A Little Side Business Pt. 02

She shrugged the robe from her shoulders and let it drop. A runner, she was lean and toned, defined all over, just a hint of a crease under her high-riding breasts. Her nipples were hard and she had no tan lines. Of course, she had a very private pool just outside the door. I imagined the cock spreading her lips to be my cock. I looked at my own swollen, purple crown as it thrust from my fist, thinking of her mouth slowly descending toward it, her hand gripping me tight and pulling as she breathed, Come for me, Baby...

She was staring at my cock, too. She'd come closer and ran her hands along her thighs, pressing her fingers into the creases at her mound, slipping in the wetness I saw there. Her labia were indeed thick and heavy. I longed to feel them blanket me. I longed to pull on them with my mouth, tasting the musk I could now smell. Tentatively, I reached out to place a fingertip on her hard nipple. I thought she might refuse, but she didn't. She ran her eyes up and down my body as her hands ran up and down her own.

I began to lift up onto the balls of my feet, my testicles pulling tight under my fist as she reached out and worked her hand in the mat of gray hairs on my chest, her nails digging in. Charlotte ran her palm flat over my nipples and I looked hard into her eyes. She looked back, her lips trembled and I saw something more than lust there. Longing and fear and a touch of sorrow. A plea. We saw each other in that moment and I burst, spraying semen across her belly. She dropped her hand to my cock and grabbed it from me, stroking me through another shuddering explosion that fell on her body where her other hand worked at her clit, rubbing with an open palm in forceful circles as she, too climaxed.

I grabbed her shoulder to steady myself as I sprayed and began to wither, watching her breasts jiggle and run with semen, one thick drop glistening on her pinched nipple and oozing down. We leaned toward each other at arm's length, bracing each other, dripping onto the carpet. She knew how to gradually come down from an orgasm, slowly stroking, gently squeezing, sliding in the mess I'd made. A rare skill, in my experience.

I tossed my glasses on the coffee table, dropped to my knees and grasped her hips, then buried my face in her pubes, licking our juices gently, with gratitude. She pressed down on my shoulders as her knees went weak. We stay like that, breathing hard as I tenderly cleaned her for a long few minutes, exploring those fat labia with my tongue. Her honey-thick ooze tasted sweet with a sharp note of citrus. Charlotte shook, whimpering, pressing on my shoulders and I felt hot, wet drops on my back.

Then she took in a deep breath and said, hoarsely, simply, "Frank." She took my hand and led me naked out into the warm, salt-tinged night air and drew me into the dark pool. Charlotte swam away with powerful strokes as I sank to my neck in the comforting water. I closed my eyes and she made several laps, swimming hard, before returning to the stair, pony tail dripping.

Without my glasses on all was indistinct. Charlotte stood for a moment, the water lapping in the dark shadow of her pubic thatch, her body silvered in the moonlight like the stainless steel railing under her hand.

Through slitted eyes, I couldn't read her expression. Charlotte looked at me silently for what seemed a long time. She said, "Frank, I don't...", then abruptly she turned and walked across the apron into the pool house.

I drifted in post-coital reverie for a while dreading the feeling of my own weight when I climbed those steps back to real life. Everything had changed so quickly.