A bed, but not to sleep in (mid age female, young man)
written by:
Chris-t6290

During the forth and final week of Martin's ‘placement', after I had somewhat instigated sex with him, the three mornings, at my suggestion, that we worked together (in tandem with David working the afternoons), were a bit awkward; something I failed to take into consideration with my impulsiveness.

Thankfully, Martin was able to work on his own initiative, and so, as his boss, I didn't need to enjoin him to do anything; I was definitely not looking forward to telling Martin, someone who had given me the best sex I'd had in years, what to do.

Over the weekend, I had visions of us having some form of a relationship. However, as pleasant and welcome as that seemed in my head and fantasies, I had to be realistic. Martin was in his mid 20's, and I figured he'd prefer settling down with someone around his age, if and when he did.

Come the early afternoon of Thursday, the last day I would see Martin, ‘the organiser', he thanked me for letting him put his admin skills to good use and, in a professional manner, extended his hand for me to shake, which I did, before he said goodbye and I likewise thanked him.

A week after that, I had a problem accessing my laptop. It was now asking me for a password. Since it was donated, I concluded that the previous owner had set one up, although, since receiving it, I hadn't been prompted to enter one; until now that is.

‘Bugger,' I thought. Only to realise I had begun using such words, albeit to myself, since the glorious sex I had with Martin. ‘Maybe he can help,' I thought, and going to where I had his phone number, I called him on my cellphone.

After several rings, I heard the noise that indicates the phone at his end was being picked up, followed by a pleasant enquiring: "Yes."

"Martin," I said, before going onto tell him it was me.

"Carol. And how can I help you," he welcomed, recognising my voice, while assuming I wasn't calling for some other reason.

Having explained my situation to him, Martin informed me that, when he used the laptop on the last Friday, being the day I have my counselling surgery, a message concerning the expiration of the old password in 4 days, popped up. He then explained that he had left a note about it on a notepad document, which he left open on the desktop. No doubt someone else had used the laptop since and had minimized the message, as I hadn't seen it.

"Okay, so how do I get into Windows, Martin?" I asked, with a degree of frustration.

"You just need to enter the new password, Carol," he ever so confidently told me.

"What password," I exclaimed.

"I took the precaution of setting one up, just in case...Carol," he rejoined, ‘but why is he repeating my name,' I half consciously wondered.

"Can I have it then?"

"Yes, Carol."

"Well," I said, feeling a bit piqued with his teasing.

"The password is ‘carol', your name," Martin exclaimed.

"Sorry, I thought you were..."

"Teasing you? No, but I'd like to in a pleasant way. I sensed you enjoyed what happened," Martin concluded, and he was right.

Lost for what to say for a few moments, Martin asked if I was still there.

"Yes, and yes, Martin, I did, but."

"But what, wouldn't you like to experience that, or something like that again," he suggested.

"Emn, yes," I rejoined somewhat huskily, my mouth almost dry. "But the last week, you didn't."

"What, show any interest," he said. "I'd just made love to you, my boss, albeit a temporary situation, in addition to which, I don't initiate sexual intimacy," Martin elucidated.

"I see," I replied almost resignedly.

"Since you're not my boss anymore, Carol, and if you're not doing anything this Saturday evening, then how about us going out to a restaurant for a meal—my treat," he added.

"You're on Jobseeker's allowance," I rejoined, which was less than I earned.

"Yes, but I live economically," he informed me. "So, Saturday, then," he iterated and I agreed; whereupon, we arranged a time and place to meet before I thanked him and we said our goodbyes.

Having ended the call, I was at a momentary loss as to why I had phoned him, then, when I saw my laptop and the welcome screen requesting a password, I typed in my name and clicked the on-screen button. ‘Well done, Martin,' I thought, as the short, ‘starting windows', process began.

Opening the Notepad document, which along with all the other applications had closed down, I read the note that Martin mentioned he had left for me. Sure enough, it explained what he had done, and to call him for the password. He even outlined what I had to do in order to change it.

‘My name is a bit obvious,' I surmised, and having thought about a new one, I settled for: ‘martin', before making an appointment with my GP regarding a suitable contraceptive pill; this time I wanted to feel the sensation of old, of him cumming inside me.

Having asked to see Dr Michael and explained my situation, the receptionist informed me that wasn't necessary. Then, after she had checked my records, the very helpful receptionist told me which one I needed.

