Her Fantasy or Mine?

She wasn't just sucking and licking my cock so good, also bobbing her head. I could only see her red hair as her head moved; oooh, sucking it deeper in her mouth again, even deeper than before, the head of my cock brushing against the back of her pallet! Did she want it to shoot in the back of her throat to avoid tasting it? If she kept doing that, it would. My hips twitched, and I moaned, and she increased her efforts. She must know what was going to happen. My hips twitched more quickly, and it did!

With an involuntary grunt, I came, the first two spurts deep in her mouth, and she moaned in response and drew her head back a little and sucked and tickled, and the smaller, following spurts landed on her tongue. She did want to taste it, moaning with me, and then letting me feel her moving it around in her mouth. I sighed with moans and murmured:

"God, that was good! It was never so good!"

She nodded with an "uhn-hnnn!" She let my cock slip slowly from between her closed lips and looked up at me with smiling smirk. I said the first thing that came to mind, although I had never done it before:

"I have to kiss you for that, ... if it wouldn't be too intimate?"

She shook her head with a closed-lips grin and rose up. She was so tall, that kneeling, her face was a little above mine, tilted down expectantly. I expected a nice kiss, but not the good one she initiated. Her tongue was immediately between her lips, between mine, and then in my mouth, letting me taste what I had given her. I hadn't really anticipated that, but it made my wanting to kiss her even more appropriate, wanting to share the strange taste from what she had done so arousingly.

As I returned her kiss, our tongues caressing, my arms automatically embraced her, and her long arms went around my neck, both of us kissing and embracing as though we were aroused lovers. For the moment - for the evening - we were: no longer the father of her friend and my daughter's friend so unexpectedly doing something we shouldn't. Her breasts were pressed against my chest, and she didn't suggest that we should stop kissing, her arms locked around my neck, holding our mouths together. My hands roamed up and down, and she pressed her hip closer between my thighs.

Finally, she loosened her embrace and murmured:

"Just what I wanted to do, too."

"Um-hmm," I agreed.

She grinned with a snort and urged me to lie back on the bed. She rose off her knees and urged me to move further back from the edge of the bed, and got her knees on it and dropped down over me, her breasts level with my head. I didn't need her next murmur to tell me what I wanted to do, but it was very nice to know that that was what she also wanted:

"Now suck them."

I did, not just sucking, nibbling, and she moaned encouragement, and more, as one hand fondled her other breast, and then my other hand slid down to her ass, my fingertips finding their own way below the base of her spine and scratching. She liked that too, and then I was sucking and nibbling on her other nipple, exchanging where my hands were. She sighed and moaned, and then murmured: "Before I start to drip," and rose up on her knees, moving further up over me.

Before I could grasp her ass and urge her to lower her pussy on my face, she murmured again:

"If you really want it 'a lot', not just on your chin."

She began to turn around over me, and then I understood that the mouth of her vagina would be over my mouth while I licked her clitoris. I was thankful for her recalling that I had asked if she could squirt and her saying that she hoped she would. Now it was up to me to arouse her so that she would.

If she and her husband - yeah, Robert was his name - usually did sixty-nine, she sure still knew how to kneel over a man's face. Her pussy descended right on my mouth, moist, already a little open. Did I know what to do to make her squirt? Probably better than years earlier, having watched too many porn videos in the last couple of years, and this was going to be "all the way," not like with my wife, just foreplay.

I had always loved licking pussy. One young woman hadn't wanted me to, but I assumed that it was because she didn't want to reciprocate, but the others all had, even if they didn't. One warned me the first time that she wouldn't, but she certainly didn't mind that I wanted to. But Fran had wanted to - so good! And had said that she hoped I could do it to her just as good! Should I have talked to the other girls about it? Did any of them back then know if they could squirt? I hadn't, but now I did, and Fran did, and had even thought to consider the best way for me to enjoy that she would.

Was she moaning to encourage me, or was she already so aroused? Her pussy was so wet and tasted so good, and her clitoris was so firm and prominent, and so sensitive. Oh, she had mentioned that I could prolong her pleasure when, after she had washed her asshole. When my tongue slid back past her opening, she rock her hips forward.

