Young Friends (2)
Part 2 of my day with Debs. If you haven’t read Part 1 I’d start here: https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble/young-friends-ca55326c15e7
Part 2 of my day with Debs. If you haven’t read Part 1 I’d start here: https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble/young-friends-ca55326c15e7
“Yuk! That’s gross! No!” She scurried away like a millipede and looked at me. Suddenly looking like an eighteen-year-old schoolgirl, not a sex-hungry young woman. I apologised although I’m ashamed to admit, inwardly, I was pleased. I’d regained some control.
“Oh Debs, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I should have asked. It’s just that you happily followed the spanking. I thought you would be up for most things.”
“Most things, sexual, yes. But not that.”
She’d scuttled across the room and was sitting on the floor with her back against an armchair, her arms around her raised knees. Although I’d said to myself I didn’t mind if my actions caused a problem I realized I did. As I said in my earlier blog, sex with Debs was on a different plane from the others, I think largely due to the age differential. I knew or at least had reason to believe, Katie would be happy to play, but I was becoming greedy. I wanted them both and preferably together. I needed to repair bridges.
“Tell me, Debs, what’s your biggest turn on” Given how open and forward she’d been at the start I felt she wouldn’t need too much encouragement to get back to playing. To help I slouched back on the sofa, left my legs apart, and slowly fingered myself. God. How wanton that felt. Almost as good as the time on the sea front when I’d exposed my cunt and a man had come in his trousers at the sight.
Debbie’s eyes were on my slow-moving hand as she answered.
“Scissoring.” She said just the word. I felt she wanted to find out if I knew what it was. I wondered if that was part of my appeal to her. Over double her age but not nearly as streetwise. But then, there was the conversation she’d had about me with Katie. Where Katie had said I was sexy, or some such compliment. Was my appeal that she’d got to me first?
I wasn’t clear in my mind why I was asking myself these questions. Debbie was a horny attractive young woman. Couldn’t I just enjoy her for that? I stopped analysing and replied to her one word answer. “I’ve enjoyed doing that. Want to do it now?” I’ve felt in the past that asking whoever I was with if they wanted to do a certain thing destroyed the spontaneity, but had a suspicion it wouldn’t with Debbie.
“Okay,” she answered brightly, as if I’d asked if she fancied playing monopoly. She got up and came over. As she went to straddle me I pushed my head forward and clamped my mouth over her pussy. I hadn’t tasted her yet and desperately wanted to. She didn’t object, just shifted her position slightly so I had a better angle. She tasted delicious. Each of my friends did, but all in subtlety different ways I couldn’t describe. One didn’t taste of strawberries and another of chocolate but there was a distinct variation. Perhaps Debbie’s was that of a young not yet ripe fruit.
She was soon wet again and I leaned back and let her slide between my legs our pussy’s colliding. Our clits grinding into each other as first Debs and then I rocked and pushed and ground and rubbed our sexes together. Our breathing was becoming staccato. Our vocal sounds more urgent. I let her take the lead. She was more supple than I was. More able to twist and turn. Getting her clit into every gorgeous corner of my vagina. She knew what she was doing. And as far as I was concerned she could keep doing it for the next year. She was intently watching my face as I was hers. She wanted to bring me off but the expression said she wanted to do it to show she was back in control. I desperately wanted to come but decided to see if I could hold on. See how she reacted.
God, it took a huge effort. The sensations coursing through my body from those grinding clits were epic.
Apart from our contact there, Debbie wasn’t touching me. She had her hands firmly clamped over her own tits and was massaging them, pinching her nipples, trying, and succeeding, in giving me visual stimulus.
It was a battle I lost. The waves of sexual need eventually broke through. The orgasm was enormous and thunderclap loud. It was my turn to buck my young rider off. Our legs were intertwined and she lost her balance, tipped off the sofa, and took me with her.
As the waves subsided I realised my hand was working her cunt. Two fingers fucking her. “Shit, Ms. Parker. Do me! Hard!”
I did. I untangled myself from her, kneeled beside her, and started frigging her. I wished I had a strap-on. I had a feeling she’d love that. Perhaps next time.
With my free hand, I groped a tit, started slapping it. “Fuck Ms. Parker. Do me harder!” Physically I couldn’t. My hand was banging into her as fast and hard as it could. Instead, I swung a leg over her and lowered my cunt onto her face. I’d have loved her to lick me but I had another idea. I sat on her face. Her nose teasing my pussy lips. I ground myself into her head all the while trying to keep up a rhythm with my fingers.
I felt a change in her body. I’d tripped a switch. I lifted my bum an inch or so. A long low sound emanated from her. Her thighs started to tremble. The first signs of her impending orgasm. And boy did she come. All that youthful energy bottled, channeled into giving her a climax. She pulled my hand away and started rubbing her own clit She squirted. Not like Mary, but her juices were expelled with force. I was going to need Charles in his maid persona.
I climbed off, lay beside her and kissed her. The urgency had gone from us both but this was not a loving kiss as I felt they were after a sexy session with Jane or Mary. They were still filled with passion albeit simmering rather than boiling.
Eventually, we parted. I got up and collapsed in a chair. Debs remained where she was still lightly fingering herself. I suspected her sexual appetite was insatiable. I asked.
“Do you fuck anyone?”
“Pretty much. Why?”
“No reason, just wondering why you’d spend an afternoon with me when you could have a gaggle of your own age.”
“Variety, I suppose. I’m with Katie about boys of our age. Can’t hold it for two minutes. It gets frustrating unless there’s several of them.”
“You’ve done gang bangs?”
“Shit yes. Loads.”
“Many older people?” She didn’t mind talking about her sexual exploits it seemed so I probed.
“Yes. Makes life interesting. Oldest man I’ve had was fifty six. Oldest woman, sixty something.”
“When did you start?”
“Early. I was through puberty by thirteen.”
“Will you be telling Katie about this?”
She gave me a quizzical look as if weighing up which answer to give.
“I might.”
“Why only might? Are you worried about her being jealous?”
“A bit.”
“You really think she’d be upset to think we’d had some fun? Me being a friend of her mothers?”
“To tell you the truth Katie’s unsure of herself. Sexually I mean. I know a few of the guys she’s been with and it doesn’t surprise me it’s put her off boys. They were bloody useless. But she was so unsure of herself when we did it. Guilty almost. Somehow I get the feeling she’d be happier, more secure doing it with you. No comeback. No attachment likely. That sort of thing. So I don’t want to tell her what you’re like in case it puts her off.”
“What I’m like?”
“Yes. Kinky!” She said it with a smile.
“You could leave out the peeing request! Tell her I was happy to do what you wanted.”
“You want to screw her then?” I didn’t answer, just raised my eyebrows.
“Ha, yes who doesn’t, given how gorgeous she is? I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. Do you fancy doing this again?”
“Why not? It’s been fun. No peeing though!”
“Guaranteed,” I said.
And that was it. She got dressed, well partially, (I noted with interest she stuffed her knickers in her bag rather than put them on. I’d ask about flashing when I next saw her.) We kissed and she left.
What a day!
