Stranger on the Shore

"Your final virginity's gone, Susan. How does it feel? An ass-virgin at 58. That's quite an accomplishment these days." Andrew worked her ass hard, plying his cock with great rapidity and finesse. Susan's months of rigorous physical exercise came into play. She had great muscle tone, and a solid physique. Not only could she take the abuse, she began to enjoy it. As he pushed in, she pushed back.

"Harder." Susan jammed her ass back against him. "Harder. Harder. Harder." The single word mantra on her lips contradicted the wails which sounded simultaneously in her mind. Her brain wanted him to stop. Her mouth proved itself a traitor with every 'harder' which extolled Andrew onto greater efforts. She kept slamming her ass against him, making sure he really got in deep. It hurt, yet felt great. Her addled thinking processes couldn't be trusted. She craved to feel his meat drilling into her asshole, filling her with his seed. Every time he thrust into her, a wave of white hot pleasure lanced through her entire body.

Susan knew exactly when Andrew lost self-control. He had been pounding her ass with a regular rhythm, the dancer in him keeping time with a precision a metronome would envy. The next, she heard him snarl. Steaming drops of moisture splattered against the hot skin of her ass and back. Whether spittle, sweat, or both she'd no idea. A hand gripped her grey-streaked blonde hair and wrapped itself in its luxurious mass. Her head snapped back, pulled by the fist locked inside her tresses. He used her hair like a jockey did the reins as he savagely pounded his fuckmeat into the obscenely stretched rectum of his prize filly. "God, Andrew!" she shrieked. His hips and upper thigh smacked loudly against her sweat-slickened asscheeks as he reamed into her. The recessed lighting on the ceiling of the shower room danced crazily in her vision as her head snapped to and fro, whipped about by Andrew's crazed ass fucking. Her abused asshole burned, rubbed raw by his meat. She couldn't imagine it ever working properly again.

Smack! A stinging slap caught Susan on the left side of her breast. Smack! Smack! Two more blows landed, pinking the pale skin of her pendulous tit. It blushed, turning the same livid red her nipples favoured when aroused. The slaps warmed her tit wonderfully, the nerves firing like those in her nipples, cunny, and joyfully stretched ass. "Here it comes!" Andrew bellowed. He jammed forward, tightly mating his groin with the cheeks of her ass. Everything went red for Susan at the suddenness, the strength of this final thrust. She felt pinioned to the floor, a obscene butterfly pinned by his rubicund flesh needle. She felt Andrew's cock rapidly expand and contract inside of her bowels as it injected its pearlescent load deep within her. Andrew fell forward, exhausted.

They lay unmoving on the towels. Both Susan and Andrew struggled for breath. They often danced unflagging for hours. Fucking used different muscles, apparently. Neither one felt like moving, of exerting any more energy than they absolutely had to. They felt content to remain still, if only for a little while longer.

Andrew broke their embrace. He rolled over onto his back, gasping as his sweaty skin contacted the chill tiles of the shower room. He didn't have the energy to do much else. Susan looked over at him, and smiled fondly. She reached out, and patted his deflated penis.

"Who knew one of those could bring a woman so much pleasure," she said. "I'll take Reggie's advice and buy a couple."

"Buy a couple? You have a serviceable one right here."

"I'm not so sure. I mean, look at it." She poked a playful finger at the deflated mass of tan flesh. It slid listlessly onto his thigh, as if retreating from her touch.

"I'll give you that it doesn't look like much right now," he agreed. "But it does have its shining moments."

"I'll say." Susan laughed. She couldn't remember ever laughing so much. She'd never been this content. Nothing would ever be the same for her again.

Susan rose from the rumpled toweling. "Where are you going?" Andrew asked her.

"To fetch you a damp face cloth."

"Relax. We're in the shower room, remember?" Andrew levered himself to his feet. Pride filled her when she saw how wobbly he looked. Young buck or no, this old woman had given him a serious workout. The old chassis still had some mileage left in it. She felt inordinately pleased with herself and her performance.

She realized that people could change, if they wished it. And she did wish it. Sweat and satisfaction bathed her. The former she could do without. She turned on a shower unit, enjoying the feel of the warm water sluicing over her tingling skin, her pleasantly sore muscles, her burning nipples. When the water ran over her ravaged asshole tissue, she groaned. Andrew wouldn't be seeing any action from that hole for a few days. That still left two serviceable orifices for him to fill. Three, if he decided to use her ample tit cleavage like he had her asscheeks earlier. She giggled in Reggie-esque fashion. Truly, if you could bear the pain, life held infinite pleasure. She'd do well to remember that. "Things just might work out okay for me," she said aloud.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Fuck me again," Susan said.

Acker Bilk's orchestra ceased playing. Susan continue to buck against her dildo, and slam her ass against her anal buster. She made short, shrill cries, like a robin being mauled by a house cat prowling the front lawn. Her lips stretched lewdly around the always stiff cock. Moisture flooded around her dildo and seeped onto the white leather divan.

She pulled the dildo out of her and licked its length, sucking her latex lover clean. She laughed. Perhaps it wasn't just an old habit. She simply loved cleaning off a prick after it has been used. Preferably in her. Her self orchestrated climaxes felt every bit as intense as the ones any man had ever given her, Andrew included. Perhaps, to be worthy of the love of others, one must first learn to love one's self.

And love herself she did, along with all the rest.