Chapter 3
How different it had all been when he was fifteen, when the sight of that chubby, clear-skinned woman whipping off her print dress to reveal a splendid expanse of thigh beneath her one piece swim suit... how different it was from now, when he was forty-five and naked, with a naked twenty-eight-year-old blonde hanging round his neck, her mouth glued to his, her tongue touching his, her long straight legs wrapped round his waist as her wide-gaping vulva rubbed wetly at the top of his half flaccid hammer.
Back when he had been fifteen there had been a song about "What a Difference a Day Makes." If he could have known then what a difference thirty years was going to make maybe he could have bottled some of that essence of erection. He could sure use a little starch right now. Was he going to get it up? And if he didn't?
The name of the game is guilt. Get your blow in first. If he couldn't get it up it was time right now to begin constructing subtle defenses. If he couldn't get it up it wasn't his fault. It was hers. She was slipping; she was getting old. She was careless. She was starting to nag. She was hanging on too tight. Shit! She hadn't even dropped around for nearly a month. Maybe he ought to start hinting that she had been replaced...
Instead, Rod closed his eyes and with his mouth still firmly fastened over hers, he cupped the cheeks of her eager ass in his hands and moved blindly toward the bed, meanwhile trying to remember how it had been earlier this morning with his dream girl. Sometimes that helped. It was crazy, he knew, but man's mind is hopelessly perverse, ever wanting an egg in its mental beer. Here he had a young, well built and willing woman. So why did he have to go creating mental images of something else just to get it up?
He felt his knees bump the edge of the bed and guessed he'd better put her down before he developed back problems. It was going to be awkward unless she let go. How could he go forward with all that weight around his neck without falling down hard on top of her and flattening those lovely fits?
Abruptly Vera solved the problem by relaxing that erotic scissors around his waist. Pendulum-like, her ass swung down and landed on the bed. "Aaaaaahhh," she commented, and scooted around until she lay in the middle of the bed, face up and knees flexed, thighs spread slightly in classic missionary position.
Rod gave up on his dream girl fantasy. He had to open his eyes to see what he was doing and besides, now that the blonde was no longer swapping tongues and could see him, she was bound to get curious if he went dorking about with his eyes closed. Studying her flawless fair-skinned body, he noted that those lovely fits he had been afraid of squashing a moment ago were still pointing defiantly skyward even though she lay supine. Now that was unusual. Most girls tended to flatten out and sag in that position, no matter how young. Studying tiny pink-tipped virginal aureoles, he felt a sudden surge of desire. His cock began to throb most encouragingly.
He got onto the bed, kneeling beside the girl. She pursed her lips, waiting for another kiss but instead he dived for one of those lovely nulliparous nipples. As his lips descended on their target Vera made a low gurgling sound like defective plumbing. Her arms closed convulsively over his head puffing him down harder, deeper into her yielding breasts.
Rod kissed her nipple, licked it and abruptly that tender tip was erect and throbbing with a passion as turgid as he remembered in his teenage cock. He switched to her other fit and the blonde was moaning now, writhing, arms wrapped round his head to pull him in deeper. Her legs had risen from the bed and were waving skyward, seeking something hot hard and male to fit between their smooth-tapered length.
His cock was coming up. If he could just keep his mind on what he was doing Rod knew he would be able to make it. He had a respectable hard-on already. But was it stiff enough to get it in? He tried to remember what Vera's pussy was like. It was funny. He only had three steadies but after thirty years of flicking women they all seemed to run together. Was this lithe blonde the really tight one? Or was she the one who could rally to any occasion, relaxing to let a, faltering phallus into her, then tightening up and squeezing the head of his hammer and driving him practically out of his skull with delight?
Damn it! He had let his mind go wandering and he could feel the firmness of his hard-on start to depart. He tried to concentrate. This is a woman; she's young, beautiful, willing, and she's on my bed and I'm going to fuck her. These are fits I'm kissing. That's a lovely clean young cunt down there and if I don't get it up soon she's going to start wondering. You can only play this self-control gig so far before you start looking like a tired old man.
