Nostalgic Pleasure

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I lay on my bed, my mind drifting back to a time when life was simpler, and my pleasures were raw and unfiltered. I was Melissa, a woman of 44 years, with brown hair that cascaded in loose waves down my back and brown eyes that had witnessed both joy and sorrow. My body, though marked by time, remained fantastic—a testament to years of care and a playful spirit that refused to age. My face, pretty and expressive, could shift from kindness to cruelty in an instant, a true switch capable of dominating or submitting, depending on the whim of the moment. Today, however, I was neither dominatrix nor submissive. I was a woman lost in nostalgia, yearning for a taste of the past.

It started with a memory—a vivid, almost tangible recollection of my teenage years. Back then, my sexual exploration was a secret world, a realm of discovery hidden from prying eyes. My go-to method of pleasure was simple yet profoundly satisfying: humping a pillow. Not just any pillow, mind you, but a special one. It was soft yet firm, perfectly shaped to cradle my body as I ground against it. I’d straddle it, my hips moving in a rhythmic dance, the friction building until I climaxed in a rush of youthful ecstasy. That pillow had been my silent companion, a witness to my early sexual awakenings, tucked away after each session like a cherished secret.

Years had passed since I’d last indulged in that hands-free pleasure. Life had intervened—relationships, careers, other methods of satisfaction. But today, as I lounged on my bed, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I felt an irresistible urge to revisit that old ritual, to reconnect with the girl I once was. I rose from the bed, my bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor, and made my way to the closet. There, tucked away in a corner, was the pillow. It was a bit worn now, the fabric faded and the stuffing slightly lumpy, but it was still familiar. I pulled it out, holding it close to my chest, and smiled. It felt like reuniting with an old friend.

Back in my bedroom, I positioned the pillow on the bed, its soft surface inviting. I stripped off my clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a careless heap. My body, though older, still felt alive—my skin smooth, my curves inviting. I climbed onto the bed, straddling the pillow as I had done so many times before. The sensation was immediate. The softness of the fabric against my skin, the way it molded to my body as I settled atop it, sent a shiver of anticipation through me. I closed my eyes, letting the memories flood in, and began to move.

My hips swayed slowly at first, my movements tentative as I reacquainted myself with the rhythm. The pillow seemed to remember me, too, providing the perfect resistance as I ground against it. My breath quickened, my nipples hardening as the friction built between my thighs. I moaned softly, the sound filling the quiet room, and increased the pace. My hands gripped the bedsheets, my fingers digging into the fabric as I lost myself in the moment. The pillow was firm enough to support me, yet soft enough to yield to my movements, creating a sensation that was both familiar and exhilarating.

I tilted my pelvis, angling my body to maximize the contact. My clit, swollen and sensitive, rubbed against the pillow with each thrust, sending sparks of pleasure through my core. I bit my lip, my eyes fluttering open as I gazed down at the pillow, now a blur beneath me. My hair fell around my face, framing my flushed cheeks and parted lips. I was no longer a 44-year-old woman; I was a teenager again, discovering the joys of her body for the first time.

The rhythm of my movements became frantic, my hips pistoning up and down as I chased the orgasm building within me. My moans grew louder, more desperate, each sound a testament to the intensity of my pleasure. Sweat began to form on my skin, glistening in the soft light of the room, as my body worked in perfect harmony with the pillow. I was drowning in sensation, my senses overwhelmed by the nostalgia and the raw, unfiltered pleasure of the moment.

Then, it happened. The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, powerful and unrestrained. My body stiffened, my back arching as I cried out, my voice echoing in the stillness of the room. My cunt clenched around the pillow, my juices flowing freely as I rode out the climax. It was a hands-free orgasm, pure and unadulterated, a reminder of the simplicity and intensity of my younger days. I collapsed onto the pillow, my chest heaving as I gasped for breath, a satisfied smile spreading across my face.

For a moment, I lay there, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of my release. The pillow felt warm beneath me, almost alive, as if it, too, had shared in my pleasure. I ran my hands over its surface, tracing the familiar contours, and felt a surge of affection for this inanimate object that had brought me so much joy. It was more than just a pillow; it was a symbol of my sexual awakening, a silent witness to my journey of self-discovery.

