mature xxx

I guess I have a lot to thank Mrs. Johanssen for - not just the sex. She helped me get my act together; I went on to finish my graduate degree and I never looked back. Nowadays I’m a psych professor at a reputable college on the East Coast. It’s a pretty good gig; it sure beats working for a living.

As you probably imagine, it really happens; I’ve become accustomed to the young coeds approaching me. Some kind of nervous young thing shows up in my office and the pitch is always the same. “Oh, Professor, can I talk to you . . .” What follows is some kind of sob story about how she’s been too busy to complete the term project on time, or how she’d like a little assistance with the subject material; a little personal assistance, right?

I always listen to their spiel. The bottom line is always the same theme, some variation of: “. . . little one-on-one, just you and me, Dr.?” By the time they get to this part I usually can’t hold back my grin anymore and it’s on. I learned early on why shrinks really keep a couch in their office. Sometimes it doesn’t even get that far; I’ve bent girls over across the top of my desk and laid pipe standing-up doggie-style, and I’ve lost track of the number of blowjobs I’ve received sitting at my desk. This is probably the most convenient scenario because I can answer the phone and from out in the foyer it looks like I’m busy at work; except for maybe the look of total ecstatic agony on my face while under my desk on her knees Little Miss Sweetheart of Sigma Chi is hard at work polishing my knob with her wet mouth.

Considering the above, I was quite intrigued the day April came into my office. April was one of my older students. Real older. I put her in her mid-to-late-forties; she certainly didn’t fit in with the younger t-shirt and baggy khaki’s set. She seemed to try to come across with a casual style to fit in but was almost too chic somehow. Swishy crushed silk skirts with wide leather belts that emphasized her round hips, loose blouses worn open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage, and a quite bit of gold jewelry. The effect was some kind of stylish hippy-chick Gypsy adventuress.

From my point of view April definitely had it going strong. A good-looking brunette, her hair was cropped short, done about her face in a teased, windswept style. April had a great body; big tits and a nice round ass from what I could discern, but certainly not ‘full-figured’ or fat in any way.

Needless to say, I’d taken notice of Ms. April in my lectures. Or should I say Mrs. April; part of her extensive jewelry collection included a wedding ring set with a diamond about the size of a hen’s egg.

I often wondered what brought an older girl like April back into the college scene. Some rich guy’s wife, looking for something to do with her spare time? An aging trophy wife, perhaps, working on getting some real credentials against the day she gets traded for a younger edition? Not that it mattered; as far as I was concerned April was a VERY good-looking woman who just happened to be getting up there in her years.

April always sat in the front row; that’s how I knew the minute details of her jewelry accoutrements. Hell, I always hovered near her in lectures because catching a whiff of her perfume always gave me a woody. Oh, and did I mention the view down the front of her dress was simply magnificent?

She even had nice ankles; April usually wore ankle-length high-button boots, either that or those gladiator-type wedgie sandals that strap around the calf. It was almost as if she was trying to bring attention to her feet and ankles - I guess she was self-conscious about her ass or something, even though she had no reason to be.

Today April wore a figure-hugging dress of black crushed silk done in a calico pattern that buttoned up the front, with a bit of lace showing about her ample cleavage. With her high-button boots she had a sort of a Cher theme going; gypsies, tramps and thieves. Especially the tramp part.

“Hello, uh, April, isn’t it?” I said, playing the absent-minded professor bit. I didn’t want to make it obvious that I drooled over her on a regular basis. “You’re in my, let me see if I remember, uh, Psych 201 class, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Professor. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about my work in the course . . .”

No shit, I thought. April! Whoa . . .

“Y-e-e-e-s?” I said, drawing it out. This was going to be good and I wanted to enjoy every second of it.

“Well, I . . . . . . uh . . . . . .I’m finding the course workload a bit overwhelming, and . . .”

Waiting for her to get to the point, I was asking myself over and over again if this was really happening or if I was imagining the whole thing. Having a beautiful mature woman coming across like a coed in her late teens or early twenties was blowing all the norms. I was getting signal overload and at the same time I was totally intrigued in a very sexual way.

“. . . I was wondering if you could give me some time. Maybe some assistance . . .”

Bingo. There it was. For some reason I wasn’t grinning like a wolf.

“Uh, what part of the syllabus are you having difficulty with?” I asked. I’ll admit I was a bit nervous too, so I shuffled through some papers on my desk. I mean, this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill, garden-variety, just-had-her-cherry-popped coed we’re talking about. This was a fully-grown woman, a very beautiful woman - obviously at the very sexual peak of her life - and she was coming on to me like a dozen alley cats in heat. It occurred to me that this was no time to be playing games so I looked up from the mess on my desk, straight into her eyes.

The look in April’s green eyes was all business; she obviously wasn’t into playing any kind of stupid games, either.

