by Zane
He sounded so conscientious and earnest, Sonja was beginning to wonder if she had misheard the lascivious dialogue of his homeboys earlier, had misinterpreted Mr. Reynolds’s interest.
Was she that out of practice?
Sonja listened to his spiel, more mesmerized, however, by the young brothah’s full lips, the sound of his deep voice, and the way she had to crane her neck to look at his face when he talked, than she was in the health benefits of working out with weights.
She’d been respectfully silent during his pitch, peppering the air with the appropriate “ahs” and “hmms.” But now Sonja wanted to get down to business, or at least find out whether Mr. Reynolds was as interested as her. Or had her assumptions been the wishful thinking and overactive imagination of an in-heat almost-forty-year-old?
“How old are you?” she blurted.
He shot back the expected, “Old enough.”
“Don’t get insulted. I’m just curious.”
“I’m not insulted.” He smiled, straight white teeth briefly gleaming against his new-penny brown complexion before he slowly licked his lips, LL Cool J–style. “But I am interested.”
“Is that a fact?”
“And I think someone like you will be interested, too.” He pulled a business card out of his back pocket and handed it to her.
Sonja stopped herself from smirking as she took it, expecting to see the standard DJ-for-hire services, or a blurb about handmade hip-hop gear. But then she glanced at the embossed, fancy and official lettering, and her eyes popped wide when she saw the business it advertised. “Bungee jumping?” she sputtered.
“Yes, brothahs and Latinos do it, too.” He chuckled.
Not any brothahs or Latinos she knew. Was she that old, or just that chickenhearted?
“You said someone like me? That would mean…?”
He licked his lips again, looked her up and down, and there was no mistaking his intent now. “A fine Latina who likes to stay in shape. A woman not afraid to take risks.”
Obviously, since she was talking to him with lust in her heart and pussy juices already spilling into her thong.
¡Ay, Dios mío! She hadn’t realized she was so bellaca until she’d laid hazel eyes on him. Horny and hot to trot.
Sonja crossed her legs and squeezed them together, hoping to stem the tide and her already swollen clit, but trying to restrain it only made things worse. “So, are you inviting me on an excursion?” she asked.
Bungee jumping? There had to be better ways to get with a man, even a young one, than—
“Are you game?”
She was game; she just didn’t think she was for leaping off a bridge with her life in the strands of a few cords. “I’m game,” she said.
FIVE…Sonja stood at the edge of the bridge, sheer canyon walls rising around her, mouth dry, palms perspiring as she grasped the rail, all trussed up in the requisite gear and harnesses, and feeling like a turkey on Thanksgiving Day for more reasons than one.
FOUR…She stepped out onto the platform mounted on the catwalk railing, glanced at the churning waters at least fifteen stories below, barely heard the encouragement of the other prospective jumpers behind her as they counted down.
THREE…Warm spring air rifled her wavy brown hair flowing loose beyond her shoulders under the helmet—like a helmet would do any damn good if that three-quarter-inch cord broke!—sunlight reflected off of the surrounding mountains and the surface of the lake below, almost blinding her.
TWO…For the life of her, she couldn’t remember now why she’d chosen the swan dive. She wasn’t exactly scared of heights, but she wasn’t too crazy about looking down from them either. When she did something, she had to do it up, go all out, especially now.
ONE…Her heart drummed and Sonja had a second to wonder whether it was only the male hormone that triggered the need to show off for the opposite sex, before she quickly discounted the theory altogether.
JUMP…She leaped off the platform, arms outstretched, plunging into nothingness, an enormous charge of adrenaline surging through her body as she free-fell and accelerated from zero to seventy miles an hour in less than five seconds.
I better get some bicho out of this!
Sonja survived, her fellow jumpers throwing down a rope and pulling her back up to the bridge so that she could do another solo jump with the body harness.
She had several moments after her second jump to take a breather and prepare for her next and final jump.
