tagMatureTrish and the Blue Hawk

Trish and the Blue Hawk


Everyone in the neighborhood called old man the Blue Hawk, but no one knew why. A rumor floated around that it came from his days riding motorcycles in the west coast. A bike gang called him the Blue Hawk because of his blue Harley that supposedly had a hawk painted on the engine. One person said the old man got his moniker from an Apache in Oklahoma after the Blue Hawk killed a man.

The Blue Hawk was gray-haired, closer to sixty years old than fifty, with hard lines creasing his face like cracks on a ceiling. His bulbous nose looked like a squash and his teeth were crooked. He was an old, ugly bastard.

Two-story houses with attached garages were prevalent on the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. Trish first saw the Blue Hawk the day she moved into the block. She was a saliva-inducing woman in her mid-twenties, gorgeous in a summer dress cinched at the waist and tight at her breasts. She looked European, but she and her husband hailed from South Florida. Her big brown eyes and tan skin went incredible with her long, chestnut hair that flowed down her back.

The Blue Hawk sat on his porch, watching this captivating beauty stride gracefully on long, fluid legs, carrying boxes into her clapboard house. Her bubbly rear end shaped the back of her dress.

As Trish picked-up a box from the car, she glanced at the bungalow next door and caught the old man leering at her. She waved at him in attempt to be neighborly, but The Blue Hawk grinned in a way that startled her for a moment. He was not a monster, but no one would ever put him on a magazine. And the way he looked at her sent a chill down her spine.

It took nearly a month to get over that feeling. It happened one early morning when Trish was home along. The Blue Hawk appeared uninvited in her yard with a bottle of tequila. He spotted her on the lawn, lounging on a beach chair with a magazine, half-naked in a sexy string bikini. Her voluptuous body was phenomenal; large tits, flat brown stomach and impossibly long legs. She reminded him of a pin-up girl he used to masturbate to as a boy.

Trish looked up from magazine and saw the old man standing by the gate door. Her eyes registered surprised. She thought she was well hidden from her neighbors by the tall trees in her yard and high fence, but she was wrong. She sat up on the chair and tried to cover up, but there was nothing to cover up with.

"What are you doing here?" she barked at him.

"I'm the welcoming committee," he said, showing her the bottle.

"Welcoming community?" she spat, feverishly shaking her head. "No get out."

She pointed her hand back the way he came, but the Blue Hawk just stood her. He told her he didn't want to leave having made such a bad impression. He offered her a drink. She said no. He moved towards the back door that led into her kitchen.

Yelling at his back, Trish yelled. "What are you deaf or something?"

The Blue Hawk tapped his ear. She stared closer and saw the white of a hearing aid.

"You gotta be kidding me," she said.

When the Blue Hawk came out of the house, he had a pink bath towel and two glasses filled with ice.

"Looks like you found your way around," she said.

He shrugged as he handed her the towel. She wrapped herself in it, squeezing her huge tits tight. He pressed a glass into her hand and poured tequila in it.

"Watch it," she exclaimed as it spilled over.


"And I'm not drinking." She tried to hand him back the glass.

"Its bad luck not to finish a drink that's been spilled," he said.

"I never heard that before."

"It's true," he said.

Trish was annoyed, but also thirsty. The house was dry after she had failed to go shopping for a few days. Work was crazy. She didn't see the harm in one drink, even the Blue who gave her the creeps. She sat on the beach chair and motioned for him to take a seat on the other one behind him. He opened his jacket to sit and her eyes widened for a split second. She saw a holstered gun under his elbow.

Right away, the Blue Hawk started to rapid fire her questions. Not the usual boring stuff. He wanted to know what she did on the weekends when she let her hair down, the places she's been, the people she's met. She told him as much as she could answer before he moved the next question. It was weird.

"My husband and I lived in Belgium for a while before...Oh, I like to do yoga and...I actually have been on boat but..."

Trish didn't like his aimless questions that felt like an interrogation, but she was distracted by the gun, so she answered. Why did he have a gun anyway? As she talked, she realized the Blue Hawk wasn't acting menacing towards her. He didn't raise his voice or lean forward threateningly. He was leaned back on the chair, relaxed. He nodded along as she talked, sincerely listening to what she had to say while tasting his drink.