“I have a place where we can go . . . to . . . talk,” she said, quite simply.

I returned her look. “Meet me in five minutes, April, out the parking lot. You know my car?” Everybody at University knows my car - there aren’t too many AC Shelby Cobras in the world, and there’s only one on campus.

Let me tell you about my car. I’m a psychologist, right? I’m constantly analyzing the people around me, myself included, right? So when my mid-life crisis arrived I decided to Hell with being in denial. When women hit this stage they go nuts, buy lots of jewelry or have affairs; guys go out and buy themselves sports cars. I figured I’d been working my balls off all these years, now it was my turn for a fast car.

You don’t really buy a Shelby, that is, unless you have about 500,000 lying around that needs to be spent; you build a Shelby. There are quite a few custom car companies that offer Shelby kits; I bought my kit from a South African company that owns the rights and the drawings to the original Shelby’s. Most kits come with a fiberglass body; there’s one company out there that advertises carbon fiber bodies, but they’re never in stock. The insane maniac who runs the South African operation teamed up with this aircraft factory in Poland that used to make MiG fighters; nowadays they fabricate bodies for the finest Shelby replicas on the road out of aircraft grade aluminum. That’s right, I said aluminum; the entire body only weighs fifty pounds!

My Shelby is silver with a black stripe down the middle. The usual blue and white Ford color scheme is so limp dick; I wanted something that made a statement about raw power and speed. I wasn’t going to paint it Ferrari Red - I mean, sure, it’s a projection of my penis, but I don’t have to be obvious about it. And I wasn’t going to paint it Rubber Duck Yellow like the Dean of the Humanities Department’s Porsche Boxster. Give me a fucking break. I had it done in the colors of my favorite NFL football team; the Oakland Raiders. My silver rocket-ship-with-wheels is powered by a 427 cubic inch stroked supercharged V-8 engine. Like I said, power. Raw power.

But I digress. This story is about ass; a very special piece of ass in particular. The only reason I mentioned my Shelby is because of the effect it had on April. When I opened the tiny side door she kind of squealed at the tan leather interior. I went around my side and stepped over the door and settled myself behind the wheel.

You don’t get into a Shelby as much as you strap it on; much like climbing into the cockpit of a fighter jet. Even though mine is two inches wider and has a lowered floor to handle my physical size, there’s still not a lot of room, and then there’s the three-point restraint system.

I helped April belt her way into the shoulder straps, which had the effect of nicely emphasizing her boobs. When I reached between her legs for the crotch strap she instinctively tightened up until I held up the strap and showed her the metal tab.

“It’s a safety thing,” I explained.

I clicked the tab into the buckle right beneath the shelf formed by her generous breasts. Now April was all strapped in, cinched nice and tight, and when I pulled that last buckle snug the metal tab was sitting right on top of her pussymound. Because of the way the crotch strap pulled up the hem of her dress I couldn’t help but notice the lace edged tops of her thigh-hi stockings - very nice. I naturally wondered if April was wearing panties.

Then I turned the key in the ignition.

The Shelby has a particular effect on women; the engine gives a throaty roar when it comes to life and the huge cylinders in that bore-stroked V-8 just rock the tiny car and everything in it. April’s face had this look of utter amazement that was quickly replaced by a wide smile. I just gave her my best Satyr-like grin, and sent her this message by mental telepathy: That’s right, baby. You’re strapped inside a giant, silver vibrating dildo on wheels. I could tell from the way April was flushing from the tops of her breasts right up to her hairline that my car’s powerful engine was sending vibrations all through her body right onto her clit.

I put her into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. This time April didn’t even pretend to play shy or coy. Her left hand gripped my thigh, holding on for dear life as we went from zero-to-sixty in about two seconds, still in second gear. It’s not that I’m into terrifying girls as a way to impress them or anything; I was just going down the street. The car has zip, that’s all.

April settled down a bit when we got onto the highway and there came a modicum of normalcy to the degree of speed we were traveling. If there’s anything normal about doing a hundred miles an hour in an open car that’s only slightly bigger than a kid’s go-kart, that is. April didn’t let go of my thigh. She leaned against me as close as the restraint system would allow, her big boobs pressing against my tricep as I manipulated the gears.

April’s death grip on my thigh lightened up as she became accustomed to the sheer power of my little silver bullet but she didn’t move her hand. Instead she began stroking up and down my thigh, which felt great because I was already sporting an intense hard-on. April said something, and I hollered back at her, “W-H-A-A-A-T?”; you really can’t speak when you’re doing a hundred+ in an open convertible. She said something again, then smiled as she realized there was no way we could engage in verbal communication.

Then she put her hand on my crank.

