Balancing my hands on Mr. Crawford’s shoulders, I began to ride him, drawing his cock almost out of me, before sliding back down his greasy pole until it was entirely devoured
When I put my hand on Mr. Crawford’s knee, I knew something was going to happen.
Our age difference, and the fact that I’d been dating his son, Adam, for the last few months, didn’t matter.
I’d always felt a connection with this handsome, older man, made deeper and stronger ever since I’d found out Mr. Crawford’s wife had filed for divorce.
And that’s why, when I called ‘round for Adam only to learn he was out with friends, I’d happily accepted the offer of a drink from his father, soon finding myself easing close to him on the couch.
“Claire just doesn’t think I’m spontaneous enough,” Mr. Crawford lamented as our eyes met and I tightened my grip on his leg.
I licked my lips.
The truth was, I’d had an idea that Adam wouldn’t be at home when I went over.
That’s why I’d worn the tight top and short flimsy skirt that Mr. Crawford so admired. It wasn’t that he didn’t take an interest in me whatever I was wearing, it was just this particular outfit seemed to get him really hot and bothered — especially as the skirt barely covered my round, plump ass.
“So…do you get that impression, Lucy?” Mr. Crawford prompted, trying his best to keep firm eye contact.
He was so sweet!
“That you’re not spontaneous?” I shrugged, adjusting my top. I’d made sure I wasn’t wearing a bra. My boobs (such as they were) were obviously naked underneath my top, showing the shadows of my areolae. “Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Crawford. I mean, I find it hard to believe. Mrs. Crawford is insanely hot. You probably couldn’t keep your hands off her.”
I wasn’t lying either. And, to be honest, I’d been surprised when Adam told me his parents were splitting. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford seemed the perfect couple.
“Sex was never the problem,” Mr. Crawford admitted, his jaw tightening. “It was just…I’ve been working so much lately. There’s been a lot of pressure with my job.”
“You poor thing,” I murmured, sliding my hand further up Mr. Crawford’s leg. “It sounds to me as if you need to unload…”
Mr. Crawford frowned. “Don’t you mean unwind?”
But when I crept my fingers all the way to the swelling that was making itself known under Mr. Crawford’s pants, I said, “I know what I mean,” and bit the edge of my lip.
Yep. He was getting an erection, alright.
No surprise there.
And it was a fucking big one too.
Bigger than Adam, in truth, if this initial contact was anything to go by.
Shit.
A faint frown skated across Mr. Crawford’s brow. “Lucy, we really shouldn’t,” he warned gruffly. “I mean…there’s Adam…and Claire’s not entirely moved out.”
“Then…we should stop…” I breathed, gently rubbing the heel of my palm over Mr. Crawford’s burgeoning hard-on more urgently.
Mr. Crawford inhaled sharply.
And, Jesus! It was getting bigger! What the hell was Mrs. Crawford thinking? If I’d been his wife, I’d never let him go!
“You’re a very bad girl, you know that?” Mr. Crawford grunted.
“I’m also a very wet girl,” I confessed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crawford, but ever since I sat down my pussy has been dripping.”
Mr. Crawford’s face tightened. “Really?”
“Why don’t you find out?” And with my other hand I teased up the hem of my skirt until it sat just on the edge of my mound. “My panties are clinging to my cunt. Honest.”
Mr. Crawford’s eyes dropped as I opened my legs wider.
He hesitated for a second, no doubt wrestling with his conscience.
But after a brief internal debate, he reached over, brushing his hand down my thigh, and under my skirt.
I stiffened as his fingers located the moist furrow of my pussy. I hadn’t been lying to him either: my panties were already soaking, creating a sodden cleft as Mr. Crawford laid his thumb right where my swelling clit was and began to circle it.
“See?” I sighed, creasing my brow.
Mr. Crawford’s jaw clenched.
“Yes,” he said faintly. “Very wet.”
“And you’re very hard now too. It seems like…Well…it seems like we really shouldn’t waste this opportunity.”
Mr. Crawford continued to massage my clit with his thumb. At the same time, I was bringing Mr. Crawford’s hard-on to full stiffness, every now and again gently squeezing his balls through his pants.
“Ugh!” Mr. Crawford growled. “You really sure about this, Lucy?”
“Well, can’t you feel how sure I am, Mr. Crawford?” I replied, opening my legs even more. “Come on now. Please. Let me climb on your cock. You can suck on my titties while I try and squeeze all that thick meat inside me if you like.”
