Student and Teacher Ch. 04

Damon looked up at Marla with a soft yearning. Then he pulled her close to him so that he could bathe those magnificent breasts with his lips and tongue, seizing on one nipple after the other (and thinking naughtily of how lucky those daughters of hers were to have suckled there as babies) and also kissing the delicate undersides.

Marla was so fixated on what Damon was doing with her breasts that she didn't notice other actions of his. She was wearing a simple wraparound skirt with an elastic waist, and before she was aware of what had happened Damon had pulled it and her panties off and tossed the garments away into the middle of the room. She was now sitting naked on his lap.

"Damon, please . . ." she began, utterly flustered.

He had been trying to reach a hand between her legs, but she had pressed her legs tightly together to prevent him. Between mouthfuls of breast, he said, "It's okay, dear, just let it happen." She realized the absurdity of maintaining her modesty after he had already stripped her, so she parted her legs and let him have access to her most sensitive spot.

With a gasp she thought: Omigod! This is the first time any man other than my husband has touched me in more than thirty-five years.

Damon's initial touch was soft and gentle, even though (somewhat to her embarrassment) Marla was already so wet that little drops were smearing the insides of her thighs. Gradually, as his fingers parted her labia and found their way to her clitoris, she sighed and just gave way to the sensation, holding his head closely to her chest while glorying in the feel of this man's long, delicate fingers as they probed her sex. Like Iris, she had a tendency to let out little whimpers of pleasure that almost made her sound as if she was in pain; and as Damon glanced up at her face, he did see a deep frown there, while she was also biting her lip at the unexpected sensation.

Usually she took quite a long time to come, but this experience was so extraordinary that she achieved her climax in only a few minutes. After an initial, high-pitched squeal, she carried on with a series of guttural moans and continued to press Damon's head so tightly against her breasts that it was hard for him to breathe. He extended her orgasm well beyond its usual limits by gentle but continual strokings, until she could no longer endure the ecstasy and pulled herself away from him, landing clumsily on the seat next to him. She was gasping for breath and staring dizzily into space, her vision blurry and her mind in a whirl.

"Omigod," she said over and over again.

She had kept her eyes closed for most of the experience, but now, as she popped them open, she saw with a kind of horror that she was entirely naked while he remained entirely clothed. In a spasm of mortification she tried to cover herself with arms over her breasts and groin; but even as she did so, she looked on with awe as Damon stood up slowly and, peering unblinkingly at her, proceeded to strip naked himself.

She saw him remove his T-shirt, jeans, socks, and then at last his bulging underwear. As his substantial erection danced in front of her face, her mouth opened in wonderment. This was a specimen of gorgeous young manhood the like of which she hadn't seen in many, many years. Perhaps the occasional student had exhibited such an impressive physique; but she noted wryly to herself that she'd never seen such creatures naked, even if in the depths of her mind she might have wanted to.

Damon misinterpreted the meaning of that slightly open mouth and boldly approached her. His cock was now only inches from her lips.

Things were happening so fast that it didn't immediately occur to Marla that this man would want some kind of reciprocation. And in fact, she concluded, he deserved it: he had given her a climax more intense than she had had in decades, and it was only fair that she service him to the best of her ability.

So she opened her mouth more widely and took in as much of his member as she could. That was only a few inches, since it had been a few years since she had performed this maneuver (and her husband was considerably less well-endowed than this god in human shape); but the technique of orally stimulating a man came back to her quickly, and she also relished the feel of that tender sac hanging below his cock and his firm, muscular bottom. In fact, his bottom proved so appealing that she seized it with both hands while managing to get at least half of his member into her mouth. She gagged a little and withdrew it an inch or so, but used her tongue to heighten his sensations.

But Damon wasn't keen on finishing the job in Marla's mouth. After some minutes he gently pulled himself away and, taking her hand like a beau asking his beloved to come onto the dance floor with him, he led her to the one room in the small apartment where he had noticed a bed. It was queen-size—big enough for their purposes.

