tagAnalPutting It In Carmen's Dirty-Hole

Putting It In Carmen's Dirty-Hole

bygeronimo_appleby©

A simple scene straight out of porn film, it didn't take much imagination at all to write - but for all the predictability I hope you enjoy it.

As usual, please send feedback of points you enjoy or don't enjoy.

GA - David, Panama 20 March 2012




Red wine, afternoon sunshine and the swimming pool were always going to be a dangerous combination. The wine on its own, not that she'd drunk much, a glass or two ... perhaps three at most, was usually enough to make Carmen itchy between her legs, but the sunshine, gentle in the Australian springtime, on her bare shoulders helped too. Being topless she felt quite daring, exhilarated by the sun deliciously caressing her skin. She dipped her shoulders below the water, thrilled by the chill that tightened her nipples to taut points. Secure in the knowledge that there were no neighbours to spy on her while she frolicked in the pool, Carmen chuckled and then slipped the bottom half of her swimsuit over her hips.

"Naughty, naughty, Carmen," she murmured to herself. It was almost a shame the high fence that surrounded the property, a large, single-storey place in the suburbs of Perth, meant that nobody could watch her in the water. The idea of exhibiting herself to unseen eyes gave her a thrill.

A shiver thrilled through her, a paradox to the warmth suffusing between her thighs. Her swollen vulva pulsed in rapid, syncopated cadence with her heart. Carmen regarded her body, surveying the contrast in skin tone between her tanned torso and limbs to the pale flesh of her bikini line.

All the sensations – the cold water; warm sun; the wine buzz; the sheer joy of nudity, glorious reckless freedom of being naked - conspired to make the woman, approaching middle age, horny.

Carmen hefted her breasts in her palms as though pondering the weight of melons. Her fingers, with their long, fire engine red nails, plucked at her nipples, eliciting a low moan.

Then, just as she contemplated touching that place between her legs, she heard a distinctly metallic click. The snick of the garden gate, which she must have left carelessly unlocked, caused urgent wings of panic to beat in the pit of her stomach. Concentric waves rippled away from her as she turned hurriedly in the water.

"Mark!" she blurted in surprise, her voice shrill with shock. The young man, with tousled fair hair, wearing Billabong shorts and a loose tee-shirt said nothing, merely gawped, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at his friend's mother naked in the pool. "Oh God, Mark. I didn't lock the gate ..."

"Mrs Morano," Mark spluttered, blinking rapidly. Carmen saw the young man's eyes flick from her breasts to her sex, albeit below the waterline, to her face, to the wine, back to her breasts, and thereafter anywhere else in the garden where she wasn't. "Shit! I ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ... I didn't think ... Robert said I could use his bike ... Shit ..."

"Robert's not here," Carmen said, her hands held protectively across her breasts. "Oh God, Mark. I'm so sorry you ..."

Still avoiding looking at Carmen, intently studying the fence behind her as though fascinated by its construction, Mark said, "I'll come back for the bike later, Mrs Morano. I'm really sorry ... Shit, I mean ..." He turned to leave, and in doing so couldn't resist a final look at Robert's mother. He'd always considered the dark-haired woman to be sexy. She was voluptuously put together and had a languid way of moving, as though her joints were somehow oiled differently to other people's. Of course, being a young man with testosterone surging through his body, he'd fantasised romantically, and often lewdly, about Carmen. But this scene was something else. This kind of shit happened in movies, he thought. Dirty movies.

Carmen considered the situation akin to a horror film. Even in her shock she could imagine the bragging: I caught Robert's mum in her pool ... naked! You shoulda seen her! Big ol' tits swinging there ... She shaves her muff too; I could see it. Drunk, for sure. Bottle of wine on the deck next to the pool. You shoulda been there to see it. Fuuuck ... The ignominy burned her cheeks. What could she do to rescue the situation? If Robert heard about it ... If her son found out!

"I'd better go, Mrs Morano," Mark said as he turned. "I'm really sorry ... I ..." He shrugged.

"Mark! Wait ..." Carmen called after him. Mark paused, one hand outstretched, reaching for the door handle.

In the moment that Carmen saw Mark's expression, when he'd looked at her before turning away, she noticed, briefly, so very quickly, in that instant, a flash of raw hunger in his eyes. That look, predatory, conceived instinctively from racial memory, a primordial desire that sparked behind the young man's eyes told Carmen on an innate, intuitive level of her own that she couldn't define, curdled her guts. Fingers of lust tickled her deep in the pit of her stomach. Carmen's already oily sex oozed, and she was sure that the water around her would be slick with the evidence.

