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.
Snowman’s Seduction
I was feeling playful as I stepped out into the winter wonderland that morning. The snow had fallen heavily overnight, blanketing the entire neighborhood in a pristine white layer. It was a perfect day to indulge in some childlike fun, and I decided to build a snowman in my backyard. Little did I know that my playful endeavor would lead to an unexpected and steamy encounter with my teenage neighbor, Roy.
As I bundled up in my warm coat, scarf, and gloves, I couldn’t help but feel excited about the prospect of shaping the snow into a jolly snowman. I stepped out into my backyard, the snow crunching under my boots, and began my task. I rolled the snow into three large balls, stacking them on top of each other to form the classic snowman shape. With a carrot for a nose, coal for eyes, and a playful smile, my creation came to life. I stepped back to admire my work, feeling a sense of satisfaction and joy.
Unbeknownst to me, my activities had caught the attention of Roy, the 18-year-old heartthrob from next door. He had been watching me from his bedroom window, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. Roy had always been a bit of a troublemaker, with his charming smile and flirtatious demeanor. He found the sight of me, a mature and sophisticated woman, playing in the snow irresistibly alluring.
As I finished adding the final touches to my snowman, I heard a voice call out from behind me.
“Hey, Sharon! That snowman looks amazing!”
I turned around to see Roy standing there, his brown hair tousled, and a mischievous grin on his face. His eyes roamed over my body, taking in my tight jeans and the way my thick sweater accentuated my curves. I felt a flutter in my stomach, a mix of surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name.
“Why thank you, Roy,” I replied, feeling a bit flustered. “I thought it would be a fun way to spend the morning.”
“It’s freezing out here,” he said, taking a step closer. “Why don’t you come inside for some hot chocolate? My parents are out of town for the weekend, so I’ve got the place to myself.”
I hesitated for a moment, considering the invitation. I knew Roy was a few years younger than me, but his confident demeanor and the spark of desire in his eyes intrigued me. I decided to accept, curious to see where this unexpected encounter would lead.
“Alright, a hot drink sounds lovely,” I agreed, brushing the snow off my gloves.
We walked side by side into Roy’s house, the warmth of the interior instantly enveloping us. The living room was cozy, with a large fireplace crackling in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. I removed my coat and gloves, feeling the heat seep into my chilled bones.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Roy said, his voice low and inviting. “I’ll go make the hot chocolate.”
I sat on the plush sofa, the soft fabric caressing my skin, and watched as Roy disappeared into the kitchen. I couldn’t help but admire his lithe, muscular body as he moved, the way his jeans hugged his firm buttocks. There was an air of youthful energy and raw sexuality about him that I found captivating.
He returned moments later with two steaming mugs, the rich aroma of chocolate filling the air. He handed me one and sat beside me, close enough that our thighs touched. I took a sip, the warmth spreading through my body, and felt a tingle of anticipation.
“So, Sharon,” Roy began, his voice husky. “What brings you out in this weather? I’ve never seen anyone so enthusiastic about building a snowman.”
I smiled, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Oh, I just felt like doing something fun and spontaneous. It’s not every day we get such a beautiful snowfall.”
“I can see that you’re a woman who knows how to enjoy life,” he said, his gaze intense. “And I must say, I find that incredibly attractive.”
My heart raced as I realized the direction this conversation was taking. Roy’s boldness and the way he looked at me made me feel desired in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I leaned back into the sofa, feeling the heat from the fire on my face.
“You’re quite the charmer, Roy,” I said, my voice low. “I must admit, I find your youthful energy irresistible.”
His eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam, and he leaned closer, his breath warm on my neck. “I’ve always had a thing for older women, Sharon. They know what they want, and they’re not afraid to go after it.”
I felt a rush of excitement as his words confirmed my suspicions. I turned to face him, our bodies now inches apart. His green eyes held mine, and I could see the desire burning within him.