She asked herself: Could it be that the old man just like to carry a gun? And to him it wasn't a big deal? She didn't know the answer, but she felt relaxed and his attitude intrigued her. He now seemed mysterious, not dangerous. She started to ask him questions back and they fell into a pleasant conversation.

"I used to work at a distillery," she said, when he asked was her most interesting job.

"Doing what?"

"Product testing."

He smiled. "That sounds like fun."

"It wasn't a party," she said. "But alright."

"Did you quit or did they fire you? Sounds like the type of job where you would get fired."

She laughed. "No, I quit."


"I gained weight. Almost twenty pounds in one summer."

He looked her up and down. Even encased in a thick towel, her naked body molded it to her perfect curvy shape. "You don't look so bad now."

"Thanks Blue Hawk," she smiled, then asked him to re-fill her glass. "So are you retired or do you still work?"

"I'm not that old, girl," he said. "I still work."

"What do you do?"

"This and that."

"This and that?" she laughed. He could smell the tequila in her breath. "That's an answer?"

"I've had several jobs, most were boring."

"Name one."

"I was in real estate for a time," he said. He was distracted for a moment as she tied her hair in a ponytail behind her. She looked younger now, late twenties. "But it didn't last long, wasn't exactly my forte."

"I don't think real estate is anyone's forte."

"Now you tell me," he said, throwing his hands in the air, smiling. "What do you do, sweetheart?"

"I'm a realtor."

Now he laughed, loud and roaring, shoulders shaking. A tear fell out of the corner of his eye. He wiped it with his hairy knuckle. The Blue Hawk liked her. She was a fun girl to talk. She reminded him of his ex-wife Laura. Laura had long hair like Trish and more than once he noticed how both women laughed loudly with their expressive eyes. Laura, in her prime, was more beautiful, but Trish was a sex pie. He wanted to eat her. He especially liked the fact that she had seen gun tucked inside his jacket and didn't say a word. She kept cool and calm like a man. A girl with a cool head might have an open mind.

"Hey," he said, watching her nurse her drink. "You want to go up to my room and watch Judge Judy?"

She smiled alluringly, almost wickedly. "I'm not that drunk."

He frowned.

"Besides," she said. "I only watch Judge Judy with my husband."

"But does he only watch it with you?"

"He better," she grinned and he knew right away there wasn't anything he could use there. Usually, the Blue Hawk seduced the married girl that way, playing up their suspicions against their husbands. Not this one. She was confident. No reason not to be. He tried something else. "You ever held a gun?"

She coughed, spitting out a little of her drink, surprised. "Excuse me?"

He smiled. He knew had her. He repeated the question. "Ever held a gun before?"

She took a moment to answer. She glanced at left side of his jacket where she had seen the gun. "No, I haven't."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know," she said, thinking how much she wanted to. It was all she could think about now that he offered it.

"It's a lot of fun," he said, like he was trying to sell her something. "Holding it, pointing it, pressing the trigger. Come to my house and I'll let you shoot it."

"Inside the house?"

"In the basement I have this little set-up like a shooting range. It's fun."

It did sound like fun, but the price tag did not. She knew what the Blue Hawk was really asking her. He wasn't very subtle about it. Yet, she hadn't tossed her drink in his ugly face like she would have every other guy, or even felt very offended. She was intrigued.

"The answer is no," she said. "But can I see it again? I just want to see it."

He knew she was going to say that. "Okay."

He stood up and reached his hand into his jacket, then it all happened very fast. She watched his hand fall down and pull his fly open. He reached inside his trousers, fumbled around a bit and took out a painfully big cock.

Trish was naturally startled. She shrank back on the chair like he had pulled out the gun and pointed at her face. And the way he held it in his hand, it looked he was going to urinate on her. He didn't. Trish wanted him to put it away, but she didn't tell him to. She just stared at the pale shaft as it dangled inches from her pretty face.

The Blue Hawk watched her and thought she looked like a girl who was meeting a horse for the first time. She was both terrified and thrilled.

"Wow," she said.

The cock was pale and wormy looking without a turtle neck. A huge black vein ran down the leathery shaft. It looked about as ugly as the owner. "That's big," she said.

"I'm German," he shrugged. He started to rub it.

She looked up at his eyes. "Really? I'm part Polish."

