The Artist’s Muse
The air was heavy with anticipation as I stood in Clarke’s studio, the scent of oil paints and turpentine mingling with the faint aroma of his cologne. The room was a chaos of creativity—canvases leaning against the walls, paint-splattered easels, and a large window that flooded the space with golden afternoon light. Clarke stood before me, his youthful energy palpable, his deep green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. He was dressed in a simple white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his lean, muscular forearms, and dark jeans that hugged his frame perfectly. His lips curved into a smile that was both innocent and wicked, a smile that had haunted my dreams since our last encounter.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and husky, as if he were sharing a secret. His gaze drifted down my body, taking in the sheer black negligee I’d chosen for the occasion. It clung to my curves, leaving little to the imagination, and I felt a flush of heat spread across my skin under his scrutiny.
“Ready,” I replied, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. I’d agreed to pose nude for him, but it wasn’t just about the art. It was about him, about the way he made me feel—desired, alive, reckless. Our last encounter had been explosive, a whirlwind of passion and lust, but this felt different. This was about vulnerability, about baring not just my body, but my soul.
Clarke gestured to the center of the room, where a wooden platform had been set up, draped in soft velvet. “Step up here,” he instructed, his tone gentle yet commanding. I did as he asked, feeling the cool fabric beneath my feet. The studio was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft rustle of Clarke’s movements as he adjusted his easel.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. I obeyed, slowly pivoting on my heels, the negligee sliding off my shoulders and pooling at my feet. I stood there, naked and exposed, the afternoon light caressing my skin. Clarke’s breath hitched, and I felt his eyes tracing every curve, every line of my body.
“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his scent intoxicating. “But I need you to be still. This is about capturing you, not just your body, but your essence.”
I nodded, my pulse pounding in my ears. He handed me a silk robe, and I slipped it on, the fabric soft against my skin. “For now,” he added with a mischievous grin. “But soon, you’ll be bare again.”
The next hour was a dance of poses and pauses. Clarke directed me with precision, his hands occasionally brushing against my skin as he adjusted my position. Each touch sent shivers down my spine, reigniting the flames of our previous encounter. I could feel his gaze on me, hungry yet respectful, as he worked feverishly, his brushstrokes bold and passionate.
“Lift your chin,” he instructed, stepping back to assess his work. “Yes, like that. You’re a goddess, Sharon. Every line, every curve—it’s perfection.”
His words sent a thrill through me, and I felt myself relaxing into the pose, my body responding to his praise. The studio grew warmer, the air thick with unspoken desire. I could feel his eyes on me, not just as an artist, but as a man. The tension between us was electric, a current running through the room, connecting us in ways that went beyond the art.
“Enough for now,” Clarke finally said, setting his brush down. He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. “I need a break. And I think you do too.”
He took my hand, leading me to a small couch in the corner of the studio. The robe slipped off my shoulders as we sat, and I felt his gaze on me once more, his desire undeniable. “Sharon,” he began, his voice soft, “I can’t stop thinking about you. About what we shared. And now, here you are, in my studio, my muse, my…”
He trailed off, his words catching in his throat as he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a promise of what was to come. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. I could feel his hardness against my thigh, and a moan escaped my lips as I deepened the kiss, my hands tangling in his hair.
“Clarke,” I whispered, my voice breathless. “I want you. Now.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl of desire, he stood, lifting me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my lips never leaving his as he carried me to the velvet-draped platform. He laid me down gently, his eyes dark with passion, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his hands roaming over my body, tracing the curves he’d been painting just moments before. His lips followed, kissing a path down my neck, my collarbone, his tongue teasing my nipples until I was arching off the platform, moaning his name.
“Clarke, please,” I begged, my hands gripping his shoulders. “I need you.”
He smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Impatient, aren’t we?” He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine. “But I like that about you.”
With a swift motion, he shed his shirt, revealing his toned chest, his skin flushed with desire. He kissed me again, his hands moving to my hips, guiding me to the edge of the platform. “Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with need.
I did as he asked, my thighs falling open, exposing me to his hungry gaze. He knelt between my legs, his breath hot against my core as he leaned in, his tongue tracing a path up my thigh, teasingly close but not quite touching where I needed him most.
