What's in a Dry Old Fuck?byTheTallMan©
This is my eighth story published on Literotica, and has the usual aims of entertaining you a little, as well as getting you off. I've even tried a bit of lightweight humour this time, hoping that comedy and erotica can work together!
It's a tale about a less than young businessman, who meets a fascinating young woman more than thirty years younger than him. Take your time reading it, and whether you enjoy it or not, take a little extra time to drop me a line and tell me what you think. I appreciate comments of all kinds.
Chapter One: Len's Bar, early days…a self-made man…Jenny…the gang bang
Len's Bar on a Friday evening after a hard week was the place to go in those days. Everybody and his secretary and his brother and his mistress (or his would-be mistress) were there. At the end of the working week, it was the popular den of iniquity to go to unwind, relax, flirt, pick up people for unsavoury purposes. Most hedonist's kind of scenario.
A chance meeting with Jenny, one of the secretaries at the firm where I used to work, and the vague possibility of sinking my dick into her voluptuous lower body, persuaded me to go to Len's Bar for the first time.
Lunch break, a summer day, walking along the city centre street back towards my new office clutching my pretentious 12 inch jambon and salade baguette, there she was, teetering along on the other side of the street. I saw her breasts first, that's the way I always see women, close up or at a distance. Jenny's breasts were spectacular, almost bursting through the buttons of her crisp white secretary's blouse. Her too-skinny legs below her too-tight black skirt wobbled on her too-high heels, and right at that moment, in my period of sexual drought she looked like the sexiest dollybird in the entire universe.
Twice married, twice divorced, sexually insatiable according to purportedly reliable office legend, and approximately half my age. Jenny spotted me and crossed over unsteadily to my side of the street, smiling broadly. I remarked for the first time that she was sort of pretty as well as desirable in her discreetly tarty way. Her almost deafening body language made it clear she was pleased to see me.
"Well hello handsome," she grinned up at me, "Long time no whatsit. That's a big one Ken," she breathed, grinning down at my 12 inch baguette then up into my face.
I smiled my own pleasure back, glancing at her bulging chest again as she came closer, then trying to fix on her eyes. I smelt tobacco, suppressed my dislike.
"I hear you've become a self-made man." Jenny was not known for her high cerebral capacity, which everybody at work knew didn't measure up to her very impressive mammarial dimensions.
Just a couple of months earlier, in a moment of not so well thought out folly, and at the ripe old age of 50, divorced and resting between girl friends, I'd set up my own very small business in financial counselling, and it looked like it was going to work out alright. Well, self-employed, yes, but 'self-made' was still a long way from the truth. I was nevertheless hopeful, and agreed with her interpretation of the news she'd heard.
Mesmerised by her fluttering eye lashes, her wobbling tits tugging at my eyes and having a certain effect on my dick, I listened to Jenny's update of office news, which of course, was of absolutely no interest to me whatsoever any longer. I gave my own body signals to move on and tackle my baguette, but I guess she was mono-lingual; she missed the signals completely, stopped me a couple of times, squeezed my arm softly. I noted long, blood-red finger nails. Dropping my baguette lower to cover a potentially rising tent in the front of my trousers, I listened somewhat distractedly as she said: "You ought to come down to Len's Bar one Friday evening straight after work. It's a really great atmosphere, and we always have a lot of fun."
I knew the place, which was just a few hundred yards from my office, but I hadn't been inside. It looked kind of seedy; not that it mattered to me if it was the seediest joint in the whole city, but in any case, when you work for yourself, you just have to make some sacrifices. Work sometimes comes first.
"You'd love it. Lots of people you know go there after work. Mike's a regular. We have a few drinks, a few laughs. Sometimes we do the gang bang."
I began to pay closer attention, raised my eyebrows, squeezed my baguette, then stopped in case the butter or the sliced tomatoes squirted out of the sandwich and into the paper bag. I tilted my head in curious fashion, moved an inch or two closer to those wondrous breasts. I'd long ago given up trying to guess bra sizes, so let's just say Jenny's were huge and kind of mesmeric.
"Gang bang," I repeated.
"Yes, it's a kind of dance, we all get in a line and dance, like having a gang bang."
