The Concierge

Although the hand between her legs moved a bit more energetically now, she still sat on that bed with no other sign that she was nearing full arousal herself – no squirming of her ass against the fabric of her coverlet, no rising of her chest, no flushing at her neck, no other signal. Just those eyes occasionally meeting mine, and our labored breathing in that silent bedroom.

Mrs. Harris didn't resist me when I bent a little and felt up her tits through her blouse. They were a good handful and belied her age in their firmness. Those expensive bras don't get in the way of one's ministrations like your garden variety Playtex models, let me inform you; it was like she was encased in a delicate, suppotive spider's web. I could feel her nipples harden in my palms.

Deep in my belly and just below my scrotum I felt the start of my orgasm. My balls pulled up against myself and then I could see in my mind the course that the mixture of sperm and semen was taking as it rose urgently up my shaft and burst out of the tip, into her mouth in several very sharp, speedy ejaculations, followed by two more that were much slower in pace and brought me excruciating pleasure. It was all I could do to keep my hands from tearing her blouse open as my sticky fluids filled her mouth and her tongue kept on with its insistent roving. I fear I was making some sort of noise.

I hadn't realized Mrs. Harris had ceased her back and forth bobbing as she sensed my climax was upon me. Only as I felt a return to full attention and could focus my eyes properly did I notice that she had instead pulled back so that only the head of my shaft was resting just inside her firmly closed lips. That tongue action I'd been feeling was just at the tip, teasing and milking out the rest of my cum. Jesus, that woman knows how to suck a dick.

Her eyes on mine, with my prick starting to soften a bit in her mouth, Mrs. Harris then returned quickly to her masturbation, using both hands between her legs to rub her mound through her clothes. I swear it wasn't ten seconds before she gurgled around my cock, as it protruded from her lips, and twitched on the bed. It was almost unnatural, the way it happened so suddenly. In another few seconds a second wave hit her, and my cock was dislodged from her mouth as she sucked in air through her nose.

The head of my dick hung there for a moment just outside her mouth, a string of saliva and sperm connecting it to her lower lip, and then she reflexively slipped it back into her warmth as the last of her orgasm swept through her body.

I must admit it felt good and it looked even better. It was just so dirty. Her lips suckled at me for a few more seconds before Mrs. Harris fully opened her lidded eyes and let me slip back out to hang there before her face.

She studied my softening penis as it hung there shrinking, all reddened and wet. Her neck now was almost the same color as my cock from the flush of her own induced climax, and her lips were likewise wet. I looked at her, unable to think of anything to say, or able even to decide if something should be said.

She solved this awkward moment for both of us by matter-of-factly opening her mouth wide to show me the considerable strings and pools of jism residing on her tongue and clinging to her teeth. Following this absolutely filthy display with an exaggerated swallowing of my entire offering to her fellationary skills, making sure I could see her throat working, this refined fellatrix almost seemed to be mocking me. Even today, nearly a year later, I can get aroused all over again and reach orgasm with just those few seconds of her showing off like that in my memory.

This session ended same as the last (and others to come): Mrs. Harris rising up to go to her shower and me leaving her apartment, discreetly. At least this time she thanked me as she got up, and even ran a hand softly over my cheek. It wasn't exactly a loving gesture, but it was a bit more personal than other times.

I left, moving awkwardly in true exhaustion. I had to go find a furnished, unoccupied apartment to lay on the couch for a while before returning to work that day. My balls felt empty and achy.

I have yet to penetrate any part of Mrs. Harris with my penis other than her mouth, but I do know her body rather intimately. The next time she called, for instance (simply saying "Raymond" this time, and softly hanging up the phone), was for me to enter her sizable bathroom, where she awaited my arrival. Naked from the waist down, her lower body was thrust out toward me as she perched on the marble sink with her legs wide open, a spiffy white towel under her pampered behind, a towel which already showed moisture stains caused by the copious arousal that delineated her cunt lips. It was running down to her ass crack. I swear this woman gets as wet as a teenage girl.