With Martin's placement ended, I had gone back to my casual attire. Now, filled with the excitement and anticipation of a romantic date, I decided to buy a new dress and, dare I say it, some sexy underwear, all from ‘Marks' (and Spencer).

Having made a flattering selection: a black lacy strapless bra and thong, and a pair of black lace top hold ups, I pondered whether to trim my auburn pussy, before decidedly buying a ladies razor, along with some shaving foam etc, and the pills I needed from ‘Boots'.

Thankfully, I had finished the last of the unpacking after my recent move while my elder sister managed the shop the other three days, which included Saturday - no work, but, plenty of time to wait and slowly go by until the evening, I realised, and so I did what I would normally do for most of the day.

Come 5pm, I washed my hair and had a nice sobering bubble bath. Having dried myself off, I then set about trimming and shaving my pubic mound, something that wasn't as hard as I had thought.

‘There, wait until Martin gets a feel and taste of that,' I remarked to myself, as I applied some moisturiser to my now silky smooth pussy, save for a tuft above my clit; a landing strip, as Mary refers to hers, which permeated a moistness all of its own. ‘God, I'm so fucking horny. I just hope it's worth it,' I mused, as I put the shaving items into the bag I had bought with and for them.

Some 35 minutes later and, having pre-decided what to wear, I had blow dried my curly hair, put on my new lingerie, and applied some scent between my thighs, before putting on my dress, applying some make up and then stepping into a pair of black slingbacks that were easy to remove.

Just before I left, I placed a CD compilation, one that had some appropriate songs on it, on my music centre for when we returned; this time, there'd be no couch, and since it was a downstairs flat, my bed, but not to sleep on.

Feeling young again, I thought young as well. I decided to leave my car and take a bus to where Martin had arranged to meet. That way we could take a bus or cab back to my flat afterwards, sat in the back of either. With that in mind, and since the bus I needed was erratic, time wise, and my dress had narrow shoulder straps, I opted for a lightweight jacket.

As I alighted from the bus, I caught sight of Martin. He was holding a single stem red rose outside a well-known Pizza restaurant; well, since he was paying, it was either here or McDonalds, I figured.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, upon seeing me. "You look gorgeous, Carol," he continued, almost forgetting to hand me the rose he was holding. "For you," he said, graciously.

"Thank you, Martin," I rejoined, and gave him a peck on his cheek—for now, anyway.

Taking my hand, he escorted me inside, and we were soon seated at a cosy corner table for two. Although we were handed menus, Martin made a bold suggestion. "When I'm at home, I have a salad with garlic bread and a drink, then a half a nine inch pizza with toppings. With that in mind, would you mind sharing a whole one, Carol?"

"Okay, what about toppings, though," I rejoined, not sure if we both wanted the same.

"Thankfully they don't do a curry one, so...!" and left it for me to choose.

"Perfect," he congratulated me on my choice and beckoned the waiter over. Then, as Martin gave him our order: pizza with selective toppings, a serving of garlic bread to share, two small salads and a cola each - mine a diet one - I slipped off my right shoe and ran my nylon clad foot up his lower leg. Yes, it was good to feel both young and desired again.

"Stockings?" he asked, once the waiter had left.

"I'll let you find out later," I teased, and moving his hand under the table, I leant back in my seat and moved my foot higher.

"Smooth and silky, I can't wait," Martin smiled, as he cradled the ankle in one hand and ran the other over my upper foot.

"Here you are, sir, madam," the waiter addressed us, as he moved the bowls and then the drinks from the tray to the table. "The bread will be a few minutes, and it's one visit to the salad bar," he elucidated; this not being one of their ‘All you can eat' sessions.

"Together...or," Martin suggested, about choosing our salad. And taking my bag with me, we later returned to find the plate of garlic bread waiting for us.

"It's actually quite mild," he assured me, not realising that I enjoy the same set menu at home. And with no more games of footsy under the table, we had a most enjoyable meal in one another's company.

"Thank you for the meal, Martin, and the pleasant company," I commended him. "Let me at least do my part and order us a cab," I proffered.

"Not wishng to appear that I'm taking you for granted, Carol, but...!" Martin intimated about the sex I had teased him about.

"I'm more than happy for you to," I assuaged him, and called us a cab on my cell-phone, nonetheless.

