I met friends the night of the 2024 election at a local wine bar and craft beer taproom. We figured it was a good night to go out drinking since the TV networks would have wall-to-wall news coverage on the election results.
When I arrived, my friends, Bob and Greg were already seated at a table. As I walked across the room, I couldn’t help but notice the four younger women at the adjacent table: they were all beautiful and well-dressed.
I sat across from Greg and adjacent to the other table, separated by only four feet. Bob poured me a glass of the wine he ordered, a local Oak Valley Zinfandel, and the three of us started talking about the National Football League and our favorite teams.
A few minutes into our conversation, I finally looked at our neighbors, the four young cuties. One woman and I made eye contact, so I smiled and said hello. She was sitting adjacent to me, and asked, “Do you guys come here often?”
I explained that we have a group of eight men who meet three days a week after work and that we’re in the beer club. “Some days all eight are here, other days four, it just depends,” I told her. I also mentioned that we all live within a mile of Corks & Taps. “We meet just after 4:00 PM and usually leave between 5:30 and 6:00 PM after a few pints. They all have to get home to their wives.”
“So you’re single?” asked the stunning late-thirties African American woman.
“Divorced,” I said. “By any chance is your mother single?” I said with a chuckle.
“What’s your name? I’m Lauren,” she said.
I replied, “Scott. Scott Williams.”
Lauren smiled, “Why my mom? I’m single.”
I tried to diplomatically explain to Lauren that I was probably twenty years older than her and that I didn’t think she’d be interested in “an old white guy with a dad bod,” I said.
Thankfully, one of her friends interrupted and asked us about the wine we were drinking. Bob quickly gave the ladies a brief recap of what he thought about the wine.
The blonde, Ariel, told us that the four women are in several wine clubs in the area. “We consider ourselves to be wine snobs.”
“Have you been to Sunset Farms? Scott’s family owns that winery,” Bob told them.
All four ladies were now saying something to me, talking over each other. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ladies, one at a time,” I told them.
I quickly gave them a monologue about my family’s winery and vineyards. I was a bit upset with Bob since he knows I don’t like people I’ve just met to know that my family has a winery. People instantly think you’re very wealthy and a handful of other generalizations.
“Are you a wine snob,” asked Lucia, one of the other women.
“No,” I laughed. “My palate is good, but I prefer the mid-level and affordable wines. Anything over $50 a bottle seems too expensive to me.”
Ariel and Lauren, who were closest to Greg and I, started asking a few good questions. Questions that led me to believe they were enophiles. I gave a quick family history on how my great-grandfather and grandfather planted the first vineyard just prior to Prohibition in 1918, when my Grandpa was just nineteen years old and attending the University of California at its agricultural farm, now known as UC Davis, near Sacramento.
Soon the two women and I were in a discussion of our favorite Oak Valley area wineries and wines. Lauren mentioned that she has taken several advanced classes on grape growing, wine making, and wine tasting through the UC Davis Continuing Education programs.
“Several years ago, I thought about studying to become a Sommelier, but the exams are extremely difficult,” she said.
“Extremely is an understatement,” I said. “There are only five Sommeliers in Oak Valley. One is our winemaker.”
Ariel and Lauren asked some more questions about my family’s winery and I explained that while our father is still alive, he turned over all operations to my brother, sister, and myself about twenty years ago. “I’d be happy to give you ladies a tour some weekend.”
Lauren and I began chatting with each other about a multitude of topics regarding the industry. Soon Bob and Greg said they were leaving. Another half hour later Lauren’s friends said they were all headed home as well.
As the saying goes, “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,” so I asked Lauren if she’d like to go next door to dinner. The reality was that we had both been flirting with each other almost from the beginning.
We enjoyed a wonderful dinner at The Courthouse, one of the better restaurants in Oak Valley. We each had a flight of four wines, discussing each wine’s pros and cons, unique tasting notes, etc. During our nearly ninety-minute meal our flirting was stepped up a notch or two, certainly fueled by the vino.
“Would you like to come to my house where we can sample a vertical flight of our estate zinfandel? Years 2016 through 2020, all exceptional vintages,” I asked Lauren.
“That sounds amazing,” she said, as she placed her hand on my arm, lightly rubbing my forearm.
During dinner, I learned that Lauren was older than I thought, thirty-nine. She worked as an accountant for a large firm in town and had never been married. She looked me eye to eye thanks to her three-inch red stiletto heels, so she was probably five-nine tall. Most appealing of all, she had large full 38DD tits.
“Scott, are you flirting with me?” she asked coyly.
“Me?” I teased, knowing full well I was.
Lauren followed me back to my house and as soon as we were in the house I gave her a big embrace. As we looked into each others eyes I tipped my head down and passionately kissed her. Our tongues danced as I ground my seven-inch boner into her cunt, causing us both to moan.