Uhnn! Funny, nice to explore, feeling it tighten and relax, and hearing her chuckling moan. That was what she had meant, what she had wanted. We enjoyed that until she rocked her hips back, and my tongue was again everywhere it could be on her pussy. I reached up and found that her hands on her breasts. She slid her hands down over mine with an "um-hmm," and I held them. When I began to fondle her nipples, her long fingers spread past mine and squeezed the sides of her breast.

Then I sort of forgot about them, concentrating on licking her pussy, encouraged by now obviously aroused moans, insistent moans, feeling her thighs twitching. Then she gave a deeper moan, and her pussy was all wet. Her thighs clutched my sides and then she cried out softly: "God, yes!" and a squirt of her pussy juice flooded my mouth, and then a second one! I gulped and moaned. Success! And it tasted so good! Her hands were grasping mine. My tongue stilled, resting, while I heard her gasping softly and sighing with deep moans: "Uhnn, ... uhnn, ... uhnn, ...."

I expected that when she had recovered she would move off me, but then her hips twitched and she murmured insistently: "Don't stop! More!"

Surprised, but very willingly, eagerly I began to arouse her again. I had never experienced a woman's having more than one orgasm, but she obviously wanted a second one, knew that she could. Soon, her thighs began to quiver again. This time, I knew what was going to happen. When her pussy began to flow, I opened mouth wide, my tongue pressed between her clitoris and my lower lip. This time, she gave a deep, pulsing groan: "Uhn-hn-hn-hnnn!" and her pussy juice squirted deep in my mouth, again two long spurts. Success again! Was that how it had felt when I came in her mouth?! No wonder she liked it; I did; it was so gratifying to know how good it had been for her!

My tongue rested again. Very pleased with myself, I waited for her to recover, wondering if she want still a third orgasm. Her moans receded, and she held my hands and murmured:

"God, that was good! You did that good! ... Oh, it wants me to do it again."

I assumed that her eyes had been closed and now were open, seeing my aroused cock. I knew, of course, that it was arousing to give oral sex, like it had been for her - her: "before I start to drip." I did what would make it twitch, and felt that it did. Fran snorted and repeated:

"It does want me to."

I urged her to raise her hips and replied with a snort:

"If you think so. I was still thinking about how good you came. I loved it."

"Real good, thank you. I sure didn't anticipate how good this would be. You want me to, again?"

"Hm-hmm! Could I say 'no'?"

Fran raised her hips further and leaned down, grinning at me between her thighs, and replied:

"If you really wanted to, but I wouldn't believe you."

"Hmm! And I would have to throw you off me - try to - if I really meant it."

Her thighs clutched together, suggesting that she was going to make that difficult for me, and we both snickered. I felt her hand grasp my cock, moving on it to encourage it not to forget that it was aroused. She murmured:

"I want to. ... I ..., uh, want to try something, ... you know, ... really 'all the way', ... swallow it."

"My cock?" I murmured superfluously in my surprise."

"I want to try. I think I can, if you don't mind my experimenting."

"If you think so; if you want to try."

"I want to, but if I can't, you know: gagging, maybe worse, ...."

"Don't do anything that hurts. I know it is possible. Hm-hmm! Once even saw a video of the original film."

"Really? Linda Lovelace?"

"Um-hmm, discovered a scratchy video tape the people in our apartment had."

"Hmm! If she could, and all the others can ...."

"I won't be upset if you can't. You were pretty close before."

I think I can; tried with a peeled cucumber, but it was smaller."

"Good luck, I hope so; must feel very good, but you're going to have to start all over again."

"Um-hmm, the easy part."

My cock had softened in her hand, shortened too. Fran leaned down and most of it disappeared in her mouth. I couldn't see that, just felt her lips down close down on my cock, her chin brushing my pubic hair. I looked up at her pussy and asshole, wishing it wasn't so dark, so that I could see them better, and let her do what she wanted.

She had no trouble making my cock aroused again, and I hummed my appreciation at feeling it stiffen and grow in her mouth. She hummed in reply, which also felt good, and then began move her head up and down. It felt arousing, of course, but I knew after having come so good before, that I could let her experiment without disappointing her by coming before she had done everything she wanted - at least, I hoped so; good idea of hers to try it with an older man.