As I lay there, my mind wandered to the years that had passed since I’d last used this method of pleasure. I thought about the relationships I’d had, the lovers I’d shared my body with, and the ways my sexuality had evolved. But in that moment, I realized that there was something uniquely satisfying about this hands-free, pillow-humping pleasure. It was a solo act, a celebration of my own body and desires, untainted by the expectations or needs of another. It was raw, it was real, and it was mine.

I rolled off the pillow, my body relaxed and sated, and lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. A sense of peace washed over me, mingled with a renewed sense of self. I felt nostalgic, yes, but also rejuvenated. It had been a lovely reunion with a method I’d once cherished, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I revisited that old, familiar pleasure.

With a contented sigh, I reached out and pulled the pillow close, hugging it to my chest. It was more than just a tool for pleasure; it was a piece of my history, a reminder of the girl I once was and the woman I had become. I closed my eyes, letting the memories and sensations linger, and smiled. It had been a beautiful journey, and I was grateful to have taken this trip down memory lane.

As I drifted off to sleep, the pillow cradled in my arms, I knew that this wouldn’t be the last time I indulged in this nostalgic pleasure. It was a part of me, a piece of my sexual identity, and I wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. The pillow humping, the hands-free orgasms, the raw, unfiltered pleasure—it was all a part of who I was, and I intended to savor it for as long as I could.

And so, I slept, the pillow by my side, dreaming of the past and the pleasures yet to come. It had been a lovely reunion, a reminder of the simplicity and intensity of my younger days, and I knew that this wouldn’t be the end of my journey with this old, familiar pleasure. It was just the beginning.

The Accidental Delivery

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I stood in my doorway, the box clutched in my hands, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity wash over me. It wasn’t my package—I’d realized that the moment I’d torn into the brown paper wrapping, only to find a collection of Tenga eggs nestled inside. My face flushed as I read the label: Brett Thompson. My neighbor. The box was clearly meant for him, not me. I should’ve checked the name first, but the delivery guy had been in such a hurry, and I’d assumed it was mine. Now, here I was, holding a box of sex toys for men, feeling like a complete idiot.

The Tenga eggs were unmistakable—their sleek, egg-shaped packaging was designed to be discreet, but there was no mistaking what they were for. I’d seen them online once, while scrolling through a late-night ad. They were supposed to be revolutionary, a new way for men to experience pleasure. I’d never given them much thought beyond that, but now, holding them in my hands, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of fascination and mortification.

Deciding the best course of action was to return the box, I stepped out of my apartment and made my way down the hallway to Brett’s door. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached. Brett and I had exchanged pleasantries in the hallway a few times, but we weren’t exactly close. He was a few years younger than me, with dark hair and a laid-back demeanor that always made me feel a bit flustered. I wasn’t sure how to explain this mix-up without sounding like a nosy neighbor or, worse, a pervert.

I set the box down on his doorstep, turning to leave before I could overthink it. But just as I took a step back, the door swung open, and there he was. Brett stood in the doorway, wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and jeans, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Oh!” I blurted, my voice higher than I intended. “I—I mean, this box was delivered to me by mistake. I just opened it and realized it’s yours. I’m so sorry.”

Brett’s confusion melted into a warm smile. “No worries,” he said, his voice deep and easygoing. “Mistakes happen. Thanks for bringing it over.”

I nodded, my cheeks still burning. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll just—”

“Wait,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the open door. “Come on in for a second. I owe you one for this.”

My stomach flipped. I hadn’t planned on staying, but something in his tone—a mix of gratitude and something else I couldn’t quite place—made me hesitate. “Uh, sure,” I said, stepping inside. “Just for a minute.”

His apartment was surprisingly tidy, with bookshelves lining the walls and a guitar leaning against the couch. It smelled faintly of coffee and something woody, like sandalwood. Brett closed the door behind me and took the box from my hands, setting it on the coffee table.

“Tenga eggs, huh?” he said, glancing at the box. “I’ve heard they’re supposed to be pretty interesting. Thought I’d give them a try.”

I felt my face heat up again. “Oh, uh, right. Well, I didn’t mean to pry or anything. I just—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he interrupted, flashing that easy smile again. “Actually, since you’ve seen them already, maybe you’d like to… watch?”

My breath caught in my throat. Watch? As in, watch him use one? My mind raced, my curiosity warring with my sense of propriety. This was Brett, my neighbor. A guy I barely knew. But there was something in his tone—a casual confidence that made the idea seem almost… natural.