“Clarke,” I whimpered, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “Don’t tease me.”
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated against my skin. “Teasing is half the fun,” he murmured, his lips finally brushing against my clit. I gasped, my body tensing as he sucked gently, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my head falling back as pleasure washed over me. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open as he devoured me, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. I could feel my orgasm building, a coil of tension tightening in my core, and I cried out his name as I came, my body shaking, my juices spilling onto his tongue.
“That’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Come for me, Sharon. Let me taste you.”
He continued to lap at me, his mouth relentless, until I was a quivering mess, my breath coming in short gasps. “Clarke,” I panted, “I can’t take much more.”
He smiled against my skin, his lips trailing kisses up my stomach, my breasts, until he was hovering over me once more. “Good,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
He reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them with swift, practiced motions. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and my mouth watered at the sight. He gripped it firmly, stroking it slowly as he watched me, his gaze intense, hungry.
“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you want my cock inside you?”
“Yes,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Clarke. I need you.”
He didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes searching mine for permission. I nodded, my body aching for him, and he thrust forward, burying himself deep within me.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back as he savored the sensation. “You’re so tight, so wet. Perfect.”
He began to move, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of me with ease. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over me, and I met him with equal fervor, my hips rising to meet his, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Harder,” I demanded, my voice desperate. “Fuck me harder, Clarke.”
He obliged, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. The platform creaked beneath us, the velvet drapes tangling around our limbs as we moved in perfect sync. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles straining with the effort, and I could feel his sweat mingling with mine, our bodies slick and slippery.
“I’m close,” he warned, his voice hoarse. “Tell me where you want it.”
“Inside me,” I gasped, my body on the brink. “Fill me up, Clarke. I want to feel you come.”
With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within me, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed, his groans of pleasure filling the studio. I cried out, my own orgasm crashing over me like a wave, my body convulsing around his, milking him for every last drop.
We lay there for a moment, our hearts pounding, our breaths slowly returning to normal. Clarke withdrew, his cock slipping out of me with a wet sucking sound, and I felt a pang of loss at the absence. He collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice laced with wonder. “You’re incredible.”
I smiled, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of our passion. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased, running my fingers through his hair.
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Not so bad, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
We lay there in comfortable silence, the studio bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Clarke’s hand rested on my hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles, and I felt a sense of contentment wash over me. This was more than just sex, more than just art. This was a connection, a bond that went beyond words.
“Sharon,” Clarke began, his voice serious, “I know this started as a professional arrangement, but… I feel something more. Something I can’t ignore.”
I turned to face him, my heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his eyes. “Me too,” I admitted, my voice soft. “I’ve never felt this way before. It’s… overwhelming.”
He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made my chest tighten. “Good. Because I don’t want this to end. Not after today.”
I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “It doesn’t have to,” I whispered. “Not if you don’t want it to.”
He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me tightly. “I don’t,” he said firmly. “I want more. More of you, more of this.”
I smiled, a sense of peace settling over me. “Then it’s a good thing I feel the same way.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the studio in a warm, golden light, we lay entwined, our bodies still humming with the echoes of our passion. Clarke’s hand rested on my stomach, his fingers tracing lazy patterns, and I felt a sense of belonging, of home, in his arms.
“What now?” I asked, my voice lazy, content.
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now? Now I finish that painting. But first…”
He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, his hands moving to my hips, pulling me closer. “First, I think we need a little more inspiration.”
And with that, our passionate affair continued, each moment more intense, more intimate than the last. What had started as a simple arrangement had blossomed into something deeper, something real. And as I lay in Clarke’s arms, the world outside fading away, I knew that this was just the beginning of our story.
The Handsome Young Neighbor
I couldn’t believe the thrill I felt as I watched Clarke, my young and handsome neighbor, stride across the lawn, his muscular body glistening with sweat from the summer heat. I had only recently moved to this quiet suburban neighborhood, and Clarke, with his bright smile and easygoing nature, had been a welcoming presence from the start. But today, as I observed his toned physique and the way his tight t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, I felt a different kind of warmth coursing through me.
I had just turned 37, and I was feeling more confident and adventurous than ever. My blonde hair fell in soft waves around my face, and I knew my blue eyes held a hint of mischief as I greeted Clarke with a smile. “Hey, Clarke, I’m so glad you could help me with this furniture pickup. I really appreciate it.”
