Age Indifference Pt. 03

I'm beat. The two-and-a-half hour rounder to get Sara to the airport and me home is always a drag, but when it's a 6AM flight, well, I can tell you it's worse. For her "international" flight (she's headed to a gig in LA) she had to check-in by 4, and coupled with the hour-plus drive to the airport -- and a bit extra 'just in case shit happens' and 'let me make myself look presentable' time -- meant we'd dragged our sorry (but still cute) asses out of bed just a few ticks after 2. My bleary eyes sort of focus on the bedside clock: 7:27 the numbers read so, yeah, I'm beat.

Last night was great! Sara was ending a three day marathon of good times with me and PopPop and the final session (which ended damn close to midnight) was one of happy endings all around. I had an earth-shaker orgasm sitting on PopPop's face while he pumped a big load in our guest's asshole. And with both Sara and I sitting reverse cowgirl style, I was able to reach around to provide her a cum-boosting clit rub. We may not have cum together but it was close, and happy is happy just the same.

On day two Sara and I had managed an afternoon of 'just us girls' time in our favourite semi-secluded forest spot, and had treated each other to most enjoyable tongue lashings (I'm sure you understand). What followed though was surprising to PopPop and me; her demand that night that he "fuck" her. We were all lying on the bed; me massaging his balls while he diddled her and she stroked his cock. Suddenly she sat bolt upright (I think it made me give his sack an extra hard twist) and there was fire in her eyes.

"Take that cock of yours and ram it in my cunt," she half-yelled half-cried. "Use that fuck tool like you would on a whore." With her hand now jammed in her pussy she continued: "Goddammit Pops, I love you and this other silly bitch, but I need to be fucked. I want you to pound me hard and long and no withdrawal; we go till one of us drops . . . or droops." (She actually giggled and smiled with 'or droops.')

PopPop was hard and getting harder, but we both sort of sat in stunned silence for . . . probably a much shorter time than it seemed right then. I didn't know if I should laugh, call her crazy, encourage PopPop to make her drop before he drooped, or do nothing at all. But when she climbed over him and his cock disappeared (and why the hell did "like a moth drawn to a flame" flash through my mind?), there really was no decision to make. It was a battle of wills, of wants, of needs, that lasted -- my guess -- close to a half hour. PopPop has this ability to cum multiple times with barely a burp between and he did just that. And like she asked he did fuck her hard as they rotated through all the imaginable positions. I quit counting her groaning, eye-rolling orgasms at 7, but there were at least two more before she collapsed across his chest and rolled off onto her back. In horse parlance she definitely looked like she'd been 'rode hard and put away wet.'

"I have been fucked," she murmured. "Thanks Pops, you win."

I silently cheered his awarded victory even though it was more likely a draw. To my eye his cock was pretty droopy when she rolled off.

Things were back to a more normal state yesterday and last night as I've said ended with participants well satisfied. I stand here at least semi-upright and let clothes simply gather at my feet as I undress. PopPop has kicked free of the covers and his fat hooded cock is in limp repose against his belly. The clock has tick-tocked through another 3 minutes and goddamn, if I wasn't so fucking tired I would, I would . . . . Well you probably already know this, but tiredness does not always kill off horniness, and 'I would' becomes -- with only minimal resistance -- 'I will.' And so it is that I'm stretched across the bed and drawing that gentle (soon to be) giant into my mouth. We'd all showered before lights out and a hint of apple blossom body wash -- he used mine -- still lingers. But he's jerked off sometime during the night because I know the taste of his cum and it's still relatively strong; enough to override the saltiness of his skin. Surprise -- or not really -- the giant and its owner are both awakening.

It's still a challenge to fit him all in my mouth, but getting to start when it's flaccid makes the task a tad easier. (Feeling it expand and harden reminds me of the Scot who invited a young miss to take a peak under his kilt. "Ouh, it's gruesome," she said. "Och," said the Scot. "You best have another wee look, lassie, cause it just grew some more!")

"Mornin' dear. Sara is safely on her way I would guess?"

The best response I could offer was a head bob, and that brought an appreciative moan. I reached between his legs and they moved apart giving me better access to his balls. Question I've wondered but never asked: Does rubbing a guy's sack do the same thing for him as me having my clit rubbed? No biggy but I will try to remember to ask, sometime.

I must be getting results because PopPop's hips are starting a nice undulating rhythm. I pull back and do some long lollipop licks of the underside of the shaft, give a few sucking kisses to the head, and then take it all in again. Then a marvelous chain reaction occurs of thrusting hips, a strangled "Oh -- Jesus -- Christ -- I -- I - uurgh . . . and an explosion of his wonderful cum hitting my throat. I fight the gag reflex and swallow, and swallow twice more. There was more than my mouth could hold so I lick up the overflow then lip suck the head to get the last drops. His hand has found my pussy and gives my clit a tender rub, but horniness does not always defeat tiredness. I snuggle my head into his neck and whisper a promise that I'll take what he's offering, later.

It's after 5 when I awake. My nose follows the smell of burgers on the barbie and I head to the patio to join him, with a slight detour, cause damn, I really needed to pee! And so burgers, a nicely prepared potato salad, a half bottle of Syrah (a new wine for me) sets us up for the evening. A movie we have yet to choose will get us snuggling on the coach and . . . . Well I harbour no doubt that you already know what else lies ahead so use your imagination to conjure up all the antics in which you think we are apt to engage.

That word harbour reminds me that we'll be taking Miss Suzy for an extended cruise quite soon (she needs her bottom scraped). Just thought you might want to come along.

Be Kind. Be Calm. Be Safe.

Love,

Holly