I felt the head of my cock push further and further back against her pallet, just a fraction of an inch further each time. Then she turned her head down, and the more sensitive side of it was rubbing on the base of her tongue, apparently less sensitive for her, but more for me. I could stand it, however, suddenly recalling Kipling's Kim's doing multiplication tables to keep from being hypnotized.

That helped for a few moments, until I suddenly wondered if I would get to something times something equals sixty-nine: three times twenty-three, both prime numbers. I had managed to distract myself for only a very few moments; the head of my cock was deeper than before in her mouth, and she was making unattractive sounding noises. Did she really want to?

She did! Her head dropped further, and I felt the head of my cock slip into a tight hold, like the first time it had slipped in the vagina of my first girlfriend. A guttural sound escaped from Fran, and she raised her head and gasped and then lowered her head again, and the head of my cock was back deep in her throat. This time she held it longer, and I felt her throat muscles tighten in the grove below the head of my cock. No pussy could be that tight!

She raised her head again, gasping and then raising it further, my cock slipping from her mouth. She whispered in a satisfied tone:

"I did it! Enough for the first time. God, I'm slobbering."

I felt her saliva drip on me, and nodded, replying:

"You sure did! You can't imagine how that felt. Congratulations!"

She quickly turned around, lying heavily on me. I could see in the dim light that her cheeks were wet from tears, and then her slobbery mouth was on mine. It was only an affectionate kiss, and then she raised her head and murmured:

"Thank you for letting me try that. Mmmm! Letting me find out that I could. ... I didn't want to try with Robert and find out that I couldn't or that I didn't dare to."

I nodded. Before I could think of what to say in response, she added:

"Oh, hope you don't mind my having said that."

"Of course not! ... What a wonderful excuse for our having done it, and everything else."

She kissed me again, chuckling, and replied:

"It sure is. I really didn't plan this, but if I had, it couldn't be better."

"Um-hmm, for both of us, ... things we both hadn't done before."

"Um-hmm. ... Hm-hmm!"

She smirked and added:

"But we can do that too; a little unfair just using you for my experiment."

"If you almost started dripping again?"

"Hm-hmm! Maybe. You made me come twice."

"And I was thinking that it was good that I wouldn't come before you finished your experiment."

"Thanks! All the more reason to let you now."

"If you want to, and think I can. You'll have to tell him."

"Hm-hm-hmm! He knows how I can 'talk'."

"He sure does, ... just don't swallow him."

Fran snickered and moved down over me and began to suck my cock. What followed was a very good conventional fuck, better than the ones I could remember with my wife, because Fran showed me all the ways a woman could move her hips on my cock and then encouraged me to do more than just rub her asshole, when she dropped down over me and wanted to have her breasts sucked again. I didn't know if she squirted again, but I sure did, and my pubic hairs were soaked.

She rolled off me, and we kissed, chuckling and agreeing that her so surprising suggestion had led to a mutually most satisfying evening. When I mentioned that I had heard that my grandson often sought his parents' bed in the morning, we reluctantly agreed that I should go to the guest bed. We both went to the bathroom, smiling with smirks in the light as we watched each other use the toilet. I followed her back to the door of the bedroom. We both snorted at the scent of all our love making. Fran whispered:

"I hope he thinks that is how their bedroom always smells."

"Me too, but I'll open the window."

I did, returning to Fran, now in only the light from the street, enough light for us to find each other to embrace. She lowered her face to mine, and we kissed, a lot better than the previous couple, pressing our hips together. When we separated, Fran chuckled and murmured:

"Thank you, Mr Rogers."

"Hmm! I think you should call me Martin now."

"Thank you, Martin. Sleep tight."

"You too, Fran."

We snorted, and I found my way in the dark to my guest bed. I fell asleep before I could enjoy recalling the evening.

In the morning, when I woke up, my first thought was that all my clothes were in the bathroom. Then I wondered if my grandson had surprised Fran, surprised himself. I put on my change of underpants and then heard that Fran was busy with the kids. In the bathroom, I saw that her clothes were gone and began to take a shower, assuming that she would hear that I was up. Showered and shaved, I dressed and tossed my used underpants in the guest room. Then I put on my best granddad-greeting-his-grandchildren expression and joined them.

Fran was diapering one of the younger ones and without looking up said:

"Good morning. There you are. Hope you slept well."

"Very well, thanks, you too, I hope. And you too, young man, both of you."

