Wedding Day No. 06

By the time I got to the tops of her thighs a thing string of her thick, white natural lubricant was leaking down the crack of her skinny ass, and her pheromones, evolution's natural aphrodisiac, were working with the yellow capsules and I was fully erect. I inhaled deeply, her womanscent better than any perfume ever produced by Cultus Artem factories. I kissed her labia and touched the white nectar running from her with my tongue, shivering a little with pure delight at the salty, oily taste of her desire.

"Now hold still," I said, very softly.

"Bastard," she replied.

I used my fingertips to gently part her labia and then my thumbs to lift the small pad of her clitoral hood, exposing her bud of delight, pink and shiny and very hard as my tongue flicked and touched it.

Her breath caught but she didn't move.

I kept that up, the only thing moving in the room was my tongue as I rolled that hard button, feeling it and smelling her scent even stronger now as her orgasm approached.

Finally, certain that she was as far as I could take her without her actually climaxing, I moved forward again,

"Hold still," I said again.

"Bastard," she said again, meeting my eyes and smiling.

She was slick and amazingly tight as I entered her. Her breath caught, well, mine did too, as our bodies merged.

We both held still, enjoying this perfect intimacy, for some timeless time.

I bent, finally, and kissed her.

"Does this count as moving?" she asked.

"What's that?" I asked, surprised at how steady my voice was.

She grinned then and I felt her squeeze. She was tight, surprisingly tight, around my erection but this was almost as if she was pulling me in.

"No," I said after a gasp, "That's allowed."

She giggled.

"Good," she said, and set up a rhythm.

SQUEEZE

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi.

RELAX

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi.

SQUEEZE

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi.

RELAX

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi.

I have no idea how long that went on. This was something outside of my experience. With three wives in my life, I figured I had pretty much tried most things. It turns out I was wrong.

She came then, suddenly, powerfully, squeezing even harder, almost painfully, and her fingernails dug into my back making me wonder if I was going to have to explain something to Paula when I got home.

Not that I cared right then.

I held her as she came again, doing a half situp against me, grunting and squeezing and soaking the sheet under us.

She came a third time, this time making me cry out she squeezed so hard, grunted, hissed, clawed at my back, and collapsed.

"Fuck me, Phillip," she said, her voice breathy as she gasped for breath, "Fuck me, Baby, please, fill me up, give me your gift, please baby."

It was almost a chant as I set up a rhythm to give her what she wanted. Hell, what I wanted too.

But it was my second time in just a few minutes and I DO have those 75 years on my body. I was panting soon, as my body's oxygen debt built up from the unaccustomed exertion. My own rhythm was slow and steady, but I was using energy.

And her voice was moving from encouraging to demanding.

"Come on, Phillip, don't stop, come on, Baby," she was saying, her voice getting firmer even as my breathing was getting more ragged.

I was thrusting, but I was tiring too.

"COME ON, BABY," she was crying now, "GIVE IT TO ME!"

Her legs were scissoring, and her heels were digging into my ass with each thrust.

And I could feel that pressure building, finally.

"I'm trying," I managed.

"DON'T FUCKING TRY!" she yelled, "GIVE IT TO ME!"

And I did. My ejaculation took my breath away. My body tried to pump but I was too old for things to have replenished. I felt involuntary muscles deep in my belly clenching, a sudden throbbing in my cock, and I honestly believe I felt my prostate contract.

Her legs were wrapped around my waist and her arms around my neck as she was whispering, "Thank you, thank you, Baby, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou."

I could barely manage a soft, whistling, "You're welcome." I was struggling to support myself on my elbows, holding my weight off of her.

I managed to ease down to lay beside her and not flop and squash her.

She kissed me, a slick salty kiss. Both of us had worked very hard that time and were sweaty, noses running, probably drooling a little.

A good kiss, nevertheless, and she was regaining her energy quickly.

"Jesus, Fiona," I managed, "give me a chance."

She giggled and asked, "Are you stupid yet?"

"I think I'm getting there," I managed as she was covering my mouth with her kisses again.

She flopped onto her back, giggling, still panting herself, and said, "Okay, lightweight, you have ten minutes. Rest up."

She rolled off the bed and I watched as she walked out of the room.

It was worth the watch. There were interesting red spots on her shoulder blades and right where she sits. The semen and her natural nectar running down her thighs added to the image. And she knew I was watching. I could see it in her walk as that small ass disappeared.

I lay back, flat on my back, still breathing hard to pay off my oxygen debt.

And I dozed off.

Okay, I know, lightweight. But, hell, there is that whole three-quarters of a century thing.

I don't know if was actually precisely 600 seconds, but I woke as she took me into her mouth.

"Oh, Honey," I said, "You can keep that up but it ain't doing any good."

She looked up at me, my cock still in her mouth, and her eyes smiled.

She was good, okay, she was great with her mouth, but all I felt was the gentlest hint of a stirring.

"Hmmmmm," she hummed, releasing my cock and moving up onto her knees, "a tough case, huh."

"Just too old for this level of action," I said, smiling at her.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

I laughed.

"After what we just did?" I asked.

She giggled and reached behind my knee, gently lifting it. Well, encouraging me to lift it. I did.

She scooted around enough to get her hand under the other knee and applied pressure there.

I understood, then, what she wanted so I lifted my knees, moved my hands to the inside of them, and pulled, parting my legs and pulling my knees up as far as my own arthritis would allow, I exposed myself as a man rarely exposes himself to a woman.