Her small, soft hand felt good on my poor cock, which by now was straining to get out of my trousers. April smiled again as she trailed her fingers across the denim my cock had stretched as tight as a snare drum and she kissed my cheek. At that point it would have been nice if she could have gone further, but when you’re strapped into the tight confines of an AC Shelby doing a hundred down the highway that’s about as far as it goes.

I smiled back at April and downshifted and then I let my hand come to rest on her inner thigh. April opened her legs as much as you can in that little cockpit and I took that as my signal to move my hand a little further north. North, above the tops of her stockings, about as far you can go up a woman’s thigh and still be touching leg. The crotch strap and the hem of her dress prevented me from getting to home plate, but judging by the moisture I encountered I could already deduce two things: a) April was in an extremely heightened sexual condition, and b) April was definitely not wearing any panties today.

April pointed, indicating an exit. I took it and gently slowed my machine as I drove through the off ramp. Speed is okay on the straightaway, but I’m not in a hurry to test the roll bars. I knew through the little hamlet we were cruising through. April pointed out a little winding road that led up into the hills. I kept the car in second gear as we winded up the little mountain road; April leaned over so she could press her tits against my arm. The powerful vibes of the engine took care of the rest; I swear I could feel April’s labia pulsating against my wrist. With her arms about me and her face pressed against my shoulder, April’s entire body convulsed once, twice, and again.

A guy can’t always tell if a woman’s faking it, but he can always tell when it’s for real. Lovely April had just come to orgasm; right then and there in the passenger seat of my car. I’d bet my tenure on it.

April pointed out a driveway. I pulled in and killed the engine. All of a sudden there was just the twittering of birds, and the sound of the engine ticking as it cooled down. I hit the release on my five-point and looked over at April. She was still in a state of sheer amazement at the Shelby experience; her head was back and her eyes had a wild look in them as her fingers fumbled with the buckle on her harness.

I just had to ask. “So what do you think of my car?”

“You drive the way you teach, Professor,” she whispered. My eyes were on her magnificent pair, they were going up and down like a bellows.

“Oh?” I mumbled as I gave myself permission to bury my face in the valley between her ample tits, while I manipulated her glorious mounds with my free hand.

“O-V-E-R-W-H-E-L-M-I-N-G!!!” she gasped.

Did I mention that her nipples were poking through the thin fabric of her dress like a pair of pencil erasers?

Somehow we managed to extricate ourselves from the Shelby and get in the front door. “What a nice place you have,” I remarked, moving about the wide central room.

“It’s a friend’s place. She loaned it to me for the afternoon,” April smiled. Loaned it to me so we could fuck, was the message I got from that.

“It’s a nice place,” I said, impressed.

“It’s only a matter of time before it slides off the side of this hill,” she shrugged “but the view is amazing!” April was standing by the big picture window. I had to agree with her; as she leaned on the window ledge, the view of April’s ass was amazing.

Then she turned and said, “Let me get you something to drink.”. We moved to where the bar separated the kitchen area from the wide-open living room area. I positioned myself at the bar and watched April move about the kitchen. She opened a cabinet and produced a bottle of wine, a South Australian Shiraz. She produced out some glasses and placed them on the counter. “Can you open this?” she asked, placing a corkscrew on the counter next to the bottle.

She was going to shamelessly ply me with booze - not that it was going to take much plying to do the trick. I popped the cork and poured the wine. We clinked glasses.

“To . . . us?” she smiled, apprehensively.

“To us.” I confirmed with a disarming smile.

“Oooh! That’s a nice drop!” she said after taking a sip. I tasted the wine tentatively; it was good.

“Tell me about you, April. You’re not the average coed. What brings you to university?” This was code for ‘what’s an older girl like you doing in the meat market?’

“Well, my life was getting kind of boring . . .” she paused to take another sip of wine.

“Go on,” I said, doing my typical Dr. Peters act.

“I’m married, you know - that doesn’t matter does it?” To her momentary look of panicky concern I gave her a cursory shake of the head, a little wink that said no, of course not; marriage has nothing at all to do with what we’re about engage in. She went on, “and, well, my life was becoming kind of stale . . . you don’t mind if I talk about my marriage, do you?”

“Don’t feel that you have to, April.”

“No, I want to. I want to tell you . . .”

I just nodded and acted sage-like. April went on, “My life is, well . . . comfortable, but . . . what I mean to say is my husband really does a good job of providing for me and everything, but . . . I mean, there’s the scene at the country club, and the nice trips and everything . . . what I mean to say is . . . I was really going nuts being a rich man’s wife,

“There’s his cars, his boat, the place up in the mountains,” she continued. “I was a part of it all. I married young; I was merely another bauble, a part of his wealth. Now I’m getting older . . . and he’s getting . . . real old . . .”

She continued. “When I was young, I had everything going for me. In high school I was a cheerleader. I went on to do some modeling; I trained as a travel agent and I had a little career going on. I mean, I had my whole life ahead of me . . . and somehow I ended up being a trophy wife!”

