What Riley Did To Me

I was never sure just what to make of Riley. I could describe her looks—a petite five foot-four with light blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Her personality was that of a million girls in their early twenties, guarded and reserved in offering opinions, but forthright with sexuality. I can't explain what made her offer her wiles to a guy in his early fifties—over and over. If I did, I'd be too busy with girls like her to bother writing about it.

I met her when my nephew Corey moved into his first apartment. I was recently separated from my cheating wife, so rather than sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I offered to help him move in. He was renting a house along with a college-age couple—his buddy Keith, and as you may have guessed, a little cutie named Riley.

I tried to warn Corey about moving in with a young couple. Kids that age are often just playing house when they cohabitate. But Corey was always a stubborn kid, and my sister was all too happy to get him out of her basement. He had a good work ethic and a plan for the future, so it wasn't my call.

Keith was a different story. He was a lazy slob who didn't know which end of a screwdriver to hold. How he got such a damn cute girlfriend as Riley was a mystery that baffled me from the moment I laid eyes on her. If she found him worthy of a roll in the sheets, I wondered, why not an older, refined and self-described handsome guy like me?"

That question got answered the first day. Corey was taking night classes at the local community college. Keith thought it would be a good idea to go out to the bar and leave his girlfriend to hang pictures and tidy the place up. I offered to stay and hang a few window blinds. As I was gathering my tools to bring them out to my truck, Riley stuck her head in the doorway and asked, "Do you think you could check the shower real quick? It won't go on."

I didn't want to, nor was it my place to, but a damn cute girl was asking—a barefoot one in a skimpy top and a short denim skirt. "There's no such thing as real quick when it comes to plumbing," I replied, looking to garner sympathy. "But I suppose I could take a look."

At first, I was sorry I offered. I found myself following pipes around the basement, looking for a shut-off valve that didn't seem to exist. "You'll need to call the landlord," I capitulated. "I can't seem to find it."

That was the first time I saw the sparkle of frolic in Riley's baby-blue oracles. She tilted her head and shifted her weight, bending one knee. "I was going to offer you a glass of wine," she sang in a playful tone. "But I could really use a shower."

I may have been fifty-two at the time, but I wasn't going to let the little vixen's baiting offer go unchallenged. It suddenly occurred to me the shutoff must be under the sink, but it was time to play the helpful handyman role for all it was worth. Grabbing a wrench and angled pliers, I lay on the floor, opened the vanity door, and climbed underneath. Sure enough, the two valves were there, in the off position.

"Hmm," I called out from underneath. "This could be a bit of a job."

It was then a small, warm palm worked beneath my t-shirt and rubbed my belly. "I'd really appreciate it," she chimed, working her fingers under the waistband of my shorts.

"You shouldn't offer less than you're willing to deliver," I replied as my staff rose in my shorts.

"How about you?" she asked. "Can you deliver?"

"I'll give it all I've got."

"Me too," she squeaked, tugging my pants and boxers to my knees.

Through the open vanity door, I watched her flaxen hair drop over my thighs. It tickled my loins as she cupped my nuts in her small fingers. Through her shimmering mane, I saw her mouth open wide as she plunged over my beating knob. Wrapping her lips around my ardent staff, she twiddled her tongue at the base of my bulb as my groan reverberated beneath the sink.

The moist warmth of her mouth made my eyes cross as she sucked. I inhaled and moaned again as she bobbed up and down—her thin lips gliding over the chiseled features of my aching post. My balls tingled as she licked her way down the underside of my stiff offering. Stroking in long, slow cycles, she flicked my sac, then sucked my left jewel into her mouth.

I wondered for a moment how she could be living with such a scraggly chump as Keith. Perhaps he was hung like a horse. It didn't matter. The pangs of blissful climax were building along my length.

It was the first beejay I'd gotten in a long time, and a damn good one at that. Rayanne, my estranged wife, seldom offered more than a quick suck to get me hard enough to pry her clench. Once I began to suspect she was banging a younger guy, she stopped bothering and offered only an occasional pity fuck to keep me guessing.

There was no pity in Riley's effort—just plain showing off. She stopped a few times and stared at my throbbing manhood in a fitting testament to her youthful skill. My tingling balls shifted as she lolled her way back up my length and dunked over my throbbing knob again. Twitches rippled through my hilt as I let out a warning grunt. She bobbed down and hummed, signaling her intent to consume my offering.