Marla seemed to be getting a bit more agitated, casting nervous glances at both the bed and Damon's groin. He could well understand her apprehension, and so he took her in his arms and just held her for a time. Her chin didn't even reach up to the level of his chest, so she cradled her head on his upper torso and allowed his gentle massaging of her back and shoulders to relax her. Damon, however, couldn't resist some tentative strokes of her curved bottom, and that brought forth some timid mews from Marla.

Then he led her to the bed.

She got into position at once, lying on her back and spreading her legs wide. He didn't think she was being deliberately provocative, although from that vantage point he could easily detect her wet, almost dripping pussy and her slightly flattened but still well-rounded breasts. It was those breasts that Damon first approached, resting his entire frame on hers and seizing her breasts with both hands while he licked, kissed, and sucked them. They were as firm as he expected, and he paid due homage to them for some minutes while Marla placidly looked down at him and felt her pride at being an attractive woman surge.

Then he knew it was time for entry.

Marla knew, too, and her agitation returned in full force.

"Oh, Damon, please," she said, cursing herself inwardly for sounding like a callow schoolgirl. "It's—it's been a while."

"I understand, ma'am," he said softly, gazing into her eyes.

The first contact of his cock against her moist cleft elicited another little mew, but Marla quickly got a hold of herself and decided to endure the procedure with as good grace as she could manage. For God's sake, this is supposed to be pleasurable for both him and me! She just hoped he wouldn't go in all the way—at least, not at first. She couldn't recall ever accommodating such a large organ in all her long life.

Damon did proceed cautiously, but with each advancing inch Marla's eyes got bigger and bigger, and her mouth popped open; she seemed, strangely, to be experiencing a kind of choking sensation she couldn't account for. What she knew was that the sensation of being filled by this incredible young man was so exhilarating that she wondered if she was going to have a sudden orgasm right away. She didn't; but as he began slowly and carefully thrusting in and out of her, she felt a sense of union that was only augmented by his fervent kisses on her mouth, cheeks, neck, and shoulders, and his occasional seizing of her breasts, which seemed to exercise an inexpressible fascination for him. She wrapped his legs lightly around his own, knowing that some men didn't like to have their own motions impeded in that way; and at times she reached a hand to squeeze his heavenly bottom, finding in its tight musculature a thrill that evoked decades-old encounters with young men well before she was married.

And when he shot his seed into her, she accepted every drop with both the gratitude of a suppliant and the calm acknowledgment of a queen indulging a servant. His emission triggered a true climax of her own, and she lay shuddering beneath him as he placed his weight on her in thoroughly satisfied exhaustion.

Marla conveyed that he should get off of her, and he did so—but she seemed surprised when, adopting his customary practice, he flipped her over onto himself as he lay on his back. He sensed that Marla had not been accustomed to further intimacy after an initial coupling, but he hoped he could persuade her to do a bit more after a little break.

Toying with her hair with one hand and stroking her back and bottom with the other, he said: "Has it been a while, my dear?"

She peered blankly at his face. "You might say that," she said flatly.

"A long while?"

She sighed in mild frustration. "I guess it depends on what you consider a long while. For me, it's been about four years. Maybe that seems long to you, but it really doesn't to me."

"But you like what we did, don't you?" He sounded a little desperate.

"Of course I did," she said, stroking his face gently. "But when you get to be my age, other things sometimes seem more important. Things like companionship, compatibility, sympathy, not having arguments all the time. Sometimes young people focus so much on sex that they don't pay attention to these other things, and they end up having a lot of turbulence and trauma in their relationships. I'm long past the time when I want to do anything like that."

As Damon mulled this over, a disturbing thought suddenly shot through his mind. "You—um, you don't think you've somehow betrayed your husband's memory by what we just did?"

Again she stared straight into his face. "I do, a little." She swallowed hard. "He was a good man, and I loved him."

Her face fell back on his chest, and she wept softly.

Damon was pretty upset himself. "Do you—do you want me to leave?"

Marla raised her tear-stained face up to his. "No, of course not, you silly boy! Just comfort me, okay?"

He did as instructed, continuing to massage Marla all over. Gradually she seemed to recover her poise. And she noticed that something curious was happening to Damon. She should have expected it, but it still somehow caught her off guard.