“I—I mean, if you want,” I stammered, my heart pounding. “I’m just… curious, I guess.”

Brett’s smile widened, and he nodded, as if he’d expected this response. “Cool. Make yourself comfortable.”

I sat down on the edge of the couch, my hands twisting in my lap. Brett moved to the armchair across from me, opening the box and pulling out one of the Tenga eggs. It was smaller than I’d imagined, its smooth, egg-shaped exterior fitting perfectly in his hand. He tore open the packaging with a confident motion, revealing the soft, textured sleeve inside.

“So, how does this work?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Well,” he said, his eyes meeting mine, “you just slide it over your cock, and it does the rest.”

My cheeks flushed even deeper, but I couldn’t look away. Brett’s gaze was steady, unapologetic, as if he was simply explaining the weather. He shifted in his seat, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down just enough to reveal his boxers. My eyes darted to his lap, my heart racing.

“You sure you want to watch?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, unable to speak. This was insane. I was sitting in my neighbor’s apartment, about to watch him masturbate. But there was something about the way he carried himself—so unashamed, so confident—that made it feel almost… normal.

Brett slipped his hand into his boxers, his fingers brushing against his erection. My breath hitched as he pulled it out, his cock thick and already hardening. It was larger than I’d expected, the head flushed and veins prominent along its length. He gave me a slight smile, as if sensing my reaction, before turning his attention back to the Tenga egg.

He held the sleeve up, examining it for a moment, before slowly sliding it over his cock. The material stretched to accommodate him, the textured interior gripping him tightly. Brett let out a soft groan, his head falling back slightly as he began to move his hand up and down.

“Feels… good,” he murmured, his eyes closing for a moment before flicking back to me. “You like watching?”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. “Y-yes,” I managed, my voice barely audible.

His smile grew, and he leaned back in the chair, his hand moving steadily. The Tenga egg glided over his cock, the friction creating a soft, wet sound that filled the room. I felt my pulse quicken, my thighs pressing together as I watched. This was intimate, raw, and yet there was something exhilarating about it. Brett wasn’t putting on a show—he was simply… being. And I was here, a witness to his pleasure.

“You ever use toys?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

I shook my head, my eyes glued to his hand. “N-no. Never.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, his hips beginning to rock slightly in time with his strokes. “Maybe you should. They can be… fun.”

I felt a jolt of heat between my legs at the thought. Fun. Yes, this was definitely fun. My nipples tightened under my shirt, and I shifted uncomfortably, aware of the dampness gathering in my panties.

Brett’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in short gasps. “Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes half-lidded. “This thing’s amazing.”

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. His cock was glistening with pre-cum, the Tenga egg sliding effortlessly over him. The sight was intoxicating, my body responding despite my best efforts to remain detached. I was wet, embarrassingly so, and my clit throbbed with a need I hadn’t felt in years.

“You like this, don’t you?” Brett asked, his voice low and teasing. “Watching me like this?”

I bit my lip, nodding mutely. My face was on fire, but I couldn’t deny it. This was turning me on in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Brett’s hand sped up, his strokes becoming more frantic. “Fuck, I’m close,” he groaned, his muscles tensing. “You want to see me come?”

My breath caught at the question. Did I? Yes. God, yes. I nodded again, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Good,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Watch me, Mary Ellen. Watch me come for you.”

Those words—for you—sent a jolt of electricity through me. This wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about me, too. I leaned forward slightly, my eyes fixed on his cock as he stroked faster, the Tenga egg tightening around him with each movement.

“Fuck, yes,” he gasped, his body arching off the chair. “I’m—I’m coming.”

His cock twitched in the sleeve, and with a deep groan, he came. Thick streams of cum shot out, filling the Tenga egg and spilling over his hand. I watched, mesmerized, as he milked himself dry, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

When he finally stilled, he opened his eyes, meeting my gaze with a satisfied smile. “That was… impressive,” I managed, my voice shaky.

Brett laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made my stomach flutter. “Glad you enjoyed the show.”

I felt my face heat up again, but I couldn’t help but smile back. “I did,” I admitted, my voice soft. “Thank you.”

He nodded, pulling the Tenga egg off his cock and setting it aside. “Anytime,” he said, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re welcome to watch again… if you want.”

My heart skipped a beat at the invitation. Did I want to? Yes. Absolutely. But this was enough for now. More than enough.