"Ah," I muttered. "Well, maybe I'll drop by one of these Fridays, when I'm not working late. Being a self-made man places demands on your time, you know," I mocked, but with my winning smile. "But have to go now, Jenny. I need to gulp this down and tidy myself up before my two o'clock appointment."
"It's a big one too!" said Jenny, squeezing my arm again much harder and winking before she let me go, then: "Bye Ken, see you on Friday."
I watched her cross-wobble back over to her side of the street and continue her trajectory, noted she had a small but very cute and firm bum, like two tennis balls battling inside a handkerchief. Her legs were too skinny, sure, but what the hell, the effect was already noticeable. It would be a few minutes before my stretched underpants deflated and my cock settled down to position number one in my trousers. I mulled over for about 30 seconds what Jenny had said, then set aside all ideas of Len's Bar and its gang bang dance whatever that might be. My immediate preoccupation was my forthcoming appointment and making money from it.
Two weeks later, in a quiet moment at the end of the week, remembering the alarming reaction in my trousers to Jenny's close and insistent presence, and having had absolutely no sexual sustenance for some considerable time, my resistance weakened, and I stuck my nose into Len's Bar.
A hot summer evening, I left my jacket and tie in the car and descended the steps into what seemed like a noisy black hole, cut my way through the 'heat, the smoke and haze', to the bar. It was already past seven o'clock and the place was heaving with business people. While I was there waiting for someone working behind the bar to discover I wasn't invisible so I could order a beer, I noticed Jenny on the other side leaning against a wall with her tongue stuck down some pin-stripe throat – or was it someone with his tongue down Jenny's throat? Both, probably. No matter, it seemed to go on forever. What seemed like an hour or two later, I got my beer, turned round, and there they were, still with their mouths glued together. Discreetly, I moved a little out of range, saw Michael, one of my former close colleagues at the old firm. Twice married and still captive in the second, Mike was one of the best of a very bad bunch of bankers and shysters, and a well known womaniser, like me. Only better looking, I have to admit, and younger.
Mike saw me, came directly over and we shook hands; he always had a warm, soft handshake, like a wet dishcloth, summer or winter. He smiled and we expressed our appropriate mutual pleasure, genuine or not. Mike was none too tall, barrel-chested and always wore immaculate business suits. Women found him very attractive. True, he was good looking, with blue eyes and long eyelashes that the girls said they would die for, but he had a weight problem, and had to work very hard to maintain an exercise régime so he could keep fit enough for winter ski-ing, and for his first and foremost sport – chasing skirt.
"I was hoping you'd come down one of these days, Ken," he said, "Jenny told me she'd bumped into you. How's the new business coming along?"
He allowed me a few minutes while I gave him an inflated account of my modest success, then changed the subject to anything and everything but business. Mainly women, for that's why he was in Len's Bar usually. Or any other bar, come to that. We had made a ton of business journeys during our ten years working together, and had always managed to track down the right female company, whatever city we found ourselves in. Usually it was Mike who had done the hunting, and the game was shared out accordingly.
"Have you seen Jenny over there?"
I nodded, then turned around to have another quick look at the amorous couple, discreetly fondling each others buttocks whilst clinking glasses at chest level. The pin-stripe moved his beer sideways, so that the back of his hand was brushing Jenny's left tit.
"Apparently, she's insatiable. But selective, it seems. I've tried to get her into my car a few times after closing, but no go. Look at her with that yuppy over there, she was eating him alive a few minutes ago."
"I saw," I replied.
We talked on for a while, raising our voices above those of all the inebriated people around us, then I remembered the gang bang.
"What's all this gang bang stuff," I asked.
"Oh, the gang bang. It's just a bit of fun. You get to stick your dick up against some woman's arse, and behind you there's another woman doing the same to you – without the dick, of course." He laughed out loud, a bit too loud, it seemed to me, continuing: "If you feel a dick against your arse, then it's time to change places with someone, quick! Oh, and we do it to music. A great ice breaker, known to produce remarkable results amongst the still sexually active."
Mike carried on laughing for a while, the volume of which attracted Jenny's attention over against the wall. She tore her hands off her beau's bum and his hands off hers and staggered over to us, grinning broadly. I just knew she was glad to see me there. Her protuberances were as magnificent as ever under her now less-than-crisp, clinging office secretary's blouse. I noticed a small beer stain on the place where I calculated her left nipple would be.