"We could always get a bus," he intoned. And with that being the other alternative, I pressed cancel, and we both got up, and were soon sat at the back of the top deck of a bus, heading home.

With me sat near the window, Martin put his left arm around me and his right palm on my knee. What with our almost cosy closeness - a British bus seat being no substitute for a sofa, nor for that matter a bed - I responded by letting my feelings out.

"You don't know how much I've wanted this, to see you again, and to feel you touch me, Martin," I crooned, before moving my lips to his and kissing him. "Why didn't you...before," I said.

"I'd just made love to you, my short term boss. I had no idea if it was a spur of the moment thing, or if you wanted more, so..." Martin elucidated, as he moved his hand under the hem of my dress and onto my lower thigh.

"I've shaved some, most of my pussy, Martin," I all but croaked, as he slowly edged his hand higher - enough that he was able to confirm I was wearing hold ups and to feel the humidity of my sex.

"Take your panties off, Carol," he requested. "I don't normally have a desert after pizza, but I want to eat you up," he added.

"There are TV cameras," I exclaimed, with surprise. And having fidgeted underneath my dress, I soon had my thong off.

"I'm not going to dine on your lovely pussy here, Carol, I would just like an unrestricted feel of how wet I've made you," he assuaged, only for me to announce, ‘we're here,' our destination stop being next.

"Emn, you lovely, lovely tease," he commended, as he got up and let me walk to the stairs ahead of him. Then, and as if in response to his ‘tease' remark, I handed Martin my damp thong.

With the door to my flat closed, I managed to keep my hands off Martin, long enough to make us a couple of drinks and put the CD I had earlier selected on to play. When I returned, Martin was stood ready to take me in his arms for a slow dance and I obliged, his warm hands caressing my sides and our lips soon pressed against one another's as we danced.

Presently, and as he had done at the shop, Martin entwined his left fingers in my auburn curls. "Emn, you do that so fluidly," I regaled, recalling how he had...and moments later, I experienced yet another small, yet noticeable climax.

"What say we go to my bedroom," I mentioned. "...eventually," I intoned, having noticed a downturn in his expression. Not saying anything, Martin moved his hands to my shoulders, then smiled confidently as he placed an index finger under each narrow shoulder strap of my dress, and drew them off where they had been resting.

I was his. He knew it and I wanted it so; my dress falling down my body to reveal, first, my bra, which heaved with the palpitations of my breasts, then my all but shaved pussy, and finally my hold ups.

"You like," I lilted.

He nodded his approval.

Because of what happened last time, I tentatively motioned my hand towards Martin's groin. There was no flinch backwards, no hand moving to brush mine away; we were past that, past me being his boss. Now, it was just two ordinary, equal people, both wanting and needing the same thing. No rules, no worries (over contraception) and no regrets. Furthermore, Martin had demonstrated his virility, and I'd overcome my animosity for tasting a man's semen; Martin's being quite pleasant.

I so wanted his young cock inside me, but I would suck his cum juice from him first. Sliding down the nylon zip of his black trousers, I motioned my hand in between the teeth and soon felt the warm flesh of his hard-on, which I then drew back out. The third song on the CD started up, ‘Love to love you', by Donna Summer, although for what I was now intending, ‘Bad girls', which wasn't on the compilation, would have been appropriate.

Cradling his long firm shaft in my hand, I genuflected in front of him. I then moved my mouth towards the puffy crown and wiped it over my cheek then chin then the other cheek, feeling both its warmth and the eventual stickiness of the pre-cum that had oozed out, before kissing it.

"Are you sure you want to be doing this before...!" he said, hinting at my being pleasured first.

"Yes, and, Martin, I want you to cum, let me taste you again," I said, before extending my tongue and, still cradling his warm cock, licking around the head, then up and down each and every side. After that I moved down to his ball sac, which I gave a little wiggle to before once more salivating the crown and taking it into my mouth.

"Ooo fuck, yes, emn. Now, don't be alarmed, Carol, but, let me guide you," Martin said, and moving his hands to the underside of my chin and the side of each cheek, he drew me forwards and back on his cock while my tongue teased and tantalised the shaft in motion.

"Fuck, yes, you're doing great," he commended, even though Martin was the one guiding me; well, it was my first time sucking a man off and so I put myself in his capable hands, quite capable, Indeed, as moments later he ejected his hot sticky spunk into my mouth, which I quickly swallowed before the self same walls felt the second and subsequent eruptions.