Clarke, at 18, was a vision of youthful energy. His sun-kissed hair framed his striking features, and his green eyes sparkled with a playful light. “No problem, Ms. Sharon. Happy to lend a hand. Especially for a beautiful lady like yourself.” His flirty tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a tingling between my thighs that I hadn’t experienced in a while.
I needed to pick up a vintage dresser I had found on an online classifieds site. It was a rare find, and I was eager to add it to my bedroom, but it was too large and heavy for me to manage alone. Clarke’s pickup truck was the perfect solution, and I was more than happy to have him accompany me.
As we drove to the seller’s location, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Clarke’s strong hands on the steering wheel. His forearms were tanned and defined, and I imagined those hands running over my body, caressing every inch of my skin. I bit my lip, trying to focus on the road ahead, but my mind was already wandering to the possibilities that lay ahead.
The seller lived in a quaint neighborhood not far from ours. Clarke effortlessly lifted the heavy dresser onto his truck, his muscles flexing with each movement. I felt a surge of desire as I watched him work, his shirt rising to reveal a glimpse of his taut stomach.
“Wow, Clarke, you’re really strong,” I said, my voice husky with admiration. “I’m so grateful you’re helping me with this. It’s a real armful, isn’t it?” I couldn’t help but emphasize the word ‘armful,’ a subtle innuendo that made Clarke’s eyes widen with understanding.
“Yeah, it’s a heavy one,” he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. “But I’m happy to help. Anything for you, Ms. Sharon.” His words sent a jolt of excitement through me, and I knew I had to have him.
On the drive back, I felt the tension building between us. Clarke’s gaze kept flicking to me, his eyes lingering on my legs, which were crossed in a way that showcased my smooth thighs. I uncrossed them slowly, enjoying the way his breath hitched as he noticed.
“So, Clarke, you’ve been a huge help today,” I said, my voice low and sultry. “I’d like to show my appreciation. How about a massage when we get back? I know you must be sore from all that heavy lifting.”
Clarke’s eyes widened further, and I could see the bulge in his jeans growing. “A massage? That sounds amazing, Ms. Sharon. I’d love that.” His voice cracked slightly, and I knew I had him right where I wanted him.
Back at my place, we carried the dresser upstairs to my bedroom. The room was spacious, with soft lighting and a plush king-sized bed. Clarke set the dresser down gently, his eyes taking in the intimate surroundings.
“So, where do you want me to start with the massage?” he asked, his voice slightly breathless.
“Right here is fine,” I replied, gesturing to the bed. “Just take off your shirt and lie down. I’ll be right back with some oil.”
As I stepped out of the room, I heard Clarke’s belt buckle clink as he undressed. My heart raced as I prepared a sensual massage oil, adding a few drops of a special aphrodisiac blend I had purchased for occasions like this.
I re-entered the room, my eyes feasting on the sight of Clarke’s naked torso. His skin was golden and smooth, his chest broad and defined, with a light dusting of hair trailing down his flat stomach. His jeans hung low on his hips, showcasing the impressive bulge beneath.
“Wow, Clarke, you have an incredible body,” I purred, my voice dripping with desire. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
I climbed onto the bed, straddling Clarke’s waist, and began to pour the warm oil onto his shoulders. My hands glided over his skin, kneading and massaging the tight muscles. I could feel his body relax under my touch, his breath coming in soft sighs.
“That feels amazing, Ms. Sharon,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering closed. “You have magic hands.”
As I worked my way down his back, my fingers brushed against the waistband of his jeans. I could feel his hard length straining against the fabric, and I knew I had to taste him.
“Turn over, Clarke,” I whispered, my voice thick with need. “I want to see all of you.”
Clarke complied, rolling onto his back, his thick cock tenting his jeans. I couldn’t resist any longer. I leaned down and gently tugged his jeans and boxers down, revealing his throbbing erection.
“Oh my,” I breathed, my eyes taking in the sight of his thick, veined shaft. “You’re so big, Clarke. I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”
I took his length in my hand, stroking it gently, feeling the heat and hardness of his cock. Clarke let out a low groan, his hips arching off the bed. I leaned down and flicked my tongue over the head of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip.