Trish's mind raced as she led the Blue Hawk by the hand inside her house. He walked behind her, looking around. Her heart was beating so fast. Was she really going to fuck this old guy? She couldn't believe she wanted to, like really wanted to. She had fantasied about cheating before, like any normal person, but she had never done it. Never even kissed another man after she got married. And she had had opportunities with rich and gorgeous men. Yet, she was about to break her vows with a slightly out-of-shape senior citizen.

She was still wearing her sexy string bikini. She climbed the main stairs. The Blue Hawk following her, holding her hand. She could feel the old man's gaze on her bubbly, firm ass.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said. She tried not to stare at her wedding photos framed on the wall of the staircase. "I don't know why I'm..."

"You're drunk," he said.

She stopped at the top step and looked at him eye-to-eye. He was standing a few steps below her. She realized his observation was correct. She was drunker than she thought but: "Not that drunk."

He shrugged.

She pulled him into the second floor and made a left. He followed her, grinning. "Where's your husband?" he asked her.

"Don't talk about him."

"But he's not coming home?" he said. "I haven't' seen him in a few days."

She shook her head, her pony tail hair swinging. "He's fishing with his dad and brothers in Florida."

She took a breath and opened the door to her bedroom. The window curtains were open at the other side of the room. Through them, she could see the top floor of the Peterson's house across the street. The curtains were opened there, too, and she saw Miriam Peterson writing on a desk by her window. Trish quickly skipped to the windows and pulled the curtains closed. She exhaled. When she turned around, the Blue Hawk had set down the gun and its holster on the standing dresser and he started to pull off his shirt and yank down his pants and boxers. In seconds, he stood completely naked in front of her.

Trish stared.

His body wasn't as weathered as she feared, but it was not what she was used to. Her husband was firm and in good-shape, good-looking. The Blue Hawk had a nasty knife scar on his stomach. His pale skin was wrinkled and freckled, his legs were hairy like a wolf. Yet, she liked how he stood upright and strong, stout like a tree. A man with pride. She looked down at that extra-large cock and silver pubic hairs around it. He started to rub his meat.

"I've never done this before," she said.

"I'm sure you have," he said. "You've been married for..."

"No," she interrupted. "I mean, it's been a long time since...I've watched Judge Judy with someone else."

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he said.

"You're wrong, and this is wrong. I shouldn't be doing it but..."

Trish started to take off her wedding band. What the hell are you thinking? She thought. You love Tommy. Don't do this. Plus, the old man is gross. If you're going to cheat, at least go after someone more age appropriate. She tried to listen to the voice. But she slid her wedding band off her finger instead and set it down on the dresser, next to his gun.

She stared at the gun, surprised to see it there so out of place among her things. When she turned to the Blue Hawk, she found him lying face up in the middle of the bed with his head resting on the pillow. His penis was getting stiff, the black vein was darker.

"Now you," he said, nodding at her top.

"I guess," she said.

She fiddled her fingers and breezily pulled the knot loose on her string top. When it fell to the floor, two mountains of milky-white cleavage rolled down. They were shapely, round and pert. In a few years, they will drop with a grow woman's sag, but today they were still perfect. Her pink nipples looked yummy. She looked incredible standing there without her top.

"Look at those big bastards," he said, wetting his mouth his with his tongue. "I can't wait to see them bounce," he said, smacking his thighs.

"How romantic."

She hopped on the bed and crawled on top of his weathered body until she was sitting straight up on his thighs, his mid-size erection bumped against her covered crotch. She looked down at him. He looked up at her.

"What now?" she asked. "Do we kiss?"

"You're killing the mood."

"I'm nervous," she said.

"I can tell," he said, and then he went quiet, thinking.


"You decide if you want to kiss or not, I know that can be very personal for some girls, more than sex."

She thought about it and it sounded wrong, but felt right. She could see herself fucking him, but not kissing him. At the same time, she liked kissing and what's sex without kissing? "Let's do it," she said. "Get it out of the way."


She bent low to his face, her soft tits pushed against his chest, and then her lips pressed on his mouth. He thought her kiss was sweet and wet. His erection throbbed and grew, but she didn't feel like it. Maybe it was their tequila breath. She sat back up. "Not bad," she lied. She looked almost bored.

"I can do better," he said.

"Okay, sure."