"I take it you'd like me stay," Martin said, with a knowing smile as he helped me up; he had, after all, seen me lock the front door.

"Very much so...no rush," I rejoined, iterating what he'd said to me at the shop.

"Most definitely no rush," he said, before asking me where the bedroom was, and then picked me up in his arms and carried me to it.

What with there just being me I hadn't closed the door before I left for the evening, and so rather than stand me down, Martin stopped beside the door so that I could push it open; the CD music still playing in the background.

"Are you going to fuck me, Martin, " I said, once we were in the surrounds of my bedroom.

"Yes, Carol, and in more ways than before. As comfortable as it was, a sofa has its limitations on pleasurable positions...for you that is," he hinted at what was to come, then kissing me, he lowered my body onto the bed and helped me into the middle.

"The bathroom," he said, and I told him where it was. While he was there, I took the bottle of scent I was wearing from where I'd placed it in my bedside cabinet and dabbed some on my breasts, thighs, pussy and, for whatever reason, my ass, which Martin had fingered quite pleasurably at the shop.

Back sooner than I had expected, I noticed that Martin had a towel over his shoulder but said nothing of it. Was he that good a lover that, having made him cum and quite delicious it was too, we would be getting hot and sweaty. ‘Emn, I can't wait,' I regaled, only for him to ask me to move so that he could place it underneath me, my upper thighs and lower backside to be precise.

"I take it you haven't fully cum; squirted I mean," exclaimed Martin, of my puzzled expression. "Most women can, it's just that most men don't know how to make them," he outlined his knowledge.

"It's like a short jet of translucent liquid, hence the towel," explained Martin, as he took his grey speckled jacket off, which he then hung on the door handle of my nearby wardrobe, before unbuttoning his maroon shirt - underneath which was a white vest - and dropping it on the floor along with his shoes.

"Best have these off," Martin said of mine, with an enduring smile, and placed them beside his.

"Okay, relax, Carol, although that may not be the right word; just let it happen and enjoy yourself," he told me. Well, I was most certainly up for the last part, so...!

Expecting him to go straight for my recently shaved sex, Martin, instead, kissed along each thigh, prolonging both my pleasure and anticipation, which intensified every time he neared my moist ‘puffy' mound - something I was noticing for the first time, what with it having it been covered with wiry fuzz for so many years.

"What?" he smiled—again, noticing my own grin.

"The crest of my...cunt," I told him, free of my previous inhibitions, thanks to Martin.

"Em, yes, it's quite prominent, that's because your horny, Carol, which is no bad thing. Okay then, I need to use both my hands, so...if you could...hold yourself open for me," he appealed.

I'd obviously played with myself, got myself off whenever I got horny, but that was in private. Now I was expected to expose myself for this young man.

"It's okay, don't be shy," he said, noticing me now look up at the ceiling as I moved my hands and fingers to where he expected and drew my folds apart.

"Your tuft is an excellent touch; I like it," he regaled, his warm breathe catching the inner folds of my pussy as he said it.

Martin then eased three of his fingers into me, almost searchingly it seemed, while, and with his other hand, he drew back the hood of my clit and then I felt his moist tongue tip against that of my sticky stalk.

"Ohh fuuck!" I exclaimed, as the combined pleasure of what he was now doing meshed, melded and rolled into one. My knees, which I'd drawn up to give him more room, automatically closed as I felt a fulfilling climax peak and then quickly fall.

"God, you've, made me, cum," I said, my hips, as best they could, bucking up against Martin's continued enticement.

"Emn, there," he said, and immediately I felt a new strong sensation, as he massaged, least that's how it felt, a spot inside my cervix.

"Fuck, yes, what are you, oh God, yes, more, stroke me, fuck, yes, hurh, hurh, hurh," I gasped, though much deeper than I had previously; my body almost lurching upwards as I did.

"That's it, come on, give it to me," Martin impelled, and moments later, with his mouth open above my pussy in readiness, I spasmed, and then shot a fountain like jet of liquid up, and into his mouth, some of it catching his face, I noticed, before I lost consciousness.

"What, what happened," I murmured, as I came to.

"That's why the French call it the little death; you momentarily blacked out, not for long, though," Martin assured me, before explaining that can happen.

"Okay, let's have the towel off," he said, prompting me to move.