A tandem jump. Connected with ankle harnesses. To Kaj.
He murmured in her ear as he stepped to her and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re already a pro, Mami. I’m proud of you.”
Her pussy responded immediately as cream flowed out of her cunt—a testament to his flattery.
She thought a solo jump was gut-wrenching, but standing belly to rigid hard cock, the adrenaline doing double-time through her veins—now that was a rush!
The countdown behind them started again.
Kaj squeezed her tight against him. She wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms, naked, moist heated skin to moist heated skin, his spicy male scent heavy in her lungs, long thick cock heavy between her copper-tone thighs.
“I’m twenty-four,” he said.
Not as bad as she’d thought, but still so young. “You know I’m not.”
“I know. It doesn’t matter.”
Sonja’s heart sped with anticipation, pulse pounding in her ears. She wasn’t sure whether it was Kaj’s declaration, his tall, broad-shouldered proximity, or the approaching jump causing the erratic rhythm.
They stepped out onto the platform as one, ready and willing to throw themselves into the vast ravine below.
Sonja closed her eyes and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with his sexy-ass musk, all the appropriate sexual metaphors and innuendoes shuddering through her brain. Her pussy muscles clenched as they jumped off the bridge clamped in each other’s arms, tight as two dogs fucking.
Before she could get out a full-bodied scream—there was something so much more dangerous and out-of-control about falling upside down, suspended by the ankles—they splashed into the water headfirst, to their breasts and chest.
The quintessential bungee jump, she’d been told.
Like she wasn’t wet enough already.
They reached the top of the bridge several minutes later.
Everything that needed to be said had been said on the way down, body language taking over like a mothah now as he caught her by a hand and led her back to his tent, about fifty yards away from the bridge, on the edge of the impressive Angeles National Forest.
The sun had already dipped low on the horizon, leaving a salmon-hued trail across the sky, and Sonja had a moment to admire the view before Kaj guided her inside his tent ahead of him and zipped the flap closed behind him.
“I suppose now I have to put out, since you paid for this extremely death-defying package,” Sonja teased, trying to take the edge off when she knew there was no possible way she could until she had his dick firmly nestled inside her hot, wet depths, gloving him until he cried, ¡Ay, Mamí! “Don’t you think I’ve paid enough already in three near heart attacks?”
“Not nearly enough.” He chuckled, and approached her carrying two big white terry towels. He handed one to her, then peeled off his soggy T-shirt and leisurely began drying his hair with the other, dark eyes traveling the length of her five-foot-four frame, lingering on her titties and making her nipples stand at attention more than the cool dip in the lake had. “At least not yet, anyway,” he murmured.
She’d worn a white T-shirt and no bra, small enough to get away with it, but generous enough—and now wet enough—to draw horny-dog attention to her erect brown nipples beneath.
Palm-sized, she thought, then reconsidered when she looked at his big mahogany hands clutching the towel and imagined them swallowing her titties.
Sonja followed his lead, slowly drying her hair as she returned the favor and
gave his lean-muscled, six-foot-one physique the once-over.
She licked her lips and Kaj dropped his towel, closed the couple of feet separating them to retrieve hers. She gladly relinquished it, watched him discard it with his.
Sonja reached for the hard bulge in his jeans, fondled, then firmly cupped him.
Kaj stood still, staring at her with his sloe-eyed gaze, biting his bottom lip as if to hold back a groan. “I’ve been waiting to tear that pussy up since I met you.”
“When you put it that way…” She expertly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans in short order. Young or old, things never changed and she was well acquainted with the steps to the horizontal Lambada, hadn’t forgotten como hacerlo.
Sonja pulled his jeans down his lean hips, and he reached out to pull her T-shirt up and off before haphazardly tossing it over his shoulder.
He bent his head to suckle one of her already moist, extremely sensitized titties and she arched her back, feeding it to him with one hand while she massaged her jeans-clad cunt with the other. Wet heat pooled in her thong as he licked, bit, rolled, and sucked her nipples until they glistened and pebbled.