April paused, looking up from her wine. I remained silent, waiting for her to go on. “With my husband, it’s . . . well, it’s not . . . what I really mean to say is that I, we . . .”

“You don’t have to go on if you really don’t want to, April,” I suggested, sensing what it was she was trying to say.

“No, I want you to know. I would never cheat, but with my husband, well, something’s missing in our life. Let me put it this way; up until ten minutes ago, in that thing you call a car, I haven’t had an orgasm in the presence of another person in the last ten years.”

I grinned wide and April blushed and looked down. I was right; my car did make April come!

The sad fact of the matter is that most men don’t know how to make love to a woman. April’s old man probably fucked like a pig; either that or he was suffering from age-induced limp-dick syndrome. Most women react by thinking there’s something wrong with them; April obviously blamed herself for her old man’s inability to satisfy her.

When April looked up there was a smile on her face. She finished off her wine with a healthy swig, then got up and moved over to gaze out the huge picture window, at the view of the valley below. She sighed, “All my life I’ve been a glorified ornament. I signed up for classes at the University because I wanted to do something I’d never done before.” She placed her hand upon the ledge and adopted a sort of coy posture. The girl knew exactly what she was doing and she was good at it. Very good.

With the daylight behind her, the crushed silk of April’s thin dress assumed an almost translucent quality. I could perceive the curve of her hips, her shapely legs. I could even make out the crack of her ass; it was obvious she wasn’t wearing panties. I put my wine glass down and moved up to stand behind her, put my hand on the windowsill next to her.

We were close, so very close, as close as two people can stand next to each other and still not be touching. As I breathed deep of her scent, a powdery smell of fresh flowers and musk, I could smell something deeper; the scent of her smoldering sex.

“April.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“First of all, stop calling me Doctor. My name is Sean.”

“Yes, Sean,” she said, her voice dropping by an octave.

“You’re a beautiful woman, April.” Beautiful wasn’t the word for it: she was a knock-down, drag-out stone fox.

“Thank you, doctor, I mean Sean.” April looked over her shoulder at me, her sweet smile and languid eyes told me it was time to get to work.
I placed my hands on her round hips, put my lips lightly to her cheek. A definite electricity passed between us. When I nuzzled my face into the crook of her neck April didn’t stand a chance. I held her tight, pulled her to back me. My hard-on was pressing through her thin dress, right up the crack of her ass.

April suddenly exclaimed, “Oh! It suddenly got so hot in here!” fanning herself slightly. I chuckled. She turned around, pressed her body against mine; our lips met and we kissed. We kissed open mouthed, long, slow and lovingly, our tongues instinctively going into a ritual dance. April melted in my arms, and to be quite honest I was quite overwhelmed by the moment myself.

It was good, April was a good kisser. As we kissed I allowed my hands to wander down, to hold and squeeze her soft, round asscheeks. April sighed, pressing herself against the tremendous bulge in my trousers.

Now an urgency overcame us. Still enjoined in a kiss, we moved apart so that our hands began undoing and unbuttoning our clothes. While April worked to open my trousers, I managed to undo the front of her dress. I peeled it off her like the skin of a fruit and let it drop to the floor. I was right; she wasn’t wearing any panties. In her sexy high-button boots and black stockings, April wore absolutely nothing between the tops of her thigh-high’s and her black brassiere, not even a tan line. Her tight ass was perfect.

April turned to face me. She smiled, unashamed, as my eyes boldly wandered the length of her body. Like I said before, she was full-figured, not fat. A perfect example of female beauty, late in life. There was a certain thickness about her middle, but her waist was still narrower than her hips and the slight bulge to her front was hardly more than a sexy ‘French belly’. Her knockers were huge, wedged into that wonder bra they thrust straight out. I idly wondered how long they’d stay firm like that when the bra came off.

A complete absence of tanlines on April’s smooth body spoke of a pampered existence at spa resorts and tanning salons. And she was obviously up on the latest bikini styling techniques; other than the briefest strip of neatly trimmed dark hair gracing her mound, down below she was completely bald, her slit was quite visible.

Then there was her extensive collection of gold jewelry; gold hoop earrings, the multiple bangles and bracelets, heavy rings on her fingers, a thick gold chain necklace, a gold chain about her waist, another about her ankle, some kind of golden decoration to her navel, and down below her petit-coiffure, a golden ring pierced through the hood of her clitoris. The woman was literally dripping in gold; she was adorned in jewelry like some kind of exotic slave-girl.

My jaw must have been down on the floor or something. April glanced downward, indicating her body, then looked up at me and shrugged. “Ornament,” she laughed.

My mouth was dry. I said something like, “Yeah . . .”

