I’ll be spending the day babysitting a very independent 4-year-old today. So, I won’t have a lot of computer or online time. In my absence, I’m leaving you some fun things to do! Enjoy! ~DD
This story’s coming next week. Have you ordered your copy?
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Do you like older woman/younger man stories? Or do you prefer the opposite?
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The night Danny surrendered to her sensual appeal, Douglas had attended an out-of-town auction. Danny walked from the barn, saw the light shining from the narrow window, a shadow passing in front of the curtain, and he’d crept behind the large oak. The curtain had been parted, just enough for him to peek inside.
He’d told himself he wouldn’t linger, would just get a quick glance and be on his way. Satisfy his curiosity about her and leave her alone.
Maggie Dermott stood in front of her mirror, her blouse removed, both hands cupping large breasts over her functional white bra, massaging them as though they ached.
The sight of her partially disrobed had his body tensing hard, his groin filling quickly.
Her expression held him spellbound.
Pretty bowed lips parted breathlessly, her eyelids drifted shut, and then she reached behind her to unhook her bra.
When the garment slid away, he’d had his first full view of a woman’s mature breasts.
Sure he’d fondled several classmates, slipped his hands inside their underwear to explore, but he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Maggie Dermott’s creamy, rose-tipped breasts.
She’d cupped them in her small hands, just as he imagined he would if he stood behind her, lifting them, her fingers spreading and kneading the pendulous globes.
When she’d plucked the nipples into erect little points, he’d groaned out loud. Their rose hue darkened. The tips drew into tight little beads that invited a mouth to sip at them. He imagined drawing on them, rooting into her soft flesh and suckling hard.
When her hands reached behind her again and slowly slid down the zipper of her denim skirt, he finally admitted to himself he was there for the duration. No possibility of him moving from his vantage outside her window.
Steam rose inside the bathroom. She’d drawn a bath. Foaming bubbles blanketed the surface of the water. Soon she’d sink into the water and he would leave.
Her skirt slid down her legs. She stood clad only in a demure, pink pair of cotton panties. From the side, her bottom flared, rounded, lush. Perfect.
His cock strained against his zipper, and he reached down to adjust himself, but his hand lingered. He cupped his balls and squeezed, then slid along the erection growing increasingly more insistent as it dragged against his pant leg.
He slid open his belt, unbuttoned the top snap and scraped down the zipper, intending only to relieve the pressure. Instead, he drew his cock outside his pants and wrapped his fingers around his shaft, his gaze never straying from Maggie as she pushed her panties down her legs and stepped out of them. Then she faced the window as she leaned over the bathtub to turn off the water.
The thatch of dark brown hair between her legs was glossy, the curls tight, masking her sex until she opened her legs and stepped over the rim of the tub.
She paused with one foot sinking into the water, the other still on the floor, and reached for the white bar of soap lying on a dish beside the sink.
Her feminine folds parted, giving him a glimpse of tightly furled pink labia.
His hand fisted, gliding slowly up and down, drawing blood into his thickening staff. He spit into his other palm and coated his shaft with it, easing his fingers through the moisture.
Lord, she was beautiful. Sleek pearly skin, rounded thighs and calves, a soft, fleshy bottom beneath a deeply indented waist. Her breasts drew his attention again.
So close now, he could see perspiration glazing the tops of her breasts, his hand tightened, beginning to pump in earnest on his aching cock.
She gathered the soap, a washcloth, and slipped into the water, settling with visible sigh, laying her head against the rolled rim of the large tub, the tips of her hair dragging in the water.
Her eyes closed and her chest rose, her breasts lifting the bubbles.
He stared for long moments, feeling the urgent heat settling in his balls, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he spilled his seed into the dirt.
Her eyes opened and slid to the washcloth. She rolled the soap and cloth inside her hands, then dipped the cloth beneath the water. Her knees rose, parting to fall against each side of the tub, and her hands reached between them.
Her eyes squeezed shut, her pink mouth opened around a gasp, and he knew what she was doing.
The pleasure flushing her cheeks with heightened color was reflected in the pout of her lips and the crease deepening between her eyebrows.
He slowed his hand, wanting to wait and ride the crest with her, to share this intimacy even if she never knew.
Although hidden by the cloud of bubbles, he could tell when she neared the peak. Her neck arched, her knees drew higher. When she came, the water lapped toward the edge of the tub, as a muffled, but audible, moan tightened her lips.
Danny’s hips thrust forward, spearing through his tightly wrapped fingers, desperation making him reckless as he pumped faster, the wet, slapping sounds growing louder until his balls exploded and cum burst from the tip of his cock to stripe the dirt in glistening white. He sagged against the tree, at last closing his eyes.
Immediately, a hot wave of shame dampened his pleasure.
God, he was bastard. He’d spied on her, violated her privacy.
With shaking hands, he’d tugged his clothing together and slunk like the snake he was back to his bedroom where he’d jacked off in the dark to the memory of her beautiful, womanly curves every night until he’d finally gone home.
Danny stripped the burning end from his cigarette and pocketed the butt, and then quietly entered the house. He undressed in the dark, sitting on the edge of the bed to wrestle off his boots, then standing to strip his belt from its loops and push his pants down his legs.
Naked at last, he tried to ignore the pressure growing between his legs. A bath? No, a cold shower.
Danny heard the creak of a floorboard in the hallway outside his bedroom and nearly groaned. He’d been on the edge of arousal, remembering every lurid moment. Now, the object of his obsession walked a few feet away.
The sound outside his bedroom cinched tight around his balls. He gave up trying to control the hard-on steadily growing between his legs.
To ease the ache, he spread them and fisted his hand around himself, coming in minutes, wanting it over quickly to ease the excitement humming through his veins before he sought his first meeting with the woman whose face and body had owned his lust for over seven years.