“Sleep with them often do you?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “You’re the first older man I have slept with.”
He started playing with one of my long plaits, pulling and tugging on it slightly. “I’m honored,” he finally said.
“I don’t intend for this to be a once off,” I told him. “I hope you can keep up with me.”
Renard laughed. “Oh sweetheart, I could say the same thing to you.”
I joined in with his laughter, propping myself up on one elbow and kissing him deeply. I snuggled back down against him and gently wrapped my hand around his now soft cock. I squeezed it gently and it pulsed and hardened slightly in my hand, but then went back to it’s flaccid state. I tugged it, but it stayed soft. I giggled. Of course I knew that it wouldn’t harden to its full state for a while now, but it was fun to play with it still, and Renard seemed to like it.
For a man in his early forties he was still very good looking. His black hair was full and thick, though graying at the temples slightly, but this added to his look. He was the distinguished, sophisticated older man, which was something that I found incredibly sexy. His brown eyes also were still keen and alert and covered by round glasses. His posture was straight, he still stood to his full height, and he hadn’t been afflicted by middle age spread. From the first proper meeting we’d had, I found myself incredibly attracted to him. He knew what he wanted, he was confident and driven. Perhaps I had been bold in my earlier dealings with him, but it had the desired effect for the both of us as we had ended up in bed together.
We lay there, cuddled up together, my hand around his cock, and we spoke. It was just idle chit-chat, the conversation had no rhyme or reason, it was just talking, but it was nice. We had a lot in common and a few shared interests and hobbies. It was also nice, as time went on, to see and feel the effects I was having on him. Every now and then I would give him a friendly squeeze or a gentle rub and slowly he hardened in my hand. As more time went on he grew harder still, and a full hour later after our first round, he was ready to again. I gripped his shaft and slowly moved my hand up and down, squeezing it a few times and changing the pressure.
“Mmmm,” he moaned appreciatively, closing his eyes. I loved the effect I was having on this man, and I was sure that he also loved the effect he was having on me. I changed my position and shuffled so I was lying down in between his legs, his cock near my lips. I wrapped a second hand around and jerked him like this for a while, sometimes moving my hands in sync with each other, and other times making them go different speeds and pressures. I then lowered my head and flicked the tip with my tongue, eliciting a loud groan from him. I lowered myself further and sucked on the large head, swirling my tongue around it, my hands wrapped around the shaft and base.
I built a rhythm up between my hands and my mouth, finding the right pace and pressure that Renard seemed to like. I also liked to make a tight suction with my lips, which made him swear a few times and moan loudly. Apart from the fact I genuinely enjoyed giving oral, I also liked that I could make Renard have this reaction. I slowly sucked him deeper and then came back up, swirling my tongue around the head and flicking it over the little slit at the tip. I teased him like this, taking him deeper but never staying there, I would always come back up and lick all around his length and shaft, even trailing my tongue down to his balls on occasion.
After a while of gentle teasing, I felt his hands on the back of my head, trying to keep me down there so I couldn’t escape. He was a little rough, which I didn’t mind, in fact, I welcomed it, but he was determined with what he wanted. He held my head in place, keeping his hard cock in my mouth. He released me for a few short moments but then grabbed my head again and pushed me back down on him. I gagged a number of times, but Renard seemed to like this. I thrust into my throat a few times and then came, grunting loudly as he did so. I cleaned him up and then shuffled back up next to him.
“I have to go now,” he said, not sounding too pleased.
“Really?” I asked.
“I do. I’m meeting some friends for a few drinks in town.”
“Oh,” I mumbled.
Renard chuckled. “If it’s any consolation, I’d much rather stay here with you and show my appreciation. You’re a lot prettier and sexier than my friends.” I watched Renard stand up and start to get dressed again, admiring his masculine physique. “By the way,” he said, turning back around to face me. “Say tomorrow, if something just happens to break and need fixing then please, come and get me. I am quite the handy-man.” He kissed me on the head and then left. I heard the front door shut behind him as he left and then the even fainter sound from next door as he returned home.
I would’ve loved it if he had stayed and spent the night. We could have done some more exploring and had what I imagined to be mind blowing sex, but now he was gone. My bedroom felt oddly empty without his dominating and masculine presence. He had never been in my bedroom before, but now after spending the afternoon the room felt somehow different. I felt somehow different. He was only the second man I had slept with. The first and only other man being my boyfriend Tom, who I had met in college. Maybe it was the fact that Renard was an experienced hand in the bedroom and cared about my needs also? But I could tell already that there would be some very intense orgasms shared between he and I.
As a child my family had moved around a lot. My father was a military man so he spent a lot of time away from us, and after a while we would always pack up and join him at yet a new location for however long before he would leave again for a few months and we would join him. It had been hard to make friends and connections with people that way. When you’re a child it’s easy to make friends, you just go up to another kid and ask to be friends and that is it, you’re popular. As a teenager it’s harder. Sixteen year olds are so quick to judge and jump to conclusions based off first impressions and appearances. When we were living in Michigan, the kids at high school heard my Southern accent and all of a sudden I had been branded as a ‘country bumpkin’ and a ‘hick’.
I gravitated towards the seniors and older kids as they were at least more accepting of me. They were willing to see past the mixed Southern accent, which I had acquired from years of moving all of the South and Mid-Atlantic area. The senior boys especially were always nice to me, although when word got around that I wasn’t as dumb and naive as people thought I was, and that I wouldn’t put out easily, the older boys tended to steer clear.
Up until that afternoon, sleeping with an older man had been a passing fantasy. I had always got along better with people older than myself, as I usually was the youngest in most situations. At school I had a wicked crush on my gym teacher Mr Wilson. To look at him was nothing overly special, but there was something about him that I liked, despite the fact that I was seventeen and he was in his late thirties.
