Bert Ch. 02

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She's taken by a dominant, older man.
6.2k words
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Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 10/05/2022
Created 03/26/2006
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gaylord60
gaylord60
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Julie's Story

Many thanks to 'LeasaJ' for writing a good deal of this story!

Call me Julie...

My story may seem strange or weird to some...but it's actually more common than you'd think.

I grew up in a small town with a loving family. Like some girls, I began to get a lot more notice as I entered my teen years, especially later teens. It was around then that I went from ugly duckling to a blossomed beauty.

All of a sudden boys noticed me. I found most became tongue-tied around me. For some of us, sudden beauty can be a handicap to meeting guys more naturally and having fulfilling relationships.

By my senior year, I was a cheerleader and voted most attractive in my high school. I dated a few guys, but it was clear that they felt lucky to be with me. Even the captain of the football team seemed to try too hard to please me. I often felt bored.

Strangely, I didn't feel this way around my uncles. They were mainly truck drivers and factory workers, middle class guys that appreciated pretty girls, but weren't at all awe-struck by their niece.

I liked the way they'd whistle when I wore a sexy outfit, and the way they'd pull me onto their laps and hug me to them. They felt strong and big. I felt very safe and protected in their arms.

It was the beginning of a life long attraction to older—much older—men.

Obviously, throughout high school I kept it a secret. I knew many of the other girls might find it 'icky.' But as I dated boys, I daydreamed about men. Often men who were old enough to be my father...or one of my uncles.

Although I did try to repress these feeling, fighting them at times, slowly I found myself going out of my way to talk to—and sometimes flirt with—older men.

Then the last day of school Principal Watt offered me a ride home. I accepted. It seemed innocent enough. But it turned out to be a fateful ride home.

When we neared my house Principal Watt suddenly veered off saying he was taking a short cut through the town park. The road was somewhat desolate when he slowed the car and parked.

I had no idea what was up...

"Mr. Watt, why are we stopping?" I asked.

"Well, Julie...you know you've become a special student for me," he said. I had no idea where he was going with this line of discussion.

"And..." he continued, "Julie, you've given me some special feelings."

As he spoke, I gazed at his wrinkled but handsome face. He was in his sixties.

"Julie, let me show you just how you make me feel." With that, Mr. Watt unzipped his trousers and casually pulled out his very thick, very hard, uncut penis.

I stared down at it in disbelief.

I wanted to object, but the words just wouldn't come. All I could do was stare at this both horrible and, strangely, beautiful dick pulsating from my high school principal's fly.

As we sat in silence, him staring at me, and me at the throbbing member protruding from his pants, he said, "Julie, I'd like you to kiss it."

This was a far cry from the tongue-tied boys who couldn't even get up the courage to ask me out. I now had a sixty year old man asking me to kiss his uncut, and now rapidly drooling, cock.

As the moments passed, I knew I should bolt from the car, or scream, or do something to get away. But I didn't. Strange enough, for me it was almost an erotic dream come true. An older man, boldly requesting me to do the unmentionable. To kiss his dick.

After the long silent moments...I leaned over, puckered my lips, and placed the sweetest kiss I could to Mr. Watt's cock-head.

As I pulled away, a string of the copious precum continued to drip from my lower lip to the head of his dick.

"Thank you, Julie. Did you like that, honey?"

I nodded, 'yes.'

"Have you ever sucked one before?" he asked. I could here his voice trembling with excitement.

I nodded, 'no.'

"But you'd like to wouldn't you, Julie?" he rasped.

I nodded, 'yes.'

Then, his excitement building, he grasped the back of my neck and gently began forcing my head down.

I offered no real resistance.

As my lips met the frothing head of the bulbous organ, they quickly relented and let the vile, yet wonderful, organ into my mouth. It slid over my tongue. My God, he felt and tasted so good. Even the musky aroma emanating from the fly of his pants excited me.

Although I had never sucked a guy off before, I began to pump and suck in a unison that must have been born in me. It came as the most natural act I could imagine.

"Damn!" I heard Principal Watt hiss. "Oh Julie, you're a natural...sweetheart, you're just a natural."

It made me proud that I could please a man of Mr. Watt's age and position to the degree I, apparently, was pleasing him. It made me work even harder. I began to bob my head faster and swirl my tongue with ever greater intensity.