“And what do you want, Roy?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I want you,” he said, his voice hoarse with want. “I’ve been watching you from my window, fantasizing about this moment. I want to make those fantasies come true.”
His words sent a jolt of pleasure through my body. I had always been one to embrace my desires, and the idea of being wanted by this young, virile man was exhilarating. I placed my hand on his thigh, feeling the hard muscle beneath my touch.
“And I want you, too,” I whispered, my breath quickening. “Right here, right now.”
Without another word, Roy leaned in and captured my lips in a passionate kiss. His mouth was warm and demanding, and I responded eagerly, our tongues dancing in a heated rhythm. His hands roamed over my body, cupping my breasts through my sweater, making me gasp into his mouth.
With skilled fingers, he unbuttoned my blouse, revealing my lace bra and the swell of my cleavage. He kissed his way down my neck, leaving a trail of fire on my skin, before taking a nipple into his mouth through the lace. I arched my back, moaning softly as he suckled and teased, his hands now sliding under my sweater to caress my bare skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot. “I want to see all of you.”
I helped him remove my blouse and bra, baring my breasts to his hungry gaze. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in my full, round globes, my nipples already hard and begging for attention. He wasted no time, lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking and laving it with his tongue.
“Oh, Roy,” I sighed, running my fingers through his hair. “That feels incredible.”
He switched to the other breast, his hand replacing his mouth on the first, squeezing and kneading, while his tongue and teeth teased the sensitive peak. I squirmed on the sofa, my body on fire, my core throbbing with need.
“I want to taste all of you,” he said, his voice thick with lust.
His words sent a shiver of anticipation through me. I wanted him to taste me, to feel his mouth on my most intimate places. I spread my legs, inviting him to explore, and he eagerly accepted the invitation.
Roy slid down my body, his lips trailing kisses along my stomach, making me quiver with anticipation. He reached my jeans and unbuttoned them slowly, his fingers brushing against my sensitive skin as he slid them down my legs. I lifted my hips to help him, my breath coming in short gasps as I anticipated his touch.
My panties were the last barrier, and he hooked his fingers into the sides, slowly pulling them down, revealing my glistening folds. I was already wet and ready for him, my arousal evident. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of my exposed pussy, before leaning in to inhale my scent.
“You smell so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice hoarse.
He placed a soft kiss on my inner thigh, making me tremble, before finally pressing his mouth to my core. His tongue flicked out, tasting me, and I cried out, my hands gripping the sofa cushions. He licked and sucked, his tongue delving deep into my wetness, finding my sweet spot with ease.
“Oh my God, Roy,” I panted, my hips thrusting involuntarily. “That’s it, right there.”
He continued to lavish attention on my aching clit, his fingers now sliding into my slick heat, stroking and curling, finding all the right spots. I was lost in a haze of pleasure, my body on the brink of orgasm, when he suddenly stopped.
“Not yet,” he whispered, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
I whimpered in protest, my body craving release. He stood and quickly shed his clothes, revealing his toned, youthful body and a thick, erect cock that throbbed with need. He knelt between my spread legs, his eyes locked on mine.
“I want to watch your face as I fuck you,” he said, his voice rough with desire.
With that, he positioned himself at my entrance and slowly pushed inside. I gasped as he filled me, stretching and pleasing me in a way that only a man could. He paused, letting me adjust to his size, before beginning a slow, deliberate rhythm.
He withdrew almost completely before thrusting back in, filling me to the hilt. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders, as he repeated this slow, torturous pace, driving me wild with need.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his eyes never leaving mine. “So tight and wet.”
I matched his rhythm, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts, desperate for more. The fire crackled in the background, the flames dancing over our naked bodies, adding to the erotic atmosphere.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust. “Play with your clit while I fuck you.”
I did as he asked, my fingers finding my swollen bud, circling and rubbing as he pounded into me. The sensations were overwhelming, and I could feel my orgasm building, a coiled spring ready to snap.