I couldn't help but notice there was a somewhat larger spiffy towel on the floor in front of the sink, thoughtfully folded over a couple of times so that my knees would be well-cushioned. I've always enjoyed pleasing a woman this way, and in fact have made it part of every true lovemaking session of my life, but I'd been rather worrying that in Mrs. Harris' case I might find her nether region, well....perhaps, less appetizing than those I'd visited before, closer to my own in age.

I had a thing or two to learn about older women in general (and rich, pampered women in particular), because her pussy and ass crease were just as attractive and arousing as those I've seen in the flesh, on screen, in pictures, or in magazines. She had nicely shaped, Bermuda sand-colored vulva gleaming wetly in the halogen bathroom light, invitingly pink and liquid inner lips, sensuous haunches that led to a smooth division of her backside, and a softly-wrinkled rear hole that was clearly as well-cared-for as the rest of her.

Did I mention that she trims herself but doesn't shave? Well, she probably has someone else do it, now that I think of it. Enough hair removed to make for fine dining, but just the right amount left so that you'll know it's a woman you're performing cunnilingus on, not a callow girl.

I removed my blazer this time as well as my tie. No sense having that hang down below my neck, getting all stained. Mrs. Harris watched me do this with some arousal showing on her face but no impatience. I slid to the floor and planted a hand on either of her thighs, a move which she accepted without protest, and then started to make tender small kisses and licks to the inner parts of her thighs. My nose took in the unmistakable scent of a hot woman.

As her heels settled upon my shoulders I studied her open cunt, searching for the proper place to start. The glistening pearl of her swollen clit was slightly protruding from its nest at the top of her furrow, showing me she was warmed up enough that I wouldn't have to coax that out of hiding. It would probably do to merely nudge it along with the bridge of my nose as I supped lower.

And so, I nestled in and started to lap up her juices, which were salty and plentiful but not thick and viscous like some ladies produce. More like tears, as though her pussy was weeping. My tongue roved over the flaps of her opening at will, delving inside just a bit as her muscles relaxed further to allow me full access.

My nose indeed brushed at her clitoris as I pushed forward to give her warm flesh as much contact with my face as she needed, my tongue going inside a little to lap at her inner walls. My chin rested on the edge of the sink, rubbing against that towel as I licked away and sucked now at her inner labia.

Mrs. Harris made no sound but her lower body was alive with the stimulation she was receiving. She gave a little jump when I ran my tongue tip up her furrow and teased her clit for an instant. I chose that moment to look up at her eyes but they were closed and relaxed, one hand lazily brushing inside the front of her robe. I wondered if she'd go off like a firecracker, as she had in our last session.

As I say, I enjoy going down on a woman, so I continued happily licking, sucking, kissing and rubbing her pussy and the surrounding soft skin with my lips, tongue and face, starting to feel her push outwardly towards me in a sustained rhythm. This brought her to the very edge of the sink, with her backside opening up to my close scrutiny. Her juices seemed to slow down not a bit, and the wetness clung to her everywhere, as well as to my lips and chin. Her crack gleamed in the reflected light from the tile floor.

Her scent was strong but not unpleasantly so, adding to the sexual rawness of this master and servant moment, and I shouldn't have to mention that I wish I'd taken a moment to unzip myself before kneeling; my poor cock was cramped up again in my trousers. I wondered if I dared to move one of my hands.

Mrs. Harris gave out with a minor sigh as I brought my fingers into play at her ass crease. I felt momentarily triumphant at guessing that such a move might get a rise out of her. I ran a fingertip over her anus and then quickly away again, teasing the area as my lips locked onto her clit and gently sucked. My other hand held her left thigh firmly, to keep her in place. I rolled her clit with my tongue, trying to find just the right pressure. Too often a lover can be overly aggressive with this little ball of nerve endings, driving a woman into unpleasant overload.

Her ankles were now locked behind my neck, her heels pressing against my upper shoulders. I love that, personally, I don't know about you. Nothing tells you she's feeling great about what you're doing to her more than a pair of legs, ankles or thighs hugging you and urging you forward (or, at least, trying to hold you in place). As well, her pussy started to get that sort of sweet flavor that I've only ever sensed just before a climax is approaching. I can't describe it, really, but when it's present, get ready!