"You don't really want more, do you?" You really want to plow through an old lady like me again?

"Well, actually," he said, reddening a little, "there was something else I thought we might try."

"What's that?"

For some reason he could only bring himself to whisper it in her ear.

She gave him another blank look. "You got to be kidding me."

Damon looked abashed but said nothing.

"And why exactly," she said, frowning in concentration, "do you want to do that to me?"

"'Cause I like it—and I hope you like it too." When she said nothing, he asked: "Do you like it?"

Again she remained quiet, leading Damon to say: "You haven't done it?" There was just a soupçon of incredulity in his question.

It took Marla a long time to reply. "I have done it—once—about twenty years before you were born."

"That's not so bad. You don't ever forget, do you? It's kind of like riding a bicycle."

"Kind of," Marla said with deep skepticism. "I'm not sure I liked it that time, though."

"This wasn't your husband?"

"No; he didn't like to do it. It was a guy in college. He was very insistent, and finally I let him. But it hurt like the dickens, so I said no to any repeat performance."

Now a horrible thought went through Marla's mind. "Do you do that to Iris?" she said accusingly.

"Um, yes," Damon muttered. "She—she likes it."

"Does she, now?"

"It took a while for her to get used to it, but she did in the end. Now she asks for it sometimes."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah."

Marla mulled over the matter as if pondering the best way to escape from a dungeon. "All right, here's the deal. We'll try it, but if I don't like it, you stop, okay?"

"Okay." He recalled Iris saying just about the same thing months ago.

"We're going to use lube, aren't we?" she added.

"God, yes!" Damon almost tossed Marla aside in his haste to get up from the bed. "I'll get it and be right back!"

True to his word, he returned in under a minute with a blue jar in his hand.

"That's what you're going to use?" Marla said, feeling a little sick.

"Yeah, it works real well. Here, let me put it on." He began unscrewing the cap.

"You are not going to put your fingers back there, my man! And that's final."

Damon sensed that Marla wouldn't yield on the point quite as readily as Iris did, so he handed the jar over to her without fuss.

Still staring at his face, Marla scooped out a healthy portion of the stuff and applied it to her backside.

"You'll need to coat the inside a little bit to make it work," Damon said helpfully.

"Yeah, I know that," Marla said tartly. "I'm not an idiot."

When she finished, she wiped her hands hastily with some Kleenex, then got on all fours without asking, assuming that this was what Damon wanted. He didn't mind this position at all, since it allowed him to gaze on a woman's bottom and arching back. He arranged himself, bringing his cock on contact with the dark opening—and Marla let out a distinctly schoolgirlish whine.

"I'm not even in!" he cried.

"I know—I'm sorry. Just nervous, I guess."

So he proceeded, very cautiously, to enter. Marla continued to expel little moans and squeals as he did so. She couldn't believe how she had allowed herself to get into this humiliating position—but then, as Damon continued to probe that orifice little by little, she realized that the sensation was far from displeasing. The experience of being filled in this area was strikingly different from the normal way, and the novelty of it—and, at the same time, the suddenly revived memory of that long-forgotten college boy who had probed her in this manner a full forty-one years ago—made her feel both young and desirable. And what woman doesn't want to feel that?

"Is this okay?" Damon said, having gotten a little more than halfway in.

"Yes, fine," Marla said, feeling a little discomfort but not wanting to admit it to her partner.

Damon proceeded with extreme caution, but subtle signs from Marla suggested to him that she wouldn't mind if he were a little more aggressive, so he began pounding her harder and going in farther—as much as three-quarters of the way. At this point Marla's eyes seemed to bulge and her tongue hung out of her mouth, just as Iris's had done on her first time; and as Damon's pummelings became almost violent, his groin and thighs slapping the corresponding parts of Marla's body, she lost all sense of time and felt as if she were in a state of suspended animation. She was nothing more than a vessel for this young man's desire, and she wanted to be nothing more than that.