If she'd been asked, later, when what happened next was all over, Carmen could not have articulated her reasons for acting the way she did.

But that was later.

"Mrs Morano?" Mark replied.

"Will you tell anyone about this?" Carmen noticed the boy made a concerted effort to look at her eyes. Difficult through the sunglasses she wore.

"I ... Uh ..." Mark hadn't even thought that far ahead. "Uhm ..." He shook his head. "I won't Mrs Morano," he said, eventually. He meant it too, at the time.

"I'm not too sure, Mark," Carmen responded. Her arms fell away from her breasts. Her insides clenched when she saw Mark's eyes flick towards the exposed globes.

Mark licked his lips. "Mrs Morano," he croaked. "I ... Uh ... I promise ... Er ... I mean, I wouldn't do that."

"I'm sure you mean it, Mark. I know you're a nice bloke; you've been coming round for a long time. You looked after Robert that night of his eighteenth." Carmen moved through the water, closer to the side of the pool Mark was on. "I'm sure you mean what you say, but ..." Her shoulders lifted in a gesture of uncertainty.

"I wouldn't, Mrs Morano. For sure, I wouldn't."

"But how can I be sure, Mark?" Carmen's head tilted as she regarded the young man, who still stood with his arm uplifted towards the door. "I don't think you could help yourself. Not maliciously," Carmen added. "I know you wouldn't do that, but still ..." She shrugged her shoulders again.

Mark wished she'd stop doing that. Every time her shoulders moved that way, her big tits trembled like jellies. This situation was becoming unbearable. He was torn between the need to be away from the awkwardness, the embarrassment; but on the other hand there was Mrs Morano ... Naked. And fuck, was she ever sexy! Mark couldn't be certain of the woman's feelings. Was she angry at him for blundering in? Was she embarrassed? She had to be embarrassed – what other reaction could there be? But there was the way she'd let her arms fall by her side, and the way she'd moved towards him, through the water. It was those damned sunglasses, he thought, made it impossible to see her eyes.

"... But you'd tell someone, Mark. I know you would. You're out, drinking with your mates, someone says something – tells a story or something ...This kind of thing always gets out."

What kind of thing? Mark wondered. How many times had this kind of shit happened to her? For him it was exactly once, and this was it.

"Mrs Morano ..."

"... If you told anyone, Mark," Carmen continued, interrupting, her voice low and throaty, "what would you tell them?" Her game had grown suddenly serious. Carmen found herself, all of a sudden, lewdly interested in what Mark would say.

"I wouldn't say a thing, Mrs Morano." The door handle slid down under his hand. "And I better get outta here. I'll be back for the bike later ... If that's OK?"

"Don't go yet, Mark." Her voice, something in the timbre, deep and dark and rich, stopped him. There was a hint of something in her voice – a velvet sensuality that stopped him from opening the gate. Instead he let go of the handle and turned. "What would you tell them?" Carmen insisted.

Now the sunglasses, previously a barrier, acted as a buffer. If Mrs Morano could hide her feelings behind those huge black lenses, then Mark could use them as a shield too. Nevertheless, despite the shades, there was still reluctance on his part.

"Not much," he said. "Just that I'd ... uh ... Walked in on you and stuff."

"Stuff? What stuff, Mark? What would you say you'd seen?" Carmen looked downwards, regarding her own torso. "Would you say you'd caught me naked?" Mark nodded with a nearly imperceptible movement. "How would you describe me, Mark? Would you tell them I was ... attractive?"

Another nod, this time accompanied by his tongue licking nervously along his lips as though he were under interrogation. "Yeah, Mrs Morano," Mark whispered. "Attractive."

"Sexy?"

"Yeah." Mark's voice came almost at a croak. "Sure."

"Am I sexy, Mark? Do you think of me as sexy?"

"Ah, shit ... Mrs Morano ..."

"I want to know, Mark. Really, I want to know. I'm an old woman. I'm forty-three. I wondered if a good-looking young man would think I still had it." Carmen slid her sunglasses into her hair. Her green eyes stared into Mark's own blue ones.

"Yeah, Mrs Morano ..." The young man swallowed heavily under the intensity of Carmen's big-eyed stare. "I'd say you've ... uh ... still got it."

Carmen pealed a laugh. "Why thank you, Mark." Her expression became suspicious. "You're not fibbing to me, are you?"

The young man shook his head in vehement denial at Carmen's moue of feigned scepticism. "No way, Mrs Morano. Straight up. I reckon you're dead sexy. Really ..."

"What is it about me that you like, Mark?" Carmen could have burst out laughing at the boy's reaction. She softened when she saw his blush. "Am I pretty?" she asked, smiling. "Is it my figure?" Her hands gestured to her body.