"Jeez!" he shouted. Then I felt a hot blast of a thick, viscous fluid hit the back of my throat and rapidly fill my mouth.

Mr. Watt held the back of my neck, impaling my face deeply onto his fat, throbbing manhood. I coughed and wheezed for air. He didn't seem to care. His dick continued erupting volleys of thick jism down my throat, causing me to swallow and gulp frantically, while he just held me there, his head tilted back onto the head rest.

"Damn, Julie Myers! You are a natural born cocksucker!"

I never thought I would hear such a distinguished man speak that way. But I liked it. I liked that I could make him speak like that...

Mr. Watt then took his handkerchief from his pocket and thoroughly wiped the combination of cum and saliva from his dick.

Then he handed me his hanky saying, "Here sweetheart, better clean your face before I take you home. Mommy and Daddy wouldn't want to see you this way, would they?"

I took the soiled handkerchief and adjusted the rearview mirror so I could remove the smeared traces of Mr. Watt from my face. In the mirror, I saw a thick gloss around my lips, drooling down over my chin. I appeared to have a cum-goatee. I felt a bit humiliated, but wiped my face thoroughly to make sure there would be no remnants of Mr. Watt's lust for my parents to notice.

Throughout that summer, I hoped Mr. Watt would pursue me for more of the services I had provided him that day. But he never did. Many nights I was left to take care of my own needs, as I recalled the heady excitement he provided me in his car that fateful day.

I even walked by his home, as a way of signaling my wishes. But he never responded to my pusuit of him.

One day I did see him at his window, smiling somewhat smugly, as if I were his conquest.

I guess, I was...

Throughout college, surprisingly, things went back to more of the same. Boys staring, but not taking the initiative. Occassionally, a boy asking me out—hesitantly, meekly.

I would sometimes accept, but I felt bored with these 'boys.'

I wanted a man.

And for me, the older, the better.

I found myself often flirting with some of the older professors. But none took the bait. They were all gentlemen. Very disappointing.

Then, during summer break, I went to my old high school to visit Mr. Watt. As I entered his office, he smiled and gave me a hug in a fatherly sort of way.

After a short visit he offered me a ride home, which, of course, I accepted.

We drove to Mr. Watt's home and fucked non-stop for several hours. Then he drove me home.

I never heard from him again. I called him, but he never returned my calls.

It may seem humorous to some, but I was crushed. I had developed a serious interest in this man of sixty five years. I loved his intellect, his sense of humor, his gumption and confidence with me, and...his thick, meaty, turgid dick.

Sixty five or not, he was great in bed.

He taught me all the positions...and was the first man to take me anally.

"I've wanted to do this to you for years, Julie," I remember him rasping , as he pounded his ungodly, thick tool into my stretched sphincter, almost rupturing me to satisfy his long-held desire for my ass.

In the years to come, I never had that degree of excitement again. I entered the law profession and met my husband.

I was attracted to Frank initially due to his age. He was fifteen years my senior, established and smart. He asked me out; I accepted. And the rest, as they say, is history.

I guess I loved Frank, but, in all honesty, he was never my ideal. He didn't like to party, or dance...and had little interest in the arts.

Also, Frank was never very accomplished in the bedroom.

In fact, my husband liked to undress in the dark. I believe this was due to his feeling that he was under-endowed. And, actually, he was on the smallish side. But I was never one to joke about it, because I realized how seriously he took his lack of development down there.

For me, the size was just a part of it. His lack of interest and ability were more serious disappointments to me. He often had problems with hardness. When he did get hard, he was often premature in his ejaculations.

After a couple of years of this, I had asked him to see a doctor and he became very defensive, sometimes blaming me for being frigid.

I am many things...but one thing I'm not is frigid. In fact, I feel horny almost all the time. But horny for real men. Not for aging boys.

Frank had determined we would go to Las Vegas for our anniversary of 2 years. I looked forward to it. I'm not much of a gambler, but I love the shows.

After arriving, we thought we'd take a dip in the hotel pool.

That's when our strange adventure began with Bert.

I was bored at the pool initially, because Frank was doing his usual showing off of me. He likes other men to admire his trophy. I can see it in his smug look as other men stare at me. Of course, whenever one would approach he'd go into his hovering act, as he often did when we would occassionally go out for a drink.