Having done so, rather than use it to wipe me down, especially around my ass crack, Martin had me get up on all fours, and then licked and kissed it from me; his tongue soon delving around my perineum and then my anus, which I'd applied lots of soap to earlier.

"Emn, yes, you like my ass, don't you, young man," I rejoiced, at his velvety touch.

"Would you...would you like to try more than my fingers in there," he said, quickly following it with, "It's okay, I know what I'd be doing," before I could respond, either way.

"Emn, I don't know, Martin," I lilted, his tongue and now fingers reminding me of the previous pleasure and my response. I did rather enjoy having my ass finger fucked, and without the expected discomfort.

Taking himself fully from me, knelt as I was, I suddenly thought I had slighted him, only to then feel his hands, in reverse, on my buttocks, draw me down onto his waiting tongue, which he then dipped in and out of my wet pool.

"Emn, fuck me, Martin, please, with your cock," I urged him. The wonderful foreplay he'd given me, now needing to be matched by a just as wonderful cock in pussy screwing. ‘What a horny, some might say, dirty middle-aged woman I had become in a short space of time, especially knelt as I was, a bitch in heat, pleading to be fucked,' I realised, with an air of contentment.

Still lapping at my cunt, which I motioned up and down almost uncontrollably, in view of my somewhat demand, I concluded, from Martin having removed his hands and the movement on the bed behind me, that he was getting undressed. Something he then confirmed when, having slid his perfectly formed cock into my wet pussy, I felt his naked thighs and groin against me.

"Yes, that's it, fuck me, fuck my pussy, you don't know how much I've waited, over a week for this," I exclaimed, as Martin, his hands grasping my hips, powered his cock deep into me, over, and over, and over again, until he'd made me climax. Only then did he remove his cum slick cock, which, having turned around, I took between my wanton lips and cleaned it, ready to be nailed in a different position - such is the advantage of a double bed and one with a head and base board.

‘Emn, we just did this,' my mind remarked anxiously, as Martin directed me to place my hands on top of the baseboard while I was once more knelt up. He then grasped my hair and pulled my lolling head up, my eyes immediately focusing on the reflection, our reflection in front of me, in my wardrobe mirror.

‘Oh fuck!' my mind exclaimed, as I watched the erotic scene unfold: Knelt behind my naked body, save for my lace top hold ups, which added a decadent touch, I observed Martin's right hand embrace around me, only to see and feel him cup and caress my left breast with it.

"Oh fuck, more," I crooned, my head leaning back into Martin's actual left shoulder, and just as I watched his other hand move onto my thigh (the corresponding one). From there, it slowly, very slowly and teasingly slid up my nylon hold up and back down again, not touching my humid skin. After a couple of more times, Martin slid his hand inside the lace top and stroked my flesh from side to side before pulling it out.

"You're certain it won't hurt," I intoned, my mind responding to the luxurious feel of his firm cock as it was pressed up against my ass cleavage.

"Not if it's done properly and with the lubricant I brought," he elucidated. Just then, I felt like I'd been taken for granted. Sensing this, by my body's sharp rigidity, Martin assuaged: "I brought it for my fingers...as an alternative."

Still not convinced, since he had no need last time, Martin stressed using three this time; one more extra, which I pleasantly accepted and once more relaxed to enjoy his sensuous touch.

Soon lightly rolling my nipple, his hand once more slid up my thigh. Over and past the lace top it travelled, then across to my inner thigh, causing me to exhale a prolonged gasp and moan as I watched and felt it near the lower region of my wet and wanton cunt.

"Emn," I maintained my sigh, as Martin slowly stroked his fingers along my mound and gash, before slipping them, all four fingers, inside my hot cummy pussy.

"Fuck, emn, yes, do me, do me good," I responded to his silk light touch, one that soon had me cumming; after which, Martin held up his wet fingers, which glistened in the light.

This young lover then took me by surprise, momentarily, when he encircled my actual right nipple with them and smeared the feint residue from the back on my areola, only to then raise my right arm, which he then ducked his head under. He then, having drawn my breast to the side, began licking and sucking my cum juice from my breast, before treating it to a most pleasurable tantalization; the finale of which, saw Martin using his guarded teeth on my hardened and highly aroused, sensitive nipple.