I entered her ass hole with the tip of my finger just as I used my upper lip to rub urgently at the top of her cunt and slid my tongue as far into her pussy as I could manage. Quickly she began grinding against my lips with her pelvis, and I swear I could feel liquid flowing like a stream into my mouth. When her hands gripped my hair and her ass humped out almost off the sink I knew this was one woman who never had an average climax.

My face and mouth were engulfed by her hot flesh and moisture as she shivered and came in four great, strong convulsions. I kept my finger in her backside all the while, in fact it slid in to the second knuckle as Mrs. Harris came and came and came. God, she was hot inside. She made subdued but audible mewling and light grunting sounds deep in her throat as her ass rose and fell and her vagina tried to swallow me whole.

My face was soaking wet. It felt actually wrinkled from the drenching she'd given me. And damned if Mrs. Harris didn't like the slow fade approach to her pleasure: as her orgasm concluded, she held me in place and simply rubbed her sex all over my lips and chin, milking out the feeling gradually. Her cunt was visibly swollen, her outer lips puffy as the rubbed, her inner labia super-heated against my tongue. Again and again she pressed and slid herself against me until she'd had enough.

I gingerly slipped my finger from her rear hole as her body withdrew. I felt proud, to be truthful. Even though I was a tool I'd given her my all, and that had been more than enough. Hell, my finger was redolent with her odor, as was most of my face. No doubt this woman had enjoyed my efforts.

Mrs. Harris was visibly exhausted as I helped her down from her perch and toward her shower. Her robe fell to the floor and I beheld her completely naked for the first time. She really is quite well put together, even if she's not anyone's idea of a teenage love bunny. Proportionately, pound for pound, I can't imagine any man, of any age, not appreciating her form.

I took awhile, through the translucent shower curtain, watching her wash herself. I used liberal amounts of soap to clean her residue from my face and chin. A word about soap in such situations: if you're married or have a regular thing going on, gentlemen, do not use anything flowery. I had to search under her sink that day, for instance, to find a cake of something unscented. English Seaside Lavender is a plain giveaway.

Almost forgot to tell you: I'd just gotten all presentable that day in her bathroom and was set to leave when the shower stopped and Mrs. Harris peered out around the curtain at me.

"Do you have a few minutes, Raymond?"

"Um, yes, sure Mrs. Harris." Actually I didn't, but what else could I say.

"I wonder if you'd do something for me. You see, you might not know it, but I miss my husband when he's away like this, and you could help me through it by doing a little something. Can you?" I couldn't help noticing she was looking at the front of my pants.

I heard myself saying, "What the fuck were we just doing? If THAT wasn't helping you out a bit, what the hell WILL?" Of course, that's not what came out. In fact, nothing did. I simply nodded.

"Good", she replied, and emerged from the shower and reached for a towel. "I'm prone to sad spells, you know. You'll be a dear and help me put that off for awhile."

I watched her dry her breasts, her legs, and between her legs. Then she spent a moment fluffing her hair in the mirror, not bothering to don her robe. She watched me watching her, all the while. A tiny smile seemed to play over her lips and then was gone. I wondered what she needed.

To my surprise she moved over to the toilet and lifted the lid, then turned and settled onto the seat. I reflexively turned my head to give her privacy, but she motioned for me to approach her.

"Gerald sometimes likes to do something with me when I'm in the bathroom, Raymond. I hope you won't think it odd." I noticed she was squatted as if to pee but not doing so. Her eyes were again on my pants. I realized I'd never lost my hard-on.

"It's just that I miss him and this will help", she continued. "I wonder if you wouldn't mind moving over here in front of me."

I did so, my uneasiness giving way to a strong feeling of sexual anticipation. I was looking down at Mrs. Harris' proper face, and below that her improperly naked tits. Below that were her very improper pair of thighs spread open over the toilet, revealing her still-swollen cunt lips. Her eyes were on my zipper.

"I'll need you to say some things to me now, while we're doing this. I hope you won't find it silly." Her eyes met mine, and for a moment it seemed that I held a certain power over her. I didn't like that at all.

"Whatever you need, Mrs. Harris", I replied softly.

"Thank you", she said quietly. Then her eyes went back to my pants. "I imagine from the look of it you could use some release?"