Frank liked men to admire his catch, but would panic if one even spoke to me. In a way, I despised him for that. Perhaps, if he were taking care of his catch...performing his husbandly duties...I would've felt much different. But he wasn't. And I felt cheated.

The day was warm and I decided to get in the pool. After swimming to the other side, I noticed an older man swimming toward me. He pulled up to a few feet...

"Anyone tell you that you're the hottest woman around this pool today?" he said, easily...confidently.

I thought I'd be polite, but brush him off:

"No. My husband might not like that."

I thought that comment would give him the 'nice try' message. But I was impressed, he wasn't fazed at all.

"Don't worry, he'll get used to it." Wow. I never heard a guy that confident. And this guy was old, short, balding and definitely not what I would think of as attractive.

Bert had big ears, not the kind that stuck out, but large. He also had a very large nose and short unkempt mustache. And hairy, he was covered with dark, curly hair—chest and back.

The fact that he could approach me with such confidence and poise...well, I liked it. I sensed he was different from most other guys. He wasn't about to be awed by me. In fact, he almost acted like he was the catch. Like most women, that kind of confidence I find very appealing, no matter what a man's looks or age.

"Where you from, sweetheart?" he asked, as though he already had earned the right to address me so familiarly.

"We're from Pasadena," I said, trying to remind him I was with my spouse.

"Love the area. Love it more now," he said, flirtatiously.

"Thanks," I giggled, a little bit school-girlish. I realized, 'My God, this guy's kind of getting to me.'

"You know, if your husband wasn't here, right now, I might just make a pass at you...little girl." 'What balls,' was all I could think. Again, this guy was being incredibly forward...and I was liking it more and more.

Bert's confidence and self-assertion made me feel weak. Like my uncles and Principal Watt had made me feel. It was like an opiate to me. I actually began to feel slightly weak in the knees. And I think he sensed it, because he began to become more aggressive.

"You know you're special, sweetheart. You deserve special things."

"Like..."

"Like me," he laughed. And I did too. I loved everything he was doing. This homely little man was turning the tables on me. Literally, telling me he was the catch, even while complimenting me.

"You know, you're so damned gorgeous...when I look in your eyes, I forget your married. That could become a problem."

"For who...?" I flirted.

"For your husband," he laughed, again. And, again, so did I.

"You seem pretty confident of yourself," I said, playing with him to see if I could shake his confidence.

"Not really. A woman like you would make any full-blooded male bold."

"Most aren't as bold as you..."

"You just haven't found the right ones."

He smiled assuredly after this statement. Our eyes met, and I felt as if he was saying, 'Hey babe, I'm the right one.'

Once again, I felt a bit light-headed and weak-kneed. I actually felt arousal. My nipples felt hard. I couldn't quite believe this old guy in such a short time was turning me on to him.

But I didn't want it to stop. I loved the feeling.

It was then that Frank swam over and barged in.

After introductions, Bert smiled confidently at my husband, "So, you're the lucky guy accompanying this gorgeous thing, eh?"

Frank tried to intimidate him: "Actually, I'm her husband."

But Bert was unfazed...he made some smart comment and then turned to me and said, "Why'd you settle for this old guy?"

I couldn't help but laugh because Bert was so old himself. I played along and said I couldn't imagine why, either. I could see Frank was getting furious, which just made it funnier.

Bert told us he owned a bunch of insurance firms and that he was very wealthy. I wasn't sure I believed him. But why would he lie, I thought. Frank seemed incredulous and began to ask him prying questions about the insurance business. At that point, Bert abruptly invited himself out with us for the evening.

"We've got plans," Frank replied, trying to fend off Bert's horning in on our evening. But I actually thought the evening might be a lot more interesting with Bert along. He was a good conversationalist, and I was rather enjoying the way Frank was getting bested in the verbal joust. I also liked that he was making my husband, quite obviously, jealous. Maybe I hadn't been getting enough attention and felt neglected. Whatever it was, I thought Bert would make the evening more interesting.

I had no idea how much he would!

"Come on hon, let Bert join us. Besides you never dance with me," I taunted Frank.

In the end, Frank relented, but was terribly angry. Somehow, it all amused me. I liked my husband jealous...and, for some reason, I liked the attention of this old, homely man.

When we left the pool, I noticed that Bert had on only a speedo outfit...and that his genitals were enormous. I really didn't want to cause a scene or embarrass Frank, but I couldn't take my eyes off the outline of Bert's incredible endowment.