“I should go,” I said, standing up and smoothing my shirt. “But… thanks. For, uh, letting me watch.”

Brett stood as well, his jeans still unbuttoned. “No problem,” he said, walking me to the door. “Anytime you want to see more, just let me know.”

I felt a rush of heat at his words, my mind already imagining the possibilities. “I will,” I said, stepping into the hallway.

He smiled, closing the door behind me. As I walked back to my apartment, my body still buzzing with arousal, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Brett had opened a door—both literally and metaphorically—and I wasn’t sure I could close it again.

Back in my apartment, I locked the door and leaned against it, my heart still racing. My panties were soaked, my clit aching with unfulfilled desire. I knew what I needed to do.

I walked to my bedroom, my fingers trembling as I unbuttoned my jeans. The image of Brett’s cock sliding in and out of the Tenga egg was burned into my mind, and I couldn’t resist the urge any longer. I slipped my hand into my panties, my fingers finding my wetness with ease.

Closing my eyes, I imagined Brett watching me, his gaze intense and approving. I began to touch myself, my fingers circling my clit as I replayed the scene in my mind. His groans, his movements, the way his body had tensed as he came—it all fueled my arousal.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my hips bucking into my hand. “Brett…”

My orgasm built slowly, a coil of tension tightening in my core. I imagined him there with me, his hand guiding mine, his voice urging me on. “Come for me, Mary Ellen,” I imagined him saying. “Let me see you come.”

With that thought, I fell over the edge. My body shook as my orgasm ripped through me, my juices coating my fingers. I cried out his name, my voice muffled by the pillow I’d bitten down on.

When I finally stilled, I lay there, breathless and sated. Brett’s invitation lingered in my mind, a promise of more to come. I knew this wasn’t the end—it was only the beginning. And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

Unexpected Caller

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I stared at the screen, my heart pounding in my chest. The cursor blinked mockingly, waiting for me to input the payment details. My fingers hovered over the keypad, trembling slightly. It couldn’t be. But the address was right there, staring back at me in black and white. 123 Elm Street. Tommy’s place. My nineteen-year-old neighbor with the lazy grin and jeans that hugged his ass like a second skin. What the hell was he doing calling my phone sex line?

I’d started this whole thing as a last resort. Desperation had driven me to it. The bills were piling up, and my job at the bookstore wasn’t cutting it. I’d seen an ad online, promising easy money for women with “a voice that could seduce.” I’d laughed at first, but then I’d thought about it. I’d always been told I had a husky voice, a voice that could make men melt. Why not use it?

The training had been surprisingly thorough. They’d taught me how to modulate my tone, how to whisper fantasies into the void, how to make strangers on the other end of the line believe I was everything they’d ever wanted. I’d been good at it, too. Maybe too good.

But this… this was different. This was Tommy. The boy who mowed my lawn sometimes, the one who always flirted shamelessly, his eyes lingering on my cleavage a little too long. The one who made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years.

My finger twitched towards the “end call” button. I should hang up. Pretend this never happened. But curiosity, that damnable, insatiable curiosity, held me back. What did he want? What kind of fantasies did a boy like Tommy have?

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my voice. “Hello, darling,” I purred, my usual professional tone slipping into something more personal, more dangerous. “Tell me, what brings you to my line tonight?”

There was a pause, then a nervous chuckle. “Uh, hey. I didn’t think it’d actually be… someone like you.”

Someone like me? What did that mean? I bit my lip, a thrill coursing through me. “Someone like me? And what kind of someone is that, sweetheart?”

“Someone… experienced,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Someone who knows what she’s doing.”

Experienced. The word hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs. My silk robe fell open slightly, revealing a hint of lace. I wasn’t on camera, but the act of seduction was as much for me as it was for him.

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing,” I murmured, letting my voice drop to a sultry growl. “Now, tell me, what are you looking for tonight? What do you need from me?”

Another pause, longer this time. I could almost hear him squirming on the other end. “I… I want to be dominated,” he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. “I want you to tell me what to do.”

Dominated. Interesting. I’d played the role of the dominatrix before, but never with someone I knew. Never with someone so young, so close to home. The taboo of it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Is that so?” I drawled, letting a hint of amusement creep into my voice. “And what makes you think you can handle me, sweetheart? I’m not just any woman, you know.”