"You're just ... nice, Mrs Morano."

"Oh, Mark," Carmen murmured, her head tilting again as her cheeks dimpled and she smiled. "I don't just want to be nice." Her hand planed through the water, sending ripples surging to the guttering. "I know," she said brightly. "You should jump in here with me. You look so ... hot stood there. How about a dip and we can chat some more?"

The young man balked at that. Carmen knew instantly it was a suggestion too far. Turning away from her again, Mark reached for the door handle. He said: "I really better go. If Rob came back and ..."

"You should have a cold drink before you go," Carmen suggested quickly. "Of course you can't go splashing about in the pool, not with your mate's mum, that'd be ... strange. I'll make myself decent and pour us a cold drink. I just want to talk to you some more, Mark. Just to be sure you'll keep this between us. What do you reckon – a glass of lemonade? Maybe a beer?" To Carmen's relief she saw the young man hesitate. His hand came of the metal of the handle.

She moved through the waist deep water. When she reached the steps, Carmen used the shiny aluminium uprights to heave her body out of the pool. As she moved away towards the open French doors, knowing Mark would be watching, she deliberately exaggerated the sway of her hips.

"Come on in if you like, Mark," she offered over her shoulder, pausing to give the man an opportunity to survey the curve of her hips and the swell of her buttocks. "Or I'll see you later," she gambled, "If you come back to lend the bike." Then, after posing with one foot on tiptoe to show off the lean, long, taut muscle of her thigh, went into the cool of the kitchen.

Carmen's heart hammered in her chest. Would Mark follow? Even if he did come, she wondered, what the hell was she playing at? How far would she take it, this dangerous, but oh-so-exciting, game? It was madness, sheer lunacy, and yet she wasn't able to stop herself.

A minute passed. Mark wasn't coming. There was only a hint of a chance he'd return later. Perhaps she'd scared him off? There was still the question of him blabbing, in spite of his obviously heartfelt entreaties to the contrary. Carmen's stomach slid with dread when the insupportable idea slid into her head that her son, Robert, would hear about the incident. Had she now made matters worse by inviting Mark into the pool? Had her reckless ... flirting(?) ... made things horribly worse?

Carmen groaned with chagrin.

"Shit," she cursed. She moved back through the kitchen, past the breakfast counter towards the glare of the outside. Her intention was to collect the half-full bottle of red and pour a stiff one.

What she got was another kind of stiff one.

"Mrs Morano," Mark said in surprise as the pair almost collided at the French doors. "I was thinking of that beer ..." The young man's expression altered when he saw Carmen's continued nudity. "Oh!" he exclaimed.

"Come in, Mark," Carmen offered, stepping back and sweeping with an arm. "I'll get you a beer." Thank God, she thought, relieved. He'd followed her.

As the woman walked to the fridge, with that smooth glide of hers, Mark noted, she again exaggerated the swing of her hips. After opening the refrigerator door, Carmen, in a calculated movement, squatted on her haunches. She knew, from where he stood, that mark could see her labia dangling between her legs. Carmen hoped that the sight of her derriere, the inverted heart-shaped curve of her buttocks would entice the young man to act decisively. Carmen smirked when she heard a gasp from behind. All the doubts and angst of a few moments earlier dissipated. She knew what would follow. It was inevitable.

"You know," Carmen began as she reached into the cold interior of the fridge. "You could drink your beer ..." She proffered the can in her hand. "And if I got my wine from outside ..." She stood, pausing for a moment to allow Mark to see her body in profile. "We could have a drink .., In my bedroom ... With the air-con on in comfort," she finished.

"Mrs Morano," Mark managed before, after she walked slowly to him across the kitchen, Carmen leaned her body against him and kissed his mouth.

Even as he followed Mrs Morano's hypnotically metronomic buttocks, Mark couldn't believe what was happening. This didn't happen in real life. It was the stuff of fantasies. But, he mused in a haze, if it was all a dream, please don't let him wake up too soon.

In Carmen's bedroom, a big space painted in bright pastel colours, with an enormous playing field of a bed, the beer and wine were left undrunk when the woman again pressed her body close to Mark's. This time when they kissed, Carmen's tongue pressed insistently into the young man's mouth.

"This can be our secret, Mark," Carmen whispered urgently as she hauled the man's tee-shirt over his head. "You can come and see me and we can do it again, any time you want to, as long as we keep the secret. If ..." she added, sternly. "... If anyone ... anyone at all hears about it, it'll have come from you. If that happens ... You'll never, ever touch me again. Do you understand me, Mark?"

