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“Ready?” She asked, her face consumed in unequivocal lust.

My sultry French friend-with-benefit, Colette, pointed my soon-to-explode cock directly at her gaping mouth, stroking my shaft frantically with one hand while furiously rubbing her pussy with the other.

Colette was fifteen years my senior and approaching fifty years of age chronologically. Yet, she would unquestionably be the winner of the Ms. Eastern European highest-libido contest, if ever a promoter would be smart enough to invent such a competition. Simply put, she was a wanton slut disguised as a wealthy, educated widow. I was her boy-toy, and proud to be of service.

Utilizing every last ounce of waning self-control, I rolled over on my side as to maneuver my body so that I could access vital trigger points of her own. I roughly grabbed her silky jet black hair with one palm, to further indicate my eternal need for control, and let my other palm graze over the rim of her anus.

Colette enjoyed anal play the way bees like honey. I eased my middle finger into her tight cavity and grunted a reply, igniting the pending mutual launch sequence.


She wrapped her small, manicured fingers around my throbbing thickness and swirled them like a corkscrew, her fist slamming against my swollen balls. As a reciprocal gesture, I pumped my digit into her hot rear tunnel and scraped the walls of her rectum with my fingertip. Through the thin membrane wall of flesh, I could feel her own fingers invading her cunt.

It was time. I pushed hard in her asshole and relaxed the muscles within my lower abdomen to facilitate my release of hot seed. Her eyes rolled back into her skull as she threw her head back and roared a wall-rumbling squeal.

“Go,” I gasped, as the first hot shot of man love splashed onto her cheek and separated into a thousand little pieces, like a milky firework cascading into the night sky. Her own asshole pulsated on my finger as I rocked her world on both ends. She writhed and flopped like a caught flounder as she opened her mouth to try, vainly, to catch the explosion of semen that was turning her lovely face into a carnal paintball canvas.

I grabbed her skull even harder and threw her head back and forth like a rag doll in a hurricane, canlı bahis şirketleri the better to smear her face with my cum, all the while reveling in the sensation of her own ejaculate dripping from her slit and onto my palm, now cupping her mound.

After the fifth, sixth, seventh spurt of jism had coated her countenance fully, I began to wipe my cock all over her forehead, chin, and then finally forced my length down her throat to cleanse me. This caused Colette to shudder and moan in one orgasm after another after another, my finger still massaging her anus while she assaulted her own dripping pussy.

God, she was such a fucking slut.

Eventually, I eased my finger from her ass with an audible ‘pop’, and brought it slowly to her lips. She hungrily consumed the musky flavor of her own ass, mixing it into a cocktail of various sexual nectars from our bodies. She then leaned up playfully to kiss me, but I recoiled, as she knew I would. I would eat ass occasionally (after all, I’m a gentleman), but was rarely in the mood for sloppy ass seconds.

She giggled in delight, slapped my dick across her face once more, the equivalent of cleaning the plate, and jumped off the bed to wash up and get a hot towel. I watched her forty-nine-year-old ass cheeks wiggle and bounce slightly she walked.

Not bad for forty-nine, I mused, not bad at all. Besides, she more than made up for a few soft sags here and there by her over-active imagination and willingness to do anything, anywhere, anytime. I was an apt student at age thirty-four myself, eager to be mentored. Colette made my cock her own personal chew toy four or five times a night. I literally could get it out of her mouth by inserting it into her cunt or ass. Nobody sucked cock with the enthusiasm of Colette.

Tough work, sure, but somebody’s gotta do it.

She climbed back on the bed with a clean face, ready for the next deposit, no doubt, and began to wash my dick and fingers clean of residue. We made meaningless post-coital small talk until, satisfied that her housekeeping was complete, she again took my soft cock into her mouth and began to pay sweet oral homage to it.

“I love this fucking cock, so strong, so big, and always so fast to recover for the next rounds,” canlı kaçak iddaa she mumbled admiringly betwen licks and slurps. “In fact,” she leered up at me with a twinkle in her coal-black eyes, “I was bragging about this cock of yours to an esteemed colleague of mine today.”