“Fuck, Ms. Sharon,” he gasped, his hands gripping the bedsheets. “Your mouth feels so good.”
I took him deeper, sucking and swirling my tongue around his shaft, teasing the sensitive underside. Clarke’s hands found my hair, gently guiding my movements as I bobbed my head up and down, taking him to the back of my throat.
“Suck it, Ms. Sharon,” he panted, his voice hoarse with desire. “Suck my cock like the little slut you are.”
His words sent a shockwave of pleasure through me, and I moaned around his length, my pussy throbbing with need. I wanted to feel him inside me, to be filled by his youthful vigor.
I climbed off the bed, my eyes never leaving his rock-hard dick. “I want you, Clarke,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my body. “I want to feel you fuck me.”
Clarke sat up, his eyes dark with lust. “I want to fuck you too, Ms. Sharon. I’ve wanted this since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
I straddled him, positioning his thick cock at my entrance. With a slow, deliberate movement, I lowered myself onto his length, taking him deep inside me. Clarke’s eyes rolled back as he filled me, his hands gripping my hips to guide my movements.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice raw. “Ride my cock, Ms. Sharon. Show me how much you want it.”
I began to move, rising and falling on his shaft, my breasts bouncing with each thrust. Clarke’s hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples, sending waves of pleasure through me.
“Yes, Clarke, yes!” I cried out, my body on fire. “Fuck me harder, please!”
Clarke flipped us over, his strong arms easily lifting my body. He positioned himself between my thighs and thrust into me with renewed vigor, his cock pounding into my wetness.
“You’re so wet, Ms. Sharon,” he grunted, his face contorted with pleasure. “I’m gonna make you come so hard.”
He reached between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in firm circles as he fucked me relentlessly. My body coiled tighter and tighter, the pleasure building to an unbearable pitch.
“Oh God, Clarke, I’m gonna come!” I screamed, my body shaking as the orgasm ripped through me.
Clarke kept thrusting, his own release building. “Come on my cock, Ms. Sharon,” he growled. “Let me feel your pussy milk me dry.”
His words sent me over the edge again, and I came hard around his shaft, my pussy clenching and releasing in rhythmic pulses. Clarke followed soon after, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep inside me.
We lay entangled on the bed, our bodies glistening with sweat and satisfaction. Clarke’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his eyes shining with a mixture of contentment and awe.
“That was incredible, Ms. Sharon,” he said, his voice soft. “I never imagined it would be like this.”
I smiled, my heart filled with a mix of pleasure and satisfaction. “Neither did I, Clarke. But I’m so glad it was.”
As I lay there, feeling his softening cock still nestled inside me, I knew this was just the beginning of a scorching hot adventure with my young, virile neighbor.
A Christmas Tree Adventure
I couldn’t believe my luck when Sharon asked for my help. I, Diego, a simple computer techie, was about to spend an entire day with the woman of my dreams. Sharon was my neighbor, a stunning blonde bombshell in her late thirties, with a body that could make men half my age drool. And she wanted me, a 43-year-old Latino with a shy demeanor, to accompany her on a quest for the perfect Christmas tree.
I had been doing yard work for Sharon for a few months now, and we had become friendly. I admired her from afar, never daring to make a move, but today, she was inviting me into her world, and I couldn’t wait to see where this adventure would take us.
As we drove to Johnson’s Christmas Tree Farm in my old pickup truck, the snow-covered landscape glistened in the morning sun. The farm was a winter wonderland, complete with twinkling lights, snowmen, and the aroma of hot apple cider and freshly cut pine trees. It was like stepping into a Christmas card, and I felt a warm glow inside, not just from the mulled wine we sipped to keep us warm.
Sharon, with her bright blue eyes sparkling, led the way, her excitement infectious. We wandered through rows of trees, their branches heavy with snow, each one more perfect than the last. I watched her, captivated by her grace and the way her pink cheeks contrasted with her golden hair. She was like a fairy tale princess, and I was the humble servant, eager to please.
“What do you think of this one, Diego?” She paused in front of a tall, robust fir, its branches reaching towards the sky.
“It’s beautiful,” I replied, my voice hoarse with desire. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I focused on the task at hand, helping her find the perfect tree.
