The Best Birthday Present Ever

Please complete the required fields.
Thank you for taking the time to report this Report submission to the webmaster. Please let us know why you are choosing to report this Report submission and then click the submit button at the bottom of the page



She hesitated, and her grip on my cock tightened.

“Well?” I asked.

“My panties had been moved,” Joan whispered. “I had left them on the floor beside the shower cubicle and, now, they were lying beside the toilet bowl. And – and – then, I checked the toilet bowl and there was a drop of – stuff – just under the rim.”

“Stuff?” I breathed, but I knew the answer before it came.

“Sperm – cum,” she breathed. “It had to be him – I cleaned it the day before and we hadn’t used it since. Donald had picked up my panties and masturbated in our toilet!”

“Was there any cum on your panties?” I asked, scarcely able to breathe.

“I didn’t find any,” said Joan, “but – oh, Kyle – it was hard to tell. You see, before I had my shower, I – well – I laid on the bed and – well, I was playing with myself, and my panties were covered in my – stuff!”

“So he wrapped his cock in your juiced-up panties, and…?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, Kyle, it was so exciting! It made me feel so horny and turned on – I wanted to chase the van and get Donald to come back and do it again, and let me watch! As it was, I stripped off, and put the panties back on, and masturbated myself all over again!”

I couldn’t speak. I pressed Joan’s hand round my cock as I felt a huge orgasm building up, but she wrenched her hand away and leapt to her feet.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself!” she insisted. “I’m going to get us a drink – I’ve got some more to tell you!”

It took a huge effort of will to keep my hands off my throbbing erection, but I managed – just – and, gradually, I calmed down. In a couple of minutes, Joan returned with a large glass of wine for herself and a very good measure of my favourite malt whisky.

Handing me my glass, she sat in an easy chair, on the left of the couch.

“I can’t think straight when you’re touching me,” she apologised, “and I don’t want to get anything wrong. Is this OK with you, darling? I mean, on moving day and all – you seemed – well, then I thought maybe you’d changed your mind and you didn’t like – well, me – with other men. Is it OK?”

“Yeah,” I assured her, managing to follow what she was talking about, even though she was barely coherent, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Yes, it’s OK – it’s fine with me. And it makes me feel – even better – about you. Don’t even think about stopping now!”

She stood up and kissed me. I put my hand up and caressed her gorgeous bottom. She squirmed away, laughing.

“Later!” she chuckled, and took a long swallow from her glass as she settled in her chair again.

“After that day, I always got Donald to fetch and deliver the laundry from our bedroom, and I always left something lying around that was still warm from me wearing it. It wasn’t always panties – sometimes it was a baby-doll nightie, and sometimes a brassiere – and, every time, he used the toilet and, every time, what I had left had been moved. He didn’t leave it beside the toilet, always, but it was always in a different place. And, nearly always, after he had gone, I put it on again, and played with myself until I came.”

“It was just like a harmless sort of – game. Donald never said anything to me, and he never tried to – well, come on to me, or touch me, although, when we hugged, his cock was always hard – pressing against me. But he’s really very shy. He doesn’t talk much. I asked him if he had a girlfriend, but he just shrugged – I think he might even be a virgin!”

So he hadn’t fucked Joan, I immediately thought – and was shocked by the instinctive feeling of disappointment that washed over me. Was that really what I wanted? Looking across at her, she had never looked so desirable. In her early thirties, she was in full flower.

Her hair was jet-black, down to her shoulders. Her eyes were almost ebony, dark, warm, unfathomable and, at this moment, glittering with arousal. Her body was strong and sexual – shoulders straight and fleshy, lifting her heavy firm breasts with their wide aurolae and thimble-shaped brown nipples. Her waist was well-defined and her hips spread widely – two succulent globes, jutting to the rear, which, when in motion, would move a stone statue to raging erection. Her legs were sturdy, yet shapely, especially her graceful thighs, and I had never seen such a blatantly sexual pubic bush – black curls in wild profusion, framing a deep pink gash which always seemed to be gleaming with the juices of arousal.

Please follow and like us:
2.2 5 votes
Story Rating
Pages ( 7 of 19 ): « Previous1 ... 56 7 89 ... 19Next »
Subscribe
Notify of
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x