I whispered into her ear, “I want you. I want to taste you. I want to fuck you. Are you up for that tonight?”
“Yes,” she stammered. “My pussy is so wet.”
Lauren wore a pair of tight black jeans, a simple low V-neck cotton red top, and her red heels. I quickly got her naked after we moved to the living room couch. She then undressed me and noticed a wet spot on my boxers.
“Someone is excited,” she giggled. As she pulled my boxers down toward my ankles, she opened her mouth and guided it above my throbbing glans. Once the boxers were off, her hand took hold of my thick cock and gave it a few long, slow strokes. Lauren then licked the glistening drop of pre-cum and sucked on my large mushroom head.
“Oohhhhhh, shit,” I lightly moaned. “That feels so good.”
Lauren looked up at me and smiled as she slowly and sensually guided her lips up and down my shaft as her tongue teased the underside of my manhood. I was so tuned on and torqued up that I wondered how long I could last before I blew my thick, creamy load in her mouth.
“You better stop,” I told her.
I helped her to her feet, and we sat on the couch, where we resumed kissing as our hands explored our bodies. Lauren had a tall athletic body featuring perfect 36D breasts with large, hard, dark nipples. My fingers zeroed in on her left nipple, and I rolled it between my fingers before pinching and pulling on her sensitive nub, causing her to sigh.
“Oh, you like nipple play, huh?” I teased.
Before she could answer, my mouth was suckling on her tit. I alternated between sucking, licking, and light bites. With my right hand at the bottom of her breast, my left hand went in search of her wet kitty. As my hand touched her thigh, Lauren opened her legs wide, giving me the green light to proceed.
My fingertips lightly rubbed her below the belt. Softly massaging her mons, labia, and dipping into her moist slit. As my tongue flicked one nipple, I continued teasing her labia and an occasional finger tip into her wet canyon. I slowly inserted one finger, two knuckles deep. Her honey pot was hot, wet, and sticky. I searched deep and found her g-spot and applied pressure, causing her to twitch and moan.
“Ohhh, yes!” she whispered
As I rubbed her magic spot, Lauren was blabbering, “Yes. Right there. Oh shit. Yes. Oh, my Gawd.”
I decided it was time to add a second finger and then soon was twisting my fingers as I plunged deep into her pink pussy. The contrast in colors of her mocha skin tone and her bubble gum-colored love tunnel was shocking.
“I need you to fuck me,” she said sternly, as if it were a command. She moved and positioned herself on her knees, facing the sofa cushions, and bent over the back of the couch.
“If you insist,” I told her with a sinister laugh.
I positioned myself behind her as I stood, took hold of my cock, and teased her slit, rubbing my flesh helmet up and down. I slapped it on her browneye and pressed the tip into her pleasure palace. As I slowly moved my hips, I could feel how hot and wet her snatch had become.
“Fuck me, Scott. Fuck me hard,” Lauren moaned.
As I held her coke bottle hips, I had a good pace going thrusting into her dripping honey pot. After thirty seconds of jackhammering, I slowed down, one hand grabbed her long hair, and the other reached around and groped her left breast.
I resumed a pounding her pussy, with each thrust jolting Lauren into the couch cushions. “Let’s change positions,” I told her. “I’ll sit down, and I want you to ride me in cowgirl.”
After quickly repositioning ourselves, I had her tits in each hand and my mouth was devouring her left breats. I had as much as her boob in my mouth as a could, and I was going after her flesh like an animal. All the while she was rocking on my stick cock. In this position, her soaking wet kitty was dripping down my dick, balls, and my backdoor. I laughed internally, thinking I’ll need to wash the sex juice off the leather couch when we’re done.
As soon as that thought finished in my brain, Lauren whispered into my ear, “I’m going to cum. Don’t stop.”
That sparked my desire to cum too, so I started thrusting to match her rocking, driving my cock deeper into her sex pot. We were going at it hard and fast, so I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her toward me.
Loudly I said, “Cum for me, baby! Cream on my cock!”
“YES! YES!” she yelled.
Lauren pulled away, sat up, and began grinding her box on my pelvic area. As I watched her tits bounce with each thrust, I grabbed her milk melons and pinched her nipples.
“OH FUCK!” she screamed in a high-pitched voice.
Her pussy clenched down on my cock and that set me off. It was my turn to summit the mountain. I thrust one last time and pulled her down deep on my dick from her shoulders as I climaxed, blasting jets of jizz deep in her chocolate sex cave.
She fell forward and rested her head on my shoulder as we tried to catch our breaths. My hands lightly massaged her ass. I soon felt our cum leaking from her pussy as my cock softened and started its retreat.
Without a word being said, Lauren dismounted my waist and got on her knees between my legs. She stuck her tongue out and started to lick and slurp up the puddles of our combined spunk.
She looked up at me, smiled, and said, “I couldn’t let this creamy goodness go to waste.”
THE END.