It made no sense to keep her waiting. I wasn't trying to impress her with staying power. I was trying to come in a girl's mouth for the first time in more than a decade. It was the easiest thing I'd done in years, and the most delightful. With a hardy groan, I levied my load with a jolt, heaving a viscous opening volley onto her ever-twiddling tongue. A bevy of lust-driven salvoes followed, heaving the contents of my sac into her gulping gullet as she stroked in cadence to my blissful beats.

As my bursts faded to wishful pulses, Riley's phone chimed on the countertop above. She stood up and answered, leaving a pearly dribble oozing from the tip of my flaccid meat. I flipped on the valves and climbed out as she spoke quietly to the caller. "I gotta take a shower first," she said. Setting her phone down, she turned to me and offered, "You'll need to take a rain check on the glass of wine. Keith wants me to meet him at the bar."

"Fair enough," I replied, tucking in my shirt. Gathering the few tools I had out, I picked up my keys and climbed into my truck.

As I drove toward my place, I couldn't help but think about how sex affects the human animal in a way no drug can rival. Right or wrong, we keep score and settle conflicts with it. In most instances, someone who wants to hurt you must act on you, but not so with sex. They hurt you by interacting with someone else. Rayanne and I had grown apart to the point where sex between us was nothing special, but the thought of her offering herself to another left a squeezing pressure in my solar plexus. To complete the insult, she asked for a trial separation, which translated to me as an excuse to fuck someone else without bothering to file for divorce.

She had taken up with a guy in his mid-thirties named Erik. He was a real geek in my estimation—a tri-athlete wannabe who shaved his chest and legs to swim faster, but tried to hide the fact that he smoked. When I left, I moved three houses down the road to an apartment Rayanne and I owned together, so I couldn't help notice when he came to visit her. From the hours they kept, it was clear he didn't want to live with her. He'd come by after supper and leave before midnight.

As I drove past our home of twenty years, Erik was just driving off. I wasn't longing to get Rayanne back. The bell of iniquity cannot be un-rung. Since we split, the most I hoped for was to eventually get over it—before I met Riley, that is. I somehow felt empowered by our brief interlude, even if she had just done it for kicks. I wanted to interact with Rayanne, knowing the pungent taste of my seed still salted a young beauty's taste buds. Something told me it would change my outlook. It was only ten o'clock, so I made up the excuse of needing to pick up a few tools from the basement.

"Sari," squawked Rayanne as she opened the door. "You-you really shouldn't be here."

"Just need my belt sander and a few heavy clamps," I replied. "I'll come by Saturday and box up the rest."

"Don't rush," she crackled. "I told you...it's only a trial separation. It's not like I filed—"

"Fine," I interrupted as I walked past. "I won't rush."

"But checking up on me won't—"

"Not checking," I called as I went down the basement stairs. "Have fun."

"So you needed tools at ten o'clock?" she asked from the top of the basement stairs.

"For tomorrow," I shouted. "Someone asked a favor and I wanna help her."

"Her?"

I didn't answer. A minute later, as I climbed the stairs with a dusty sander under my arm, Rayanne met me with a glass of wine. "Stay for half an hour," she pleaded, leading me to the sofa.

Rayanne had lost my trust, but not my eye. She betrayed me, but the pulsing in my crotch wasn't a matter of trust. Besides, for a gal of forty-eight, she was damn good looking. Hot enough to attract a pretty boy athlete, in fact. Her long, curly black hair framed deep, dark eyes and pouty red lips. She wore a sleek robe she had evidently bought to show off for Erik, but in minutes it was opened wide to reveal a satin night gown, also purchased during our trial separation.

One more thing I've found about sex—when it rains, it pours. I should have been crying like a cuckold, but my semen was coursing through a college girl's veins as I spoke to Rayanne. I thought of it sloshing in Riley's tummy, along with tequila chasers.No cuck here,I thought to myself as I leaned in for a kiss.

"Sari," confessed Rayanne, "You should know...Erik just left."

Sniffing her breath, I asked, "Would I taste him if I kissed you?"

"Don't be silly. You know I don't do that. But we...had sex. He-he's in me."

"This should be interesting," I whispered, spreading the lapel of her robe and dropping it off her tanned shoulders.

