Recollections Ch. 06

My balls slapped against your ass with each increase in pace. I could feel your juices flowing over my cock. Your cunt muscles gripped me tighter. Your breath became a wheeze. Your body bounced up and down on the bed. And then I slowed again...

"Like that?" I asked, pulling down on your earlobe with my teeth.

"Like being fucked by your granddad?" I added, licking along your neck.

"Like having my old cock inside your juicy cunt?" I murmured, lowering my mouth to suck on your left nipple.

"Like the feel of my hardness fucking your young pussy," I mumbled, switching tits and sucking your other had bud inside my mouth.

Then I went into overdrive again, leaning on my elbows and knees to derive maximum speed and force as I pounded your young body down into the mattress. The sweat began to form on my forehead. That familiar tingle began to garner in my balls and spread throughout my body. I could feel my seed begin to gather.

Slow down, I urged myself. For fuck's sake, slow down

+++

It was good. There's no doubt about that. As good as DD? Not sure on that, because there's a lot more between him and me and you and me. But you were certainly a better lover than most men I'd had, although, to be fair I haven't had that many men, most have really been boys. These were the faintly ridiculous thoughts that were going through my mind as I lay snuggled up against you, after your flaccid dick had slipped out of my still throbbing pussy: that takes ages to stop. Another nice touch was that you wanted to hold me and cuddle after you had fucked me. Some men/boys I've had, or more to the point have had me, want that like a hole in the head. It seems that after they've had their wicked way, the furthest thought from their mind is sex and tenderness so, as soon as they can, they leave the bed and the bird. And just at the time when she is at her most vulnerable. The emotional outpouring for a girl when a man gives her an orgasm is enormous. It's largely, so I am led to believe, due to how she has given her body to him and he has taken that and her mind. Whatever their real relationship immediate post sex, the girl loves the man; she has to just to preserve her integrity at having given herself to him. The problem is many men, post sex, hate the girl, maybe not hate, but lose respect for her; the old syndrome of get his way and fuck off. It was lovely for you to be so different I thought as our bodies rubbed against each other as we both came down from our climactic highs. "So, Alan, let me pose the question again," I said running my fingers over your chest and pressing my breast against your side. "What question?" "I asked what you wanted, tea, food, a drink or me?" "Oh yes," you laughed stroking my hair." "Well you've had me, what now?"

+++

"Not too difficult a question," I said, leaning into you and gently planting a kiss on your forehead. "We're still on the aperitif."

Your head turned so that you could look into my eyes, at the same time as your hand reached for my cock. "Hmm, not sure you're quite ready yet," you suggested, as you fingers circled my pride and joy and slowly began to jack it in your closed palm.

"You'll be surprised how quickly I can be ready," I grinned, sweeping a strand of loose, blonde hair away from your eyes. "And if you keep doing that, it'll take no time at all."

"Really? Are you sure, gramps?" you asked, teasingly tightening your grip and feeling a surge in your hand, in response.

"Sure," I said, widening my eyes. Even had I not had good recuperative powers, you could have corrupted an angel. That Sammi look was back on your face, those blue eyes sending signals down to my sexual soul.

You leant in for a kiss. It was nice, tender, a firm brush of lips, a light joining of tongues.

"But," I added, shuffling onto my side and glancing around. "I think we need six things. I've brought three of them, and you can supply the other three, okay?"

Your eyes narrowed and I gave a soft laugh. You were normally one step ahead of me, I'd previously noticed. I was going to enjoy my time in the driving seat, albeit a very brief time.

"Explain?" you asked.

"Okay," I grinned. "I have three liquids, and something flammable."

Your eyes raised to the top of your head as you thought, then returned to meet mine. If I wasn't mistaken, there was a tinge of 'get on with it' in there.

I sat up and nodded at my cock. Your caresses had him well on the way to the required state. In fact, I was hardening so nicely, for a second I wondered about taking you right there and then again. I didn't of course. Some variation is essential in any long sex session, don't you think? Something that would make this different for you, make it special.

"Okay," I said. "I have the Chilean Shiraz in my bag, you supply the glasses. I have the mango bubble bath, you run the bath. And if you have any candles, that'll be really romantic."

"A bath?" you spat out. The way your brow furrowed was delightful.