April was obviously into displaying herself. She cupped her breasts in her hands, squeezing them so they bulged over the cups of her brassiere; perfect. “Do you want me to take off my bra, Doctor, I mean, Sean?” The way her full lips went all pouty as she said this made me nearly come in my pants.

I shook my head. “Not yet,” I croaked. I was too much enjoying the visual of April in the altogether; displaying herself, half-naked, offering up her breasts to me. It’s not as if I’m some kind of pervert. I am, but that’s beside the point; I wanted to burn the image of this magnificent woman into my memory banks.

Then it was like April read my intent and she did a sort of half shrug and smiled as if suddenly self-conscious by her state of undress. I moved back to her, placed my hands on her bare hips, cupped her bare asscheeks. April held my arms and we kissed once more. April went up on the balls of her feet as we kissed, and I felt the muscles of her ass roll beneath my fingers.

Her full, soft lips met mine, parted slightly so our tongues could barely flit about. This was what I had anticipated; a woman experienced enough to know how to love slowly, taking her pleasure in evenly measured steps. Not like the hurried young things who can hardly wait to hop on it and impale themselves.

Now my cock was straining to be free. As April rubbed her Mon du Venus against my bulge I became more passionate in kissing her. My tongue became more forceful. April parted her lips to allow my tongue into her mouth, gently sucking; a silent promise of what her mouth would do to my cock.

By now my cock was solid as a rock and throbbing, and my pulse roared in my temples.

April finally broke the kiss. She moved her hands over my chest, pushed my jacket off my shoulders. Her fingers went to my shirtfront and started undoing buttons. She raked her fingernails across my bare chest, teasing my nipples with a few playful pinches.

My trousers were undone and around my ankles. Her hand went to the tent-like bulge in my shorts. She felt my cock through my shorts, pinched my hard length, then put her hands within the elastic and pulled my shorts to the floor.

My hard cock pointed straight at the ceiling, free at last.

“Ooooh!” another squeal of amazement. “It’s . . . so . . . . . . BIG! And so HARD!” April exclaimed as her dainty fingers gently stroked my rod. She went to her knees and freed my trousers from around my ankles. Her face was now at cock level; I flexed and let my hard dick bump her in the face. Without the slightest hesitation April parted her lips and engulfed my hard cock in the warm wetness of her mouth.

I nearly came on the spot.

April obviously knew what she was doing. She fluttered her fingers softly about my rod as she sucked. Then, as her lips moved up and down on my tool, she began stroking my length more purposefully into her mouth with one hand while she tickled and squeezed my balls with the other. The woman had more than simple talent, she had skills.

And this is the quintessential difference between the younger girls and a mature woman; a younger girl tends to swallow as much cock as she thinks she can handle and then go about it like she’s sucking a milkshake from the bottom of the glass. April, on the other hand, was a gifted cocksucker, a virtuoso on the skin flute.

I could not help but be awestruck as I looked down at this beautiful woman kneeling before me, a perfect vision of mature female beauty, sucking my cock as if wishing to gain sustenance. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to keep from coming right then and there.

After awhile April released me from her mouth to give her jaw muscles a rest. She ran her lips and tongue up and down my length, slowly jacking me off with her hand as she did so. Then she took my cock back in her wet, willing mouth and continued to suck.

I don’t know how long this marathon fellatio session continued; April truly had the benefit of experience going for her. I was almost in an altered state as April’s head went up and down on my knob. Now she was drooling on my tool to make it slick as she stroked my rod into her mouth.

I finally put my hands to her face, silently urging her to release me from her mouth; I didn’t want to blow my load without first fully experiencing everything this magnificent woman had to offer. I got up and helped my naked slave-girl to her feet; she still wore her black lace brassiere, all her gold jewelry and those naughty high-buttoned boots. We kissed again, then I turned her about so I could hold her tits from behind while she rubbed her naked ass on my rod.

When I buried my face into the little hollow where her shoulder meets her neck to once more enjoy her scent, April threw her head back and thrust her powerful boobs forward. I helped myself to a pair of handfuls, pinched her nipples hard through the filmy material of her sexy bra - God, I love women’s underwear. April moaned and shoved her hot ass against my dick.

The woman was ready. “Let’s take it to the bedroom,” she whispered, indicating the hallway. April took my hand and I was treated to the delightful view of her enticing asscheeks bobbing up and down as she led the way. High-heeled ankle boots and stockings striding down the hallway, bare asscheeks and a black bra strap going across her back; I like that. Like I said, I’m a pervert. Half-naked chicks in cool underwear is my kink. One of them, at least.

It wasn’t exactly mirrors on the ceiling or floor-to-ceiling lava lamps, but the thick, fuzzy, tiger-striped cover on the round bed was kind of wild and unexpected. “Why don’t you climb onto that tiger skin and roll around for me?” I grinned.