During that, and with my free hand, I had managed to guide his cock into my pussy, and so all three of my pleasure points - my breasts and cunt - were being skilfully ministered at the same time. Then, as he no doubt sensed my pre orgasmic contractions around his shaft begin, Martin, still sucking my right teat, moved his hand to my clit and began stroking it, causing a pulsating climax to ring out at the end. Martin most definitely proved to be adroit in the bedroom, something I unnecessarily wondered about last time.

Laying me on my back and with my legs spread eagled, Martin, as if doing press ups, relentlessly fucked his lovely hard cock into me, pushing my shapely ass into the mattress, which rebounded me back onto his cock and, over and over, sheathed it inside my receptive pussy.

"I didn't, know, being, fucked, could be, this pleasurable," I managed to get out, before another climax boiled to the surface and swept me on yet another euphoric wave of ecstasy.

Martin, having given me time to recover, during which he lightly petted my pussy and clit, then had me turn onto my left side. He then drew up my still nylon clad right leg, until it was in a sitting position. Leaving me like that, he then got up, no doubt to go to his jacket, for when he returned he held a small vial of oil, I guessed, in front of my face, and muted for his fingers, although I was warming to have his lovely expert cock there - my virgin ass.

Presently knelt either side of my left leg, both of my sex holes were at Martin's mercy; his lubricated ones, three of them, as he'd earlier intimated, slipping into my tight anus, which I relaxed for him, followed by his cock in my pussy; his fingers now working against his shaft. With everything in place, Martin then raised my right leg and rested it against his left shoulder, thereby allowing him to give me another pleasurable surprise.

Lowering his upper body as he continued to massage my ass and vulva, he turned my head towards him and kissed me; my forehead, eyes and lids, nose, lips - each and then both - my cheeks, chin, neck, shoulders, swell of my breasts - all the while keeping up a sustained rhythmic fuck - my globes and nipples, the left one receiving extra attention. Then, and as Martin suckled on the teat, and increased his fucking of me, he moved his right hand down and stroked my throbbing clit.

"Oh FUCK!" I screamed, my hands reaching out to draw him closer and into me, compelling him to fuck me harder and faster.

"Oh God, oh fuck, yes, Martin, fuck me, fuck me, do it, harder, faster, make me cum." My begging voice almost strained at the end.

Without a doubt, this, this was an out of this world fuck: Fingers reaming my ass, a cock nailing my cunt, my breasts, alternately being pleasured by his mouth, and all while my clit was stroked to, not one but two pulsating orgasms.

"Oh fuuuck!" I exclaimed, before Martin eventually stopped, sweat dripping from his dark brown curly hair.

"Are you okay," Martin asked, as he took a hold of my leg and slowly rolled the hold up down and off my foot.

"No," I replied, deliberately leaving a teasing moment before I pronounced: "I'm ecstatic." His fingers, still in my ass, emphasising what might still be before the night becomes a new day.

Before that, however, I was not without ideas of my own. And soon sat up, I had Martin, along with his lube and my slingbacks, follow me back out to the lounge.

Since I had set the CD to play the tracks in a shuffled order and looped, I had no idea how long we had been making love, a romantic term for fucking, which was how I felt with Martin.

Directing him to lay down someway in front of the sofa, I removed my other nylon hold up and returned my feet to my shoes. I then straddled the young man below me, my feet at either side of his hips. From there, and as we both exchanged knowing smiles, I began to squat down, lowering myself towards his cock, which he did his best to thrust upwards, only for me, when I was close enough, to motion Martin to lay flat and unmoving for me.

"You've done all of the work so far, now it's my turn," I told him, and he gladly succumbed.

Keeping my balance, considering, I grasped his sticky shaft, held his erection aloft and then lowered my slippery sex towards Martin's glans, which I soon engulfed, just as ‘Singing winds, crying beasts', slipped smoothly into ‘Black magic woman' from Santana's ‘Abraxas' album.

"That fits, slips in perfectly, emn, yes, every time," I cooed, as I motioned my cunt lips, down, up, down Martin's long firm cock, before transferring my hands and bodyweight to his upper midriff. Like that, I was able to fuck myself up and down his cock, slow, moderate, fast, and with the unbridled alacrity of a jockey.

"Fuck, yes, your cock feels so fucking lovely, Martin," I said, as my forthcoming climax percolated away.

"Would you still like to put it in my tight virgin ass," I uttered diplomatically, as I, with my hands further along his body, rocked and slid down his greasy long pole.

"If you're okay with it, and I will be considerate with you, Carol," he again assured me.

