Pretty Baby Ch. 03

"Oh, God!" he sputtered in my ear. "Don't do that!"

I turned around and settled my arms on his shoulders, staring into his eyes. He looked absolutely awestruck as he stared back. "Don't tell me you're gonna cum in your pants, Thomas," I whispered, the music almost drowning out my words. No one else around us could hear what we were saying.

"If you kept doing that for five more seconds, I would have," he said seriously.

"Well, I wouldn't want that," I said. "I've got much better places in mind for that stuff."

He trembled. "L-like where?"

I didn't say anything. I just licked my lips in an exaggerated way and smiled naughtily.

"O-oh, Jesus," he moaned as he understood.

I grinned and kissed him again, deeply, sultrily. Thomas quivered with excitement and ran his hands up and down my back and thighs.

We walked from the dance floor, found the little table where we had left my purse and drinks. Thomas had assured me that the Carousel Club wasn't the kind of place to worry about having anything stolen.

"I need to use the ladies' room, Thomas," I said.

"Sure," he said, his face flushed. "It's uh, to the right of the bar."

I smiled, gave him a little kiss.

"Yvette?"

"Yes?"

"When you come back . . . can we go?"

I smiled. Oh, so you're ready for me now, are you Thomas? No more showing me off? "Of course, baby." Then I turned and headed for the bathroom.

The ladies' room was tastefully equipped, with oyster shell sinks, marble counters, and a backlit mirror. The stalls were painted maroon and the air was fragrant with the aroma of lavender from the flower-filled vases. There were a few other women in the restroom, all of them society wives at least a good ten years older than I. They gave me acidic looks, but I ignored them. Cleo had also prepared me for such reactions from women.

I relieved myself, wiped, stepped out of the stall to wash my hands and touch up my face. There was only one other woman in the ladies' room as I emerged, late forties or early fifties, her body having given way to age. Still, there remained the shadow of a pretty young woman in her face.

She gave me a disgusted look after she applied her lipstick. "Well, well. The whores get younger every year," she said viciously.

I bristled slightly at her comment, but said nothing as I powdered my nose. I liked the smell of my new makeup; it reminded me of cinnamon.

The woman continued: "I doubt you're even twenty," she said, shaking her head. "Are you even old enough to vote?"

I didn't look at her. I touched up my lipstick, rubbed my lips together, trying to ignore the woman.

She kept goading. "So tell me: how much is a fuck worth these days?"

I dropped my lipstick back in my purse, turned to the woman and gave her a direct, confident look. "I hope, when I'm you're age, I'm not as shallow and self-pitying as you." Then I stepped past her, leaving the woman flustered and sneering.

I headed back out around the revolving dance floor, found Thomas waiting and anxious. I smiled upon him warmly and held out my hand. "Shall we go?"

I took a deep breath, his cheeks rosy. "Please," he said.

***

I went with Thomas in his car, knowing that the black Lincoln was somewhere amidst the traffic behind us. Even if it wasn't, I knew my driver had been given all the addresses of wherever Thomas might take me, including that of his house . . . which was where he now headed.

"Hey, uh, thanks for playing along tonight," Thomas said as he drove, glancing to me. "I hope I didn't put you on the spot."

"Not at all," I said. "I'm glad I was able to keep up."

He chuckled. "You made my night, Yvette," he said sincerely. "Hell, you made my year!"

I smiled and laughed softly. "You're a sweet man," I said.

"And you're unbelievably beautiful," he said with such heartfelt earnesty that I blushed. "I mean, every man in that place was just . . . staring at you! I really feel like I'm with an angel, I want you to know that."

I smiled with embarrassment and sidled closer in his Chrysler. Thomas stiffened slightly as I touched his arm, his leg. He sighed as I nuzzled his neck and kissed his ear. He wore a nice cologne, something common among older men.

"U-um, Yvette," he stammered, his voice strained.

"Hmm?" I sucked gently at his neck, tasting the saltiness there.

"I-it's been a long time for me," he said.

I pulled my face back, lightly scratched his temple. "It's not going to be much longer," I whispered.

He trembled visibly. "Oh, man . . . the most gorgeous woman in the world and . . . ." he trailed off, swallowing nervously.

"And what, Thomas?" I asked softly, brushing my lips against his cheek.

"I-I don't wanna be rude," he said.

I smiled, cupped his chin as the car idled at a light. I turned his face to look at me. "The most gorgeous woman in the world," I said. "Wants to make love to you, Thomas."