We spent hours exploring the farm, laughing and joking as we searched for the ideal tree. Sharon’s laughter rang out, and I felt my heart flutter each time. I wanted to make her happy, to give her the best Christmas experience, even if it meant carrying the heaviest tree back to my truck.
Finally, we settled on a majestic pine, its branches laden with snow, and we set about cutting it down. I swung the axe with a strength I didn’t know I had, the wood cracking under the force of my desire to impress her. As the tree fell, I caught a glimpse of Sharon’s smile, and it was worth every effort.
We loaded the tree onto my truck, and I helped secure it, my hands brushing against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I could see the pink flush on her cheeks, and I wondered if she felt the same spark.
The drive back to her house was filled with lively conversation and Christmas carols, our voices blending in harmony. I felt a connection growing between us, something more than just neighbors or friends.
As we arrived at her cozy home, I offered to help set up the tree. Sharon led me into her living room, the space warm and inviting with the glow of the fireplace. I couldn’t help but notice the soft, plush furniture and the way the flickering flames danced in her eyes.
“Let’s get this tree standing, and then I’ll make us some eggnog to warm up,” she suggested, her voice low and sultry.
We worked together, our movements synchronized as we positioned the tree in the stand. Her touch was gentle, and her scent, a mix of pine needles and something sweet, enveloped me. I felt my body respond to her closeness, my heart racing and my breath quickening.
Once the tree was secure, Sharon disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the growing desire that had been simmering since the moment I laid eyes on her. I straightened up the living room, my hands shaking slightly as I tried to calm my nerves.
She returned with two steaming mugs, the eggnog laced with a generous amount of rum. “Here, this will warm you up,” she said, handing me a mug.
I took a sip, the warm liquid sliding down my throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I felt my inhibitions melting away, and my eyes locked with hers. In that moment, I knew I had to make a move, to show her how I felt.
Setting my mug down, I took a step towards her, my heart pounding in my chest. Sharon’s eyes widened, but she didn’t back away. I reached out, my fingers brushing against her cheek, soft as the snowflakes that had kissed our faces earlier.
“Sharon,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion. “I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I met you.” And with that, I leaned in, my lips gently capturing hers.
The kiss was electric, a spark igniting between us. Her lips were soft and warm, and she tasted like rum and spice. I felt her hands on my chest, pulling me closer, and I deepened the kiss, my tongue seeking entrance, which she eagerly granted.
Our mouths moved in perfect rhythm, exploring and tasting, as if we had been doing this dance forever. My hands traveled down her back, feeling the curve of her spine, and I pulled her closer, wanting to feel every inch of her pressed against me.
Breaking the kiss, Sharon leaned her forehead against mine, her breath coming in short gasps. “I’ve wanted this too, Diego. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
Her words were like music to my ears. I smiled, my heart soaring with joy. “I’m glad we didn’t wait any longer,” I replied, my voice thick with desire.
I kissed her again, this time with more urgency. My hands roamed over her body, exploring the soft curves I had fantasized about. I felt her hands on my belt, unbuckling it with skilled fingers, and I groaned into her mouth.
With expert ease, she unbuttoned my jeans, her hands sliding inside, wrapping around my hardening cock. I let out a ragged breath, my body on fire. Sharon’s touch was like magic, and I couldn’t get enough.
I pushed her back gently, guiding her towards the soft couch, never breaking our kiss. We fell onto the cushions, our bodies entwined, and I positioned myself between her legs, feeling the heat radiating from her core.
Her hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, driving me wild. I wanted to please her, to make her feel the same pleasure I was experiencing. I kissed my way down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites, eliciting soft moans from her.
As my lips reached the swell of her breasts, I paused, admiring the perfection before me. Her nipples were hard, begging for attention, and I obliged, taking one into my mouth, sucking gently, then harder as she arched her back, pushing her breast further into my mouth.
“Oh, Diego,” she breathed, her hands threading through my hair, urging me on.
I switched to her other breast, lavishing attention on it, while my hand slid down her stomach, fingers teasing the waistband of her pants. I could feel her wetness through the fabric, and it drove me wild.
