A Glass of Chablis Ch. 03

It was a good fuck. So good that Ivy kept to her promise. They had enjoyed supper, had watched some television together, drunk their cocoa and gone to bed; only as soon as George's light went out, Ivy crept naked into his room and got in under the covers. Not simply snuggling down with him but burrowing under the bedclothes in search of his penis. It was, of course, just where it should be as she reached into his pyjamas and pulled the soft thing out, warm and floppy in her hand. It was nice and warm down under the covers. Ivy felt like being in a burrow, her burrow, her nest. A good place to curl up and perhaps chew on something - well, perhaps not chew! Again, she felt how lucky she had been to come across George Crombie just when she had been at such a low point in the rain. How different she felt now. Ivy opened her mouth and placed the old boy's still soft penis into it, pushing the soft bulb in so it rested on her tongue. She began to gently suck, moving the wrinkled folds of his foreskin before drawing the whole into her mouth.

Perhaps a little like a large teat, maybe one below a cow in the field! Ivy felt almost the same contentment as perhaps the calf. Did perhaps a milkmaid once upon a time suck upon the cow's udder or just squirt the milk into her mouth, warm and nourishing. There was a stirring and then a thickening of George's flesh in her mouth. Ivy was not going to be denied. She had every intention of getting George to a second stand of the evening and, indeed, rather more.

She was very happy doing that; fellating away now with an erect penis in her mouth, running her lips across the soft skin. Working at it, sucking upon it, stroking it with her lips and tongue. There was, perhaps, a risk of her dropping off to sleep before she had finished her task. Unlikely, though, that George would drop off like that - more likely he would wake her if she stopped sucking! Slow and regular - and insistent - Ivy worked away at the big teat seeking 'milk.' And, of course, she got what she wanted. As warm as a milkmaid would get from 'Daisy.' She knew it was coming, George's shaking rather gave it away. Inside his body his sexual equipment unused to such frequency of use prepared to expel what little semen remained - and out in came, running warmly into Ivy's mouth, salty and thin, a little like milk. The groans up above the covers and the spasmodic shaking rather indicated to Ivy that George was enjoying the experience. She held him in her mouth as his penis returned to rest.

Ivy blinked. She really had dropped off to sleep under the covers, perhaps only for a few moments, with George's cock in her mouth. Letting go she carefully made her way upwards and found the old man had already gone to sleep. Men did that after sex: perhaps old men rather faster! Ivy smiled and headed for her own bed. Perhaps she might sleep with him one night.