Charlotte & Her Landlord

This story follows on chronologically from 'Charlotte Goes To A House Party' but can be read as a separate story.

As a student in my last year of university I was mainly focused on my studies and having a boyfriend from my home town meant that I wasn't constantly out partying and looking to hook up with guys, although I had let my faithfulness slip on occasions, I consoled myself with the thought that it was never premeditated or planned it just sort of tended to happen.

Since I'd last cheated on my boyfriend at a house party I vowed to be faithful but wouldn't rule out lust taking over me as long as it didn't have a long-term impact on my relationship, or at least, when I did slip up I was fortunate that he never found out.

I was working on my dissertation when I heard a knock on the door of my shared student house. On opening the door, I found it was my landlord. I thought it was very courteous of him to knock, since he had the keys he could have let himself in. Since it was our last year in the house he had come round to discuss his plans for next year and how this would affect us all.

Mr. Whitehead, our landlord, was easily in his fifties, the grey hair and his physique placed him firmly in the silver fox category and whilst all of us girls had commented on this on all of the occasions that we'd seen him, today was the first time that I'd really got to talk to him. His mature attitude and conversation proved to be a welcome change to the silliness of the boys my own age.

"Hello there," it was my housemate Tammy, that spoke as she joined us in the kitchen, breaking my conversation with Mr. Whitehead.

Realising I was annoyed at being interrupted served to make me come to terms with very real fascination and intrigue I had for my landlord, the man who was older than my own father. I tried to tell myself that it was just the intimacy of our conversation being disrupted that irked me.

I knew that there was a Mrs. Whitehead, since I had met her previously and I knew they had children that were now grown up and actually older than me but as I played with myself in bed that night, my fingers and vibrator brought me to climax with the thought of an illicit liaison with Mr. Whitehead lodged firmly in my head.

I cast these thoughts aside though, for the time being, continuing with my studies as a lack of contact meant that my landlord was no longer occupying my thoughts.

That was until, about a fortnight later when Beth and I came back to the house after a run, just as Mr. Whitehead was at the doorway about to leave. Again, I measured my attraction to him by the level of disappointment I felt that he was leaving.

"Sorry girls," he said to us, "I was just telling Tammy that I'm going to have to do some work on the house but I'll do my very best to minimise the disturbance to you for your finals."

"Well thanks for being kind enough to let us know," it was Beth that gushed at him. This wasn't surprising since we all admitted our old man crush on him.

"I've got to dash though but I'm sure Tammy can fill you in on the details," he said, as he got into his Jaguar to leave.

We went into the house and as I turned to wave him goodbye I caught him eyeing me up and down in my tight lycra gym set. Just his look sent a bolt of electricity through my body.

"Bet he'd be fucking great at licking you out," Beth told the girls, we were all giggling. I recounted what had happened, in my head, my fantasy played out again, safe in the knowledge that nothing would ever happen between this older, married man and me, the younger than his daughter, tenant. It was just a bit of fun. For the moment.

A week or so later, as I approached my house after a long day of hard studying in the university library, I got a thrill just by catching a glimpse of Mr. Whitehead's Jaguar parked up outside our house again. I questioned just exactly what I was doing and hoping to achieve as I found myself in the toilets of a local pub quickly changing into my tiny gym shorts and sports bra, luckily nestling in the bottom of my bag, so that I could enter the house wearing something as revealing as possible. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite warm enough to wear the top on its own so I had to wear a hoody but I figured this could always be removed once inside the house.

As I entered the house in my tiny shorts I was met by Mr. Whitehead but disappointingly he was accompanied by his builder. I had hoped to give Mr. Whitehead a good look at my long legs in a bid to win his approval but where I couldn't be certain of his thoughts, his builder companion left no doubt as it looked as though his eyes were about to pop out of his head at the sight of my exposed flesh. I was glad that I had my hoody on because I think it may very well have pushed him over the edge if his reaction to my legs was anything to go by. His staring was so obvious, Mr. Whitehead seemed very much aware of this and swiftly moved the builder into another room away from me.

Although I was disappointed that I'd not had the chance to speak to Mr. Whitehead alone again, I liked the fact that he'd acted protectively towards me and the builder so obviously ogling me didn't actually disgust me but made me feel desired as well.