With nimble fingers, I unbuttoned her pants, sliding them down her legs, revealing her bare skin and the lacy black thong that barely covered her pussy. I hooked my fingers into the sides of her panties, slowly pulling them down, revealing her glistening folds.
Sharon’s pussy was a work of art, her lips plump and swollen, already wet and ready for me. I leaned down, my breath hot against her sensitive skin, and blew gently, making her shiver.
“Please, Diego,” she whispered, her voice a plea.
I didn’t make her wait any longer. I dove in, my tongue finding her clit, flicking it gently, then with increasing speed as her hips bucked against my mouth. I explored her folds, tasting her sweetness, my fingers sliding inside her, curling to find that spot that made her cry out.
“Yes, right there!” she exclaimed, her hands gripping the cushions.
I wanted to make her come, to feel her body shake with pleasure. I sucked her clit into my mouth, my fingers working in unison, and soon, her orgasm was building, her breath coming in short gasps.
“Oh my God, I’m gonna…” She couldn’t finish her sentence as her body tensed, her pussy clenching around my fingers, and she came with a loud cry, her juices flooding my mouth.
I continued to lap at her, wanting to savor every drop of her essence. Slowly, her body relaxed, and she pulled me up, kissing me deeply, sharing her taste with me.
“That was incredible,” she murmured against my lips.
I smiled, my body still buzzing with desire. “The night is young, Sharon. I plan to make you come again and again.”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and I knew this was just the beginning of our passionate adventure. As I positioned myself above her, ready to take her, I wondered what other pleasures awaited us, and I couldn’t wait to find out.
Private Eyes
I got a gift last month from a relative and I thought it was kind of useless. It was a telescope, they are really into astronomy and looking at the stars and that’s fine, but it’s not really an interest of mine, so what am I supposed to do with a telescope? I live on an upper floor of a nice condo building and I did take it out on my little balcony and look skywards, but when I looked away my shoulder bumped it and I looked through and I wasn’t gazing at the stars, but it had landed on the building right across from mine. Now this could prove interesting!
I began to look at all the windows and saw an assortment of everyday activities, then I came upon one with a guy masturbating to porn on his computer, he had a pretty nice sized cock, too. Then I saw a window three floors up from that one with a couple making love, lights on, curtains open, now this was a lot more fun than searching for Mars. I was watching them, the man on top of the woman, her legs wrapped around him, pulling him inwards and I started to feel aroused as I was watching them. I reached down and slid my hand into my panties and started to rub my clit as I watched them fuck with unashamed abandon, not a clue they were being watched.
She placed her leg over his shoulder, allowing him deeper penetration and I could see the headboard banging against the wall as his thrusts grew in intensity, fuck, they were really going at it, I only wished I could hear them as well as see them. I rubbed my clit faster and faster as they went for their climax and I soon came, masturbating on my balcony watching them through the telescope. I think I may have found a good use for this present I hadn’t thought of when I got it.
The MILF Next Door
I am a MILF, and I love young guys. We cougars usually do. There’s a college boy that lives next door and I’ve literally watched him grow up and turn into a young man before my eyes. I never thought when he was a young boy that one day I’d lust after him, but that’s exactly what’s happened. My husband doesn’t have much time for me anymore, he’s too wrapped up in business and his secretary to pay much mind to me, but the college freshman next door pays attention and I have allowed him to see things that let him know his attentions are quite welcome.
When he’s home from school, his bedroom window is opposite of mine, and I’ve casually walked around in the nude and even masturbated with the curtains open and I knew he was watching and jerking off as he spied on me. Yesterday I invited him over under the guise of helping me move some furniture and I took him upstairs and gave him a blow job and fucked him, he seemed surprised I was so bold, but I have been lusting after his young dick for a few years now.
I sat him on the bed and thanked him for moving the heavy bookcase, and knelt before him and rubbed my hands over his young thighs and then caressed his cock through his jeans and it was mere seconds until he was rock hard and I had my lips wrapped around his cock and was sucking and licking and slurping for dear life on that teenaged cock of his. I swallowed every drop of his cum and told him I wanted his cock in my pussy. I stripped down and he admired my hot, MILF body and I got on all fours and he pounded my pussy from behind and shot a load of his jizz in my cunt. I plan on having lots of fun this summer with him!