"Kennneee baybeeee!" she drooled, "Soooo glad you came at last, as the arts mistress said to the gardener. How are you? What are you naughty boys talking about?"
Her arms were instantly around my waist and I felt one of those wonderful, solid globes against my ribs. My cock began to fill up for the first time in a long time and I smiled my pleasure, ignored the smell of cigarettes, dipped my head and kissed her cheek. I think she got the message, as she twisted slightly and pressed closer, almost flattening both her tits against my chest. Poor Mike was left looking at the back of her head while Jenny peered up at my face, smiling in a sort of half drunken, half seductive way. I smiled my winning smile back. I smelled tobacco again.
"I think I've had a little too much this evening already. I need to calm down a bit. It's early yet, and I don't want to lose control of what I'm doing." I remarked to myself: she was already out of control by normal standards, but I wasn't going to tell her. Her smile and the tone of her voice and the feel of her breasts against my chest were turning my knees to jelly and my cock to iron. She turned to Mike:
"Are we doing the gang bang tonight, Mikey?"
"I hope so," Mike replied. "C'est obligatoire," he added, putting on his oh-so-familiar pseudo-French accent, clearly to impress Jenny, or the barmaid, or both. But it went over Jenny's head, and she turned back to me and continued pressing her now rigid nipples against my chest, this time with her hot thigh against the outside of mine, rubbing lightly. I was harder than I'd been since the night before I opened the doors of my new office for the first time, and reminded myself that two and a half months without a fuck was way too long. Jenny couldn't fail to feel the inflexibility of my dick against her belly.
Mike turned away, leaned over the bar and said something to the French-Algerian barmaid. In French, I wagered. She disappeared behind the scenes, and a minute later the music started.
The whole bar exploded with cheers, arms in the air and whoops of "Gang Bang!".
Male and female bodies moved quickly, and it seemed, purposefully in all directions, and began to form a line the whole length of the bar, several lines when they ran out of space. I turned round to the counter to order another beer, but Jenny grabbed my hand and squeezed it; just what I needed at that instant, a hot sweaty hand in mine. She tugged hard, and I found myself slipping into small pattering steps behind her, trying not to stamp on her high heels, towards the centre of the bar floor. In the semi-darkness I sneaked a look at her ass. Lovely, I thought. My swollen cock was twitching freely, and I didn't care now if my trousers were tented. I was enjoying the feeling, and reminded myself not to let business get in the way of sex quite so often in future.
I tried to concentrate on what the others were doing, the formation seemed important. Jenny pressed back and thrust her bum against my enlarged groin, turned her head and whispered: "Stay behind me, okay? Don't change places, whatever you do."
I promised, allowed myself to be pulled into her buttocks, and grabbed onto her waist as she joined a line of man-woman-man-woman, cock to bum, pubes to bum and so on. Jenny pressed her buttocks back hard against my cock, which was now unmistakeably and unrelentingly rigid against her bum cheeks. At the very same same moment, I felt something hard press itself against my bum, turned round rapidly, remembering what Mike had said. It was a grinning woman, not pretty, but I was relieved it was a sizeable pubic bone I had there in my ass, and not a dick. I then noticed Mike grinning and grinding, positioned several persons behind my new bum-hugger and clinging onto a female waist.
The music was almost unbearable, the lyrics almost unintelligible. I heard vaguely:
We're having a gang bang, we're having a ball
We're having a gang bang, against the wall
Then I forgot about all about trying to hear or interpret the lyrics, as I gave myself up to the sensation of having my turgid and throbbing cock thrust against Jenny's extremely accommodating ass and rubbing it freely in the crack of her skirt-covered bum cheeks, as she pressed them back enthusiastically against me. Being an adept at this weekly gang bang, Jenny got quickly into the rhythm, moved her ass forward and back, then from side to side, obliging me to move my cock sideways in time with her or lose the haven of her crack.
Each and everybody in the gang bang line moved his and her lower body backwards and forwards in a fake fucking action to the rhythm of the so-called music, and I remarked that, if this went on for long, there would soon be a number of inebriated men on the verge of creaming their trousers this evening. But I didn't care about the others; I just hung in there and enjoyed the sensations of Jenny's silky bum crack pleasuring my delighted and, up to now, much-neglected cock.