"Sorry about earlier Charlotte, I promise there won't be any more problems or stares from Ray & let the other girls know as well. If there is though please let me know," my phone lit up to a text message from my landlord, Mr. Whitehead.

"No problem, Mr. Whitehead," I replied in a message, "I don't expect any of us will be here much in the daytime but thanks anyway x."

I put the kiss out of habit, but I knew I wouldn't be disappointed if this escalated. Playful fun, I thought.

"Thanks for your understanding but please call me Alistair x," he replied.

"Okay Alistair, we're all happy to help you & you've been a good landlord, we'll all be sad to leave at the end of the year x."

I wasn't really sure where the conversation was heading and I wasn't sure how to proceed with a married man who was old enough to be my father and all while I still had a boyfriend. We continued to text each other back and forth through the evening but I couldn't quite tell if it was flirtatious or not as we spoke, mainly about my plans for after university.

Ray, our builder started work on our house a week or so later and under strict instructions from his employer, he tried as best as he could to not disturb us, or perve on any of us either. I didn't want him to feel unwelcome though and offered to make him a cup of tea on his first afternoon of work that coincided with me being in the house, to which he readily accepted.

I was also glad to have the opportunity to text Mr. Whitehead again, just to update him on his builder's progress on the house, of course.

As our text conversation continued throughout that week, I thought about how to push the boundaries with my older man, who was rapidly becoming the only thing occupying my mind.

"Sorry for all of the disruption, again this week," he messaged me.

"I'm sure you could make it up to me, somehow, Mr Whitehead x," I replied. I suddenly panicked as there was no response, I'd taken it too far I thought. The minutes passed by with no response and I felt stupid.

Relief, though, as my phone pinged and I saw he'd replied. Although with some trepidation, I opened it.

"I'd love to do that Charlotte but firstly I thought you were going to call me Alistair?"

"Yes, Alistair, of course...and secondly?"

"What would you like?"

"I'll leave you to make that decision."

"Don't be too surprised if there's a surprise on the way then."

With that, there were no more messages but I had to hand it to Mr Whitehead, he had me on the edge. I was excited.

Exactly three days later, a bunch of beautiful flowers arrived at our house addressed to me, sent via courier service.

I was in the middle of writing a gushing thank you message to Mr. Whitehead when I suddenly stopped to consider that it might have been my boyfriend, Sam, working hard in our home town, who had sent it to me. I realised that I had only been thinking of the married, older man and had neglected my boyfriend. I decided to not send any messages of thanks, just in case it got me into trouble.

As I waited, thinking about who had sent me the flowers, I realised just how much I wanted it to be Mr. Whitehead as I let my imagination run wild at the thought of an illicit affair with a married and much older man.

Every time that I received a message, I hoped it would be from Mr. Whitehead but as the days passed, I didn't know what to do.

In fact, it was three days after receiving the purse that I got another message about it.

"Did you like your surprise then?" It was Mr. Whitehead.

I felt a shiver of excitement knowing it was him and what could come from this.

Obviously, I thanked him and we messaged each other back and forth, heavily flirting before he asked me to have dinner with him that night at an upmarket restaurant in the city centre. He even promised to have a taxi come to my house to pick me up.

Looking through my wardrobe, I was torn about what to wear, never having been to such a restaurant before and certainly not with a man older than my own father. I settled on something that would hopefully hit the right notes at the restaurant and hopefully later on in the night as well. I wore a peach satin bodycon dress, the shimmering fabric clung to my tight body, it was long, going past my knees and underwired so that I didn't have to wear a bra. Where it left my back totally exposed I brought a jacket to wear over the top. I slipped on the tiniest thong over my freshly shaved pussy before putting the dress and jacket on over the top and then strapping up my white heeled shoes. I'd spent a lot of time on my make up and let my long hair fall down naturally. I hoped that Mr. Whitehead would approve.

The taxi arrived to collect me right on time, I made an alibi for where I was really going to my housemates and as I sat in the taxi, I suddenly felt nervous, not sure how this evening would pan out, a definite step into the unknown.

My nerves dissipated on arrival at the restaurant as Mr. Whitehead was there to greet me at the entrance, the perfect gentleman.