The boys were already playing and hardly looked up. I offered to start making breakfast, asking Fran if she wanted scrambled eggs. She did, this time responding with a smirking smile, and I escaped to the kitchen.

After a few minutes, she joined, smirking again, and murmured:

"He did; good thing we didn't sleep together."

She snorted, and I nodded with a grin. Then the toddlers joined us, and she remarked:

"Tell you later."

Then we were busy giving them something to eat, trying to keep them from insisting that they wanted what the other one had. I knew that my grandson would also want to have scrambled eggs, but maybe wouldn't eat them. Fran thought her older boy should eat what was offered, even if he wasn't accustomed to eggs for breakfast. I scrambled four eggs, sure that I could easily eat what the boys didn't. While I was scrambling them with diced ham and spices, Fran gave me a grin and murmured:

"Of course, you always make breakfast, just not like back then," then whispered:

"Nice party trick for the morning after."

We both snorted with smiles, and she returned to minding the kids and making coffee. When her son liked my scrambled eggs, my grandson also finished his portion. Luckily, the weather was good, and the kids liked the suggestion of returning to the park, even better, when we said that we would go to the larger park.

Armed with a ball for the older boys and toys for the younger children, we set off with strollers for them, but they wanted to walk, obediently holding hands, like they did on outings from their daycare centers. In the park, the children immediately entertained themselves, and Fran and I could sit on a park bench just watching them. After a couple a remarks about our liking that they got on so well together, Fran snorted and said:

"Yeah, he did come to his parents' bed. Hm-hmm! He was already getting in it, when he woke me. I wasn't sure what to do, so just lay there. Then he realized that I wasn't Henny, mumbled something, but just continued. Does she sleep naked?"

"I should know?"

"Hmm! Didn't seem to surprised him that I was, just cuddle up next to me with his arm on me."

"Who wouldn't?"

"With his hand on my breast?"

"Should have known that it wasn't his mother's; yours are bigger. You'll have to ask her, explaining that you forgot to bring a nightgown or whatever you wear."

"Nothing, why I forgot."

"Hmm! Nice. Then Henny probably doesn't either. ... I'm not going to ask her, but you can tell her that and hear what she says."

"Hm-hm-hmm! ... What are we going to tell her about how we spent the evening?"

"Oooh! Hadn't thought about that! "

"Just occurred to me."

"Hmm?! Maybe we had trouble getting the kids down? Finally just went to bed, when we had?"

"Hmm! Well, we did that, just went to bed after we finished the wine."

"Um-hmm, after some nice talk about how we would do, but that ..., I don't think that ...: 'Oh, we just emptied the bottle of wine and went to bed,' is a good answer, ... at least, knowing how we did."

"I guess not, 'knowing how we did'. Very good, thank you, Martin."

"Thank you, too, Fran."

I wanted to hold her hand, but didn't, but she held mine for a moment, and we exchanged smiles. I snorted and remarked:

"I guess we couldn't just tell her the truth."

"Oooh! That would be funny! But she's more likely to ask you first this evening, after we leave."

"Hmm?! And I tell it was all your idea."

"And hers, a little, for telling me about you."

"And I would have to tell her that, too? I don't think that would work. But if she asks, as she probably will, we need a good story that won't have me blushing at her question."

"True! Sorry for getting you in this predicament."

"Oh, it was well worth it, thank you. Hm-hmm! Now just help get me out of it."

"Hm-hm-hmm! Want me to immediately tell her, tell her how good it was?"

"Hm-hmm! With me standing there, blushing to my ears? ... What would she think of you?"

"Hmm? Guess I would be blushing too."

"I hope so."

We grinned at each other, and then looked about to see that the kids were all in sight and not fighting. They were, they weren't. I snorted and asked:

"What do you two know about what ..., well, you know, about your love lives?"

"Hmm? ... About, ... well, not so much 'about', just when we first did and with whom. Of course, I knew that she slept with her husband the first time she met him, well, when they first met, years before they got married. And in between, before? Don't know, couldn't have been too many our last couple of years in school."

"I shouldn't have asked; about what I assumed."

"Oh, if you are thinking that maybe she could think that I ..., might assume that I wanted to sleep with you, I don't think so. Fathers and daughters and all that."