully awake. Did I hear a voice just now? I wondered. A woman’s voice? I was dreaming, I supposed.
“Please, can I come in? It’s cold out here and I’m soaked to the skin.”
A voice indeed. “Sure, come on in!” I replied.
The tent flap flew open and a soggy figure in jeans, flannel shirt and untied hiking boots appeared. The tent flap was quickly closed and zipped up.
“Thanks,” said the soggy visitor in a husky, unmistakably feminine voice. “My tent is flooded, everything is soaked, and I’m really freezing my ass off! Have you got a catalytic heater or something?”
She was tall, about five feet seven, and in her mid-twenties. Pretty face. Long, wavy, raven-black hair. The part of her encased in wet jeans looked very nice, but it was hard to tell about the part in the flannel shirt.
“No catalytic heater, but I’ve got the ‘or something,’” I replied.
She stood, shivering and shaking. I reached into my clothes box, took out a beach towel and tossed it to her.
“Get out of those wet clothes and dry off,” I ordered.
She hesitated for an instant, then stripped to the buff and dried herself vigorously with the fluffy towel. She looked very nice where the flannel shirt had been, too. Jiggling invitingly as she toweled herself, her firm, upturned breasts, tipped with bing-cherry nipples, looked delicious. Her stomach was flat and well-toned. Curving from her narrow waist, her rounded hips led my appreciative gaze down to her long, shapely legs. Milk-white bikini marks contrasted boldly against her deep tan. Her naked body radiated an unmistakable aura of femininity coupled with uncommon physical strength. To me she was the personification of Diana, Roman goddess of the moon and of the forest.
While she dried herself off, I unzipped my down-lined sleeping bag and formed it into a blanket. I also unrolled my other, synthetic-filled bag, unzipped that and then quickly spread it on top of the foam sleeping pads that I’d placed on the tent floor. She stood naked and dry now, but was still shaking and covered with goose bumps.
“You look like you’re on the edge of hypothermia,” I said. “Lie down next to me under my sleeping bag.”
I lifted the edge of the cover to reveal the potential warmth that awaited her. She burrowed beneath the covers without hesitation, eager for some heat. Her teeth chattered with cold. I turned on my side to face away from her. “Press yourself against my back and absorb my body heat,” I suggested.
She snuggled against me, and I flinched at the shock of her frigid body against my warm flesh. It was like cuddling with an ice block. Gradually, though, she began to thaw. Her shivering ceased, her goose bumps vanished, her body warmed and relaxed. Her breathing grew gentler, rhythmic, and she fell asleep. The rain hissed through the trees and drummed on the tent. I, too, was soon sleeping.
Later, though—I couldn’t say how much later—something awoke me. Hard rain was still pelting the tent. The light level was about that of a candlelit restaurant. Gradually I became aware of my guest’s fingertips brushing softly up and down my side, the pressure of her pliant breasts against my back.
“Good morning,” I said. “I trust that you’re fully warmed up now?”
“Mmm, like a piece of toast. Thanks for the use of the heater,” she replied.
“Anytime at all. Stay and use it for as long as you like. And by the
way, my name is Carl.”
“And I’m Sandy. Pleased to meet you.”
Except for the sound of the rain, there was a moment of silence. Her hand continued to stray up and down my side.
“So, what would you suggest a couple of campers do on a rainy day like this?” I asked lamely. “Got any board games in your pocket?”
“I’m fresh out of pockets right now,” she said while feigning a search for them. “Hmm, doesn’t appear you’ve got any at the moment either.” She lifted the sleeping bag to peer underneath. “Nope, no pockets, but I do like the colors you wear. I’d venture to say that a man who wears red-striped black underwear is probably not boring and that he can manage quite well without any ‘bored’ games.”
We laughed as she molded herself to the contours of my back again. Her hand started caressing my side again. Her feathery pubic mound now began undulating slowly against my rump.
“I think I know what we can do,” she breathed into my ear. “Good way to generate more heat.”
This Diana is no virgin, I thought. “Great way to pass a dreary day, too,” I said.
Sandy’s stroking fingers now began to explore farther afield. Down my side to the top of my briefs they went, there to move teasingly back and forth above my pubic hair as they probed beneath my waistband. My member twitched with anticipation as her curious hand came closer and closer to it. But then her hand retreated to my navel and up to my chest to massage and stroke my pectorals. My throbbing cock hardened and grew nevertheless, until the swollen glans peeked above the top of my briefs.
Penthouse Uncensored VI Page 24