He let out a long, staccato breath, his eyes round and grateful. "Oh, Jesus . . . ."

***

Thomas was nervous to take the lead once we arrived at his house, which was a surprisingly modest three-bedroom home. The place was a little cluttered, such as what I would expect from a bachelor. There were pictures on the walls and fireplace mantle of Thomas with a dark-haired woman, chronicling their life together. Others showed children, three in all, as they grew up.

The pictures, judging by hairstyles and fashion, went back more than a quarter-century. The woman, his wife, had been very pretty, and had aged well . . . until the last few pictures, which showed her wearing various scarves and hats to conceal her baldness. While she was smiling in most of these later pictures, there was pain evident on her wrinkled face.

"Janice," said Thomas from behind me as I peered at the pictures on the mantle. "We were married for thirty-two years."

I turned around to face him. I could tell how much he missed her. I felt my eyes moistening.

He brought me a glass of white wine, held another for himself. "She was an amazing woman," he continued, gazing upon the pictures. "My partner in everything. We started a little floral business, turned it into a chain of seventeen stores across the state. She really loved flowers. Lilacs were her favorite."

I gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Thomas."

He smiled. "She passed away four years ago," he said. "Cancer. Fought it for a long time, went into remission twice. She was a very strong woman . . . but not strong enough."

I didn't know what to say. I felt almost guilty for being there, in that house, in which more than thirty years of love and pain had been shared. I remembered what Cleo said:

You will find that you will be as much a therapist at times as a lover.

Thomas turned away, swirling his glass of wine. "I couldn't even think of being with another woman after Janice passed," he said. "After a couple years, my friends started urging me to date again. I was too young, they said, to be alone. But I couldn't."

He turned back. "I never thought I would call on an escort service," he said. "But . . . even old men get horny." He added with a self-deprecating laugh.

I set my wine down upon the newspaper-covered coffee table and approached Thomas. He was timid, afraid, nervous. But I knew what he wanted, what he needed. I didn't say anything as I kissed him softly, gently, giving him time to relax and not get overexcited. He made little whimpering sounds and hesitantly touched me. He seemed reluctant to be intimate while his wife's pictures watched him.

"Let's go to bed, Thomas," I said softly.

"O-okay," he answered. He gripped my hand firmly, gave me a pleading look. "I, uh, apologize in advance if I'm, uh, you know . . . t-too quick."

I smiled. "You won't be," I said.

***

Thomas took me to the guest room of his house, where I noticed the absence of any familial pictures. The bed was a standard queen-sized affair with dark blankets and white linen sheets. Thomas turned on the lights, adjusted the dimmer switch to make the mood more romantic.

I undressed him slowly, wanting to go slow so as not to intimidate Thomas or make him cum too soon. I spent a lot of time kissing him on his lips, chest, and abdomen while his clothes slowly made their way to the floor. He was finally naked before me, his soft penis hanging beneath a slightly protruding belly. He was fairly hairy, but not grotesquely so. His skin was pretty pale; he had not had a tan in decades, I figured.

I gently pushed him down on the bed and slowly, seductively, stripped out of my dress. Thomas watched with awestruck eyes as my body was revealed. He stared at my puffy-nippled breasts and slick pussy with abject desire. His cock began to harden, lengthening and rising up between his legs.

"Just relax, Thomas," I whispered as I got on my knees, stroking and kissing her inner thighs. "You have me for all night. There's no need to rush anything."

He swallowed nervously, his body trembling like a baby. He closed his eyes a moment, then nodded. "O-okay."

Softly, passionately, I kissed up along his thighs toward his musky crotch. He had thick, soft pubic hair that all but hid his testicles. His penis, growing more and more the closer my mouth came, was surprisingly, and pleasantly, impressive. By the time he had a full erection, it hovered like a serpentine stone carving, with a broad, bulbous pink head.

I smiled and slipped out my tongue, aware of how wet I was getting. Maybe I was turned on because I was being paid a thousand dollars to make love to Thomas. Or maybe it was because Thomas was so in awe of me. I didn't bother thinking about the reasons. I was aroused, and that was enough.

Thomas moaned loudly as I sucked tenderly on his hairy balls, swirling my tongue around the soft sacs. He parted his legs more and fell back on the bed. His cock twitched and slowly dribbled a little pre-cum. I licked up the shaft to capture it, savoring the taste of him.

"Oh, God, Yvette," he groaned. "I haven't had an orgasm in so long!"