“I… I know,” he stammered. “That’s why I called. I’ve seen you, around the building. You’re… you’re beautiful. And I know you’re older, but that just makes it hotter. You’re so confident, so in control.”

Older. The word stung, but only for a moment. He was right, of course. I was older. But I was also experienced, and right now, that was a weapon I could wield with deadly precision.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling,” I purred, leaning forward, my breasts straining against the silk. “But talk is cheap. Are you ready to put your money where your mouth is?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “Anything. Just tell me what to do.”

I smiled, a slow, predatory smile. This was going to be fun.

“Alright, Tommy,” I said, letting his name roll off my tongue like a promise. “First things first. I want you to stand up. Slowly. And tell me what you’re wearing.”

There was a rustling sound, then the creak of a chair. “I’m… I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.

“Jeans, hmm?” I murmured, picturing him in my mind’s eye. “Tight ones, I hope. I like a man who takes care of his body.”

“They’re… they’re pretty tight,” he admitted, a hint of pride creeping into his voice.

“Good boy,” I cooed. “Now, I want you to unbutton your jeans. Slowly. And tell me how it feels.”

There was a long pause, then the sound of fabric sliding against skin. “It’s… it’s hot,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. “I can feel the air on my skin.”

“That’s it,” I encouraged, my voice low and hypnotic. “Let the air caress you. Imagine it’s my breath, teasing you, tantalizing you.”

“Oh God,” he moaned, his voice cracking. “That’s… that’s so hot.”

I smiled, a wicked gleam in my eye. This was too easy. Too delicious. “Now, Tommy, I want you to slide your hand inside your jeans. Slowly. And tell me what you feel.”

Another pause, then a sharp intake of breath. “I… I can feel myself,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it’s hard.”

“Hard for me, darling?” I purred, leaning back in my chair, my robe falling open further, revealing the swell of my breasts. “Tell me, how hard are you?”

“So hard,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “I’ve never been this hard before.”

“Good boy,” I repeated, my voice dripping with approval. “Now, I want you to stroke yourself. Slowly. And tell me how it feels.”

The line went silent except for the sound of his ragged breathing. Then, “It’s… it’s amazing. I can feel my cock throbbing in my hand. It’s so big, so hard.”

“Big, hmm?” I murmured, a smile playing on my lips. “I like a man with a big cock. Makes me wonder what else you’ve got going for you.”

“I… I don’t know,” he panted, his voice desperate. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

Anything. The word hung in the air, heavy with possibility. I leaned forward, my breasts spilling out of my robe, my nipples tight with arousal. “Anything, hmm? Even if it’s a little… taboo?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Anything.”

I smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. “Alright, Tommy. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go to your window. The one that faces my apartment. And I want you to stroke yourself while you watch me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, then a frantic, “You can see me?”

“Oh, I can see you,” I purred, standing up, my robe falling to the floor. I was naked now, my body on full display. “And I want you to watch me, too. Watch me touch myself while you touch yourself. Let’s see who can make the other one cum first.”

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, his voice breaking. “I’m already so close.”

“Not yet, darling,” I teased, walking towards my own window, the sheer curtains billowing slightly in the breeze. “We’re just getting started.”

I could see his silhouette now, a dark shape against the glass. He was stroking himself furiously, his movements desperate, needy. I smiled, a wicked gleam in my eye, and began to touch myself, my fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles around my clit.

Non-Penetrative Pleasure

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I lay on my back, the soft sheets cool against my skin, my heart pounding with anticipation. Tom’s obsession with non-penetrative sex had always intrigued me, but tonight, I was determined to explore it fully, to give him the pleasure he craved and, in turn, discover new depths of my own desire. The room was dimly lit, the glow of a single candle casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, a heady mix that stirred my senses. Tom lay beside me, his body relaxed yet taut with anticipation, his dark hair tousled, his deep brown eyes locked onto mine.

“You ready for this?” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His hand brushed my cheek, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. I nodded, my breath catching in my throat. At 48, I felt more alive than ever, my shorter blonde hair framing my face, my green eyes sparkling with mischief. My lean build and small breasts had always been a source of confidence, and tonight, I felt like a goddess, ready to give and receive pleasure in ways I’d only begun to explore.

“I’m ready,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the storm of desire raging inside me. Tom smiled, that slow, wicked grin that always made my knees weak. He propped himself up on his elbows, his gaze roaming over my body, lingering on the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts. I felt his hunger, his need, and it fueled my own.

