When that orgasm did emerge, radiating up from her pussy all the way up to her brain, she let out a squeal that was close to a scream. But this time she had no inclination to restrain herself, gazing down fixedly at Gerald as he continued to lick and stroke her, while her legs twitched spasmodically as wave after wave of her climax washed over her.
Gerald moved up her body and lay quietly on top of her, watching her as the remnants of her paroxysm shuddered through her frame. His expression was strangely blank, with just a hint of a self-satisfied smile. But in fact that smile was directed toward her, as if he’d said: I hope I’ve made you happy.
Then he spoke some words aloud. “May I go into you?”
What a ridiculous question! Joyce was tempted to cry out, Of course you can, you silly man! But all she said was, “Yes.”
And so he entered her.
Joyce’s eyes bulged as she felt that long, thick cock forging slowly but inexorably into her. Both she and Gerald seemed surprised that he had trouble making his way into her–it was almost as if she’d lapsed into a virgin state all over again. But her wetness made the process easier, and pretty soon Gerald was in up to the hilt. Joyce couldn’t remember when she’d felt more filled: even with her few bouts with college boys before she’d met Gerald, she’d rarely accommodated a cock of this size into herself.
She sensed that the only thing to do was to lapse into a kind of languid passivity while Gerald did his business. Her orgasm had, in any case, exhausted her more than she expected, so she lay motionless as Gerald plowed into her. She did manage to throw her arms around his neck and wrap her legs around his thighs, but that was the extent of her involvement. Gerald, meanwhile, again kissed her all over her face while grabbing her breasts and bottom with questing hands. After a time his thrusts became almost mechanical, and Joyce had the curious sensation that that cock was forging a tunnel all the way up her body.
Gerald’s year-long absence from intimacy had made him desperate to pour his seed into a woman, and he felt mortified that he wouldn’t be able to last as long as he’d hoped. After about ten minutes a low groan emerged from deep in his throat, and he felt the need to whisper into Joyce’s ear, “I’m gonna come!”
And he did, pouring what seemed like an ocean of his most precious fluid into Joyce’s vagina. She gratefully accepted every drop as he grunted and moaned on top of her. She didn’t always feel a man’s come in her pussy, but this one she felt–she could hardly have failed to do so, as it was so copious that it began leaking out of her even as Gerald’s thick member remained firmly ensconced in her.
Then he all but collapsed onto her, a dead weight that she found curiously pleasing. In some strange way she now felt completely in charge of the situation–for wasn’t it her lovely body that had engendered this overwhelming response in this gorgeously appealing man?
But at last she found it a bit difficult to breathe, and she said, “Gerald, could you please get off me now?”
He heaved himself off of her, his cock slipping wetly out of her sex as more of his come oozed out of her and onto the bedsheet. He flopped onto the other side of the bed, breathing hard and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. He did reach over and give one breast a final squeeze, but then closed his eyes to take a rest.
Joyce took the opportunity to get up, go to the small bathroom, and give herself a bit of a wash. Much as she enjoyed the sweat that covered her and the mixture of his and her fluids that was trickling out of her vagina and down the insides of her thighs, she felt the need to tidy up–perhaps in anticipation of another round.
Before she returned to bed, she went into the living room, fished through her purse for her smartphone, and gave her daughter a call.
Hilary said, “What’s up, Mom?”
“Um, I’m here at Gerald’s place . . .”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes . . . and I expect to spend the night.”
“Really? Wow! That was fast!”
“Fast? What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing, Mom. It’s all good. Does that mean you two are going to–you know . . .”
“We already have.”
“You have? Fabulous! How was it?”
“Heavenly. But I’m hoping there might be more.”
“You think he can revive for another go? A lot of men can’t do that.”
“I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“Did Dad ever do that?”
Joyce was peeved. “Dear, we don’t need to talk about Dad right now.” As a matter of fact, Richard was almost never able to “get it up” a second time, and the best the couple could do was cuddle.
“Okay, sorry, Mom. I’d better let you get back to it. See ya tomorrow!”
When she came back to Gerald’s bed, she found him awake.
“Everything okay?” he said, somehow worried.
“Sure. I just wanted to let my daughter know I wouldn’t be coming home tonight.” Then a little worry of her own came over her. “You do want me to stay the night, don’t you?”
“You bet!” Gerald said, finally showing some enthusiasm that belied his usually soft-spoken manner.
She slipped under the covers beside him, but he flung the sheet and blanket away, as if he couldn’t get enough of her nudity. As they snuggled, she noticed that he was paying quite a bit of attention to her bottom, almost kneading it as if it were some uncooked dough. She was getting the feeling that he had a serious butt fetish. Well, that’s okay by me. I have a damn good butt, if I do say so myself.
Her impression was confirmed by the conversation that followed.
It began when she noticed that, to her delight, he was indeed getting hard again. Of course, it hadn’t hurt that she’d been playing with his member all the while, stroking and tugging at it and also cupping his balls. When he was fully erect, she looked up at him and said, “You want some more?”
“Yes,” he said–but his tone of voice was a little peculiar.
“You want a different position?” Like, maybe, me on top?
“Yes, but . . .”
“But what? Out with it!”
“I was just wondering . . . if you wanted it back here.” And he all but inserted a finger delicately into her anus.
She gasped. It took her a moment to say, “You want it that way?”
“Yes–but only if you do.” Ever the gentleman!
“Did you do that to your wife?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes.”
“And she liked it?”
“She seemed to.”
When she didn’t respond immediately, he said, “You don’t like it?”
“Oh, it’s not that. It’s just–I haven’t done it in a while.”
“You mean you and your husband . . .”
“No, we didn’t. I guess he thought it was distasteful.”
“I understand that. So you’d rather not?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m a little out of practice, that’s all.”
“Well, maybe it’s something you never forget. Kind of like riding a bicycle.”
She didn’t appreciate his flippancy. But she said, “I suppose we could do it.”
He sprang into action almost at once. He leaped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Returning in seconds, he showed her a jar of cold cream as if it was some sort of prize.
She looked at it with a puzzled frown. “What’s that?”
“It’s the lube my wife and I used.”
“You saved it after all this time?”
“Yeah.”
Joyce didn’t know what to think. In a way it was romantic (he preserved the lube that he used when he shoved his cock up his wife’s ass!), but in other ways it was a little odd.