Fish in a Barrel

I had no idea what I was doing. Neither of us were supposed to be doing this. Maybe that was part of the fun, and it was fun. A lovely young thing was naked below me, her clenching pussy drawing against my hard cock as it slid in and out of her wetness, unending orgasms sweeping over her in succession.

I had met Isabelle through a group I was involved in. It wasn't as much a social group as just something I did. She was the hot, young target of all the guys' intent, not even half my age and fantastically sexy in the most shy and coy way possible.

I had never had any intent in this. The whole thing sort of just happened. She was a latecomer and I had generally ignored her, merely being polite and casual. I did not think that each small action was like a stepping stone towards the forbidden.

In retrospect, casual was probably what started it all. Without meaning to garner any attraction, my stand-off attitude contrasted wildly with all the attention she was getting. The group had slim pickings of women who would be considered attractive. It was known among the men that what was available had mostly been picked over at length.

Then she appeared one day. The injection of a fresh 20-year-old face drove the boys to frenzy, the here-let-me offers and join-me-for propositions. They were all meant to be subtle but telegraphed desire better than an 18-foot-high neon sign. I stood back and chuckled mostly, enjoying the attempts more than her polite refusals.

Unwittingly, I made her work for it. Probably also unwittingly, she took the challenge. Given three explicit options of where to go after a meeting, she always chose the unstated fourth option, following me. I was not looking for company but she always managed to find a way to tag along with me. I always gave her the option to look elsewhere and even recommended it most of the time.

"Where are you going after this," she would ask me.

"I don't know, probably just home."

"I'm really hungry, why don't we get a bite to eat."

My reply was always roughly the same.

"I think Travis and Jack are going out somewhere, you should go with them."

I knew I was crossing the line over politeness. First it was resigned acceptance of the visitor, then a small change in plans.

Then it moved to careful attention to her, knowing it would flatter her. A few innocent touches and some tiny tidbits of shared secrets later, she was rapt. She hung on my every word.

At that point, keeping it from the group was easy. They all probably knew, at least if they were the slightest bit observant. Her body language and the glint in her eye were unmistakable. But they probably gave too much benefit to the doubt.

No one saw the little details, the heavier flirting over text messages and what eventually became only slightly veiled suggestions. They were my suggestions and she never copped to anything. She never protested either, not with me.

Eventually, I started pushing her buttons a little. It was just a game for me.

Mid-life crisis is real but it manifests differently. I had no desire to show off to the world with an expensive car or giant house. This was my path. She was hot and way younger than me. I wanted to see if I could kindle a little fire. I wanted to see if I still had it.

Everything I did was very appropriate for the situation, nothing that could not be explained away if confronted. A light touch here or there, but mostly mind games.

I played the perfect gentleman, not the one in the movies but the bad boy. Charming yet pointed, the game involved mostly making her prove herself. I did not make much effort myself.

It felt easy to me, little things that I knew would stir some attraction, for me, in her. At my age I'd had plenty of experience with women and not just what I had done myself.

Throughout my life, there had been countless stories, comments, suggestions, and the like, from female friends. I had listened and paid attention.

She was finding herself. Armed with my experience, I already knew a lot of what she was going to find.

I would give her the answer I knew she wanted, or pay her a compliment on something I knew she was insecure about. She never let on or reacted. Outwardly, it seemed to mean nothing to her. She played the game well too.

But I knew well that it meant something to her. I could tell that my words and actions were getting through to her. She fought hard and it was obvious she had some internal conflict. It was clear to me that she found herself falling for my game.

I had no goal to bed her. Truly, I was still not trying to make anything happen beyond affirming my desirability, to myself.

That all fell apart during the summer trip.

Maybe it was inevitable. Looking back, there is no doubt that I was lying to myself, either about how long I could remain detached from my game, or the breadth of my intentions from the outset.

It was a simple day trip, a picnic and a float down a river. I knew it would be difficult or impossible to hide the legacy we had already built. It was a spinning whirlwind of hormonal hot mess in which we both flew past each other at breathtaking speed. This was the day we collided.