“Straddle me,” he commanded, his voice firm yet laced with desire. My heart raced as I shifted, positioning myself above him. His hands slid down my sides, his fingers tracing the contours of my body, his touch both gentle and insistent. I hovered above him, my knees on either side of his hips, my pussy achingly close to his rigid cock. He lay there, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths, his cock thick and hard against his stomach, the head glistening with pre-cum.

I lowered myself slowly, my breath hitching as I felt the heat of his body beneath mine. His cock pressed against my pussy, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I began to move, grinding my hips in slow, deliberate circles, my clit rubbing against the underside of his shaft. The sensation was electric, a building tension that coiled low in my belly. Tom’s hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements, his touch firm yet tender.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Ride me. Feel how hard you make me.”

I moaned, my head falling back as I increased the pace, my body moving in rhythm with his breath. The room was filled with the sound of our skin slapping together, the wetness of our combined juices creating a slick, frictionless glide. My clit throbbed, the pressure building with each pass over his cock. I could feel his desire, his need for me, and it only fueled my own.

“Fuck, Kate,” he muttered, his hands sliding up to cup my small breasts. His thumbs brushed my nipples, already hard and aching for attention. I gasped, my movements faltering for a moment as pleasure spiked through me. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

His words sent a rush of heat through me, and I leaned forward, pressing my breasts against his chest. His hands moved to my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he urged me closer. I continued to grind, my clit rubbing against his cock, the sensation intensifying with each movement. My breath came in short, ragged gasps, my body on the brink of something explosive.

“Tom,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m close.”

“Let go, baby,” he urged, his voice hoarse. “Cum for me. I want to feel you shake.”

His words were my undoing. I cried out, my body arching as my orgasm ripped through me, waves of pleasure crashing over me like a tidal wave. My pussy clenched, my juices flowing freely, drenching his cock. I rode out the climax, my movements slowing as the aftershocks rippled through me. Tom’s hands held me steady, his eyes never leaving mine, his expression one of pure, unadulterated lust.

As my breathing slowed, I collapsed onto his chest, my heart still racing, my body slick with sweat. Tom’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my hair. “Fuck, that was incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, my cheeks flushed, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of my orgasm. “Your turn,” I teased, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

Tom chuckled, his hands sliding down to grip my ass. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, Kate. Not by a long shot.”

He rolled us over, his body pinning me to the bed, his weight both comforting and exhilarating. His lips found mine, his kiss hungry and demanding, his tongue dueling with mine. I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His cock pressed against my thigh, thick and heavy, a constant reminder of his need.

“I want to taste you,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear. His hands slid down my body, his fingers tracing the curve of my hips, the swell of my ass. I shivered as his lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, sending sparks of pleasure through me.

“Tom,” I gasped, my body arching into his touch. His hands moved to my thighs, spreading them wide, exposing me to his gaze. I felt vulnerable yet empowered, my desire for him overwhelming.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. His lips brushed my inner thigh, his breath ghosting over my pussy, making me squirm. “So wet. So ready for me.”

I moaned, my hands gripping the sheets as he leaned in, his tongue flicking over my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. His mouth closed around me, his lips sucking gently, his tongue swirling and probing, driving me wild. I cried out, my hips bucking against his mouth, my body on the edge once more.

“Fuck, Tom,” I panted, my voice hoarse. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He chuckled, the vibrations sending shivers through me. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby. You taste too good.”

His tongue delved deeper, his fingers sliding into my wetness, stretching me, filling me. I was lost in a sea of pleasure, my body responding to his every touch, my moans filling the room. My orgasm built, a slow burn that threatened to consume me.

“Tom,” I whimpered, my body tense, on the brink. “I’m—”

His mouth closed over my clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking relentlessly. I screamed, my body convulsing as my orgasm exploded, my pussy squirting, drenching his face. He drank me in, his hands holding me open, his mouth devouring me, his groans of pleasure mingling with my cries.

As my orgasm subsided, I lay panting, my body limp, my mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened. Tom lifted his head, his lips swollen, his face glistening with my juices. He smiled, that wicked grin that always made my heart race.

“Your turn to pleasure me,” he said, his voice low and seductive. He shifted, positioning himself between my legs, his cock thick and throbbing, the head glistening with pre-cum. I reached out, my fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking him slowly, my touch gentle yet firm.

