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Blair—my little girl. I groan as my dick lengthens and the girth thickens. What I wouldn’t give to bury myself balls deep in her tight, wet heat. I groan again when I think about how I’ll have her screaming my name… Merde.
My hand slips from the steam slick wall and slides down between my six-pack abs, the well-defined ridges taut under my fingertips. The texture of the trail of hair leading from below my navel to my groin contrasts with my smooth, bare skin. I suck in a ragged breath at the vision of my little naked on her knees before me with her eager mouth open wide to receive my ready cock. Her hooded sky blue eyes bore into my sapphire blue ones, filled with carnal desire.
They’re her full lips that wrap around the base of my dick—not my hand—as she takes me down her throat. My ten inches fill her cavity. Her gag reflex spasms sending a zing to my heavy balls. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, not wanting to lose the vision before I can blow my load.
Blair moans, and the vibrations thrum along my engorged shaft. The flat of her tongue massages the underside vein of my cock and presses the length to the roof of her mouth. The combination of soft and hard makes my spine tingle.
The tips of her plump rosy nipples brush my thighs with each bob of her head. Fingernails dig into my ass. I drop my forehead to the slick wall and brace myself on my forearms for what promises to be a mind-numbing experience.
My little girl does not disappoint.
Her mouth leaves my cock to trail nips, followed by kisses along my inner thigh. The muscles quiver beneath her touch. One hand massages my sac and the other grips and tugs my turgid cock. The rhythm she sets alternates between gentle and painful, keeping a delicate balance that has me close in moments.
“Fuuuck… Blair… Merde, that feels good,” I grunt, as my palms slap the slick wall.
A pinch to my tip sends me rocking onto the balls of my feet, driving my hips forward to pump into her fist. My little senses how close I am to release and increases her rhythm.
“Blair!” I roar as my cock pulsates and thick ropes of creamy cum splash onto the wall.
My hips move on their own since she blew my mind as much as my cock. Blair glides the hand that cupped my balls up my torso to pinch a nipple.
“Fuuuck!” I bellow as the vision fades into the steam.
My cock demanded attention, knowing Blair will be in close proximity on my private jet for hours, then an entire week working together. No chance to avoid her as I’ve done for years.
But do I really want to now?
How much longer can I hold back from making Blair Thomas mine?
Will she balk at my DD/lg kink? At our age difference?
What if I’ve misinterpreted the hint of interest in her eyes whenever she glances at me? Am I wrong about the sense of longing beyond me being an uncle figure to her?
The questions run through my mind as I slide a soapy sponge over my heated flesh. Water sluices down my body. I have no doubt Blair will appreciate the work I put into keeping fit. I may be fifty. But I have the physique of a thirty-year-old. And a fully functioning cock. It thumps along my thigh in agreement, ready for round two. No questions on that front, I think with a smirk.
An hour later, Armand stops in front of the hangar at Le Bourget Airport. My Gulfstream G650 gleams in the late afternoon light. The flight crew bustles about loading baggage and escorting the passengers onto the private jet.
My eyes scan for Blair. I spot her chestnut brown hair piled atop her head. My gaze travels down her body. A form-fitting dress hugs her lithe figure. Firm tits my palms can mold around lead to a narrow waist and slim hips. Long, toned legs end in high heels that lift her round derriere. The breeze blows loose tendrils across her swan-like neck. Absently, she brushes them away. My fingers tingle to touch every inch of her body as my cock twitches for her wet warmth.
She doesn’t notice my wanton gaze as she directs a crew member to stow trunks into the baggage area.
I don’t linger and stride towards the airstairs.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Montaigne!” Daphne Fontaine—my head flight attendant—greets me with a bright smile as I approach. “I hope your ride here was pleasant. Would you care for a beverage or snack, sir?”
“Bonjour, Daphne. A glass of water, merci,” I respond as I remove my bespoke suit jacket and hand it to her before I climb aboard.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Montaigne,” the pilots say.
“Bonjour. We’re ready for takeoff once Mademoiselles Lewis and Beaulieu arrive?”
“Oui.”
“Bien,” I say with a nod and pass through the forward galley to take a seat in the first of three living areas. The spacious cabin has the headroom to accommodate my six-foot-four-inch frame. I settle on a cream leather chair, then smile my thanks for the glass of water from Daphne.
She returns my smile with a flush on her cheeks. Her attraction to me never goes beyond an inappropriate level. So, I just chuckle to myself.
The vibration from my mobile alerts me to an incoming text.