Colette was a senior executive for an international pharmaceutical company. Her husband, who had passed away several years ago, was one of the co-founders of the company, and assured Colette was never have to work a day in her life had she so chosen. However, after his death, Colette threw her energy into the company, raising its profile and stock price even higher.

In fact, the only thing that Colette had more passion for than her career was cock. Young, hung, and lots of it, preferably. On that level, even though I was thirty-four, I could more than hold my own.

So, ours was an unlikely though symbiotic relationship.

“You did, huh?” I asked, rather uninterested, concentrating on my dick rising like Lazarus in her talented and eager mouth. “And who was this colleague, a professorial septuagenarian?”

She sucked my dick silently for perhaps a minute, bringing it to full mast while I groaned my approval. Jeezus, what a cocksucker, who would have ever guessed? Finally, knowing that I was fully equipped for battle, she spread my legs apart and mounted me, gripping my dick and sliding it into her soppy gash.

“No, smart ass. But when are you going to learn not to disparage the mystery of older women?” I could only shrug in consent and she grinded her pelvis onto mine until my seven-and-a-half inches were fully ensconced within her.

“So, tell me then, to whom was I being bragged to?” That was one problem for me when I was with Colette, who spoke several languages fluently. Whenever I tried to talk eloquently and properly, it always came out clumsily. Then again, she wasn’t keeping me around for my dialogue. That’s why, other than dirty talk and sucking her pussy, I usually kept my mouth shut when with Colette.

She rocked on me and closed her eyes and began to pinch her taut chocolate-brown nipples. “Mmmmmm,” she said dreamily, “Her name is Laurel Spencer, she’s a PhD, she’s thirty-two, blonde, buxom, brilliant, and simply gorgeous. I’m canlı kaçak bahis thinking of her as my protege.”

Colette’s eyes opened again and she looked to the ceiling, bringing her hand around to cup and rub my balls while she used me for her pleasure. “My sexual protege, that is. She confessed to me that she is so focused on her career that she hasn’t had sex in over a year.”

This definitely got my attention, even as Colette continued to fuck me. She continued, her eyes blazing into mine now.

“So we’re going to share her. Tonight. I want to watch you please her, and I also want to teach her to let go and enjoy the beauty of the body.” I was still in the process of absorbing this less-than-disturbing scenario when Colette added the ‘coup de foudre’.

“And, oh, what a body she has. Magnifique. And tonight, she shall be our slave.”

Colette continued to ride me, at her discretion, turning our session into a long, slow, leisurely fuck. As she reached for my hands so that they could join hers in pulling on her almost elastic nipples, the reality hit me.

I was Colette’s sexual protege, also. At least in her mind. She was determined to put her creations together, Laurel and myself. Like Dr. Frankenstein with the monster (well, kind of) and a new mistress that Colette had concocted.

Lost in my thoughts, somehow I had barely noticed when the mad doctor Colette raised her hips off of me and stuck my cock into her anal canal, almost always the grand finale for Colette’s carnal opera.

And our duet would be a trio this evening.

The thrill of the unknown soon caused me to fire another round of cum onto my older lovers’ face, which she eagerly slurped up after literlly leaping from my dick when sensing my release was imminent.

She had timed her dismount impeccably, as usual, and the mature French vixen was rewarded with another generous faceful of sticky semen.

She smiled up at me, her cheeks and chin covered in a milky, glossy coating, and gave me a reminder. “My face, always my face. I love the feel of cum on my face.”

How could I forget?

Staggering home after eschewing the hot towel rinse this time, and after a welcome shower, I ended up sleeping for most of the rest of the day. I had a feeling I was going to need all the energy I could muster.

I was right.

I knocked on Colette’s front door promptly at eight, as instructed. Suddenly, I didn’t feel such the urge to maintain control myself.


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