"You look fabulous Charlotte," he greeted me, in a suit and tie, looking every inch the refined man I had been fantasising about for the past few weeks. He lightly kissed my cheek and took me by the hand to our table.

I relaxed even more into the evening thanks to his wonderful company, attention that he paid to me and the stories he told. The wine helped as well as the delicious food.

"If you weren't so attractive, people might think I'm with my daughter," he said to me.

"I can call you Daddy if you want," I replied, perhaps too quickly, I'd blushed at his comment and having given my reply I was worried I'd taken things too far, however, despite him not responding, he did smile, coyly and didn't actually tell me not to.

As the evening progressed, I couldn't help but be enchanted by his company. He made me feel as though I was the centre of the universe and whilst I didn't want the evening to end, I was still unsure of what would happen next, would he be too much of a gentleman to fuck me tonight, or indeed, ever, I wondered, to myself?

Having finished our coffee, Mr. Whitehead helped me, as a gentleman would, to put my jacket back on.

I took the opportunity to hold his hand as we headed towards the exit of the restaurant.

"We can get the same taxi and I can ask the driver to drop you at yours," he said.

My heart sank.

"Or, alternatively," hopefully sensing my dejection at his first suggestion, he continued, "when I stay in the city, I have a flat that I stay in. If you'd care to join me for a drink there then you would be most welcome Charlotte."

"That would be lovely," now outside, I kissed him on the lips, before adding mischievously, "Mr. Whitehead."

"It's walkable from here if you're okay for a little stroll?"

"I'm fine to walk," I replied as I took his hand in mine and let him lead me to his flat on this spring night.

I was impressed with his immaculate accommodation, right in the heart of the city, with views across over the skyline.

"One gin and tonic for the lady," he said, handing me a glass as he moved to sit next to me on his expensive sofa. I could feel the sexual tension that had been building between the two of us all evening rise again.

"Thank you so much," I said, "and for everything else as well. I've had an incredible time with you tonight. I don't want it to end."

With that, Mr. Whitehead took control of the situation, he placed our drinks on the table, looked deeply into my eyes and lightly held my face before pressing his lips against mine. I'd been thinking of this moment for a few weeks now and I was more than happy to kiss him back. I opened my mouth to allow his tongue to touch mine, lightly at first, becoming more intense as we became locked in a passionate embrace on his sofa.

We remained on the sofa, kissing, enjoying the feeling of the moment. He rubbed my body with his hands and fingers on the satin material of my dress but nothing was being rushed.

"Do you want to come with me?" It was Mr. Whitehead, breaking off the kiss, he stood and held his hand out for me. I readily accepted as he led me to the luxurious surroundings of his bedroom.

Standing this time, we continued to kiss, as well as on my lips he planted light kisses on my neck, then undid the zip of my dress. It fell to the floor and since I wasn't wearing a bra, my perky pierced nipples were exposed to the air, rock hard as Mr. Whitehead's lips sucked them. I was in just my tiny thong and he lost his clothes down to just his boxer shorts. I could feel his hands roving over my body and I pressed against him, skin-on-skin. For an older man, he had maintained a good figure. I ran my hands all over him.

I was really enjoying kissing him and the feeling of our almost naked bodies brushing against each other. I could feel his prick stiffening under the material of his boxer shorts and I rubbed the outline of this. He responded by running his fingers around the material of my tiny thong. As my hand felt inside his underwear so too, I felt his hand inside my thong. He would have felt how wet I already was, our passionate kissing and fondling dampening my crotch. I let out a moan of pleasure as I felt his finger lightly enter my pussy. I gripped his cock harder as his finger started to work my tight, wet pussy.

I had to stop stroking his cock as I was overwhelmed by the thumb now circling over my clit while his other finger was lodged firmly inside of me. He knew exactly what the right amount of pressure was. He must have paid such close attention to my breathing and moaning as he continued to work his fingers in unison on me.

"Oh that's good," I moaned, "that's so good."

I was in a trance as I felt suspended on the verge of an orgasm for an unbelievable amount of time. Just as I thought I was going to explode into an orgasm, Mr. Whitehead slightly varied the speed of his fingering to keep me just there, just on the edge, just about to explosively cum courtesy of his expert fingers but not quite following through.