"Absolutely," I told you, raising my eyebrows. "After a good bout of lovemaking there's nothing like soaking in a romantic bath together, with a glass or two of vino. And afterwards..."

"Afterwards?" you said with that hint of wonder in your voice.

"I've brought some sensual oil, too. Fancy a massage?"

+++

This was going differently to how I had imagined. More pertinently, I realised with a start, it was also not going how I wanted it to. I know my thinking and feelings might be unfair, but I felt that they were relevant and that your's probably were not. Was it an age thing? A generational gap, perhaps, an expectation that people your age have about relationships, possibly the need to justify having sex, by bringing romance into it? I didn't need to do that. I didn't want it. I was perfectly comfortable having sex with you, without bringing other stuff into it. However, it didn't look as though you were, something I had heard from girl friends who had much older lovers. I didn't want fucking romance, just fucking. Romance is all about love and long term togetherness and neither of those had featured in my thinking about you. For Christ's sake it was only the second time we had met and you were into your sixties, how bloody long term could that make anything! You were also beginning to piss me off a bit. Sure you had fucked me nicely and when you had gone down on me it had worked. You knew what you were doing and you did that well. But it was all a bit intense. I guessed you wanted to overcome the potential age problems. Prove to me that you were as good as a young guy. Impress me with your experience, turn me on by how much you knew and by how quickly you could recover, and I had to admit that getting hard so soon after shagging me was impressive and as quick as any bloke I'd had. But it was becoming a little mechanistic almost robotic. It was as if you had covered the first chapter of the 'How an Older Man Should Make Love to a Younger Woman' instruction manual. Get her undressed, fiddle around with her tits, using firstly your hands and fingers then, when she seems comfortable, move onto using your mouth and tongue. Show her how cool you are by not trying to shag her for some time and indicate that older men are so concerned with giving their partner pleasure, by giving her pussy a good lick and suck, making her cum as soon as you can without asking for anything in return: that'll impress and please her. Only when you have done that should you fuck her and then do that using both fast and slow, holding yourself in her rigid and trying out every trick you've ever learned. I could hardly believe that you had brought a bottle of wine with you from wherever the fuck it was up north that you lived when there is a perfectly good Threshers just round the corner who sells eight quid a bottle Chilean Shiraz and three for the price of two, I had noticed! Didn't you think that I would have baby oil? Oh no, of course yours is 'sensual oil' whatever the hell that is? All fucking oil other than what you fry chips in is sensual when it slides over your body so what, I thought, is special about what you had carted down from Yorkshire? As I thought all this, I knew it was unfair, unreasonable even, but I couldn't help it. It seemed that we were so far apart in so many ways. For Christ's sake you had called me honeybunch had talked about 'a glass or two of vino.' Vino, what the fuck sort of talk is that? No one, but no one I know would say that, would call it that, it's wine for shit's sake. Another example of the age gap, I thought wondering just where we were going. "After, as you term it Alan, a good bout of lovemaking, I don't need a romantic bath." "No?" You asked, sounding surprised. "No, not really, why would I?" "Well it's romantic, what with the candles and everything." "Alan," I said, probably sounding rather more cold than I intended "What's romance got to do with anything?" "Well with sex and us." "Do you really think I invited you here because I had romantic needs or intentions? Did you?" "Er well yes, I suppose I did, so haven't you?" I sat up, crossed my legs and stared at you. "Alan, we live in different worlds and we're from different generations, we both know that." "Yes, so?" "I did not ask you here to have a romantic weekend or because I wanted romance in any relationship we might forge between us. Did you think that's what I wanted?" "Well I didn't really think about it." "Exactly." "What do you mean, exactly?" You asked. "You assumed I wanted it because you do. You ascribed your standards, your thinking, your interpretation of the situation. You didn't really think what I wanted, but assumed that you would need to prove you were better than younger guys, that your greater experience would surpass their stamina." "That's not really fair." "Love and war, mate," I said getting up from the bed and slipping my tee shirt back on. "If I wanted more stamina, Alan, I'd have a young stud fuck me." "I'm confused," you said pulling the sheet over you as your erection softened. "Why did you invite me?" "Fun, curiosity, because I like you, an experience, lots of reasons." "And now I'm here?" "You need to lighten up. Forget about trying to be young physically, be younger emotionally. Just go with the flow, trust your instincts. I couldn't give a sod really if I had to work hard to help you get a hard on, stop trying to impress me by your experience and maturity." "Not sure I follow." "Ok great, you showed the patience to not shag me for some time, you undressed me and made me cum with your mouth and then you undressed and we had sex. Not once really did you consider what I wanted." "Yes I did all the time." "No Alan, what you did was do what you thought I wanted. You thought I wanted you to undress me and make me cum like that with you still fully clothed, didn't you?" "Yes, I was trying to give you pleasure." "Your interpretation of what you thought would give me pleasure you mean." "Well yes true, but what did you want?" "Being blunt, as I usually am Alan, I wanted to be fucked. I wanted that quick and hard, I wanted to feel you, your body, your chest and your cock. That's what I wanted, not to be treated like some bloody concubine. I wanted us to have sex together, not you have sex with me, not to have sex by the manual. Haven't you heard that kids of my age don't read fucking manuals we just do it? Do you understand me or am I talking garbage?"