I sucked tenderly on the underside of his shaft. "Then let's make up for lost time," I whispered.

"Ohhh . . . ."

I dragged my tongue up the length of him, then slipped my warm mouth down over the head. Thomas tensed, gasped and caught his breath. His cock spasmed like a live wire in my mouth as I pushed down, slowly and smoothly taking him into my throat. My lips wrapped tenderly around the root of his cock.

"Oh, Yvette! Oh, Jesus!" he choked.

I circled the base of his straining penis with my fingers, rubbing my thumb along the raised tube just beneath the surface, up through which I knew his semen would flow . . . and soon, too soon. I sucked up and down Thomas' cock with a gentle, gliding motion of my lips, enjoying the feel of that wide spongy head easing in and out of my throat.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Ah-h-h-h-h!" cried Thomas, grabbing handfuls of bedsheet. His cock tensed in my mouth as his orgasm began. But I pinched the base of it, holding back his explosion. I sucked softly on the head of his dick, tasting a little bittersweet semen as it dribbled out. I licked it away, savoring his fluid.

"Oh, Jesus!" he gasped, lifting his head to stare down at me. His face was slack, eyes glazed. I stared back, mouthing his quivering cock.

His orgasm subsided, and Thomas let his head fall back on the bed. I resumed sucking him, his cock staying hard. His balls were heavy in my hand as I cupped and rolled them with my fingers. Thomas moaned and even laughed with euphoria at times, thoroughly enjoying the sensations I gave him.

Again and again, Thomas reached the precipice of orgasm, but I squeezed the base of his shaft each time, stemming the eruption. In this way, I made what would have been a two-minute blow job last for a quarter of an hour.

Finally, I could tell that Thomas couldn't take anymore. It looked like his testicles had swollen considerably, like balloons attached to the kitchen faucet. But that was just my imagination. Still, he was ready to burst, and I wanted to give him the most intense orgasm he'd ever had.

Bracing my hands on his thighs, I sucked up and down his twitching staff, determined at last to drink from him. Thomas gasped and moaned, settling his hands on the back of my head, his fingers lightly tickling my neck.

He moaned aloud as he finally spurted, releasing volcanic geysers of thick, heavy sperm into my mouth. He shook and flailed his arms, bucking on the bed, and I had to practically hold him down as I sucked the orgasm out of him. Never had I felt cum so thick on my tongue. And the fact that I had been building him up over and over meant that the pudding-like load that was catapulted between my lips was immense. I almost couldn't handle it all.

Thomas finally sagged on the bed, panting and gasping for air as I nursed his cock. I literally had a mouthful of cum, and I bathed his slowly-softening penis in it, caressing his thighs and tightened, quivering balls. Finally, feeling proud of myself, I pulled my mouth off him and swallowed my reward. His cream oozed slowly down my throat, like syrup from a maple tree.

I crawled up over him, kissing his rounded belly, his hairy chest, his neck, and finally, his lips. Suddenly, I really didn't mind the moustache. Thomas barely responded, drained for the moment. I lay against him, my arm and leg draped over his body, my head on his chest. I pressed my steamy pussy against the outside of his thigh, letting him know I would be ready for him.

"Oh . . . oh, oh my," he moaned, lifting his arms to caress me. "Th-that was incredible."

I pushed up, and smiled upon his aged face. For man close to sixty, he was rather handsome. I kissed his cheek tenderly. "I'm glad I could do that for you," I said honestly.

He smiled and relaxed in his afterglow, caressing my back. We lay quietly for a while until Thomas began kissing me, with affection and arousal. His strength was returning. "Do we really have all night?" he asked.

I grinned, and nuzzled his chin with my nose. "You ready for more?"

He chuckled. "I don't know how, but yes," he said. "God bless Cialis."

I giggled.

***

Thomas wasn't much for foreplay. Men his age, I figured, probably weren't. He gave my wet and ready pussy just a little kiss as I bent over the bed, wantonly offering myself to him. He rolled down a condom -- with some difficulty; it had been thirty years, he said, since he had used one, and they had changed quite a bit in that time -- and positioned his once-again stiff erection at the entrance to my pussy.

I moaned as he pushed inside me, feeling my slick walls stretch snugly around him. Thomas groaned at the heat of my pussy, commented on how tight I was. I urged him to 'make love to me' any way he wanted. Thomas smoothed his hands over my firm cheeks and up and down my back as he pumped away, steadily increasing the pace. I squeezed my PC muscle around him, something I had read about in one of the sex books Cleo bought for me, and Thomas responded with gasps and moans.