This was my little game in which she was a somewhat unwitting participant. Now it was going to be broadcast to everyone who had not already figured it out.

She wore a bikini under tiny little cutoff shorts and a t-shirt. All the other girls wore the same shorts and t-shirts, but few if anyone took them off, even in the water. Even most of the guys were too insecure to take their shirts off, except the ones who wanted to show off. Those guys were showing off for Isabelle.

I thought little of it. There was nothing for me to be shy about. I had a long-term girlfriend and I was old enough not to care.

Outwardly, I did not consider myself a sex symbol. I was a man slightly past middle age who had his fair share of action, but rarely turned heads. I was just doing it the way I thought it should be done.

When my shirt came off, so did her cover-ups. Her mimicking me drove the guys wild, but it was natural and easy for me. She clung to me, less than a foot away and nearly bare, while all the others tried to get closer to her.

Our conversation was casual. I helped her stay in her tube a few times, which prompted some touching and grabbing, my hands on her bare skin. There was no need to grope or push it further than what just happened in the normal course of events.

Once my hand could only reach her thigh and we went down a bumbling little rapid. My grip was mere inches from the end of her bikini bottom. Then she went under in a deeper section of the river and I picked her out of the water from behind. My hands were large on her small frame and my fingers swept up against the side of her small breasts.

We were the subject of conversation, first some hushed comments, then more overt cutting in. An hour in, several of the guys had tried to assert themselves, even saying something underhanded about me.

I ignored this too and kept my involvement light. I would let them float away with her alone for a bit. In my head I was getting all that I wanted. There was no need to be possessive.

She always found her way back to me.

When the trip drew to an end, she got the full litany of offers. Even a few of the women tried to captivate her attention and post-event plans. The rest of them scurried off in what seemed like disgraced defeat. Not one male stone was left unturned, each trying at least once to lock her down. Instead, she ended up in my car, getting a ride home.

I do not know what possessed me.

"You want to come to my place for a drink?"

She paused for several long minutes before finally answering.

"I shouldn't. I have a boyfriend," she said.

"Sure," I replied. "Face value."

I matched her pace, taking a minute before speaking again.

"I'm taken too. Probably not a great idea."

Her second pause was even longer this time. I waited. I knew what was coming.

I waited some more. The wheels were still turning in her head. She was considering the offer on the table.

"Yeah. I want that."

It was a little while later then, at my house. We were barely through that beer, although it was far from the first of the day.

I was showing her something, standing behind her, pressed against her. One hand pointed and the other was on her hip. Her shorts were thin and my finger traced the outline of her bikini bottom through them.

She turned and kissed me. It was outwardly unprompted. I had convinced myself ahead of time that it was unexpected. Beyond that, she was playing into a long con, hook, line and sinker.

We made out for a minute, then I stopped her.

"I'm just going to use you," I told her.

Isabelle stared into my eyes for a moment. I think she was looking for something to think. Failing that, she would look for something to say. It all fell through for her when she came up with neither.

She just went back to kissing me, with more passion. There was tongue and wandering hands.

After a minute, she stopped. She still said nothing, but just opened her eyes again and looked at me. I could see the twinkle in them, her bright blue eyes.

She had a look on her face. It neither hurt nor sadness. It looked like she was asking me something now, with those eyes. She stood motionless and speechless. I waited a good long time, looking back into her eyes. I decided to answer what she had not asked.

"You're beautiful. I'm going to take you and use your beauty for my pleasure."

This time I really did expect her to stop. I had spent so long without a real vocalized proposition before finally making one. Either it was going to be her realization or she had been waiting for it the whole time.

As it turns out, it was the latter. She kissed me again, this time almost frenzied. She showed desire, like the first drink of water after a long unshaded run on a hot day.

"I want that," she said, stopping briefly then resuming where she left off.

With that I moved her to the couch without breaking the kiss. My hands found the waistband of her shorts and slid them down. My thumbs hooked her bottom underneath so that slid to the floor as well.

