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Chapter 1: His POV
Aroused females can, of course, be great fun. This one was of a certain age and although she was losing her edge, maybe, slightly, she’d once been clearly very attractive. Now there was a little too much effort put into the hair and makeup, a little too much cleavage, a little too much leg, way way too much heel and the outfit itself was quite a bit too tight. There wasn’t a ‘no vacancy’ sign, legit or otherwise, on the third finger and there wasn’t any tan line so it had been some time. Moreover, she was showing all the tells of a female just on the biting-her-lip side of turned on.
So I kept her on my hip, just out of eye contact. Having not spoken up the moment I entered, she was now pretty much forced to trail in my wake. While I wandered the shop, checking tables, a few sofas — all while her ridiculous heels clattered along the tiles a few paces behind me. I even glanced in the direction of the beds. After all, we were the only two — well, the only two visible at any rate — in the whole shop.
Having dragged her about for some time, I gazed over toward the beds again, then turned abruptly toward her with a smile. “Making your quota?”
Her perpetual smile switched suddenly to a chuckle and she shook her head, spreading her arms. “It’s a recession, what can I say?”
Her nametag said ‘Lisa’. The nipples stretching the fabric of the top were hard to miss. After making very sure she knew I’d been looking I’d raised my eyes to hers, still smiling. “I might be able to assist.”
She made another expansive gesture, also still smiling. “As you see, I have the time.”
“Excellent.” I looked around, started off again, slower now. “Sofa beds? They were over here, right?”
“Yes. We have a good selection.” She was right behind me, maybe would rather lead. But I kept her on my hip again, led her instead. “What size are you looking for?” she added, close to my shoulder.
“I’ll just have to see. Maybe something will take my fancy.”
Stepping off to one side as we reached the area allowed her to slip past. She went straight for the Queen Size, of course, the skirt tightening as she made the arrangements. I had to confess, at least while encased, the ass looked pretty good. Pulling the mattress up into view, albeit still folded, she turned to me — but with a kind of informal ‘Vanna’ gesture toward the item.
I looked from the mattress to her and back to the mattress, let things draw out somewhat, than back to her.
“That’s probably too large. How about that one?” I gestured toward the very corner of shop.
“Yes. That’s one of our loveseat models. We sell quite a few of these. Flat, is it?…condo?” She had the mattress out, still folded, turned to find me behind her.
She didn’t seem alarmed or unsettled by my proximity. The smile never flickered. The nipples were ataşehir escort now very prominent. More to the point, one of those little ripples you can see if you’re watching went from head or toe — or maybe toe to head. Either way, it definitely passed through her.
So it was okay…
It was still okay when I had eased the shoulders of her blue blazer back enough to slip it off. And she made no move to stop me, said nothing. Simply smiled. So I did it. I slipped off the blazer and folded it, without looking, over the arm of a closed sofabed beside me. Her eyes did flit toward the door, and she licked her lips.
When she re-focused on me, I said,” “If I do the top, I’ll probably mess your hair and makeup.”
Her smile spread slightly as she crossed her hands at the waist hem, the way women do. And while she was easing the top up and off, I helped myself to the catch and zip on her skirt. It was tight and I gave it a fair tug. So that by the time the former was off and she was shaking loose her hair, the latter was pooled around her ankles.
She had a moment then. Gazed toward the shop door, gnawing her lip gently. So I didn’t move quickly, or suddenly — I just kept moving, reaching around to undo the catches on the black lacey bra.
The tits were good. Good size but not over-sized and still tight. She watched my fingertips onto her taut engorged nipples. Actually sighed audibly. Then winced as my fingers tightened, tweaking both at the same time.
“Tights and knickers next, I think,” I said.
Nodding, eyes glistening as I continued to work her nipples, she moved to kick off her shoes, already peeling down the tights and knickers. While I continued to work her nipples, savouring the way her eyes developed that smoky caste — and the way the sharp intakes of breath tucked in her rounded yet still quite firm tummy. And I liked the trimmed rather than shaved pussy. On her, at least, this seemed appropriate.
Straightening up, she said, “May I…?”
“Call me Sir?” I interrupted lightly. “Yes. Of course. I am after all the customer.” Releasing one nipple, I cupped that hand behind her head and began to ease her down, toward her knees.
” Sir will ask if he has any questions?” She was expertly releasing my now surging erection from slacks and briefs, no wasted movements or time.