He kept telling me, over and over, how beautiful I was, how sexy I was, how much I made him feel half his age. I just grinned, relishing the fuck, the sliding motions of his cock inside me. It dawned on me that Thomas was about the same age as my grandfather. Why that turned me on, I don't know.

He stopped after a handful of minutes, shaking against me, holding back his orgasm. He wanted it to last before he shot off again. He gingerly pulled out of my pussy, and I curled around, slipping to my knees on the floor. Thomas' mouth gaped as I sucked my own tangy fluid off his condom-covered cock. I hadn't cum, but I liked the flavor of my pussy anyway.

We scooted up on the bed, and I caressed Thomas' chest as he mounted me once more. He kissed me now and then, pumping his cock in and out of my slippery tunnel. I wanted to cum, and urged him to slow down as I rubbed my clit in a quick, back-and-forth motion. Thomas watched as I masturbated, his cock throbbing in my pussy. The sight obviously turned him on.

I moaned and wailed softly as I came, squeezing his dick with my vaginal muscles. My orgasm encouraged his own, and Thomas fucked with short, fast thrusts for less than a minute, stimulating my gushing cunt, before he shook and cried out over me. I felt his cock pulsing inside me, new he was cumming.

He collapsed atop me, and I held him close, wrapping my arms and legs around him. He panted heavily in my ear, murmuring his repeated thanks. I just smiled and kissed his neck, his cheek.

He finally rolled off me, and I scooted down, gingerly peeling off the condom. Semen was streaked along his tumescent shaft, and I cleaned him with my tongue. The flavor of the spermicide I was none to fond off, but I did like the rich taste of his cum.

We lay together for a while, cuddling, as Thomas told me stories of his wife. I listened as he told me how they had met, during college, when he almost knocked her down one day while he was running to make it to class on time. Then as he told me of their first date -- White Castle burgers and a drive-in movie (he shyly admitted that they had groped each other through their clothes that first night) -- and how Janice had almost choked on a French fry. Then of their wedding day, how beautiful Janice looked, and how the three-year-old ring bearer, the son of a friend, had almost run out the door with the rings.

"I hope I have as happy a life as you've had," I told him at last, looking upon his face.

Thomas sniffed, wiped a few tears from his eyes. I realized I had some of my own. "Cherish everyone you meet, Yvette," he told me. "You never know who will affect your life."

I sniffled and nodded. "I will," I promised, then softly kissed his neck and chest, tickling his tiny nipples with my tongue.

Thomas hissed as his arousal was triggered once more, then chuckled with pleasant surprise. "I don't believe this," he said.

"What?" I asked, looking up and frowning.

He grinned. "I'm ready again."

I glanced down, saw that, indeed, his penis was growing stiff once more. I giggled and sat up, looking for my purse and the condoms within. "Well, let's not waste it," I said, and slipped my leg over him.

***

Finally and fully spent, Thomas fell asleep in the bed, holding me. I nodded off for a while, finally waking around three in the morning. I dressed quietly, then gave Thomas a tender kiss on his forehead. He didn't stir, but he murmured in his sleep and smiled in satisfaction.

"You're welcome, Thomas," I whispered, then took out the tiny cell phone from my purse.

The black Lincoln met me out before the house a few minutes later. My driver opened the door for me and I slid inside. I was tired but proud. I felt good for having brought some happiness to an old man's life.

"Where to, Yvette?" the driver asked.

I sighed, and lit a cigarette. I couldn't stop smiling. "What's your name?" I asked.

"James," he said.

Of course. "Home, James," I said.

***

As the Lincoln pulled up before my apartment, I slipped on my long coat. I was conscious of the aroma of sex about me. I needed a good shower. I felt almost embarrassed about the smell -- however mitigated by my perfume -- when James opened the door and let me out.

"I'll be your regular driver, Miss Yvette," he said. "Just so you know."

I smiled, and touched his cheek. He stiffened slightly. I guess I wasn't supposed to do that, but at the moment, I was too tired to care.

"Eh . . . at any rate," he said, and reached inside his blazer. He brought out a scarlet-colored business envelope and handed it to me. "Get some sleep, Yvette."

I smiled dreamily. "Thanks. You too."

James smiled. "See you next time," he said, then headed around the car to the driver's side. I walked lazily to the stairwell of my apartment, singing a little song in my head. I was riding a high from which I never wanted to come back down.