Everybody was having a thoroughly debauched time it seemed.
A gang bang is a game we play
It's something of joke
It's lots of hokey-pokey
Less hokes and lots of pokes
I couldn't believe the appalling lyrics. As this outrageous dance progressed, I dared move my hands further around Jenny's waist, until they lay just under her breasts and I could feel their amazing softness and heaviness against the tops of my hands. Jenny, moving her hips back and forth a little harder against my crotch, and without letting go entirely of her other partner in sex-crime in front, slipped her hand onto one of mine, moved it up and discreetly placed it fully on her tit.
My cock twitched and throbbed, and I wanted to ejaculate there and then. Or better still, slip it under Jenny's inadequate skirt and plunge it quickly and indelicately into her softness first. Finally, to save me from an embarrassing wet patch in my undies and trousers, the music died down, to yet more whoops of joy from the regulars, and the lines began to slowly disintegrate.
The hubbub continued for a few minutes, then returned to a rather less blatantly uncivilised level again, as everybody found his or her former place in the bar. Jenny, without turning towards me, kept her ass glued to my crotch, her hands now back around onto my bum, pulling me close, to lead me back to the bar and rejoin Mike. Only then did she spin around and press those welcome inflated cushions against my chest again. My long vertical boner was now against her belly and pulsing uncontrollably.
I knew I was going to break my sexual drought that evening. I didn't know whether it was the pin-stripe guy or the gang bang with me that had worked her up. But I was the chosen one – not the one Jenny had been eating voraciously earlier, and whom I hadn't seen since. I was more than ready to accept the gift to be bestowed upon me; it had been a very long drought indeed.
A couple of beers later, I was on the way to my second-hand Peugeot 305 with Jenny clinging onto me. I didn't know if it was to stop herself falling over or because she wanted to pull down my trousers, but she had one hand deep inside my waistband and was squeezing my bum, scratching the flesh teasingly with her long red nails. As we zig-zagged, I had my hand far around her waist and an amazingly large tit in my hand. I felt the nipple grow hard in my palm as I fondled this wonderful globe through her bra. It was the largest tit I had ever held in my life, and my hand was incapable of holding it entirely. I did my best, nevertheless, felt and enjoyed its weight in my palm.
My cock was now begging for release, and I knew this was going to be a very short interlude. No time to reach my office, it would have to be in my car. In the merest hint of time, we were parked in a very dark side-street of the city. I was sitting on the passenger seat, my trousers and boxers were down to my ankles and my rigid organ was pointing to the sky, Jenny was soon astride my thighs with her panty and tights in a pile on the car floor, her blouse open, her bra lifted up and her bare tits almost but not quite covered by my desperate hands. Lifting herself into position with one hand on the seat behind my shoulder, she gripped my swollen rod with the other, squeezed and jerked it a few times and wordlessly begged me to plant it inside her. No-one mentioned a contraceptive, and I briefly thought of the possible consequences as well as Jenny's and my own reputation, before giving in to the urge to fuck her brains out.
With quite unnecessary encouragement and help from Jenny, I found the right place and slipped my desperately excited rod between her furry cunt lips hard and fast, no thought of finesse; this was an extreme emergency situation, after two and a half months without feeling the moist heat of an experienced cunt around my prick. Jenny's pussy was very hot and very wet; she was as ready as I was, and immediately started humping herself up and down, groaning into my ear as I groped her jugs and sucked on her nipples alternately, then buried my face in between both tits and pushed them together as though trying to suffocate myself. What a way to die, the thought crossed my mind, as my climax rapidly built up and Jenny's voice and her tongue thrusting into my ear drove me onwards. All she said was: "Come on! Come on! Come on!"
I don't remember kissing her mouth. I hate the smell and taste of tobacco. But the word lust is totally inadequate to describe what was going on just at that moment, as a drink-induced, long stored-up seminal eruption prepared itself. Jenny was coming before me, and I knew it, as I struggled to hold back my ejaculation for just a little longer. A few seconds, that's all it needed as Jenny began to buck and shudder on my solid, aching dick. She screamed in my ear as she sat down hard on my cock and arrived at a half-drunken, loud, uninhibited orgasm.