“That’s it, Sharon,” he grunted, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. “Come for me, beautiful. Let me see you fall apart.”
His words were the final push I needed. I cried out, my body convulsing around his cock as I climaxed, my juices flowing freely. He continued to thrust, his own release building, until with a final, powerful stroke, he came, filling me with his hot seed.
We collapsed onto the sofa, our bodies still joined, our hearts racing. I looked into his eyes, seeing the satisfaction and desire that mirrored my own.
“That was incredible,” I breathed, stroking his face.
“Just the beginning,” he promised, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “I have so many more fantasies to fulfill with you, Sharon.”
I smiled, feeling a thrill of anticipation. This was just the start of our steamy weekend affair, and I couldn’t wait to explore all the pleasures Roy had in store for me.
Hot MILF For You
I have a college age son, and let me tell you, some of his friends are fucking hot. I divorced his dad years ago, and haven’t had many boyfriend’s since. Now that I’ve gotten older, I don’t know why it is I’ve started to fantasize and drool about younger boys, but I sure have! Ones my own age seem to be losing their erections as well as their hair, not very appealing in my eyes. I over heard one of my son’s friends telling another friend that he’d had hot phone sex with his girlfriend on the phone and how hot it made him, how horny he’d gotten. I was a bit surprised he’d be telling his friend this.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it all night, this hot young kid masturbating when he called his girlfriend. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself, but I was alone later with him in the kitchen when he came in to get a pop to drink. I told him I’d heard him talking to his other friend about his phone call. He blushed a little and I said no, it was ok, it had turned me on hearing it. I swear as soon as I said that, he started to get hard and I could see a growing bulge in his pants.
I know it was very forward of me, but I asked him if he’d like to call me one night for such a conversation. His jaw literally dropped and he let go of the can of pop and I laughed. He picked it up off the floor and smiled and said he’d think about giving me a call for such a naughty conversation. Apparently he didn’t have to think long, less than eight hours later as I was reading in bed my house phone rang and it was him. We talked for a while then he told me to touch myself. He gave me guided masturbation, and it was the best I’d ever had in my entire life. I hope this becomes a regular thing, I was so fucking turned on!
I’m On The Naughty List
Every year I like to do something very Christmasey. I volunteer at the mall for a day dressed as Mrs.. Claus to help greet the children going to see Santa. It’s usually quite fun. This year however, it turned a bit more naughty than I thought it would. One of the “elves” was a very cute high school senior that just turned eighteen. He looked so cute in his little green outfit and tights, and I could tell he had a fantastic body. I told him on my way home that I asked Santa for something very naughty that year. He grinned and asked what I’d asked for. I said I wanted a frisky elf to play with!
He laughed and asked if he was the frisky elf. I said yes, would you like to come home with me and have some egg nog? He couldn’t resist a horny, older woman coming on to him. We got to my place and I poured us some egg nog. We sat and admired my Christmas tree and I put on some sexy Christmas music played with a sax, what’s sexier than a sax? So he knew I was warm for his form, so he wasted no time in reaching over and putting his hand under my skirt. He teased my pussy lips through my damp panties and he could tell how turned on I was.
We walked to my bedroom and stripped out of our costumes and were soon naked on my bed. My little Christmas elf had quite the lovely young cock and I soon was touching it and sucking on it as he groaned in pleasure. He told me to sit on his face, and he was soon tasting my sweetness and driving me wild. He might have been young, but he was very talented in his sexual skills. I soon got on his cock and sank down onto it, bucking back and forth, teasing my clit against his young shaft and dripping all over him, making him a sloppy wet mess. I soon came all over his dick and then my orgasmic contractions soon triggered him to shoot his young seed inside of me and I was feeling him go off inside of me, it was so sexy. I told him I wanted to see him again, and he said he’d be happy to come over any time I wanted him to. Christmas came a bit early this year for Mrs.Claus.