+++

No, not talking garbage. You were just giving me your usual blunt Sammi-view of the world. A spoilt bitch view perhaps, but as honest as always. I could have grown annoyed. I could have objected, argued.

But basically, I didn't give a fuck.

So you were pissed with me? I'd ascribed my standards, my thinking, my ways to the situation?

And just what the fuck were you doing now, Sammi?

You'd given me your Sammi view of the world, of my world actually, and it was a heavily critical one at that. It seemed there was nothing I'd done right so far -- except, maybe, 'I'd fucked you nicely'. Well, that kind of shitty criticism is liberating really. If you're going to feel that way, I might as well just get on with it and do my own thing.

Okay, I'd try to 'lighten up' to 'just go with the flow, trust my instincts'. But I wasn't going to change being me. No way.

I'd said 'honeybunch'. I'd said 'vino'. And 'no one you knew --but no one- ever said that'. Big fucking deal. So what??

Okay, maybe it was a generation thing. But for fucks sake, what did you expect? Of course it was a sodding generation thing. I was thirty plus years older, after all. Of course I was trying to impress you by my experience and maturity. I was fucking sixty and you were fucking twenty-three. Reverse the position. Wouldn't you feel you had to impress me? Well, not any more. That fucking message had finally got home.

And oh yes, while my mind was having its rant, what else had you said? You wondered just where we were going? Now that was a really good question. After listening to you, I had no idea. Except I did know that before I left, I was going to fuck your spoilt bitch brains out.

And sooner rather than later, Sammi Cannock.

I'd have to check my manual, of course. After all, I'd covered the first chapter of the 'How an Older Man Should Make Love to a Younger Woman' instruction section. Hopefully chapter two would be more enlightening.

After all, it was becoming a little mechanistic almost robotic, apparently.

What I needed, it appeared, was to be more spontaneous perhaps? Well, the opportunity had just arrived. You turned to get something from the bedside table and your inadvertent pose reminded me of that bikini photograph you'd sent me during one online chat. God, I'd spilt gallons of creamy manjuice over that photo.

Creamy manjuice? There was another one, Sammi. I bet none of your friends --but no one- had ever said that! Well, fuck them!

Or rather, fuck you! Even as you stretched on all fours, my hands reached for your hips, dragging them back against me.

"Wait," you gasped as I fitted my body behind you.

That word was fine. I was okay with 'wait'. Had it been 'no' I would have stopped instantly. Probably an old fashioned thing, Sammi, but when a woman says no, I instantly assume it means no.

"Wait?" I asked, grabbing the back of your neck and pushing your head down onto the bed. "Wait for what?"

You gasped again at my roughness. I waited for the word 'no'. It didn't come.

My free hand slid around to your stomach and down to your pussy. "Wait for this?" I asked, slipping a finger inside. You were already wet. That was one good sign at least. "Or wait for this?" I asked, rotating my finger in your juicy wetness and flicking your clit with my thumb.

Your groan gave me an answer. It said something like, 'continue, you bastard'. At least, that was my interpretation.

"Want it?" I asked, whispering in your ear as I leaned forward over your back. I stroked your wet folds with my hard cock at the same time as I slipped a second finger inside.

It brought another moan as you rested on your elbows and involuntarily raised your near perfect bum.

"I don't," you gasped, but we both knew it was a lie.