I heard the faint but distinct sound of Renard’s car engine starting up and then driving off with a splutter. It was only just starting to go dark when I dozed off, dreaming of the afternoon I had shared with Renard, my mind jumping back to how good his touch had felt on my skin and how he had been quietly confident and assertive. When I was woken up a few hours later by the flood of car lights hitting the room and my face, I saw that it was just after midnight, as the clock on my bedside cabinet so helpfully told me.
I sat up and turned the lamp on which cast a soft glow on the room. I went to the window where I could partially see into Renard’s front room. There was a large plate-glass window in his front room, and I knew that he could see partially into my bedroom, as I could see a little into his house. I wondered if he knew that I could see him watching sometimes. He was of course subtle about it, stealing glances every now and then, but he still liked to look. At first I had been creeped out by this concept and kept the curtains drawn most of the time, but then one evening after having a shower I kept them open. I made sure to walk past the window several times wrapped in a towel, and every now and then I saw him looking.
I kind of liked that he could see me and that he enjoyed watching. After that I became more daring, strolling around my room in just a t-shirt and panties, or my underwear, giving him a good show. Of course we never acknowledged the other through the windows, that would have been slightly awkward seeing as I suspected that he didn’t know I was doing this on purpose, but it was a lot of fun.
This night however, I went up to the window and looked into what I could see of Renard’s front room. I saw a light on, and the shadows of him moving around, but he couldn’t see me, and he didn’t know that I was there. That was until he happened to stroll past the window and look up. He acknowledged me with a confident and sexy grin before he disappeared again. However, a few moments later he was back, checking to see if I was still there. I did a little wave and then tugged on my nipples playfully, putting on a show for him. I held my breasts in each hand, massaging them and rubbing them, the nipple running through my fingers. He readjusted himself a few times, which was my signal that he approved of what I was doing.
Enough is enough, I thought, as I disappeared from his view. I found my short satin robe, put that on and left my house, hoping that the neighbors wouldn’t see a barely clothed young woman trek next door. I padded up his front steps and knocked lightly on the door. It did not take long for him to answer. I smiled at him seductively, grabbing the tie of my robe and swinging it playfully in little circles. The robe had fallen away at the front slightly, my left breast was on display for him, the cool night air making it a hard little point. What a sight that must have been for him—a barely clothed woman on his front doorstep, breasts on display and some of his cum from earlier slowly dripping from within her.
Renard smiled, grabbed my hand and pulled me inside, shutting the door behind us, pinning me up against it and kissing me deeply and lustfully. I moaned against his mouth, submitting to him in that moment. This man can do anything he wants with me, I thought naughtily. He could suggest anything and I would probably agree. He was such a good kisser, so gentle yet firm and forceful at the same time. He knew what he wanted, that was for sure, I could tell just by his kiss. My robe was discarded, as were Renard’s clothes, and we moved into the living room where I pushed him onto the sofa. As we kissed I straddled him, my thighs either side of his.
I was so eager for his touch, so ready for this man to have his wicked way with me. He kissed down my neck and chest, kissing each of my breasts before sucking on the nipples, flicking his tongue over each little nub, making me moan and shiver with pleasure. I held his head to my breasts where he continued to lick, suck and bite my nipples. His cock was standing stiffly to attention by this stage, I could feel it rubbing against the inside of my thighs and brushing against my pussy. I held his cock gently in my hand and rubbed it up and down my pussy, smiling at him as I did this before we kissed again, the cool air hitting my nipples where his warm mouth had formerly been.
I teased him, running his cock over my clitoris and up and down my pussy but not putting it in me or sinking down on it, though I knew he was impatient for me to do so. I also was impatient to do this, but at the same time I liked teasing him and drawing this out. Finally, for both him and me, I placed him at my entrance and slowly worked it inside me, sitting down on it cautiously, growing accustomed to his size and girth. When I had it fully inside me I paused, kissing him tenderly. His hands on my hips, he moved me up and down on him slowly. I loved the way he felt inside me. I loved how deep he was and that he was hitting all the right spots.
He kissed and suckled on my nipples as I rode him, getting faster and faster. My hand traveled down my body to my clitoris, where I twirled beneath my fingers. It was an amazing sensation, having him pump himself inside me as I played with my clit. He moved his hand from my right hip, placing it on my ass, which he grabbed and massaged. He then spanked me, which was new to me. I moaned in surprise and Renard looked up at me questioningly, yet there was a devious element in his dark gaze. He spanked me again, not breaking eye contact. I didn’t hate his spanking, it was a new experience for me. I actually kind of liked, as we moved together, me playing with my clit, him thrusting inside me and spanking my ass. It was definitely sexy, which Renard knew.
I ground my hips into his and moaned loudly, an orgasm starting to well from deep within me. “I’m gonna cum,” I told him breathlessly. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.” He grunted his approval and drove himself into me, the sound of our bodies against each other the only noise in the room, save for my moans, which were growing ever louder.
“Cum for me baby,” he said. I shook with the intensity of my orgasm, moaning loudly, clenching my muscles around him. We kissed slightly clumsily as the orgasm washed over me, flowing throughout my body before the feeling started to ebb. “You’re going to make me cum,” he grunted.
“Do it,” I sighed, repeating my earlier request. Six more thrusts and I felt it hit deep inside me. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, lost in the moment. We kissed as I moved myself up slightly, feeling him slowly go limp and fall away from me. I flopped down on the sofa next to him, tired and spent, but more than satisfied. “I might have something for you to fix tomorrow,” I said, giggling breathlessly and panting slightly.
“I hope so,” Renard smiled.
