I met the boy at work. He was young, tall and hot – just my kind of boy. I was 34 years old. He was 22.
I flirted with him at work, fluttering my eyelashes and giggling, for a couple of weeks until I finally asked him out for a drink after work. We went to the local pub. He had a gin and tonic (or more) and I had a vodka, lime and lemonade (and definitely more); and we played pool.
You know the kind of pool I’m talking about – sexy pool. The kind of pool where you walk past each other VERY closely; where you look up suggestively from your position of being bent over the pool table; where you make sure that he can see straight down your shirt. The kind of pool where, after you’ve had a number of drinks, you run your fingers up the seam of his jeans to distract him from his shot; where you brush your breasts against his back when you tell him that it’s his turn; where, when he laughs, you tell him that he won’t be smiling like that when you have his cock in your mouth later.
It didn’t take much longer than the end of that game for us to leave together.
When we got outside, away from any work-related prying eyes, we stepped into the adjoining alley. Immediately, we devoured each other’s mouths. It was like being in high school again: making out behind the bus shelters…tasting, licking and biting any bit of uncovered skin we could find.
The weeks of flirting, followed by our pool game, was obviously enough foreplay for us. I was grinding my jeans-covered pussy into his jeans-covered hard, cock. And it was turning me on completely! I was grunting and groaning like it was the real thing.
He covered my mouth with one of his hands, and worked the other one down the front of my jeans. I looked at him with wide, wild eyes. He kept his hand over my mouth while his fingers fought to find my pussy. Our dry-humping had pushed both my panties and jeans between my open lips. Oh, his cold fingers had found their warm, wet target. Slowly, they were diving in and warming up. I wanted him to let my mouth free: I wanted to bite his lips, to feel his tongue enter my mouth to the same beat as his fingers in my hole.
Finally, he let my mouth go. But he didn’t kiss me… he used both his hands to shimmy my jeans down to my ankles as he knelt before me. I was so vulnerable: to the cold, to him, to any passer-by. But I looked down at him and it almost seemed that he was worshipping at an altar.
While he gazed up at me, he placed the tip of his tongue just inside the place where my two lips met. I gasped as the warmth of his breath replaced the cold, night-time air. Then he slowly moved his tongue slightly closer to my throbbing clit. I put my own hand in my mouth to muffle my noises. His tongue nudged my clit and I whimpered. All my senses were in overdrive. His tongue danced suggestively over that sweet, little spot. I bit my hand. Then he drove his tongue deep into my hungry cunt. This time I couldn’t stop myself and I cried out.
I dragged him from his knees and pulled up my jeans. I was taking this boy home to fuck LOUDLY…