She stood, her dress hanging from the dildo and looked at me, her eyes sending a clear message. I knew, absolutely knew what to do. I slipped my knickers down and lifted my knees onto the arm of the chair. She smiled as I stroked my pussy, spreading my lips, circling my clit which was probably peeping from under her hood. My breath was short. The soft light, the image before me, the way I had been brought here, all those things conspired to make me feel wanton, which was precisely why I had gone to the bar in the first place. She came closer. ‘Say please.’ I could barely speak, but managed hoarsely to say, ‘Please.’ ‘Please what?’ ‘Please fuck me.’ She did not smile. She simply moved closer and touched the tip of her dildo to me. She pushed her hips slowly forward and I felt the pressure, then the intrusion, and then the deep invasion. She rested her hands on my shoulders and began to rock her hips, slowly at first then with increasing viguour. I couldn’t take my eyes from hers. This. I could tell that you were entranced by what you were looking at, what you were touching. I rand my hand over your upper leg, and to your inner thigh. “Yeah, but he was embarrassed, he made me stop. I never took a shower with him again, it seemed like he thought that was bad.” “Well, have you ever touched yourself here?” I slid my hand down to your little cunny, and stroked it with my finger. You shuddered, and gripped my cock tighter. “Oh grandpa, that feels so good…” you said, still stroking my hard cock, but closing your eyes and spreading your legs apart for me. I could feel that you were very wet, and I pressed the end of my finger inside, splitting your peach open slightly. “Ooooh… grandpa…” you said. I withdrew my finger, and lay on my back, watching your face. I brought the finger to my mouth and spread your essence on my lips. “Grandpa! What are you doing?” you said, shocked. “Shhh… you taste wonderful. Here, kiss me on the lips, you can taste yourself too.” You leaned over.
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