A Father and Son Fuck Ch. 02

"So what do you want me to do Mandy?"

"Lick and suck my clit for me as at the same time you finger fuck me."

*

As he had been at making straightforward love, Peter was a quick learner at oral love. Unlike some men he made love to my pussy, he adored it, he revelled in it and he loved it almost as a person in its own right. Like all the great oral artists, he did not look on it as a part of a woman, like her tits for instance, but as a completely separate entity; one that needs special treatment and its own type of satisfaction. He treated every part of my body down there with his special attention and he used all of his available features, tongue, lips, teeth and fingers. He licked and kissed, sucked and nibbled, rubbed and probed and pushed and penetrated me with his tongue and fingers. He satisfied the demands of my lips, inside my pussy and of course, most wonderfully my clit. I just could not get enough of his attention to me down there.

A few days after The Sheraton, we were at his flat. He had a small place in Crouch Hill and area of London that was becoming trendy and popular. I met him there at a lunchtime when I popped out from Covent Garden by cab; my place was unavailable due to his men being there and he had been asking me to visit his home. It was neat and tidy and I liked it, but I was not there to assess the quality of his home.

"Just lie there darling" I murmured an hour or so after we had both cum hard and then had dozed off.

"What you going to do?"

"You'll see," I told him kneeling beside him clad in just the lacy top holdups I had worn specially for him; he loved them. "It's your next lesson" I went on smiling, but deeper down feeling very serious.

I was finding a quite different and additional attraction to the 'having a 'young buck' to the getting fucked quick and often syndrome.' That was teaching him. It was a massive kick to be helping a young man develop sexually and such a turn on to have him express his gratitude.

I knelt across his face.

"Oh my god Mands" he groaned clearly staring at my most private places that themselves were clearly looking him right in the eye. "I'm not hard yet" he went on as I leaned forward and took hold of his semi-erect dick.

"Don't worry baby," I whispered licking it and lowering myself slowly so that he could reach my pussy with his mouth.

He gripped my hips as I sucked his growing dick into my mouth. Neither of us lasted very long. I was quite quickly squirming my cunt against his mouth and he was almost as quickly straining his cock in my mouth. So far, he had not cum in my mouth and I did not think this was the right time as I felt he should be looking at me as he completely fucked my mouth. I had made the decision that I would let him cum in there and that I would swallow it, although I am not that keen on either, but after all he was my sexual protégé.

It was about this time we started to date. I had not for one moment, either before we had got it on or, after we had started our fling imagined we would 'go out' together. I think it was the afternoon in his flat that started it.

After I had initiated Peter into the pleasures and sometime sexual gymnastics of 'sixty nineing', he had said he would run me home. I had argued saying I would get a cab. After a brief verbal jousting he had agreed, but had insisted on walking me to the cab rank just a hundred yards or so down the main road.

"Let's have a drink" I guess had started it.

We sat in the busy pub and drank a couple of Guinesses. A few days later he rang and suggested dinner. I hesitated. I know that in many ways it was wrong, but I felt embarrassed at the idea of being seen with him. I hated the thought of what others would be imagining; cradle snatcher, old girl with her toy boy, must be gagging for it, how hard up must she be and simply disgusting. But I eventually agreed. I made sure that we avoided Docklands as I knew a lot of people who ate out there so the first time we went to a restaurant near his home. Subsequent 'dates' took us up the West End, into Knightsbridge, Shoreditch and other equally neutral places.

"Let's go clubbing," he suggested one evening, as I lay naked in his arms on my living room floor.

"Don't be daft."

"Why not?"

"It will look silly at my age."

"No it won't" he replied laughing and adding. "There's often old birds there."

"Now, now, that's just on grab a granny nights."

Despite my reservations, we went to a couple of clubs and although I was not totally comfortable it could have been worse. There were quite a few older people there, more men I have to admit than women.

*

It was not all sunshine though.

Obviously, the sex was the main attraction. Well it had been when we had started a couple of months ago, but the relationship between us had changed. When we started, Peter had a girl-friend. He had finished that. Although over the past couple of years I now and then slept with Richard, my ex; I had not let him touch me in the past six weeks or so. Also, I had not seen my 'fuckbuddy' or had any inclination to take up the offers of 'dinner' with the guys from the agencies and clients I visited in Europe and the States. It struck me after those two months when we had started as it were, dating, that we were both being faithful to each other. Was there a message or a meaning there, I asked myself quite often? Deep down I began to realise that there probably was, but I could not admit it to myself and certainly, I would not discuss it with Peter.

There were awkward moments though and these were summed up by such phrases as:

"I was only four when that was on tele."

"I wasn't born when that film came out."

"Yes I used to watch that with mum and dad."

"I don't really remember the Beatles, John Lennon was shot before I was born."

I took him on trips with me to Paris, Amsterdam and Rome when I knew I would not have dinner or evening engagements. We were then able to have our dates with no chance of being caught. I felt more relaxed then and in any case a woman with a guy young enough to be her son seemed to be much more acceptable in such places.

We stayed at the George Cinq in Paris and wandered hand in hand down the Champs Elysee.

"Where do you want to cum?" I asked him as I knelt in the middle of the huge bed later that evening.

"In your mouth, Mandy please let me."

Smiling I said. "Oh very French, how appropriate."

Taking his outrageously hard cock back into my mouth, I stroked and gently squeezed his balls. I looked up at him as if to say 'go on then.'