“Oh God…” Mr. Crawford murmured. “I had no idea you were such a filthy girl…”
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Mr. Crawford. Now, let’s get your pants undone.”
Mr. Crawford made no protest.
On the contrary.
He slid his hand out from under my skirt and leaned back into the couch as I tackled his belt. Soon I had it undone, and deftly unzipped his pants, folding them open to reveal his tight, white briefs beneath….
…And his cock — quite the whopper — trying to poke out his waistband!
I chewed on my lip. “Gee, Mr. Crawford…I’m so small and you’re so big…”
“Will that be a problem?” Mr. Crawford suddenly sounded concerned.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m super wet…” And I hurriedly grappled for his waistband, yanking it down so that his cock jumped free — in all its thick, vein-tangled glory.
My pussy quivered in excitement.
I’d been fantasizing about this moment for so long.
And I wasted no time in hopping off the couch, unzipping my skirt, and letting it drop to the floor.
My pink panties were pasted against my pussy just like I’d said — especially after Mr. Crawford’s attentions.
And my nipples were also like pips when I dragged my top over my head revealing my hardly-a-handful breasts.
I’d always been a little shy about the size of my boobs, but — by the hungry look in Mr. Crawford’s eyes — I had no need to be self-conscious.
This gave me the confidence I desired to drop back down onto the couch, where I bestrode Mr. Crawford’s thighs, rising up on my knees and throwing my arms around his neck.
“See how hard my nipples are, Mr. Crawford?” I asked, looking down at my tits and arching my back so they were just inches from his face. “You did that to me.”
“I did?”
“Yes. You’re a bad boy. And right now, they’re aching to be sucked. Can you do that to me while I try and stuff your big hard cock into my tight little cunt?”
Mr. Crawford put his hands on my slim waist.
Then he opened his mouth and leaned forward, soon engulfing one of my breasts almost entirely with his lips.
He began to suck noisily and I arched my back in appreciation.
“Oh, fuck, Mr. Crawford! That’s it — fill your mouth with my titties…”
And I leaned my elbows on Mr. Crawford’s shoulders, tangling my fingers through his hair as he transferred his lips to my other breast, this time fluttering his tongue against my nipple.
That was enough to make my pussy begin to drip even more, and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer — I had to have Mr. Crawford inside me.
So, I dragged one of my hands behind me, pulling aside my panties to reveal my gleaming cunt, before leaning to one side, and searched out his thick girth.
Craning it up from where it lay twitching against his stomach, I angled that beautiful rigid piece of flesh toward my labia, wetting Mr. Crawford’s glans against those lush, pink lips.
Mr. Crawford gave a muffled moan as he continued to squeeze and suck my left breast.
Then I positioned his cock against my entrance, my stomach tightening and my pussy winking in anticipation, before I began to slowly prod Mr. Crawford against my opening tentatively to lubricate the tip.
Fuck, but I wanted him inside me!
And after carefully oiling him with my juices, I was slowly able to inch him into me, my pussy expanding as I dropped myself back onto him, a rush of air escaping my lips.
Mr. Crawford made a deep rumbling sound in his chest as I gently worked my hips, drawing him deeper.
He also squeezed his fingers around my waist and dragged me onto him, helping me coax in his cock until my pussy had entirely encompassed his huge thickness.
“Oh, Mr. Crawford!” My voice was a throaty whisper. “That’s a big fucking cock.”
“And you’ve got a fucking tight pussy,” he growled back.
His dick sure felt snug as I started to grind my hips, knowing that my pussy was leaking onto his balls.
Then I took a deep breath and balancing my hands on Mr. Crawford’s shoulders, I began to ride him, drawing his cock almost out of me, before sliding back down his greasy pole until it was entirely devoured.
“Fuck…” I rasped as I increased my tempo, looking down on Mr. Crawford with a deep frown, resting my forehead against his so I could look deep in his eyes.
Mr. Crawford gritted his teeth. The couch squeaked.
He slithered his hands from my waist and onto my ass, helping me slide up and down on him with greater speed.
And soon our bodies were smacking against each other, Mr. Crawford’s cock probing me to the hilt where my pussy left slippery trails.
“Jesus, Lucy,” Mr. Crawford croaked. “My son is one lucky bastard.”
“But he doesn’t get me as excited as you do, Mr. Crawford,” I told him, which was the truth. “And he doesn’t fuck me so deep.”