Frank pulled me away, while Bert enjoyed my fascination with his crotch.

All the way back to the room, Frank said nothing—just fumed.

When we were back in the room he started getting a little hysterical about me causing a scene with this "pathetic, old guy," etc. I just pretty much ignored him and undressed for the shower.

He tried to pull me to the bed, but I told him I wasn't in the mood after being yelled at.

Once in the shower, I was a somewhat astonished to find myself thinking about Bert...his confidence—almost conceit—and, of course, his mammoth organ.

As I soaped up, I began to play with my clitty. Imagining me and Bert doing very lewd things. I realized, again, my desire for much older men was very strong and very deep.

I imagined myself kneeling before Bert and having him hold my head, as he drove his weapon deep into my throat, making me gag for him, while he used my throat for his satisfaction.

"Suck it you fucking bitch!" he was growling in my fantasy. "Let your husband see the whore you really are!"

I could only wrap my arms around him, cupping the cheeks of his old, hairy ass, and hold on for dear life...as he continued abusing me for his own selfish pleasure.

Suddenly, I found myself cumming in waves of pure lust to this vision of my own debasement.

When I finally caught my breath and left the shower, I asked Frank:

"Honey, did you notice Bert's trunks?"

Maybe I was taunting him...but I was curious if he saw what I saw.

"Meaning..." Frank responded, I felt, somewhat phonily.

"Well...if you have to ask, you didn't notice...he was pretty incredible," I giggled.

"In bed we're all the same," Frank tried to pass off, casually. But I could tell his confidence was already shaken by this "pathetic, old loser" he had chastised me for flirting with.

As I dressed, I couldn't get the vision of Bert and his straining speedos out of my mind. I found myself choosing my outfit with the view of how Bert would appreciate it.

I was now dressing for another man—not Frank!

When we arrived at the restaurant, Bert immediately slid into the booth next to me. I could see the look of consternation on Frank's face.

I had to struggle to keep a straight face.

The restaurant was next to the bar and the music was loud...Bert began speaking to me and I could tell tat Frank couldn't hear a thing. So did Bert.

"So, does your boy friend here take care of business?" Frank lewdly, inquired.

"Meaning?"

"You getting what you need in the sack?"

I couldn't believe the gall of this vulgar, old coot. To ask me something that personal, as if he had the right to know. And to do it so casually. I wanted to slap his homely face...and yet, another part of me wondered why he would ask that. Did it show somehow that I wasn't being satisfied. The actuality was—I wasn't nearly satisfied by my husband; and I was frustrated and bitter about it.

Could Bert tell, somehow?

"Why would you ask such a crude question?" I asked my inquisitor, straight-faced so that Frank wouldn't be able to detect that the conversation had taken an inappropriate turn.

"I can usually tell," he smirked. The tone of his voice indicated that he took my question as an admission.

"What you need is a real man," Bert pressed, now casually tapping my bared thigh (Why had I worn my shortest dress?)

"Do I?" I tried to reply, cooly.

"Sure, you need a life-altering experience."

I chuckled at such egocentric, self-assertion by such an apparently un-gifted man...at least, in terms of his outward appearance. Inwardly, I continued to be startled and impressed with his confidence and brashness.

"So, tell me what I need?" I played along.

"Hey, you're in Vegas! Why not go home having had the fuck of your life!"

I giggled, "And who would be able to deliver that?"

"You're looking at him, babe."

At this I cracked up...I guess I was laughing at him, but somehow he was getting to me, also. I began to have that feminine feeling of rooting for my own capitulation. Every woman has had the feeling. I was now inwardly rooting for my seducer to win.

Poor Frank. He continued to make faces and eyes at me, furiously indicating that I should tell Bert to stop with the thigh touching—which had now progressed to stroking. But...hell, I liked it. It felt very sexy. Frank never played with my legs like that, and it was making me sort of tingle in a very special way.

Plus, if my husband felt it was inappropriate, why didn't hedosomething about it?

As the dinner progressed, quite frankly, Bert's casual touching of me did too. In fact, he began to openly rub my thigh regularly, as Frank glared across the table, but seemed impotent to do anything about it.

It seemed as if Bert was growing more confident and stronger, as Frank seemed to be diminishing in the threesome.

gaylord60
gaylord60
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