Beautiful, athletic, successful and well over 30. The men I like have already found younger ones, and those who like me… let’s put it this way – my self-respect does not allow me to be in a relationship with any of them, but my self-love pushes me into the grip of passion – I don’t want to to give up pleasure just because I am alone.
He is a respected man, head of the family, role model… and my promiscuous ruler. Frequent visits to the capital have become the most convenient way to meet. I don’t dig into his heart, I only care about the most secret corners of his soul and the erotic world of both of us. Although more often we correspond by e-mail, sometimes a couple of unexpected messages with hints that only we understand are enough to brighten up the whole day. My mind is racing with passion. Then I feel sexy, desirable and strong.
As usual, a few days before the meeting I receive a letter with clear instructions. I know where to wait for him, how to prepare, how to dress and what to expect. My body is heating up just from the planning alone, so I’m looking forward to it.
When the appointed day arrives, I pretend to be calm, but my blood boils and a cheeky smile shines on my lips. I light the candles and stand in front of the mirror for the hundredth time to make sure I look perfect. The less time is left, the more excited I am. I count the minutes.
He is not going to make excuses at all. I want to grab him, but I hold back. I let him in, take his cool coat and, holding it to my chest, inhale the aroma of his perfume. I put his coat in the closet while he takes off his shoes. As soon as he walks into the candlelit room, I hear compliments on how well I’ve done. I blush and sigh quietly as he pulls me into his grip of passion. I enjoy his closeness. I can feel his muscles even through his clothes and I’m melting with pleasure. I beamed inwardly, noticing that he too is obviously picking up on the smell of my body.
His hands slide down, hugging my body tightly and pressing my pelvis against his. He squeezes the roundness of my ass hard in his hands. I’m out of breath and barely able to stay on my trembling legs in high heels. He kisses my neck and moves down: shoulders, collarbones, chest… His hands seem to be made for my breasts – he caresses my nipples as if they were the icing on the cake. Of course I like it, so I moan and don’t hide it – I want him to know what excitement he creates in me and how excited I am by his touches.
Tilting my head slightly, he whispers, “You know what I want…”. I know it’s the best I can do, but I hesitate a little longer, playing the naive girl, until he forces me to kneel before him with the same carefully staged rudeness. My heart starts beating faster. He slowly unbuckles his belt, unzips, pulls down his pants and a mature penis appears before my eyes.
I lick my lips, looking into his eyes. Then I take one finger and run its wet end over the very end of his thing. He breathes loudly and with a look in his eyes encourages me to act bolder. I stroke it with my fingers, my palm, and finally grasp the base, assuming my assigned role.
With my apparently inexperienced hand I hold his hard thing and lick it like my favorite ice cream: slowly and with pleasure. He breathes loudly and involuntarily thrusts his hips forward to thrust deeper into me. I obey. At first carefully, slowly, but then more and more deeply. As deep as I have not taken before. Every heavy exhale he takes turns me on, so I try to relax, even though tears are starting to roll down my cheeks. He thrusts his hips forward and stops. I hold on as long as I can until I pull away. A trail of saliva stretches between his hard erection and my mouth. I try to clean myself up but he compliments me, making me feel sexier than ever.
I resist and try to get out of his tight grip, but he’s not happy about me being disobedient – he grabs my hair and reminds me who’s in charge here. He orders me to get on all fours to the bed while he undresses himself. I hear his belt buckle hit the floor. I move my hips a lot as I crawl because I think he’s watching me.
As soon as I stop by the bed, he comes to me and sits on the edge of the bed. There is an order to stand up, take off my panties, and he asks again who is in charge here. I frantically reply that it is him. There is a command to repeat it again. I repeat. I feel guilty, but I see his playful smile and it’s not scary. However, he is adamant. The next order comes and I have to lie on his lap. I don’t hesitate. I settle down and feel his wet penis under my stomach. It is so tempting and hot. I daydream about it until suddenly I feel a hard slap on my bare ass. I feel his palm print burning on it. He gently caresses the burning spot…and another spank follows. He pats it again and the same thing happens again… and again!.. and again!
He caresses my cherry red bottom again and without warning, thrusts his hard cock into me in one thrust. My eyes bulge out of their sockets, my voice stucks in my throat, and my fingers dig into the wood. “Breathe, breathe…” he says and I relax as he plunges slowly but extremely deep into my wet hole. After another deep thrust, I sigh, silently repeating his name, but he grabs my hands and, speeding up his movements, begins to fuck me with all his might. I can barely stay on my feet, my head is spinning with pleasure and he keeps going harder and harder…
I feel a warm flush on my back as he announces in a hollow voice that he’s finished. I don’t move until he wipes his seed from my body and we both fall onto the bed trying to catch our breath. Can’t wait to hear how much he liked it.
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