Rayanne whimpered as she slid the spaghetti straps of her gown over her arms to reveal her ample breasts and erect nipples. I pressed my lips to hers differently than I ever remembered doing. I wasn't trying to win her back. I was going to enjoy sex with her—to bang her in tawdry impulsive lust, like another beau she invited over. Tugging off my shorts, I didn't worry about introducing my prowess to her mouth for a compulsory suck. She never gave that much effort anyway. I knew she was teeming with another man's seed. What I wanted was to bathe the stretched skin of my manhood in the puddle of iniquity pooled in her depths.

She lifted her hips as I pulled the gown over her knees. A blot of goo on her crimson panties testified to her recent gratifying encounter. Pulling them over her feet, I cupped the stained crotch in my palm and brought it to her lips. "Look at that," I whispered.

"I-I'm sorry," she lamented—eyes trained down at the pearly gob.

"No you're not," I whispered. "It's what you wanted. It's what all this was about. Take in the aroma of what he left in you."

"Sari...I-I don't—"

"Hush," I persisted, touching them to her chin.

She closed her eyes and inhaled. "Manhood," I whispered. "Testosterone. You gave in to the primordial instinct to be seeded with new genealogy. That's why you strayed. Right now, tens of millions of sperm are—"

Be quiet and get inside me," she purred without opening her eyes. "Plant your seed on top of his." With that, she slid down, planted her feet on the floor and spread her legs.

I kicked off my shorts and knelt between her thighs. Spreading her labial lips, I peered at the glistening pink tissues of her vestibule. She must have known what I was looking for, because she pushed out a shimmering dribble of Erik's ancestral recipe. As it ran into the cleft of her buttocks, I swabbed it with my throbbing bulb and planted back into her clench.

I could barely describe the look on her face—guilt, pleasure and sheer need coalesced as the corners of her mouth dropped and a low moan emanated from her chest. I grasped her waistline, pressed my thumbs on either side of her navel, and shimmed into position. In one long stroke, I buried myself to the hilt, reaming her semen-laden inners and plunging a pearly ring of white around my girth.

Rayanne cooed as my sac finally bottomed out against her buttocks. I retreated half-way, then mounted another charge, sliding into her velvet hug through the slick remnants of Erik's insemination. As my rhythm increased to a lustful measure, her lower lip trembled. Peering into my eyes, she stammered," I-I w-want—"

I didn't let her finish. Withdrawing from her confines, I knelt on the sofa and presented my rock-hard shaft, glazed with viscous white produce. To my elated surprise, she plunged over half my length and clasped her lips tight, lolling my encased shaft with her tongue.

Circling her gush button with one finger, I watched her glistening lips wipe my rod dry. Just as I got ready to climb back between her legs, she pressed my engorged meat against my belly and lapped my sac like a pooch drinking water. I didn't know whether she'd treated Erik to such enjoyment or not. I sure as hell wasn't going to ask—not then at least.

Her thighs wiggled briefly before she rocked her pelvis and froze. I'd never heard her scream so loud. Her tummy contracted as a spray of womanly thanks soaked the carpet and the coffee table. I pushed my palm over her apex as she wailed again. Her second wash deflected off my fingers, soaking her thighs, buttocks, and bush. With her pelvis still undulating, she rolled over and dropped her knees on the floor, pressing her elbows into the sofa cushion. "Come in me!" she pleaded. "Fill me!"

Scampering behind her, I knelt and buried the head of my plow. After smearing the jizz on my palm over the small of her back, I grasped her hips and broke into lustful cadence. Sloshing sounds filled the air, along with the rhythmic slapping of my nuts as I pounded her like never before. Pangs of orgasmic voltage shot through my length as she begged again, "Come in me, Sari! Please come in me!"

Taking in a deep breath, I thrust forward, locked my hips, and answered her plea. With her inners squeezing my every tingling inch, the twitches in my hilt grew to jolts of rapture, heaving jet after jet of fulfillment into her silky confines. Rayanne squealed to the beat of my spurts as I transferred the fruit of my balls into her living vault. We sang a note together—alto and tenor in harmony as my spurts faded off.

Rayanne let out a final coo as I withdrew from her seed-laden crevice. She climbed up onto the sofa as I grabbed my clothes and headed into the bathroom for a washcloth. On the way, I picked up her phone and brought it with me. Closing the door, I searched through her contacts for her ex-friend Kristie's number. Kristie had hit on me a few years back, and though Rayanne never spoke to her again, I knew she wasn't one to delete phone numbers. I found it underSkank Kristieand sent it to my phone. It was wrong of me on one level, but I hadn't started it all.

