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Her mouth dove for my cock while emitting a surprising growl, and I glanced up to the pale, firm halves of a perfect ass, which were split by a gleaming notch of pussy. I had to have it all in my mouth and pulled her senseless leg over me until I could raise my head and plunge my tongue deep inside her sopping, swollen cunt. I felt her groan through my cock, and then she pressed it further back towards her throat, and then I groaned. I licked her clit, smothered it with the flat of my tongue, and then I plunged, plunged deep into her wetness with a tongue hardened like a cock.
And I wanted her anus. I wanted that too. I wanted everything. The smooth stretch of skin sweeping back from the back edge of her slit (at which she momentarily lost suck on my prick for a full-bodied scream), and then the sweet pucker of her anus, gently, tasting mildly of salt, slowly relaxing for my tongue, which pushed slightly in (at which she merely sighed, although the sigh was as full-bodied at the scream). I wanted to be filthy. I wanted to break records.
After a while our mouths began to move more widely over each other's bodies, tracing lust across skin in our invisible ink, and I wriggled out from beneath her to rise up on my knees and move my throbbing mouth-slicked cock towards her proffered pussy from behind. My eyes closed, my dick just naturally found its gap, and I pushed slowly, deeply into that sheath. She was wailing now, all pussy, all voice, unconscious of what the neighbors (sexy themselves) were hearing. Even I, normally quieter, shouted out for them, for my wife, for pure pleasure.
We fucked and fucked, her ass bucking back urgently into my hips. I wet my thumb and pressed it against the pert circle of her anus, rhythmically at first, and then the thumb pressed in. She was so sunk down in the fuck, her cheek pressed against the rug, that she didn't even seem to feel this new entry. Before long my entire thumb was moving slickly inside her, feeling the simultaneous press of my cock through thin, elastic walls. Her head was lolling about on the floor in a crazed, violent rut.
"Put it in me," I heard her hiss. I paused for a moment in my stroking, unsure of what she meant. "Put it there!" she cried, and I knew what she meant: the rare occasion, the full moon lust for us both, the path so exciting because it's so rarely taken, the filling that is utterly complete but that tantalizingly leaves her otherwise unfilled. Anal fucking, that's right. Joy on the back alleys, on the dark streets.
I pulled out of her vagina, and everything was sopping. I moved my cock several times shallowly up through the line of her wetness, and then I pulled back again, admittedly in wonder at the sight of myself, and then, gently, I pressed my tip at the kiss of her ass, held motionless, breathlessly, for my entry. The tip slid in, and she gasped, astonished with us and the pleasure. I couldn't hold back. All that I could offer was slowness, a gentle but steady progress of my cock into her depths, further and further until she'd swallowed me whole. There was resistance at first from her fresh body, but past that first clasping ring, the fucking was smooth, and endless, and I felt all of her relax as if she'd been stabbed by a powerful drug. Slowly I moved in and out until her bucking recommenced, and I knew that there were no limits, no place deep enough for my pulsing cock.
I fucked her hard then, both of us screaming. My forearm was locked against my balls so that I could dip my fingers into her steaming pussy. Her fingers frantically intertwined with mine, and she took over the frenzied masturbation -- and what a masturbation, Mona -- while I took as much of her ass as I could in my two hands and drove us through the floor, through the basement, through the earth. We fucked right up to the edge of oblivion, and both exhausted now, fading, we knew I had to come. But it was "In me," she wanted, and as soon as she said the words, I felt the come ripped from my balls as if by claws, and I emptied all my juice, all my saliva, all my tears into the heart of her. The orgasm felt as if it lasted an hour.
Then we fell together in a disordered heap, and I laughed for a minute or so, as I will very occasionally do after certain particularly epic fucks, and it was an hour later that I woke up in that same position.
"Let's go to bed," I said, waking her and helping her to her feet. "I guess we gave the neighbors quite a show."
"Good," she said. "I want even more."
The End.
Up and Down In Two
Okay, so it was a bit adolescent. But we'd been dancing around each other for months. I don't know why. So when she overheard me talking and said, with that twinkle in her eyes, that she could help with my bunker play -- and we hopped in the cart, with her driving, and prattling away, and reached the very secluded 14th green at around 10 pm...the last thing I expected was to be holding a glass in one hand and her skirt in the other while she slipped barefoot into the bunker to address a ball she'd tossed there. God, she had great legs. Really toned. And I just make out a hint of an equally impressive rump. If not for the jacket and blouse...
"Within a club length in two," she grinned at me suddenly, catching me staring.
"Nobody gets within a club length in two from there."
"Bet?"
"What did you have in mind?"
r /> "Your shoes and socks – oh, and slacks as a bonus, if I actually get up and down in two. And you keep the skirt if I'm not within the club length. Don't muss it up, by the way. I might want to go back to the party later..."
***
Somebody had to break the logjam, girls. This was a guy who made me wet every time he was in the room. And I knew he wanted me too. So, twice divorced, with a teenage daughter, I thought 'go for it for chrissake!' -- the party at the club was the usual crowd doing the usual things: it wasn't going anywhere in particular -- 'so make a game of it, what have you got to lose?'. It was time to bring this thing to a head, so to speak. And the carts were all there, and the clubs, and he slipped in beside me...
As for the skirt, well, you know how it is -- best feature and all -- and it really was a bit tight to address the ball properly.
And I must admit I hit it well...very well...in fact, oooh, that was so close. Certainly close enough. So I was very nonchalent, if you know what I mean, collecting the putter from the bag and saying, "Well, go on. I'll just knock this in." Which I did, from about a foot, all the while hoping he wasn't going to welch. I mean, guys, right, you never know when you're going change the rules to suit themselves.
He seemed to hesitate, until I took the skirt and wineglass, one from each of his hands, sipped the wine and put down the glass to slip my skirt back on. Then, well, I hadn't had a decent one in a long long time – an orgasm, that is – or so it seemed, and I almost came watching him 'pay up'. Expecially when he was bent to collect his slacks and toss them in the cart.
Then it was a treat to watch his face, when I tossed the ball back into the trap, and said, "Go on, your turn. Any two other garments if you're not within the club length after a putt."
"Against?"
"Your own stuff back...or equivalent"
He took a sip of the wine, handed back the glass and took the club.
"It's all about confidence," I said, as he was digging in. My own toes were curled once more, remembering how erotic the fine sand had been against my bare feet.
"Or incentive," he muttered, smiling.
My toes pressed a little deeper into the grass. "Just remember to swing right through the ball."