Vera was moaning satisfactorily, so caught up in her own passion that she apparently had no suspicion of his difficulties. He knelt beside her, switching rapidly from one fit to the other, kissing both nipples into raging rampant erection. She moaned and wrapped her arms around him. Slowly, he began easing around until he could get his lean body between those flailing legs.
God, she did have a lovely body. Tiny waist, firmly up-standing, patriotic all-American tits, a lovely smooth belly. Her legs were the first thing he had noticed about her the day they met -- seemingly endless erotic devices projecting from a miniskirt. Remembering that first time, the first fine thrill of conquest, he felt a sudden access of passion. Well how about that! He really had a hard-on.
Now if he could just keep it long enough to get it in... He managed to get between those lovely long legs and immediately she wrapped them around his waist, rubbing her gaping vulva against him, moaning and squirming. Damn it! She was wiggling around so much he couldn't even hit the hole.
Rod reared back from her fits and got a firm grip on her ass. Her blond furred mons veneris was prominent. Beneath it he saw the gaping hairless inner surfaces of her vulva. She really had a lovely body. Reared back this way he could survey her perfection at full length. Don't let your mind wander, he warned himself. Christ! A sight lie this should be enough to make him come before he could even get it in. Instead, he was concentrating on conserving enough stiffness to...
He edged carefully forward until the tip of his tool was touching the warm soft wetness of her labia. He thrust with a silent prayer that it would not bend double. The gods were with him for once, he guessed, for suddenly Rod felt his rod sliding slowly, smoothly, sensuously up her ready lubed vagina. And even though he'd been poking his prod up vaginas for thirty years, he had to admit it still felt awfully good.
"Aaaaaaahhhh!" Vera sighed. From her sudden vacuous smile he guessed she was feeling good too. He felt his rod slide smoothly into her, in, in and it felt like a fleshy funnel. Now he remembered what was different about Vera.
Unlike many women -- even some virgins, Vera was not hard to get into. She was so willing and uninhibited a practitioner of the erotic arts that there was nothing uptight about the entry to her tunnel of love. But the deeper he went, the tighter it got. Rod gave silent thanks to the gods of love that it was not the other way around for, once he had it in, there was no real trouble driving it in deeper all the way. Down toward the end of his stroke she became so tight that he could feel a constant squeezing, pulling massage.
He bottomed out and held a moment, grinding his gray haired pubis against the blond fur of her mons veneris and her vulva now tight wrapped around the shank of his cock. It felt good. It felt so good that suddenly he knew he had as much of an erection as he was ever going to get. Still reared back where he could look down at the full supine length of her magnificent body, he drove it in, pulled out, rammed it home again with a grand slam before stopping to grind his crotch against hers, stretching her cunt in delightful new ways, poking his prod into her from unexpected angles that made the blonde giggle and moan and squirm and gurgle and say 'aaaahh.' She was struggling to come up off the bed to meet him. Time enough for that later, he decided if his hard-on survived intact Suddenly he was assailed with a new worry. Alter all the trouble he'd had getting it up, now that he had finally gotten his cock into full fighting trim he was suddenly afraid he was going to come.
She was lovely -- not a wrinkle or stretch mark on that pristine body. Suddenly he caught himself wondering what she was doing here with an old fart of forty-five. She had never once hinted that he ought to many her. Never once had she asked for a 'loan.' Was she freaked on old men? Gray hair? Or had she had unfortunate experiences with hot-blooded young studs? Probably the latter, he guessed. Old men might have trouble getting it up but once an older man got a hard-on it was practically indestructible. There he went letting his mind wander again. Why couldn't he keep his mind on his business, stop analyzing and enjoy the pure, simple and sensual now of fucking?
The interval had done one nice little thing for him; it had carried him through that first perilous moment of potential disaster. He had felt the tiny premonitory quiver in his crotch that, in his more inexperienced days would have presaged blurting, spurting disaster. But now he had held his breath, gritted his teeth, thought about something else long enough for the moment to pass. He had lost a tiny drop of come but his load was intact. Now he could keep it for hours. He bent low over her before she could rise up to meet him again. Fastening his lips over one magnificent tit, he began pumping.