"Um, yes....."

"Good. I was hoping so." She motioned hurriedly for me to remove my slacks, so I quickly did so, trying not to look awkward in the process. In moments, although my socks and shoes were still on and my shirt tail hung down below my blazer, I stood a foot or so away from her with my prick bobbing before me and my swollen balls hanging free. Mrs. Harris relaxed against the toilet tank and alternated her gaze from my eyes down to my cock, and back up again.

"Gerald, must you bring that thing in here like that, all rampant? You can see I have to pee." This took me aback, as you may imagine. It was several moments until it registered within me what was up.

I twigged to what she was getting at, wanting me to play-act the husband, doing whatever this thing was that they do. I had to guess what my line of response might be. While I thought about it I noticed Mrs. Harris was actually pinching one of her nipples. It was distended and looked almost purple.

"Who cares what you're up to. I need to get my pleasure, and you're Mrs. Harris, last I looked at the marriage certificate", was my stagy reply. I used a gruff voice and my eyes were on her to see if I was going the right way.

She looked up at me without malice. "I suppose you want to do what you always do, wank at yourself while you watch. Isn't that right. You're very naughty, Gerald."

I said nothing, just brought my hand right away to my cock and started doing just what she'd described. Her eyes lit up to see this, and one hand went to her lower belly. Despite how weird this scene was, my cock was indeed "rampant", as she'd put it. It hung low and thick in my hand as I masturbated.

"You want to see me pee, don't you? That always gets you off, brings you off so your spunk gets all over me. Watching me take a pee." She was telling me what to do, with her little ritual phrases. I wondered how the two of them had ever started all this up? It must be important, what with Mrs. Harris even needing an occasional stand-in.

"I can feel it starting. You're so dirty, making me piss in front of you like this. That great big cock of yours is right in front of me. Tell me what you're going to do. I can feel it just starting." She squirmed in her seat and I could see she was strumming lightly at the hood of her clitoris. She had her pussy thrust slightly out so I could get a good look.

"I'm going to shoot my cum all over you, that's what. As soon as you start to pee. It's what you deserve". I saw immediately that the last bit was a little out of line, her face had gone momentarily dark, but that moment passed and she returned her attention to my cock and then my face, then back again. She was trying to time everything perfectly.

"All right, you dirty bastard. Go ahead and do it, I'm going to pee. Watch me. Shoot your spunk all over my face and my tits."

Now I knew where she wanted it, so I stepped back just a bit to get a good look down between her legs. As soon as I saw and heard the stream begin I furiously pulled at my cock and felt myself start to tense up deep inside. Mrs. Harris was pretty flushed in the neck and looking a trifle desperate as she saw me bring my dick to her face. I couldn't tell whether she was physically or emotionally distraught, but it was too late for her as my semen came roping out and covered her left cheek in two quick splats, then more spattered her nose and upper lip.

It was really quite an exotic sight, something I'd always imagined I'll do someday with my wife (if I ever get up the nerve to tell her about how cool it is in the fuck films, and can manage something like "gee honey let's try it you might like it"). As her urine stream positively gushed into the toilet my thick cum jetted out, now onto her chin and then down onto her neck, immediately starting to drip from there down onto her hanging tits as she stared wide-eyed at my prick, hanging there mere inches from her face and spitting out sperm.

It was a wild scene, replicated out of the corner of my eye in the mirrored wall behind her. I'm not one to find a woman taking a piss to be a major turn-on (well, I once did in my teens, when a girl let me watch her in the woods), but I gotta admit old Gerald knew what he was doing in this case. Mrs. Harris came across as elegantly nasty, riding her own fingers while she peed and took cum in her face. It was all around her lips and she was not above licking it in a little as she moved on the toilet seat.

She was cumming, had been ever since her peeing began, it turned out. I was too lost in my own pleasure to realize that, what with my balls happily churning out the froth for her immaculate, salon-toned skin. As my spurts became dribbles I held the flanged head of my penis against her cheek and smeared it into her like I guessed her husband would do; her little shakes and shivers then cued me in that she was having a series of small climax peaks despite the continuation of her peeing, which seemed to go on forever.