Still in a lip lock, my hands proceeded up her shirt, pushing the top underneath out of the way, up under her arms. I didn't bother to take her shirt or top off, just groping her breasts, then feeling her nipples.

"I don't have much experience," she said on the next pause, still standing in front of me with nothing on from the top down.

"Not much or none?"

"Oh, a little...," she said quietly, trailing off.

"Just do what I tell you."

That seemed to satisfy her for the moment and she went back to kissing me a few seconds later.

I let this continue for a while, first rolling her small nipples between my fingers as I mashed her tits. They were not large but they were firm and tight. They felt delightful in my hands.

I wanted nothing more than to do this all day, kiss her and touch her delicious young body. She had no hair between her legs and my finger slid easily between her lips. There was no friction, no resistance. Her pussy was oozing wetness, copiously. She moaned when I touched her there.

I was not sure if she was a one-and-done kind of girl. I did figure however, that I had already gotten more than enough excitement from this whole ordeal. If she shut down, that would be that and I would be happy with no regrets.

My finger did not have to move very fast or for very long on her clit. Her moaning got more intense and she was trying to suck more air in through my mouth. Isabelle's whole body quivered, then more as her first orgasm hit her. My hand on her chest moved to grip her ass as she came, holding her up so she would not fall.

I waited until she calmed a bit and her breathing became more regular.

"On your knees," I said.

It was a simple command. I was not rough, just in a straightforward tone. It was as if she should be expecting orders.

She moved carefully, positioning herself on her knees in front of me.

On the way down and without prompting, she pulled my suit down to my ankles. This caused my cock to pop out and it nearly hit her in the face.

Even if I thought for a moment that she was reluctant, that was no move for someone who was. Either she had more experience than she let on. She was somewhat shy so I ruled out her just being bold, although it is possible that she was just too wound up to care.

My dick looked giant in front of her small face. Her hands barely made it around as she stroked it. She sat low, looking up at me as she licked the whole shaft. Then she opened wide and swallowed the head, only making it down a little way.

After the first couple sucks, she stopped and looked up at me, stroking a little meanwhile.

"I don't really know what I'm doing."

I much prefer experienced and aggressive women who know what they are doing. I use the term, "slut," with endearment. Then again, this was the eventuality of my game and she had given me warning. It would not be fair to make her struggle.

Even so, what would be the point of that? I had already told her outright that I was going to take her physically. I was going to get off and she was going to make it happen. This was the time to tell her how to do it.

"Put my balls in your mouth and suck on them very gently. Run your tongue along them softly."

She complied, still looking up at me for approval. I let out a satisfied sigh, enjoying the feeling. She kept stroking the shaft very lightly.

"Now go back to sucking on it."

She did as I told her, one hand stroking while the other fondled my balls, replacing her mouth.

"Suck harder," I directed.

I could feel the difference. It felt fantastic. I wanted more though.

"Go down further. Just keep pushing down. It's okay if you gag a little. Keep moving your tongue along the bottom of it while you do."

She did gag a little, but only slightly. She was clever and picked up well on how to do everything I said, maybe just because she was motivated.

Her motivation was paying off. I gasped as I swam in the delightful warmth of the head of my prick pushing a tiny bit into her throat.

I made a mental note to find out if she was just a natural or not. It was a note for later, because I took her head and pulled her up.

I wasn't going to let this stop here. She had already professed her willingness for me to have whatever I wanted.

Laying her back on the couch, I got on top of her. I pushed her shirt up to her neck and licked her nipples as I ground my cock between her legs. One of her hands combed through my hair and the other slid across my back as she gasped.

I moved lower, down her stomach, not stopping until I was between her legs. She was quivering a little as I licked her cunt, delicately to start. My tongue slid up from her sweet hole, tracing the lips up to her clit. I avoided it for a moment.

"Come."

I flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue. She cried out quietly as she obeyed, and came. She was on cue, and her whole body and mind were at my mercy.