"Good boy," she said, the pixie back with her smile.

I watched as she dragged her middle finger up the slit of her labia. I could see the thick, white cream she accumulated.

"Now, hold still and trust me," she said.

I realized what was coming and took a deep breath.

"I will never understand," she said in an odd, almost conversational tone as her finger moved closer to my anus, "why more women don't give their men the pure joy of a prostate massage."

Now, come on. We've all had that prostate exam and realized there were certain, well, sensations.

But this was different. God, this was different.

There was that sudden pressure as her finger penetrated, but it wasn't like the doctor's quick in and out. She penetrated slowly as she bent and kissed me. I felt her palm settle on my scrotum as her finger searched, slowly, gently, and then there was that sudden little jolt of electricity as she found my prostate and pressed, gently, sending little jolts to my cock and my nipples.

"Is that good, Baby?" she asked.

"Yes," I whispered, holding my knees back for her and waiting, okay, hoping for more.

And she delivered.

She started massaging, gently, and I was surprised when my cock responded. My nipples were hard, my cock was getting hard, and her finger was sending waves of pure pleasure through me.

"Tell me you like it," she said, between soft little kisses and sudden little jolts of pleasure.

"I like it," I said, well, I gasped.

"Tell me you don't want me to stop," she said, her lips at my ear and her breath warm moist puffs.

"Don't stop," I whispered, pulling my knees back farther until they touched my nipples, "Please don't stop."

She kept it up, covering my face with kisses, massaging my prostate, and whispering little instructions to me.

Time stopped. I have no idea how long that went on.

I did whimper when she pulled her finger free. I watched as she lifted the towel she had laid on the bed and carefully cleaned her finger before smiling and getting onto all fours beside me.

"Woof, woof," she said, giggling.

It was clear what she wanted and to my great surprise, the erection she had coaxed was still full and hard.

I moved behind her and slipped in, taking her doggie fashion.

As her back arched, accepting all of me, she did that "woof, woof," sort of play barking, and the image of my back flashed in my mind. I was still not sure if I was going to have to explain lines of scratches when I got home. I hooked my own fingers into claws and deliberately raked them down her back.

She yelped, giving a passable imitation of a hurt dog, and I watched as the lines I had left went from white to red to pink.

On some level, deep inside my mind, I was surprised that I had no desire to take her anally, but I didn't. This was too perfect as I thrust and barked at her while she yelped and then howled when I raked my fingers down her back again.

But this was my third time in just a couple of hours and I tired quickly. I was sweating with the effort I was putting out, and those muscles on my hips were hot with the effort.

As I slowed, she turned her head to look over her shoulder at me.

"Don't stop," she said.

"I don't think I can keep going," I said, my thrusts getting weaker as I strained.

She giggled and squirmed free somehow, wriggling with that odd, otter-like grace, out from under me.

She pushed me and I fell to my side. My muscles were tired and my equilibrium was pretty much shot by then.

"On your back, Old Folks," she said, "Let Auntie Fiona take care of you."

And she did. She crawled up, impaled herself, and rode me like a dildo.

It was fun, watching her little breasts bounce. But as much as she didn't want to admit it, her own odometer had quite a few miles on it.

She was sweating, finally, tiring, finally, showing the symptoms of age in spite of her incredible energy.

She came, suddenly, spectacularly. I thought her bladder control had failed her release was so liquid. Hot and thin but the scent was purest womanscent.

And it was my turn to do the urging.

"Don't stop," I said, softly, my fingers playing with small breasts and hard nipples, "Finish me."

"Oh, God," she moaned and her hips started working again.

"Don't stop," I said when she started to slow, my fingers digging into her hips hard enough to draw a groan.

"Hurry, Baby, please," she whispered.

"Don't stop," I said again, my fingers finding her nipples and rolling them.

She was visibly tired now, gasping for breath, sweating, her mouth open as she panted. Her nose was running, she was drooling a little, and her face was very red as she strained.

She came again, crying out hoarsely, and I dug my fingers harder into her hips when she stopped.

"Don't stop," I said.

I could feel the pressure building, finally, stimulated by watching her, smelling her, feeling her around me. Of course, the little yellow capsules played their part.

"Phillip," she gasped, spit spraying as she coughed in her exhaustion, "I can't."

"DON'T STOP," I said, putting all of the snap in my voice I could muster, my fingers clamping down on her nipples, pulling a little cry from her.

I could see her take a deep breath, like a runner seeing the finish line ahead, and her hips sped up again. She was breathing in deep, fast gasps, her hips were rocking, and the friction got to me. I realized she had fucked us dry.

"Come on," I said, "come on, come on, come on."

"Phillip," she responded, "Phillip, Phillip, Phillip."

"OH JESUS," she cried and came.

"OH JESUS," I cried and came.

She collapsed, spent, her entire weight on me.

I softened, almost immediately, and slipped out, feeling a strange friction as I pulled free from her dry pussy.

"Oh Jesus," she breathed.

"Oh fuck," I breathed.

She giggled and I chuckled.

"Oh, God," she breathed and rolled off of me.

"Oh, God," I breathed, as she kissed me and then I watched as her pretty little ass headed out of the room, presumably to the bathroom.

I assume she came back to bed, but I don't know for sure. I went to sleep, exhausted.

She was gone when I woke in the morning.

I don't think she fucked me stupid. I can still read and write and do my arithmetic.

But I'm pretty sure I left quite a few IQ points on that bed.