I bit my lip.
My pussy was already flexing toward my first orgasm. I could feel it bristling inside me, my body tensing as Mr. Crawford’s cock found just the right spot as he began to thrust himself up into me as I thrust down.
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh my…” I panted. “Oh, Mr. Crawford, you’re going to make me cum…”
Mr. Crawford responded by deepening his strokes even more.
He was bottoming out in my pussy, pulsing and throbbing.
I threw my head back.
“Oh darn! Oh…fuck! I’m cumming on your cock!”
And I felt that slippery release; that sudden rush of exquisite pleasure that rippled through my body.
Mr. Crawford slung one of his arms around my waist to force himself as far as he could inside me, and that only added to the bliss of release, enough to drag a cry of raw pleasure from my mouth as I trembled on his cock.
Then I slumped forward, my hair curtaining my eyes, panting hard, as my orgasm eventually spirited away, and Mr. Crawford released his arm from around my waist.
“You made me cum so hard, Mr. Crawford,” I told him, dropping my hips to enjoy the feeling of fullness he provided.
“I did?” Mr. Crawford gently moved his hips and I sighed.
“Now do you want to fuck me from behind?”
Mr. Crawford was eager to enjoy all of my suggestions.
I slid him free from my pussy and crawled onto the couch. Then, after pulling off the rest of his clothes, he levered himself into me as I looked over my shoulder at him, propped on all fours.
My ass jiggled with each powerful thrust.
I told him I’d never been pounded so good.
I orgasmed again, begging him to fuck me harder, his hands squeezing the small of my waist as he levered himself into me.
Then I took him in my mouth as he stood on the couch, rubbing at my sensitive clit at the same time, licking off the marbling of cream I’d left on his cock, tasting my own sweet juices.
Mr. Crawford’s length was like rock as I throated him.
I worked his shaft, and began to feel him spasm.
“Fuck…” He winced. He put his hand on my head. I dipped my fingers in my pussy.
“You going to cum for me, Mr. Crawford?” I croaked, when I’d pulled him free of my lips. “You going to coat my face with all that lovely warm cream?”
“Shit…You want me to, Lucy?”
I licked his tip. “I want to be your dirty slut, Mr. Crawford. I want you to mark me with your cum…”
“Jesus Christ…”
I put Mr. Crawford back in my mouth and used all the techniques I’d learned to take him to the point of no return: squeezing his heavy balls, circling his glans with my tongue, taking him into my throat so that spit bubbled from my lips.
And it didn’t take long before I was rewarded.
Mr. Crawford tangled his fingers in my hair.
He crouched as I bobbed my head and told me he was going to unload.
I felt him stiffen in my mouth.
His balls in my hand even seemed to contract.
I moaned in desperation, and Mr. Crawford gave a shout.
Then suddenly I was aware of the first, warm, salty spurt of semen that ran over my tongue, before I wrestled Mr. Crawford’s cock free from my lips to direct more thick jets of cum over my face.
“Oh…Mr. Crawford!” I squealed as I jerked his length harder, velvety splashes bathing my cheeks and lips and forehead in their warmth. “There’s so much!”
Mr. Crawford swore under his breath as I continued to pump his shaft, closing my eyes as I was painted, feeling more drip from my chin as I brought myself to orgasm with my fingers.
I swallowed what had found its way into my mouth.
And smeared more errant splashes over my tits.
Until finally I slumped back onto the couch, breathing hard, and Mr. Crawford looked down at his work.
I squinted up at him, cum stinging my eyes, yet grinning. “Look what you did to me,” I said. “I’m covered.”
“Fuck, Lucy…That was…incredible…”
“Thank you, Mr. Crawford. You were pretty amazing too. I just hope…”
Only for my reply to be interrupted as the front door slammed down the hall, and Mrs. Crawford suddenly bowled into the lounge.
She was carrying bags from her shopping trip, dressed elegantly in a black dress, hat and sunglasses.
But when she saw her soon-to-be-ex-husband standing over me, his cock in his hand, and cum sliding over my face, she snatched off her glasses and cried, “What the actual fuck! Jonathan! Is that…? Did you just…?”
To which I quickly replied, before Mrs. Crawford could go on a rant, “Well, you did always want Mr. Crawford to be more spontaneous, right?”
And watched as Mrs. Crawford’s initial horror give way to surprise, then a tentative look of interest.