"Yes," Mrs Morano," the man managed to gasp as his shorts fell to his feet.

"Carmen, call me Carmen ... Since we're going to be lovers ..."

"Yes, Mrs Morano ..."

Ignoring Mark's apparent deafness to her instruction, Carmen reached for the sudden tumescence jutting from the boy's pubic bush. She squeezed the girth firmly, saying: "Is this because of me? Did I cause this?"

"Mrs Morano," Mark responded, stupidly.

"You do think I'm sexy," Carmen purred, stroking her fist along the length of gristle. She gave a throaty laugh, a rich sound, fecund with joie-de-verve. "Look at you, all thick and hard."

"I reckon you're really sexy, Mrs Morano," Mark moaned, eyeing Carmen's body. He looked to his penis, erect in the woman's fist. "I've always thought you were something special, but I didn't think I'd ever see you like this."

"Robert must never find out, Mark," said Carmen, suddenly serious again, her mood capricious. "Not ever. Do you promise me?"

"For sure, Mrs Morano. I won't say a thing."

"Good boy." The woman's breath came quickly now. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The couple kissed; Carmen's finger's manipulating the young man's erection, while he, with growing confidence and fading shock, felt Carmen's skin.

Mark's fingers traced upwards along the curve of Mrs Morano's hip, over her tapered waist, and tickled the flank of one, heavy breast. The woman giggled.

"That tickles," she said, wriggling.

"You're so beautiful, Mrs Morano," Mark murmured while his thumb traced the elongated length of a nipple.

"Pity Robert's dad didn't think so," Carmen scoffed, bitterly. "And," she continued, her voice breathy with burgeoning desire, "I think you're gorgeous too, Mark. You've got a beautiful cock. I reckon it'll feel so good inside me."

"Mrs Morano ..." the boy whimpered.

"Don't come," Carmen said, releasing Mark's penis. "Not yet. Cool down a little ... You can lick me and let all the stuff in your big balls cool down." The woman walked to the expanse of bed and lay down. She opened her legs, flashing her bubbling, scarlet slash. I'm so fucking hot between my legs, Mark. Lick me. Taste me there."

Growling, Mark moved quickly, his eyes ablaze. He knelt, forcing Carmen's knees back against her shoulders so her sex tilted upwards, gaping. As Mark's tongue touched her opening, Carmen grunted an obscenity. She sighed and moaned, her head rolling on the pillow while the young man's tongue squirmed into her opening.

I'm going to come, Carmen thought. Holy fucking Christ, he's going to get me off so soon! The wine and horny mood, combined with the excitement of this unexpected, illicit seduction spurred Carmen on towards her climax. Her hips jerked upwards, forcing her vulva against the young man's face. Sensing Carmen's urgency, and acting upon instinct rather than using practiced technique, mark reached his hands under the woman's buttocks and pressed his mouth against her body. As his tongue probed deeper into Carmen's accommodating body, a fingertip slipped into the crease of her buttocks and brushed the ring of her anus. Without thinking, Mark pressed the top joint of the finger into the tight ring.

The effect was instantaneous. Carmen climaxed in a terrible writhing paroxysm punctuated by grunts and obscenities.

"Fuck," she sighed, eventually. "I came so hard, Mark ... My darling boy. You made me come so fucking hard." She pushed at Mark's shoulder. "I want to fuck now," she cried, impatiently. Carmen rolled onto her side, her fingers scrabbling at a drawer in the bedside table. "Shit! she exclaimed. "No, this can't be happening. Not now. Not fucking now ..."

Concerned, thinking there was some crisis – was she bleeding? Had someone come into the house? – Mark sat up, eyes staring around the room. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Condoms," Carmen replied, her voice shrill. "There isn't one in the drawer ... I must have used the last one ... Shit!"

Jealousy slid in the young man's guts. She had other lovers. How many, he wondered?

"Do you have any?" Carmen asked. "Shit," she cursed when the boy shook his head. "God, I want to fuck you," Carmen revealed in a voice cracking with desperation.

"I could always pull out," Mark suggested, hopefully eager.

"Not a chance. You'd squirt inside me, Mark; you know you will. And I couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like with your swimmers in there. I'd get pregnant, Mark."

To Mark the situation seemed suddenly hopeless. He cursed inwardly, thinking the chance had gone. For all her talk about being lovers, Mark thought that Carmen, when she regained her senses, would rescind the offer. After all, what had to be wine induced madness would pass; she'd be embarrassed, mortified at how close she'd come to fucking one of her son's friends. He let forth an explosive, "Shit," at the disappointment.

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