April perched herself on the side of the mattress. A natural poser, she leaned back with one leg on the floor, the other tucked under her ass, and pressed her large breasts together. “Do you want me to take off my bra now?” she asked. Again, that sexy pout.

“Sure.” It was time to free her pair of monsters from their restraints. When April reached behind her back and released the catch on her bra the sheer pressure of her boobs almost caused the flimsy garment to fly off like a slingshot. The sight of her naked tits heaving up and down with every breath made my cock involuntarily twitch.

They weren’t quite the size of volleyballs but they were close. Her nipples were a pair of cones the size of silver dollar pancakes, nice and pointy, a sort of pinky-brown color against the tanned flesh of her boobs. What was most incredible of all was the almost minimal effect that gravity seemed have on this middle-aged woman’s set of cans. Her knockers poked right out, practically begging to be sucked. If they weren’t real, they were a really good job; she obviously had the best cosmetic surgeon in the business – there wasn’t the slightest evidence of scar tissue whatsoever.

Did I mention that April was a very, very beautiful woman?

I sat down on the mattress to face her superb tits. Holding her marvelous boobs in two wonderful handfuls, I proceeded to rub her tits all over my face while I nibbled and licked at her lovely nipples. April sighed with pleasure, at the same time reaching out to tickle and stroke my still-hard raging boner as I sucked on her tits. That was nice, but I wasn’t ready to fuck, not just yet. I had yet to fully savor this magnificent woman.

I indicated for April to lay back. She did so, opening her legs as I moved around the mattress to face her. Kneeling before her, I lowered my face and delivered the first of a series of gentle kisses to her wet slit.

April moaned. Her hands went to the back of my head and she started to rock back and forth; I hadn’t even gotten started yet.

My tongue delved deeper into her slit; she moaned some more. I sampled her juices, then moved up to kiss and lick her lovebud. I went further south, licked her crotch all the way from her little brown rosebud of an asshole, up her slit to her clit, then back down again to repeat. This evoked deeper moans as her hands pressed more against the back of my head. “Y-E-S-S-S-S-S-!-!-!” she hissed. When I put my lips around her clit and sucked it into my mouth she emitted a sound like a panther screaming in the jungle at night.

Finally she couldn’t take it any longer. She lifted my face from her pussy and looked down to me. Her lovely big boobs were bulging forward, pressed together between her arms and she held my face in her hands. I swear she was begging for it, mewing like a kitten, “Please? Fuck me now? Please? Please?”

“I’m not done yet,” I said, and returned to delivering sweet kisses to her sweet, sweet pussy. I made her tunnel wet, slurped a lot of saliva in there, then went to work with my fingers on her love-hole as I returned to sucking her clit. I fingerfucked her with first one finger, then two, as I sucked her clit into my mouth and began writing the alphabet on it with my tongue. When I got to the letter M, I began tickling her cute little asshole with the tip of my little finger as I continued to suck on her clit.

April was holding the back of my head with one hand, holding her tits and pinching her nipples with the other. She was thrashing about like a landed trout as I continued to tickle, lick and fingerfuck both her holes. Suddenly she cried out, “AH! AH! A-A-A-A-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H!!!!” and my face became very, very wet. April had just experienced her second orgasm of the afternoon.

I kicked back for a second, wiped my face with the back of my hand, then moved forward. It was time to mount this magnificent woman.

We kissed gently, the head of my cock gently prodding against her swollen pussylips. April’s arms were about my neck as we kissed; she was hot and willing, ready and raring to go. Just before I slid my cock home into her hot, wet little honeypot, April looked into my eyes and said, “Please, Sean, don’t come inside . . .”

I grunted in reply and rammed it home. Her pussy was hot, wet and tight as a set of vise grips on my dick. I very quickly found out fucking April was like plugging into an epileptic fucking machine. “OOOHHH!!!” April moaned as she wiggled about on the end of my dick.

I went in and out of her tight twat a few times, but really it was April who was doing most of the fucking. She had the most amazing action with her hips. I had to hold on to her asscheeks to deliver some real power thrusts.

“OH! OH! OH!” she moaned between thrusts as she moved back and forth on my pole, “Oh, fuck me! Fuck me! Oh, Professor-I-mean-Sean, fuck me!”

Then, “Yes, yes, don’t stop!”

And then it became like a series of instructions as I took this magnificent woman down the road to her pleasure; “Faster. Keep it going!”

“Yes, deeper!

“FASTER!

“Keep going, MORE!

“Now, a bit slow, s-l-o-o-o-w . . .

“Now do me HARD!

“Yes, yes! there . . .

“Now, fast, FASTER!

“SLOW.

“There, yes!

“YES, YES!

“Keep going.

“Yes, faster.

“OH GOD!

“YES! Mmmm . . .

“OHHHH! Right there!

“Oh YES!

“Yes! YES! Y-Y-Y-E-E-E-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-!-!-!