“Of course…”And this time the shiver went through me. I think both ways in quick succession…
The thing about females of that certain age, if they do something they tend to do it well. They tend to have had practice and developed some skills. And she was good, better than good. She went deep straight away but was much too good to stay there. Instead, every time she moved on me it was at a different pace and to a different depth and when she took my tip in her fingertips and ran her flickering kadıköy escort bayan tongue along the bottom of my balls…well, that was up on full tiptoe exceptional…
Chapter 2: Her POV
He was a prick of course. He wasn’t interested in buying anything. He wasn’t even interested in me. All of which may have made him even more attractive. Probably. That, combined with the boredom of the shop being empty hour after hour — and yes, combined with the fact I hadn’t been the subject of this type of attention in a fair while. And he was attractive. No young buck but good looking, and buff across the pecs and upper arms and from where I was, up close and personal, those abs looked pretty tight too.
And the cock was superb. Nicely curved with a full rich helmet.
All told, just the combination to bring out in me what my daughter called, quote, “you’re a-s”, unquote. Yes, that’s short for “aging slut.”
But why not? Women of 40-something-ish should be sluts. If I can’t gnaw on a gorgeous cock now, when can I? And what if someone came in? Okay, that wouldn’t be good. Because I was now stark naked and I doubted if he would step in for me, buying me time to discreetly get my gear on and hair fixed so I could go back to work, as it were. But the thought of being caught out, every time I had the thought, brought that tightening little buzz to my lower belly. While my pussy was soaking. I could feel the slickness on my inner thighs, And that thought made me even more determined.
To bring him off. In my mouth. Right here and right now. I wanted him to gush and gush. I wanted to make him gush because that would give me some control. And he was starting to swell…it was working…
But he was wise to the trick apparently. Because next thing I knew his hand had gone from cupping my head, that oh so comforting gesture, to intertwining in my hair — and the lights were flashing before my eyes as I had no choice to come up to standing position.
He was rough, firm. I liked that. I barely had time to unfold the mattress out to full size whilst he was spinning me around, then I was face down across the mattress from the side…well, elbows supporting my weight whilst his feet eased mine farther apart, He came into me with all the subtlety of a rugger scrum coming together. I recall actually thinking that. I’d been to a match the evening before and the images were fresh and the entrance prepared me for a pounding.
Which didn’t come. Not that there weren’t some deep hard thrusts but there was a diversity that was unpredictable and quite quite delicious. He used this long slow deep almost corkscrew thrust sometimes and when he leaned in with three of those in succession it was crazy-making. I wanted to drop my head and chew the mattress but the grip on my hair was still there, holding me upright so I was staring escort maltepe the mirror atop a dresser and therefore at the reflection of him.
I was losing control. On the cusp of one those grand levitation ‘O’s when he abruptly pulled out, casting me into that abyss of sheer emptiness — only to flip me over and lift my crossed ankles over his right shoulder, holding them there whilst he sunk in again, to the hilt.
And it was the crossed ankles of course. I’ve kept pretty tight. Only one daughter and I’ve always done the internal exercises — but this was completely alien to my experience. Had I not been so wet I swear he’d have ripped me apart and I tried to wrench my ankles free, to separate them, but he held them firmly grinning down at me now the sparkle in his eyes mesmerizing mine and when he leaned in with that long slow corkscrew stroke I couldn’t breathe — tried to lift my ass to ease the stress but he had the leverage and simply folded me back down on the mattress, and I wanted to beg him — probably was begging him given the way his smile was spreading. But it was too late then. His face, everything, was fading to black. I was wracked by a massive ‘O’, then another, and I could feel him swelling to fill me even more which brought on yet another and then he was gushing and I was doubled up, must have been, because later I could see the livid imprints of my fingers on his hips…
When I could see at all, that is. And when I could speak, I wanted to say ‘that was 10.8 on the richter scale — can we do it again?- in fact if you come within reach I bet I can make it possible again in a matter of seconds’… but of course what I did say was, “that was interesting. Do you always test-drive beds so thoroughly?”
“Of course. We spend more time in bed than in our cars. Why should we test them any less?” The fingertip marks on his hips disappeared beneath the briefs he was slipping into place and he was shrugging on his shirt. I didn’t have the energy to sit up, let alone dress. So when he had tucked his shirt into his slacks and zipped them I was still lying on my back on the open mattress of the sofa bed in the shop — where anyone could come in at any moment. My jolt of that thought would have brought me upright, except that he was laying a business card on my navel. “Have this sofabed delivered to this address please.” Then he was counting out 100 pound notes, fanning them slightly when he laid them just below the card. “In fact why don’t you come visit me this evening. I can have dinner brought in, I have a quite decent wine. ” He plucked gently at my pubic thatch…once, twice, three times, sending this delightful little frissons up my entire body.
I wanted to say, ‘Oh yes Sir! Love to Sir!’
But he’d made his point, was shrugging on his jacket. And from his smile as he moved off he knew I’d come. The prick — the arrogant prick. Then I heard the ping of the door and panicked, for a split second, before I realized it was him going out…
But that meant I should move, now. Couldn’t just lay here naked, with money and a business card adhering to my perspiration dampened flesh!
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