I eased off her clit as her orgasm raged, licking around a little and pushing the tip of my tongue into her hole. She spasmed powerfully and moaned softly.

I could feel precum leaking out of me as I thought of how good that was going to feel shortly. I wanted to play with her a little more first.

Going back to her clit, this time with more pressure, she started to moan. She was crying out a little now. Her hips gyrated against my face, urging me on. I knew I was going to make her come again, when and how I wanted.

"I'm... going to...," she said.

I backed off a little, teasing her pussy lips for a moment as she subsided just a millimeter from orgasm. She pushed her hips up, grinding her dripping slit into my face, trying to get herself there.

I shifted slightly, taking all the pressure off her clit. She responded by reaching up to her nipples, squeezing them roughly. She was doing everything short of fingering herself to try to get off again.

I waited just long enough for the reality of it to set into her head. I wanted her to know that I was in charge of everything, including her orgasms.

She whimpered slightly, still squirming. This was my validation and she knew it as well as I did. She had submitted. So I attacked her clit again.

She blew up. A much more powerful orgasm hit her, making her moan very loudly as she did. I could see her torso muscles contracting, her thighs squeezing tightly against my head as she came.

I let go of her to watch her thrash. Other than the quiet shrieks of pleasure it looked almost painful. Her ass lifted into the air several times as her body clenched.

I could see her pussy throbbing and pulsing even though her legs clamped together without me between them. She was staring at the ceiling the whole time and gasping for air between whatever guttural sounds escaped her lips.

There was some wonder in my mind over just how this stacked up in her experiences. I had not asked and I did not care, but maybe her, "limited experience," had brought her to this sort of gut-wrenching climax before. I briefly imagined her lying in bed on a lonely weekend, wrecking the sheets as she repeatedly fingered herself to these heights.

When she had relaxed to just breathing heavily again, I moved back up, my face in front of hers, kissing her lightly. I had her pussy juices all over my face and I was sure she was tasting them as we kissed.

"I thought you were going to use me for your pleasure," she said.

"I very much enjoyed that."

She smiled broadly and closed her eyes right before I kissed her softly again.

The head of my member was nestled between her pussy lips at this point. Precum was flowing out of it, mixing with her juices as I enjoyed the feeling of her bare pussy on it.

"Should we use a condom," she asked as her hand found my cock and stroked the shaft.

"We're not going to."

Aside from stroking, she was also rubbing my cock in her pussy, circling her hole. It slid around with ease and I didn't want to wait any longer.

I did not hesitate or take my time, just sliding deep into her with one stroke. She gasped. I figured this was because she was not anticipating this so soon.

I sawed in and out deeply and slowly, savoring the feeling. She was wet and tight, her intense natural lubrication being the only thing that prevented me from having to push hard with each stroke.

After a few minutes, I leaned up a little, still inside her, and laid back, pulling her on top of me. Once above me, she started to grind a little.

"Lean back," I commanded.

As she did, I took her hand and pushed it between her legs. She got the message immediately and started to finger her clit.

"Can I come?"

"Do. Right away, don't wait. I want to see you get yourself off as you ride me."

She was not really riding much as she came. She was more pressed down, my entire length stretching her out.

I could feel her pussy clenching tightly as she orgasmed. I knew it was inevitable and imminent that I would too.

"Reach back and fondle my balls as I cum," I told her.

She was looking at me, as if to ask something. I knew what it was, she wanted to know if I was going to cum in her. She probably had questions to ask.

I answered the question she was not going to ask, but differently.

As I groaned and started to throb in her, she moaned. Then the first, powerful spurt of my cum shot into her. She jumped just slightly, then tensed. I sighed deeply with relief, validation and gratitude.

Even unsure that this should be happening, she continued to massage my balls, coaxing my entire load into her pussy. She smiled coyly in silent regard for her job well done.

When I was spent, she scooted her butt back a little, my cock slipping out of her now-filled pussy. She looked down at it, we could both see my cum running out of her. It dripped onto my balls.