"I'll be in the bedroom," called Rayanne from the living room. "Should I bring your wine in?"

"If you want a second glass," I answered.

"You're not going to stay?"

"I don't think so," I replied, setting her phone back where I found it.

"Dammit, Sari," she complained. "It might be the last time I ask."

"It won't be," I answered with newfound confidence. "Take some time and get your tank topped off by a few more guys. Erik's kind of a dweeb. You can do better."

For a week or so, I second-guessed that decision. Kristie never answered the voicemail I left and Riley hadn't called back. The next Saturday, I was just sitting down to look at a dating website when Corey called. "Uncle Sari," he asked. "Do you know how to change out a screen on a storm door? Keith busted it moving a chair in and the landlord saw it. He got pissed. I told him we'd fix it. We can pay you."

"It's a screen," I replied. "It'll take me ten minutes. You over there now?"

"No, but Keith is."

Might as well, I figured. Perhaps seeing me again would jog Riley's memory and she'd renew her promise. Stopping at Rayanne's, I rushed into the garage to grab a roll of screen. "Can we talk?" she asked as I closed the garage door.

"Not now," I answered. "Emergency."

"A screen emergency?"

"Call me later, Rayanne. I'm helping Corey out."

I drove the quick ten minute trip and gave a hopeful knock on the front door of the kid's house. I have to admit being disappointed when Keith answered, but a promise is a promise. More to my chagrin, Riley was nowhere to be found. It turned out the screen wasn't even torn. The spleen had simply peeled out of the slot. I rolled it back in place and left without as much as saying bye to boring-boy.

After another ten minutes, I stepped in my front door and set my keys on the foyer table, right next to another set with a pink smiley-face on the chain. Peering into the living room, I saw a pair of dainty legs crossed at the ankles. Small feet with red toenails rested on the coffee table beside two glasses of white wine. Stepping around the corner, my eyes delighted in the sight of Riley's petite, naked frame on the lounge chair. Small, perky breasts and alabaster skin adorned her torso. Set in her navel was a pearl, inset in gold. Square, back-framed glasses made her all the more adorable as she leaned forward and handed me a glass. "Where'd you get a name like Sari?" she asked after taking a sip. "It sounds like you're apologizing for something."

"It's better than Stinky," I quipped, kicking off my shoes. "And I'm not apologizing for anything."

I don't remember drinking my wine or taking the rest of my clothes off. I do remember my staff standing at a stout upward angle—too stiff to wag as I knelt between her knees and stuck my palms under her buttocks. She giggled as I lifted her pelvis and brought her apex to my chin. As I dashed my tongue over her clitoris, the aroma of youthful estrogen filled my nasal cavity with a pungency I hadn't known in decades. With a laughing growl, I pressed my nose into the scruff of her bush and dug my wiggling tongue into the nectar of her honey pot. As I flicked her love button again, she cooed and wrapped her little calves around my back. "You're good at that." she moaned. "Make me come with your tongue."

Just like when the little siren asked me to fix the shower, her voice sounded so sweet I couldn't say no. I rubbed my hands up the soft but firm skin of her torso and tweaked her nipples as I dug in again. Her moans rose to squeals as she gyrated at the waist, grinding her seeping slit against my open mouth. The next time I dashed her gush button, I got more than I bargained for.

Riley went stiff, but her pelvis squeezed inward as a prolonged gush of heavenly reward splashed over my chin and neck. She screeched as I dug in and flicked her erect nub, drawing a second and third burst. Being the big ham I always was, I coaxed every dribble I could nurture from her quivering crevice. Not since I was too young to appreciate it had I heard such precious squeaks of pleasure from a girl her age. Her song-filled voice dropped an octave as she gritted her teeth and growled, "Get that cock in me!"

Grabbing hold of her ankles, I outstretched my arms and spread her legs into a V as she pushed my engorged shaft into her seeping clench. We moaned together as my throbbing bulb pried her labial gate to bathe in the slick, rich lube oozing from her inners. I tucked my chin to my chest and gazed down my torso at her entrance to ecstasy, clamped mid-shaft around my girth. With a quick shim of my hips, I gained a delightful inch into the warmth of her velvet hug. Retreating slightly, I saw the shimmering gloss of her juices basting my offering. I turned my attention to her deep blue eyes and proposed, "You may want to take off your glasses. They might get broken."