"Oh, yes, I think you do," I grunted as my knees slid inside yours, forcing your legs wider. With each nudge, the adrenalin in my body increased. From the way your juices covered my fingers, I guessed that your adrenalin was close to overheating too.

"Tell me," I mumbled, running my hard cock along your wet labial lips. "Tell me you want to be fucked."

Your head shot sideways, your aroused blue eyes looking back into mine, a panting, lustful look covering your face. You couldn't help but groan aloud as my fingers curled inside you and my cock pressed against your delicious wetness.

"Tell me," I repeated, my hand leaving your neck and diving under your tee shirt to squeeze each of your breasts. They felt sensitive, as if aching to be touched. I cupped each of them in turn, rotating your nipples in the palm of my hand. "Tell me, Sammi," I whispered again. "Tell me you want this old cock inside your juicy young cunt." At first you didn't respond, but as I manipulated your cunt and tits, you gave in. But then, you had to give in. That's what chapter two of the manual said, didn't it?

"Yes," you gasped as I brought both hands to your breasts, squeezing, pulling, mashing and pinching those wonderful, hard, nipples. My cock pushed against you, it was so close, but not ready to enter.

"Yes!" you repeated, pushing your ass back, confirming your need to have my dick inside you. Your breath grew ragged as you became caught up in the delicious soft friction between us. I began to pant as I continued to rub myself along the whole of your wet opening.

"Want me to fuck my spoilt bitch," I grunted, sitting up on my knees. My cock was throbbing and any thoughts of continued teasing were rapidly leaving me. Fuck, I needed to be inside your sexy young body!!

You looked back at me again over your shoulder. Your Sammi-eyes were wild, your nostrils flared. With an aroused growl, your hand shot down between your legs and grabbed my hard cock. In one movement, you fitted me inside you.

Fuck, you were so wet that I entered immediately. I gasped at the entry, loving the way you felt as you sheathed me. The sound was more like a hiss. I could feel your cunt muscles accommodate and squeeze me. Bollocks, I'd forgotten the rubber.

"That's good, you little bitch?" I grunted, one hand finding your blonde hair, gathering it into a ponytail. You gave a soft whimper as my grip tightened and I roughly dragged your head upwards.

"Want me to fuck you?"

"Yes!"

"Want my old, hard cock, to fuck you hard?"

"Yes."

"Your juicy little cunt needs my dick?"

"Fuck, yes!"

They weren't just words. They were grunted out, full of arousal, full of hot lust, said with throaty groans while with each question, I tightened my grip on your hair.

I yanked your head back and then pushed it forwards in time with my thrusts. With each growl you gave, I pulled backwards until I was almost free and then rammed myself back inside you again.

"Like that?" I grunted, not really knowing what I was saying. I was losing it, moving faster, grunting more loudly, and yanking your silky locks backwards more tightly. "Like the way gramps fucks your juicy young cunt? C'mon you spoilt bitch, fuck me, too!"

You did. Fuck me, and how! You couldn't help yourself. Your backward thrusts started slowly but then grew more frantic. Geez, I could hardly contain myself and lost contact with who was fucking who. All I knew was that sweat began to drip from me as I lost myself in the white-hot heat between us.

"Oh, fuck, Sammi."

"That's it," I heard you pant. "Just there. Like that."

I had no idea what I was doing, other than losing myself in the fuck. How long was it since I'd abandoned my mind and body to a woman in such a way? My balls slapped against you as I fucked, knowing I was either going to send a volcano full of cum inside you or have a heart attack in the attempt.

"C'mon, you old bastard," I heard you grunting. "Keep going. Don't fucking dare stop. Not yet. Not fucking yet. Yes. Like that. Just like that. Yes... yes... oh fuckkkkkkk."

I've no idea how long it had lasted and I didn't care. All I knew was that I was exploding, sending depth charges from my body to yours. I closed my eyes and scrunched my face in exquisite pain as each release tore itself from me. Fuck, how much was there???

Somehow I knew that you were cumming, too. In the distance of my mind, I could hear you shout out as your climax overpowered you. Your body trembled, mine jerked, and I swear your juicy young cunt sucked out every single last drop of cum that I had to give.

I fell sideways onto the bed, sweat streaming from me, my face red, heart pounding, trying to come to terms with the electrical currents still pinging their way around my mind. As rationale thought returned, I glanced across to see your sweaty face looking at me, a few strands of your blonde hair stuck to your forehead.