Then Damon reached around with one hand and fastened it on her sex, and Marla gasped in surprise. She sensed that his culmination was approaching and that he—sweet, considerate boy that he was—was aiming to grant her a parallel sensation. And sure enough, as he began pouring his essence into her, she felt a wave of ecstasy radiating from her pussy and encompassing her entire body, and all she could do was emit violent grunts in rhythm to his uneven succession of emissions.

He wanted to remain in her for a bit, but she let it be known that he should withdraw. He pulled out as carefully as possible and rapidly retreated to the bathroom to wash up. When he returned, he saw that she was lying flat on her stomach, her hair untidily splayed around her head; and he couldn't help noticing that little trails of his discharge was leaking out of her anus.

"Did you like that?" he said, wrapping her again in his arms.

"It was—pretty intense," was all she could manage to say.

"Did it hurt?"

"A little. Not as much as I thought it would."

"You, um, you did come, didn't you?"

"Yes, thank you very much."

Damon now felt so close to this woman, whom he had only known for a few hours, that he held her tight and all but squeezed the breath out of her. He nestled his head in the crook of her neck and kissed and licked that area passionately—until Marla, almost alarmed at the depth of his emotion, gently pulled away from him and rolled over onto her back.

They lay like that for a while, but then Damon sidled over and began playing with Marla's breasts with hands and mouth. She had been on the verge of falling asleep, and she looked over to him and said, unbelievingly, "You want still more?"

"Um, yes," he said, fastening his lips on a nipple.

"I'm really not used to this much—"

"That's okay. I'm sure you'll manage. How about sixty-nine?"

She looked down at his hardening member. "You did wash, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am—with soap."

"Maybe I should wash—I'm a bit of a mess down there."

"I don't care about that."

"You want me to, um, swallow?"

"You don't have to." But the tone of his voice said: But I'll be real disappointed if you spit my stuff out.

With a sigh she said, "Okay."

They got into position, Marla on top. Damon's first order of business was to lick up the various mingled juices that were leaking out of both orifices, which he did with enthusiasm and relish. Meanwhile, Marla faced the intimidating task of raising up his organ to a position perpendicular to his body—itself a tough task because of its firmness—and getting as much of it into her mouth as possible. Her husband of many years had sported, at best, a six-inch erection, and this one somehow looked exponentially larger. She didn't think Damon expected her to be an expert at deep throat, and she managed to get about half of it down her throat while also using her lips and tongue to enhance his sensations. And she made so bold as to play with his testicles with her slender fingers—and at one point she engaged in the supremely naughty act of inserting a long finger into his anus, which elicited such a heavy grunt out of Damon that she left it in there for several minutes.

But she herself was experiencing such a flurry of sensations—both from Damon's skillful oral manipulation of her sex as well as the pressing of her heavy breasts on his abdomen—that she had trouble paying attention to what she was doing. She dimly sensed that she came not once but twice before an unexpected gush of fluid from Damon's cock slid thickly down her throat. She had always been afraid that she might choke on a man's emission, but this one slid down easily—kind of like eating an oyster.

Even so, she pried herself off of Damon's body and headed to the bathroom, where she not only swallowed some water but also used mouthwash to remove the come from her breath.

Her lover was waiting for her with an eager expression.

She let herself be enfolded by his arms, but said, "Damon, dear boy, I'm really not up for any more. Can we just go to sleep?"

"In a bit," he said, stroking her back in a way that she had to admit felt very good. He whispered in her ear, "You want me to stay the night, don't you?"

"Of course," she mumbled into his neck. "I'll make you a nice breakfast tomorrow."

"That'll be swell."

And so they drifted off to sleep.

*

Damon had to go right to class after breakfast, so he didn't come home until late afternoon. Iris, who had returned earlier, greeted him with an apprehensive look on her face.

"How was it?" she said.

"It was fabulous!" Damon cried. "She's fabulous."

"Really? Not too . . .?" She could finish: Not too old for you?

Damon instinctively knew what she was trying to say. "Not a chance! She's as lively a dame as any I've met lately." He stopped short, adding abruptly: "Next to you, of course."

"Glad to hear it. I hope you didn't—overtax her."

"Well, I might have," he said with a sheepish grin. "She's had quite a drought."

"Yes, I thought she might have."