She bent low again, but this time he cupped her face and kissed her like he used to kiss Laura. Grazing her lips at first, making her mouth tremble, and only then locking his mouth on her mouth. Trish closed her eyes this time and moaned. He ran her fingers through her hair and undid her ponytail. He could feel her heart beating so fast on her chest. When she moaned again, he slipped a little tongue inside her mouth.

She sat back up, her cheeks were rosy red.


"Oh, yeah," she said, pleasantly surprised. "Let's do it again."

"If you insist."

She bent low with a hungry mouth and they made out like teenagers, exchanging warm saliva, sucking each other's tongues, feeling the heat off their bodies. They rolled around on the bed, his hands roamed all over her chest, ass, and legs. She was excited. She moaned loudly and reached down to grip his fully erect cock that she guessed was close to nine inches. She gripped hard and pumped it twice. He groaned. When they stopped rolling on the bed, they were in same position again, she on top of him, but this time her hair was a mess all over her face and they were both red and flushed.

She fanned herself with her hand. "I'm so fucking wet right now."

He looked and saw a big wet spot on the crotch of her bikini bottom. He brushed aside the soft fabric and exposed her waxed pubic mound, tiny bristles of small here starting grow. A little landing strip of pubic hair above her tiny clitoris. He pushed aside the fabric a bit more. Now he saw her small, pink labias and tight pink slit. He opened those velvet pussy lips and slipped two fingers inside her gooey walls.

She closed her eyes and gave a lusty moan.

"You're ready," he told her.

She bit her lip and nodded.

The Blue Hawk grinned.

He took his thumb and pressed the top of his cock into her sweet, little cunt. Trish cried. He groaned. She was so fucking warm and tight, suffocation vaginal walls. He pushed his shaft deeper into her tunnel. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand, but he could still hear her muffled cries. He drove it deeper. Her plump breasts heaved as she breathed harder and harder.

As Trish took him, she could feel herself being stretched open beyond what she thought she could bear. She wanted to scream. The discomfort was awful and throbbing pain shot through her body.

It made her remember her first time. Trish was eighteen. The cop looked about forty-five. He stopped her for speeding on a tight, curvy road. She had almost crashed into a tree, but she was more worried about losing her license. Maybe we could work something out, the cop had said. Okay, she said, not really thinking about what he meant by that. He asked her to get in his car and then they drove away, leaving her car at the side of the road. It will be fine, he said, don't worry. He parked the cruiser in a wooded area and pulled his blue pants down. His cock was as big and thick as his forearm, okay Trish thought now, maybe it wasn't that big. In truth, it was probably average, but that's how she remembered it. It was her first one. The cop asked her to straddle him on the front seat. But there's not enough room, she said. There's enough room, he assured her. He was right. There was enough room. She sat on his legs facing him and then he shoved his cock inside her. She cried and cried as he kept assuring her the pain will go away, the pain will go away.

"You want me to stop?" The Blue Hawk asked her. She was trembling and looked hurt. Her mouth was still covered, but he could see her eyes cringing.

Trish shook her head and whispered into her hand: "The pain will go away."

The Blue Hawk didn't hear her, but the pain was receding. She remembered fondly how the cop had grabbed her hips and started to bounce her on his legs. Her head banging against the cloth roof of the car. She liked it more and more each time he slammed her down. And almost as if the Blue Hawk could read her mind, he grabbed her hips in the same way and started to bounce her his legs in the same way.

"Oh, fuck!" Trish screamed. Her hands raced down to the side of the Blue Hawk's legs, she clutched the covers and started to pull them loose as she came. They both heard the soft, wet sounds as he splashed his big cock around in her love juices. The pain was gone now. She was smiling, swooning on top of him while moving her hips. She raked his chest with her nails.

"That's it baby," the Blue Hawk groaned, watching her enjoy herself.

He sat up on his knees, holding tight to her incredible body to keep her falling off. She hugged his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. As she kissed him passionately, he pumped into her pussy. Hard and fast. Locomotive thrusts. Trish gasped and leaned back while back holding onto his neck. They rocked on the bed, headboard banging against the wall.

It was stunning the way Trish moaned and screamed in ecstasy. Her girlish cries echoed across every room in her house and if anyone had been standing on her porch, they might have heard:

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