“OH! OH! FUCK ME! FUCK ME! FUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKME!!!!!”

Then, “OMIGAWD! OMIGAWD! OMIGAWD!!! I’M C-U-M-M-M-I-N-N-N-G-G-G-!-!-!-!-!-!-!” I sank my fingers into the round globes of her ass as my rod of steel plunged in and out of her wet hole. The tight muscles of her wet, gushing pussy did all the rest.

Judging from the puddles of lovejuices pouring down the crack of her ass and the way her clam was gripping my tool, April was experiencing multiple squirting wet orgasms. As for me, my time was near, but I hadn’t forgotten her request not to come in her pussy. I moved back and we detached. Now my big red boner was pointing up at the sky, hovering over her prostrate form.

I began stroking myself with the intent of cumming all over her when April surprised me; “Let me do it, Sean,” she panted, struggling to get up on one elbow.

Despite her state of total sexual satisfaction, April moved to the floor, got on her knees and indicated that I should sit by the edge of the mattress. Then to my pleasant surprise she took me in her mouth for the second time that afternoon.

She sucked my pole like a woman possessed, jacking me into her mouth as she did so. I could but stare in wonder out of sheer admiration as I appreciated the oral ministrations of this accomplished fellatrix. When April started humming my cock spurted hot cum into her mouth.

April released me from her mouth in time for my second shot to splatter across her lips and chin. April smiled wide; a great wad of jizz escaped her lips and rolled down her chin as she jacked my dick off onto her tits. I came in loads, coating her bouncy ripe tits with thick white sticky man-goo.

April then took my shaft and rubbed the head of my still-hard cock all across her tits, her nipples, then about her lips and chin, finally taking my goo-covered dick into her mouth to suck me dry. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmm,” she hummed. I thought my toenails were going to curl into the carpet.

We lay together on the bed for I don’t know how long, quietly enjoying the afterglow of our lovemaking. I was on my back, April’s face was on my chest, I let my fingers idly trace circles on her asscheeks. It was April who finally spoke first.

“Three times,” she said, amazed.

I grunted.

“I haven’t come with a man in ten years. Ten years. Now, three times. Three times in the space of an afternoon.”

“Three times?”

“Once in the car, on the way up, remember?”

I grunted again.

“Was it good for you, too?”

I knew that was coming. For a reply I rolled her over and kissed her on the lips, long and deep. A loving soul kiss, I could taste my cum in her mouth. My dick was getting harder again, rubbing against her thigh.

We finally broke for air.

“So, am I . . . good?” The poor girl had a serious self-confidence problem that was going to take several sessions to overcome, I could tell.

“Are you good what?” I asked, teasing.

“You know. Am I a good . . . piece of ass?”

“I dunno,” I replied.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I dunno,” I repeated, as I inched my fingers deeper into the crack of her ass. “I’ll let you know.”

I put my lips on hers to shut her up as my fingertips explored her buttcrack. My fingers arrived at her tight little backdoor opening and I began paying an inordinate amount of attention to her asshole.

“What do you mean, you’ll let me know?” April asked, breaking for air. I just kissed her again, in a way that told her I was playing with her. She was starting to wiggle beneath my prying fingers.

Wondering just how far I could take it I began probing her cute little backdoor in earnest. Sensing no serious resistance, I shoved my thumb right up in there as deep as it could go and moved on to all-out fingerfucking her back there.

“OH! OH! OH!” April cried, squirming harder than before and I had to wrap my other arm around her to keep her from flailing right off the bed as she struggled to disengage her asshole from my thumb. Finally I let her unplug. April glared at me. “What was that all about?”

“You asked me if you were a good piece of ass, I told you I’ll let you know. I’ll let you know when I get there.”

There was a silence as April digested this. Finally she spoke. “Sean,” she said in a quiet, sincere tone of voice, “do you want to . . . . . . want to . . .”

“Shhh,” I said, kissing her.

“Sean,” she said, when we finally broke the kiss, “I just want you to know, I’ll let you if you want to . . .”

“Mmmm?” I asked. I was enjoying her squirm about the issue.

April finally said it straight out, “Honey, do you want to . . . do you want to fuck me in the ass?”

Momentarily taken aback by April’s crude choice of words, I could scarcely believe my ears. She was offering me no less than the cocksman’s ultimate prize; often sought though rarely gained access to, every woman’s most private place. I quickly regained my wits enough to ask, “Can I?”

She simply shrugged, “You can if you want to. I’ve . . . taken it . . . ‘that way’ . . . before.” I moved behind her and began gently humping, running the underside of my hard cock up and down her smooth, round ass. Then April said, “Not here lover.” She indicated the bathroom. “Let’s go in there. I want to make sure I’m really clean back there.”