It had been such a long time since the last person to do that, Kevin, had cum in my mouth. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable as I remembered it, although the amount that Peter shot into my mouth did make me feel as if I would gag. His words, though, more than made up for that.

"Oh Mands, yes, that is amazing, yes, yes yes," he grunted fucking my mouth and filling it with his cum. Holding it in the back of my mouth, I sat up and looked at him. His eyes were on me as with an exaggerate gulp I swallowed most of it. Then, leaning forward I kissed him so that some of his cum oozed into his mouth.

He was certainly learning all the tricks for he returned the favour by taking his fingers from my pussy, covered in my cum juice and offering them to me to suck and lick.

Onto Rome where arms round each other, we walked down the Via Veneto and stayed at the Ritz. Thank god for such a ludicrously generous expense account.

Several times, we had indulged in some anal play. Nothing that extreme yet, just caresses on the cheek, fingers run through the crease and pressure, but no entry into the anus itself. I am not a great lover of anal penetration so, when he returned the pressure on my hole my response was not as enthusiastic as his, which had been him squirming against my finger and a muffled, due to his face being between my breasts. "Oh fucking hell."

It was around four in the afternoon. We had eaten lunch in a courtyard of a restaurant just a few hundred metres from the Ritz. We accompanied the delicious ravioli with a bottle of Frascati as we played footsie under the table and he looked down my front enjoying the fact that I had not bothered with underwear. Arms round each other's waist, with his hand confirming my lack of panties in the tight, silky skirt we ambled to the hotel. I felt relaxed, comfortable, and mellow from the wine. I also felt very horny indeed and the spectre of afternoon sex in a hotel simply added to that. As we walked through the lobby I saw the usual stares that an older woman with a younger guy always attracts, but that did not bother me; all I knew was that I wanted to be with Peter and that very soon I was going to have sex with him so 'fuck you' I thought.

"Kneel on the bed," I told him after we had undressed, kissed and caressed and stroked each other, in my case almost to a climax. "No not like that" I went on as he clambered onto it. "Just put your arms on the bed, your knees on the edge, and then lean forward so you rest your face on your hands." He did as I instructed muttering.

"Yes teacher" which was in response to a couple of conversations where we had discussed the attraction of older women to some younger guys.

Smiling I said. "That's perfect for this looks gorgeous" as I stroked his pert, firm bum.

I knelt on the floor and eased his legs open a little more. I shuffled between them so that my face was close to him. I kissed one of his cheeks, ran my hand up his thigh, and cupped his balls that were dangling so invitingly just in front of my eyes.

"Oh Mandy," he groaned. "That's fantastic."

"Hang on babe, you 'aint seen nothing yet" I said I with a poor American accent as I ran my finer down his anal crease and across his hole. I paused and pressed him there.

"Fucking hell, what are you doing?" He groaned.

"This" I said as my tongue followed the route that my finger had just taken and stopping where that had. This time I pressed and let some saliva escape from my mouth. The tip slid in a little way.

"Nice?"

"Oh my god yes, it's fucking awesome, I think I'll become a gay" he was saying as I reached round him and gripped his cock in both my hands.

His male, gay or otherwise who cares, instincts immediately took over and he started to fuck the surrogate cunt, or arse, that my hands were providing for him. It did not take long and with my tongue probing as far up his bum as I could get it and him vigorously fucking my hand, he shot an enormous amount of cum all over the silk sheet of the Ritz's large bed.

*

We had been 'seeing each other' for six months now. I had met a couple of his close friends who knew about 'us' and I had introduced him to my best and closest friend.

We 'dated' more frequently now as I had got over, to some extent, my embarrassment at being seen with a guy young enough to be my son, which incidentally he was mistaken for a couple of times. The work on my home had finished so we had less easy opportunities to be alone. Thus, we would sneak into my place hoping we meet no neighbours, but more often go to Crouch End.

I was as crazy about him as he professed to be about me. I missed him when we were apart yearned for him the nights we did not have sex or sleep together and masturbated about him when we did not see each other. We had phone sex and when I was abroad, we cammed together jacking off so the other could see.

I knew that I was being silly, but I could not help it and often the saying 'no fool like and old fool' was in my head. To an extent, I abused my position at work by having him accompany on trips around the UK and abroad including a week in New York. I was also cutting it fine with the job. I started leaving the agency earlier than usual, going in later and taking longer lunch breaks when I would see him. I was aware that it was wrong, but I could not help myself, I was totally besotted by him. In addition, it was not just the fantastic sex, as amazing as that was. It was that, of course, but it was also the teaching, the initiating him into 'grown up' sophisticated sex and combining that with his awesome stamina and recovery powers.

"No Kevin, stop" I said as my ex took me in his arms and went to kiss me as his hand cupped and squeezed my breast.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't."

"What do you mean can't, or do you mean won't?"

"Both."

"What you talking about Mands?" He asked slipping his hand inside my sweater and right onto my left boob. It did feel good, but it also felt wrong.

"I do not want to do this in anymore."

"Do what?"

"Have sex with you?"

"Why not?" He asked persisting with trying to kiss me and grope my breasts.

"Because Kevin I am in love."

Smiling and pulling away a little he said. "And I guess you do not mean with me."

That made me smile. I pulled my sweater down and moved away. "No Kevin it does not."

"What does it mean then?"

"It means" I started and then took a deep breath before adding. "I am getting married."