Slowly, steadily, with the confidence-inspiring regularity of a metronome, he began puffing his cock out of her, out all the way until the bare head of his probe was barely parting the lips of her vulva. Hesitating a moment,. he feinted once, then began slowly feeding the length of his lance back down into her ready receptacle.
"Aaaaaahhhh!" Vera sighed. It was not sparkling dialogue but one of the things he liked about Vera was her ability to get down to the meat and potatoes of fucking instead of intellectualizing and talking about 'meaningful relationships' and all the Freudian crap that frigid bitches used to conceal the fact that they were a cold fuck.
Vera was not cold. She was warm, willing, attentive to his needs, rising joyously to meet his thrust, holding together for a magic moment while her deep muscles contracted to squeeze the head of his joyous assjammer, milking, caressing, pulling him deep, deeper into her seething snatch.
Her nipples were as rock hard as the clit that ground against the bony prominence of his pubis every time he bottomed out and held for a moment and they rotated their asses, seeking out new angles, new ways to stretch every tiny fold of her passion flushed vagina, rubbing the warm wet essence of woman around and around the throbbing knob on the end of his raging rod. It felt so good!
It felt good and it was going to last for at least an hour. He was over his worries about getting it up now -- no longer even thinking about the plump Myrt who had accepted his invitation to the lake some thirty years ago -- no longer mooning about his faceless dream girl who had already coaxed one painful month-long accumulation of come from him while he slept.
Now he was doing it right, thinking only of the moment, savoring each square inch of flawless female skin that rubbed against him. He detoured from her rock hard nipples and kissed the sensitive tender undersides of her lovely jugs. Once more Vera made that low gurgling sound like defective plumbing. He felt her pussy give a contraction of joy unconfined as her arms went round his neck and her thighs gaped wide, then closed round his waist. Her ankles locked behind his back, capturing him in an erotic scissors. Slowly, Rod kissed his way around her tits, burning his signature across their upper surfaces, up past the hollow of her throat. He blew in her ear and was rewarded with another joyous contraction of those deep muscles squeezing the head of his cock, drawing him in deeper, harder, faster.
He resisted the temptation to accelerate. That was for boys who couldn't go the stretch, who lunged and rammed and puffed uncontrollably, struggling to get in as many strokes as possible in the second or two before they expired in spurting humiliation.
Rod didn't have to worry. He had it up now. His funk of moments ago was forgotten as he paced himself, feeding this lovely blonde the kind of gourmet flicking her perfection deserved. How could he have doubted himself even for a minute? He knew why she came back to him. She had probably tried out a young stud or two during the month she hadn't been around. After a while any girl as capable and experienced in the erotic arts -- any girl with her kind of equipment could probably derive a wry amusement from watching young men come prematurely just from looking at her lovely body. But when she was tired of being amused -- when she wanted to be flicked, little Vera brought her lovely little pussy right back to good old Rod's dependable rod.
It was good and hard now -- not in the slightest danger of bending when he thrust. But it was not the rock hardness of some young man with a cock as undependable as old dynamite, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. Rod poured it to her steadily, hesitating a magic moment with his cockhead barely parting her blond-furred vulval lips, feinting once and withdrawing again before going the full length.
He was not ramslamming brutally like some young stud struggling with animal ferocity to get in as many licks as he could before collapsing. Rod was pacing himself for the long haul. He would give her an hour of steady poking in missionary position and then if she was not gibbering with raddlecunted satiation he would turn over, keeping the vital connection intact, and spend a half hour relaxing while the lovely Vera bounced up and down, jiggling her tits in time to the lovely sensual slide of her ass up and down his flagpole. It was going to be a good day.
She was gasping, flushed and panting already and he felt the sudden tiny spurt of love's lubrication, the little quiver deep inside her that meant he had already coaxed one orgasm from this lovely willing woman. It felt good. He struggled to pace himself, not to fall into the young man's trap of accelerating his pace. If he could just hold a steady beat he knew his old cock was good for hours of fine freestyle flicking. Now what was that goddam noise prodding at the edge of his consciousness?
It was the telephone on the nightstand beside the bed. Now who the hell had to be bothering him right now? Fuck them! More importantly, he wanted to get back to fucking Vera.