* * *

We both stood by the shower stall, naked of course, waiting for the water to heat up. April smiled sweetly and once again I was taken by her beauty, the overwhelming magnificence of her nude body. April was obviously a bit self-conscious at what was about to go down, so I hugged her, held her ass, and thrilled to the feel of her large yet incredibly firm breasts pressing against my chest. As we kissed my hard, hot boner pressed flat up against her belly. I held her tight round ass in my hands and this time when my fingertips gently probed her asshole she simply melted against me. It was time to get into the shower.
April took the bar of soap and soaped me up; I reveled at the feeling of her slippery hands moving all over my body. She paid an inordinate amount of attention to my cock, which by now was poking straight out to the front. Then I was clean and it was my turn to soap up April.

I worked over her boobs first, of course. Her firm, round mammaries were truly a pleasure to handle, to hold and squeeze. I had April hold her arms over her head as I working the slippery soap over her hills and valleys - then worked my way down her body, soaping her hips, her thighs, her pussy. I got down on my knees and pressed my face into her neatly trimmed pussymound as I ran the soap up the crack of her ass, rubbing it over her hot little asshole.

Then I had her turn around so I could truly begin worshipping her ass. I rinsed off the soap and pressed my face as far as I could between her asscheeks. When I probed my tongue deep into her anus I felt a quiver go through her being.

I got back up from my knees and held her from behind, helping myself to a glorious armful of round breasts while my other hand soaped her rump up once more. With arms up pressing against the wall, April spread her legs to allow me better access to her ‘backdoor’.

I put the bar of soap right on her asshole and tried to fuck her with that but it was too wide, so I put it aside and began working two fingers up her anal orifice. I got them in there up to the second knuckle and then I was fingerfucking her ass, fingerfucking her in the ass with two fingers. April grunted at first, then sighed as she submitted to this perversion.

I was practically raping her ass with my hand as streams of warm water ran down her back and down the crack of her ass as I plunged my two fingers in and out of her soapy hole. Making sure she was thoroughly rinsed and clean back there, it was finally time to move on.

I withdrew my fingers, rinsed off her wet, soapy butthole in the shower spray, and positioned myself behind April’s butt. April arched her back a bit to offer her ass up to me. Her face was pressed sideways against the tiled wall of the shower stall, eyes closed. “Go ahead, lover. I’m ready,” she whispered. She was smiling, incredibly enough.

Her round, soapy asscheeks felt terrific as I slid my hard cock between them. I looked down to marvel at the sight of my rod violating the brown cheeks of her perfectly tanned ass. The head of my cock located her asshole; her hot, tight little hole was quite ready after being worked over by my fingers. I pressed my hard cock against her anal sphincter; when I went up on the balls of my feet the head of my cock popped right in, right up to the rim of the helmet, and suddenly we were doing it. Doing it in her ass.

I felt incredible heat and tightness as my rod penetrated her butt. With every thrust April went up on the balls of her feet and moaned, “OOOHHHH!!!” as my length went deeper, deeper still into her ass. She was totally impaled on my rod. Holding her massive boobs with one arm, I slipped the other hand around to strum her clit and play with her pussy while I fucked her backdoor.

April’s clit was engorged, her pussy was wet and willing to the attentions of my fingers. I began to slip into a strange out-of-body experience as I fucked April in the ass; it was almost as if I were she, as if it were me being impaled, penetrated in the rear, pinned to the wall, unable to escape while at the same time being diddled and fingerfucked.

The effect of being fucked in the ass while her pussy was simultaneously fingerfucked obviously did it for her. April began going into an extended series of orgasmic convulsions, incredibly enough, even as my thrusts up her asshole became harder and more purposeful. I had her pressed against the tiles, her face was up against the tiles, eyes shut, lips parted, the running water splattering her hair against the nape of her neck as she took it, took my big ramrod right up her poopchute.

I felt her pussy gripping my fingers tight, clenching hard as wave after orgasmic wave rolled over her while I continues to pump my cock up her asshole. When she finally went over the edge I came, pumping gallons of white-hot goo deep into the crevices of her ass.

It was like we collapsed against the tiles as the jets of hot water continued to spray us down. I must have been crushing her but she didn’t seem to care. Still connected, her asshole twitched about my pole a couple of times.

We finally detached. I took the soap to wash off my poor, spent cock. April took the bar of soap from me and smiled sheepishly as she reached back to scrub her freshly buggered rear end.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, ever the sensitive guy.

“Yeah, it hurts, but in a good sort of a way. I kind of like it.” Then she smiled a naughty girl smile, “Did you like that?”

I simply held her close and we kissed once more, the shower spray coming down all over us. I held her round ass in my hands and enjoyed the way she wiggled as my fingers ventured near her tender little poopchute.

“So tell me, Professor,” she asked, “will I get an A?”

“You just got one,” I laughed.

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