"Make me cum again, first...your fingers," I intimated, holding a position just above him so that Martin could, and did, fuck his formidable cock into my pussy, and for the last time that night - there was always tomorrow morning, but...!

"Thank you," I extolled afterwards, and, having lifted myself from him and dropped to his left side, awaited Martin's expert, very as it turned out, direction.

Getting me to kneel in front of the sofa my shoulders and head - turned facing the right - resting on the middle cushion and my breasts pointing down, Martin took my hands and placed them on my buttocks, which I then intuitively drew apart and open.

Almost immediately, I felt the warm trickle of the oil drip onto my curple and slide down to where my fingers were before pooling nicely on and around my exposed ring, which received a few more extra drips.

I then felt Martin's fingers on mine, motion them back and forth and my anus close and open, so as to work the oil inside. Once he'd satisfied himself with that process, he applied a few more drips, before no doubt applying some to his cum sticky cock.

"Are you ready?" he said.

"Emn, yes, Martin," I rejoined, and awaited a most significant step in my life and for someone my age.

"Ooo, emn," I murmured, as I felt the puffy glans nudge my opening, and with none of the expected discomfort, quite the opposite, only to feel the girth of Martin's shaft begin to open me up and stretch me.

‘Oh no, stop,' a voice inside me said, and immediately, as If I had said it, he did.

"Okay, it's in, Carol," he told me, stating the obvious, just as Marvin broke into ‘Sexual healing', and Martin drizzled some more of the oil on to us.

"I'll leave you to take it at your own pace, nice and slow," he guided me, as if I had a mind to fuck myself back on it its entire foreboding length.

Okay, well, if I pull back, it will slip out, so...! Once more bracing myself for a degree of discomfort, I slid backwards and onto it, the renewed oil making it easy, I immediately noticed, as I took a small portion and drew myself back to the head and about an inch of the shaft.

Moments later, I removed my right hand, which I then directed beneath me to stroke my clit. Martin, noticing this, soon cupped my now swaying breasts as I fucked myself on his immaculate cock.

"You were quite vocal before," he reminded me. Yes. Yes I was.

"Would you like me to, em, God, your cock feels so damn good in my tight, unvirgin ass, Martin, talk dirty," I swooned, as I, we both fucked my lovely tight asshole, both pleasurably and rhythmically, soon instilling a prolonged, lasting rolling orgasm, one that I had facilitated with my own hand.

"Fuck me, Martin, fuck my ass, fuck me in my ass with your stone hard cock," I cried out.

"Oh yes, oh yes, oh fuck, yes," I encouraged, pushing back and with my right hand braced on the sofa cushion, my back arched and my head turned over my left shoulder as best that I could.

"Fuck my ass, fuck—my—ass!" I enjoined, now wanting Martin to give me what I wanted, to feel the sensation of a man, this young man in particular, shoot his hot sticky load inside me - my ass. ‘He can do likewise to my cunt in the morning,' I minded myself.

"Cum for me, Martin, cum with me," I exclaimed, his right hand moving from my breast to stroke my clit. ‘What a man,' I regaled to myself, and immediately thought of the En Vogue song, which I hadn't included on the CD compilation.

"Fuck, yes, that's it. Right there," I called out. And as we both climaxed, Martin filling my ass with copious amounts of hot sticky spunk, I cried out and wailed, my euphoric shrieks drowning out the chorus of Barry White singing ‘Never never gonna give ya up'; sweat now dripping from both our satisfied, sated bodies.

Thankfully the left side, where the lounge is situated - not so the bedroom - is detached. That said, there's the flat above mine. And the next time I saw Amanda, she gave me a knowing smile and wink, as if to say, good on you girl.

Martin, indeed, stayed the night, and the following morning he delivered a fresh load of cum, this time in my pussy.

A month later, I received a letter at the shop from a company that Martin had applied to for a job, requesting a reference. My first thought was to his lovemaking skills, Martin having the ability to mix things up, unlike so many stale relationships. I nonetheless outlined how satisfied I was with his performance, without going overboard, and he got the job

We have a relationship, but for how long, time will tell. When we're out together, he only has eyes for me, unlike some of these Hollywood couples were the woman (Demi Moore) is older. Occasionally, and for a woman in her 40's, I find myself wanting to have a part of Martin growing inside me, but that's all - maybe one day; who knows what the future may bring.