“I want to taste you,” Kaj whispered against her skin, stepping back to impatiently toe off his sneakers and peel off his jeans and boxer briefs.
Sonja quickly stripped, too, faced him in only her black lace thong, daring him to come get what was underneath.
She knew she looked good, tantalizing, and knew her body was “tight” for an almost forty-year-old.
But would someone fifteen years her junior think so?
She only needed to look down at the hard cock jutting at her—at least nine inches, long and thick, just the way she liked—to get her answer.
She had a flash of herself calling Carlos “Zeus” at the sight of his godlike hard-ons, pointed at her like a compass needle at North, and giggled.
Kaj frowned. “Something funny?”
“Not at all,” Sonja said, stepping into his arms and caressing his hard pecs, rushing to reassure him. “I was just thinking how much I want to devour you.”
“You’ll have to wait, baby.”
“Not too long, I hope.”
“As long as it takes me to make a meal out of this…”
She chuckled, laughing with him as he ran his hand between her legs, teasing her slit on the way up and brushing her engorged clit on the way down. He pushed the miniscule front of her thong aside, a gush of her sweet pussy juices his reward when he slipped two fingers inside.
He took the waistband of her thong in each hand, slowly sliding it down her endless thighs as he got down on his knees in front of her to explore more thoroughly.
Sonja stepped out of her thong, opened her legs, and planted her feet as Kaj spread her pussy lips with his thumbs, covered her with his mouth, and thrust his tongue into her cunt, slow and deep, hitting her from the front to the back and all corners in between.
She threw back her head and moaned, hands buried in his short red-brown locs, and shamelessly pitched her hips into his face, grinding her pussy against his mouth. “That’s it, baby…do me just like that. ¡Ay, Dios, Car—Kaj! That feels so damn good!”
She’d almost said her dead husband’s name, felt the heat of a blush rushing up to her face from more than just what Kaj was doing to her, didn’t know how she’d kept her head enough not to totally slip.
Would he have understood? Young brothah like him with his entire life of sweet young things to look forward to? Would he understand what it was like to lose someone so close, so significant to him?
Kaj retreated suddenly, pushed her roughly toward the air mattress.
Luckily it was soft and well-padded, since she landed on her ass against the bouncy material.
“I want inside your pussy now, baby.”
She wanted him inside, too, but, damn, he’d ruined her groove—she’d been about to come!
Sonja watched now as he fumbled in his jeans’ pocket for a Trojan, deftly opening the noisy foil pack and quickly rolling its content down over his erect penis.
He was back in a blink, crawling up the mattress between her legs like a big jungle cat, heavy cock teasing the crease between her thigh and pussy.
He straddled her hips, leaned in to greedily attack her mouth, his tongue invading, tangling with hers, pushing past it and down her throat, sharing the intimate taste of her.
Kaj bracketed her face with both hands, sliding his palms back to the base of her skull where he fisted her hair and held her in place against his probing mouth.
Sonja bucked her hips, reached down to catch and steer his dick where she wanted it.
Kaj followed willingly, poised above her for a brief moment before burying himself balls-deep in her snatch.
They groaned together as he slowly rolled his hips and she wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his back.
“Damn, your shit is tight! Squeeze me, baby. Squeeze me hard…yeah like that…shit!”
She would squeeze the shit out of him if he wanted her to, just…as…long…as…he made her come hard!
Kaj drove into her, alternately pistoning and rotating his hips. The friction was so fierce, Sonja thought he would start a fire inside her pussy and she’d combust.
She matched his moves, tightening her twat around him, pumping her hips in a hard, steady rhythm before he stiffened above her and growled, “Fuck, I’m cumming!” Right before he did, Sonja’s pussy spasmed and she came herself.
He rested his weight on his palms in a push-up pose, sweat dripping down his face as he looked down at her with those dark, intense eyes.