“Not like that, baby,” he murmured, his hands gripping my wrists. “I want a titty fuck. I want to feel your soft tits wrapped around my cock.”

My heart raced at the thought, my body responding to his words. I nodded, my breath catching in my throat as I leaned forward, pressing my breasts together, creating a tight, warm tunnel for his cock. Tom groaned, his hips bucking as he slid into the softness of my cleavage, his cock enveloped by the warmth of my skin.

“Fuck, Kate,” he muttered, his voice thick with need. “That feels so good.”

I began to move, my breasts gliding up and down his shaft, my nipples brushing against his sensitive skin. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he thrust into me, his cock sliding between my tits, the friction sending waves of pleasure through us both.

“Harder, baby,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. “Squeeze me. Milk my cock with those perfect tits.”

I tightened my grip, my breasts pressing firmly against his shaft, my nipples aching with pleasure. His cock throbbed, his balls tight and heavy, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. I could feel his desire, his need to cum, and it only fueled my own. A few more strokes of my tits on his shaft and I soon had a chest covered in cum. He breathed heavily and fell back. A wonderful time was had by all.

A Side of Cream Pie

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I walked into the dimly lit bar, the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filling the air. The scent of spilled beer and stale cigarettes lingered, but I barely noticed. My eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces and the occasional stranger. It was a Friday night, and I was in the mood for something—or someone—to take the edge off a long week. My short blonde hair framed my face, and my blue eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and mischief. At 37, I knew I still turned heads, and tonight, I was dressed to remind myself of that fact. A tight black dress hugged my curves, showcasing my perky breasts and great figure, while my shaved pussy felt deliciously bare beneath the fabric.

I slid onto a barstool, ordering a gin and tonic from the bartender. As I waited, my gaze drifted across the room, landing on a man sitting alone at a corner table. He was maybe a few years older than me, with dark hair, a strong jawline, and eyes that seemed to see right through me. There was something about him—an intensity, a raw hunger—that made my pulse quicken. He caught me looking and raised his glass in a silent toast. I smiled, feeling a flutter of anticipation in my chest.

After finishing my drink, I sauntered over to his table, my heels clicking against the wooden floor. “Mind if I join you?” I asked, my voice light and playful.

He gestured to the empty chair. “Please do.” His voice was deep, with a hint of a rasp that sent a shiver down my spine. “I’m Daniel.”

“Jane,” I replied, sitting down. “So, Daniel, what brings you here tonight?”

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with an unnerving directness. “I could ask you the same thing. But if I had to guess, you’re looking for something… unconventional.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Unconventional, huh? And what makes you say that?”

He smiled, a slow, knowing smile that made my heart race. “Let’s just say I have a talent for reading people. And you, Jane, strike me as someone who’s not afraid to explore her desires.”

I laughed, a soft, breathy sound. “Maybe. But what about you? What are your desires, Daniel?”

His gaze intensified, and for a moment, I felt like he was peeling back the layers of my soul. “I have a particular fetish,” he said, his voice low and husky. “One that most women find… off-putting.”

My curiosity piqued. “Try me.”

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “I love to lick my own cum out of a woman’s pussy after I’ve fucked her. There’s something about tasting myself inside her, about savoring that cream pie, that drives me wild.”

My breath caught in my throat. It was raw, unfiltered, and undeniably filthy. But instead of feeling repulsed, I felt a heat coil low in my belly. “That’s… quite the fetish,” I managed to say, my voice steady despite the sudden rush of arousal.

He shrugged, a hint of vulnerability flashing across his face. “I know it’s not for everyone. But I’ve always been honest about what turns me on. And I can’t help but wonder if it might turn you on too.”

I licked my lips, my mind racing. It was dirty, taboo, and utterly decadent. But there was something about his candor, about the way he owned his desire, that made me want to indulge him. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But… I’m willing to try.”

His eyes lit up, and he reached across the table to take my hand. “You won’t regret it, Jane. I promise.”

We left the bar shortly after, the night air cool against my skin. Daniel’s hand was warm and firm around mine as he led me to his place, a sleek apartment just a few blocks away. The tension between us was palpable, electric, as if every step brought us closer to something inevitable.

Inside, the apartment was dimly lit, with soft jazz playing in the background. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and leather, a heady combination that made my senses tingle. Daniel turned to face me, his eyes burning with desire. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice thick with want.