"Make me cum," I pleaded with him, but again, with me on the verge of doing just that, he retreated and kept me on the edge again.

Not being sure of how much more of this teasing I could take, I leaned in to Mr. Whitehead, pushing him back on to the bed, wrapping my nearly naked body over his, now taking my turn to kiss him all over his body, rubbing myself against him, making my way down, slowly, to his boxer shorts, sliding them off to free his impressively long and thick dick, playing with it in my hands, teasing him as he had to me.

"Oh, this is nice," I said, holding his dick to my face, my slender fingers holding it to my cheek, blowing on it, rubbing it over my cheeks and lips, breathing on it but not taking it in my mouth, yet.

"You're so beautiful Charlotte," he said to me, gazing into my eyes. These words, coming from him, sent another tingle through my body.

I responded by taking his tip in my mouth, my colourfully polished nails, I hoped, added to the excitement as I gripped the base of his dick. I maintained eye contact as I slid my mouth further down, slowly, holding it there, trying to maintain as much contact with my lips as I could. I gagged slightly as I took too much in, bringing my head back up, again as slowly as possible, savouring the moment. I continued with this, slowly bringing my head down and then back up, keeping as much eye contact as I could. I gradually picked up the pace, my saliva having created the perfect conditions for a wet and sloppy blowjob.

Mr. Whitehead groaned in pleasure throughout and whilst I could taste his pre cum I didn't feel he was close to cumming in my mouth.

"That's so nice Charlotte, you don't know just how much time I've spent imagining that," he spoke softly, sitting up and kissing me on the lips again, our hands exploring each other's bodies, caressing me, he moved down my body, taking care to wait for the reaction of his body and lips on mine.

Mr. Whitehead positioned himself so that his head was between my legs. I was still wearing my thong and he kissed me through this. He must have felt my wetness for him as he removed it.

"Your scent is amazing Charlotte," he said to me, again taking the time to make eye contact with me, "I want you to enjoy this and I want you to know that I'll enjoy it too."

His reassurances alone were making me horny.

Tenderly and slowly he licked me with a firm tongue from bottom to top, resting his tongue below my clitoris.

"You taste so nice Charlotte," he said to me, continuing his slow and patient licks up and down.

"Oh yes!" I cried out as the soft tip of his tongue pressed against my clit for the first time. I shuddered with pleasure as I felt the first wave wash over me courtesy of his well placed tongue.

Licking me again, he traced the edges of my inner lips with his finger, lightly tapping me as he continued to stimulate me. His finger continued to wander as he applied his steady tongue strokes. Having teased me, he then moved his index finger further inside of me as his thumb gently tickled me outside. I felt his free hand under my arse, squeezing my cheeks together as he varied his tongue strokes.

"Oh my god!" I screamed in pleasure, it felt incredible, the sensitivity of the touch of his fingers, hands and tongue working on me. Fingers pushing against me, stimulating me, still licking me. I was throbbing.

"This is so, so good," I moaned at him, he knew exactly what he was doing. The rhythm of his tongue, the expert positioning of his fingers and his hand under my arse cheeks meant that I knew I was on my way to an orgasm unlike one I had ever experienced before.

I'd never felt such a long, slow and sensual build up with any of the other men I'd been with. I'd lost control as I involuntarily pushed myself against him.

"Yes, yes, yes," was all I could hear myself saying, as he seemed to intuitively know what to do, the pace to set, the pressure to apply, the rhythmic sweeps of his tongue, it was Mr. Whitehead who remained level-headed. I was shaking, beyond the ability to control myself as he held me in place. His tongue strokes felt shorter and lighter serving to prolong these absurd sensations of ecstasy in more body.

With my body shaking uncontrollably, I screamed as I entered a euphoric state of sexual gratification.

Mr. Whitehead stayed absolute focused on what he was doing. I felt as though I was the centre of his universe, the perfect balance of pressure inside me as I had the most protracted and intense orgasm of which I had only imagined to be possible. My legs quivered, I screamed in pleasure. I don't know how much time passed as I recovered, Mr. Whitehead just held my naked body in his strong arms, I felt so wanted, so secure and satisfied.