Old man eyes, Sonja thought. “You’re not finished yet, are you?” she whispered.
“Not by a long shot.”
The eyes may have been old, but the body was young and willing. Ah, the joys of fucking a young man.
She’d missed some of that staying power with Carlos.
After nineteen years, the sex had still been good, and made most of her married and unmarried girlfriends envious. But toward the end, Carlos’s moves had been nowhere near the athleticism of Kaj’s moves, nowhere as raw.
She’d needed this badly.
Kaj groaned, slowly pulled out of her as if he really didn’t want to leave her hot pussy. He peeled the condom off his semi-erect cock.
Sonja leaned up on an elbow and eyed it hungrily, licking her lips.
“Damn baby, you’re scaring me.” Kaj chuckled, showing her that lopsided, dimpled grin she’d first seen in the sporting goods store. “You really meant that shit about devouring me, huh?”
“I always say what I mean, and mean what I say.”
“I like that in a woman.”
“Do you?”
“Mmm…” He reached for her and pulled her close.
Sonja imagined getting cuddly and lovey-dovey with him before she remembered her mission and that “cuddly” and any variation of “love” were probably not in Homeboy’s vocabulary, and might scare him away if used in the same sentence.
Nonetheless, she rested her head against his chest for a long moment. She listened to his strong, young heart and watched his cock rise from the nest of red-brown hair at his crotch.
Sonja massaged his smooth chest. Sliding down his body, she left a moist trail of nips and kisses in her wake before she reached the Promised Land.
He caught a fistful of her hair, steering her down further.
But Sonja didn’t need prompting. She dipped her tongue into the slit at the head of his penis, lapped at the pearl of pre-cum gathered there, reveling in the sweet-salty taste of him—all earthy male, all Kaj Reynolds.
He shifted beneath her and she took more of him in her mouth. Down, down, down until she reached the base of his cock.
She reached for his balls with one hand and fondled them for a long while before moving on, sliding her hand back and under him to tease the edge of his asshole with a finger.
Although he’d loathed to admit it, Ca
rlos had loved this maneuver, but Sonja waited for Kaj’s inevitable shock and withdrawal—it never came. He only moaned deep in his throat, holding her head in place as he mindlessly pumped his hips.
She pushed her middle finger into his ass, felt him bear down on the digit, automatically pulling it in as she sucked his dick like a thick chocolate shake was at the other end. She searched with her finger until she found that male G-spot and stroked it.
Kaj released a guttural shout and spurted into her mouth.
Sonja drank him down, every last drop, licking her lips like a proud, sated lioness as she crawled back up the mattress to rest her head against Kaj’s chest.
“I think I just died and went to heaven.”
“You aren’t getting away from this old lady that easily.”
He laughed and pulled her against him with one arm. “Ain’t nothin’ old about you, Ma.”
Sonja just barely winced at the designation, turned her back to spoon, nestled her ass against his finally limp penis and, as she drifted off to sleep, wondered how she would tell her children about him.
Seven months later, Sonja and Kaj were still going strong, still doing the nasty—usually at his house. Her children hadn’t yet met him. They had only heard so many good and exciting things about this mystery man that their mother had taken up with.
“Well, when are we going to meet this paragon?” This had been from April, her grounded and curious nineteen-year-old, over the phone a few months ago.
Until then, Sonja hadn’t realized how much and how glowingly she had talked about Kaj.
Her twenty-year-old, awe-inspired Ricky, had later added his two cents with, “Yo, he took you bungee jumping on your first date! That’s fierce.”
If her son only knew how fierce.
But he soon would, Sonja thought as she pulled a pernil out of the oven and placed it on the stove with some of her other cooked holiday fare.
Home from college for Thanksgiving, Ricky bopped into the kitchen, leaned over her shoulder, and took a whiff. “You got things slammin’ up in here, Ma.”