I nodded, stepping closer to him. “I’m sure.”

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks. “You’re beautiful, Jane. And I’m going to make you feel incredible.”

His lips crashed down on mine, hungry and demanding. I melted into him, my hands sliding up his chest to tangle in his hair. His kiss was fierce, his tongue probing deep into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me. I moaned, my body already on fire, my pussy aching with anticipation.

He broke the kiss, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. “Take off your dress,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “I want to see you.”

I stepped back, my fingers trembling as I pulled the dress over my head. It pooled at my feet, leaving me standing in nothing but my heels and a lacy black bra and panties. Daniel’s gaze devoured me, his eyes dark with lust. “Fucking hell, Jane,” he growled. “You’re perfect.”

I felt a flush of pride, of desire, as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slid them down my legs. My pussy was already glistening, my arousal evident, and I knew he was watching every move. “Your turn,” I teased, my voice husky.

He smirked, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. His chest was broad and muscular, dusted with a light scattering of hair that trailed down his abs. I bit my lip, my eyes tracing the contours of his body as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the head already glistening with pre-cum. It was a beautiful sight, and I felt my mouth water at the thought of taking it into my mouth.

But tonight wasn’t about that—at least, not yet.

Daniel stepped out of his pants, kicking them aside, and then reached for the clasp of my bra. With a flick of his fingers, it came undone, and I shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor. My breasts bounced slightly, my nipples tight and aching, and I saw his eyes darken further.

“Come here,” he commanded, pulling me toward the bedroom.

The room was just as sleek and modern as the rest of the apartment, with a large bed dominating the space. Daniel pushed me gently onto the mattress, his hands roaming over my body as he climbed onto the bed with me. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

His mouth trailed down my body, kissing and nipping at my breasts, his tongue swirling around my nipples until I was arching my back and moaning his name. His hands slid down my thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between my legs. I felt his breath ghost over my pussy, and my clit twitched in anticipation.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his fingers dipping into my folds. “So ready for me.”

I panted, my hips bucking slightly as he teased me, his fingers circling my clit but never quite touching it. “Please,” I begged, my voice desperate. “I need you.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and then his mouth descended on me. His tongue was hot and wet, lapping at my pussy with a hunger that made me cry out. He ate me like he was starving, his tongue flicking and thrusting, his lips sucking gently on my clit. I was a mess of moans and whimpers, my hands tangling in his hair as he drove me closer and closer to the edge.

“Daniel,” I gasped, my body tightening as the orgasm built. “I’m—”

“Not yet,” he growled, pulling away. I whimpered in protest, but he silenced me with a kiss, his tongue thrusting into my mouth as he positioned himself between my legs. His cock nudged at my entrance, and I spread my legs wider, desperate for him to fill me.

He thrust into me in one smooth motion, his cock sinking deep into my wet, eager pussy. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his hips snapping forward with a rhythm that was both relentless and exquisite. “Fuck, Jane,” he groaned, his voice raw. “You feel so good.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The bed creaked beneath us, the sound drowned out by our moans and the wet slap of skin on skin. His cock felt incredible, stretching me, filling me, and I knew I was close again, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice tight with need. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”

His words were all it took. My body shattered, my pussy clenching around him as I screamed his name, my juices flooding around his dick. He followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming frantic as he buried himself deep inside me, his cum shooting into me in hot, pulsing bursts.

We lay there for a moment, breathless and tangled together, his cock still buried inside me. Then, with a groan, he pulled out, his cum spilling from my pussy in a thick, creamy stream.

I watched, fascinated, as he leaned down, his tongue tracing the path of his cum down my thigh. He lapped it up greedily, his moans of satisfaction mingling with mine. It was filthy, raw, and unbelievably hot. I felt my clit throb as he continued, his tongue flicking and swirling, savoring every drop.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my hands resting on his head. “That’s so fucking hot.”

He looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. “Told you,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Tastes even better than I remembered.”

I laughed, a soft, breathless sound, as he kissed his way back up my body, his lips brushing against mine. “You’re insane,” I teased, my fingers threading through his hair.

“Maybe,” he admitted, smiling against my skin. “But you’re the one who let me do it.”

I pulled him closer, kissing him deeply, our tongues tangling as the taste of his cum lingered between us. It was dirty, decadent, and utterly perfect. And as I lay there, in his arms, I knew this was just the beginning.