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An ‘arty’ Bistro in Clifton, a rooftop lounge, a hearty meal and several glasses of vino lubricated the tongues at our recent gathering. Celeste, a graphics illustrator took the floor. As you can imagine, we were all absolutely disgusted at the tale she told us.
I’ve lived in this area for years. I graduated from the “Slade” in ’59 and came down here to Clifton, there was quite a clique of artists in the area all living the arty life, half the time starving, half the time drunk, smoking a bit of weed at times for effect.
I was as they say, ‘of independent means’ which meant in my case, mummy and daddy had money, I won’t say much about that, it’s so vulgar don’t you think? We all giggled, never having had to worry about the ‘vulgarity’ of wealth.
I lived to the same standard as the rest of the clique, but I was in the position of not having to worry about the rent, or where the next meal came from, and I did look after my friends, I always had money for food.
Most of us were horny, getting satisfaction where we could, but mainly from within the clique, it didn’t matter much who satisfied who, girl or boy, we felt very decadent. I preferred boys, but as they say any port in a storm, and let’s be fair, I did enjoy a storm.
My studio, well small flat , calling it a studio gave it a status it far from that which it deserved, was at a stretch adequate and to be honest I did some of my most creative work in that studio.
Life in the area was very like village life, familiar faces, familiar shops, even an early supermarket, not like supermarkets today, you even got to know the staff, and they got to know you.
I had the urge, what do they call it now a days, the hots, for Brian, he always called me madam, he was sweet, always helpful, always polite and oh so good looking. I said about satisfaction from friends, I can’t hope to tell you the number of times that satisfaction at the hands of a girlfriend was enhanced by Brian in my head to give a boost to my cumming.
I had to have this boy. I call him a boy, he was in his early twenties, Me? At the time I was in my thirties, you don’t need that detail, just to know I was besotted with him. No, really, I mean, my life depended on it, I had to have him. I am sure you know what I mean girls, we get those fixations don’t we? Well I did; there was only one way to scratch my itch and only one person to scratch it.
My favourite garment at that time was a kaftan, and as you will remember girls a kaftan can hide a lot of sins. You could be totally covered by a Kaftan and yet be totally naked under it. Totally modestly covered yet….
I decided that I wanted to do some male nude studies, it had followed on from an inebriated discussion and I saw the opportunities.
Thursday morning, rolled out of bed, no milk for coffee, fuck it! Mules, fingers through my hair, Kaftan on, bright summer morning, a little draft whispering around my whiskery pie, into the supermarket. Might just see ‘him’
It was beginning to feel like a damp morning and that at just a sight of him.
“Morning madam. Like the kaftan, suits you!”
My heart was all aflutter,
“Usual place, I’ll get you…”
“Its ok, I’ll get it.” I bent, knowing that standing before me as he was he would be he would have a good view down my front. My tits standing free, nipples erect,
He smiled. It was all I could do not to faint. I knew he had seen.
“Cornflakes, I am starving.”
“Me too,” he winked “On the bottom shelf next aisle over.”
The store was deserted this early, the cashier on the till at the front of the store, just the two of us on the shop floor.
“Be a dear, get them for me?”
“Of course madam.”
We moved to the aisle, he stooped to the bottom shelf and handed the packet to me as I stooped to join him making sure I showed him the moistening treasure between my thighs.
Again that smile.
“The staff of life?”
He raised his right eyebrow quizzically with a very cheeky grin.
“Bread…you know a small loaf.”
“You only want a small one?” he winked.
“Well, big enough.”
“We only have the very large ones left from yesterday, the bakery hasn’t delivered yet.”
“Sorry, they should have delivered an hour ago.”
“Oh, I suppose it doesn’t matter, I will manage somehow.”
“I pass your house on the way home; if you need I could drop a loaf in if you like?”
“This evening? What time do you pass?”
“Your lucky day, you don’t have to starve till then, I finish at one o’clock today.”
“One o’cock did you say?” I couldn’t resist responding to his flirting.
“No madam, O’cLock!”
“Well if you are going to call at lunch time, bring the small loaf, and a French stick, I have some wine and we can lunch together.”
“That sounds very tempting, but should I be so familiar with a customer?”
“Just remember to ring the right doorbell, don’t want to disturb the other residents and my studio is on the top floor.”
“But I don’t casino oyna know your name.”
I left him in the aisle, and I drifted with my moist pussy toward the checkout. Leaving the store I turned, he was tidying the shopping baskets…I gave a smile and called…
He disappeared into the store while I went off up the hill toward my studio, my mind racing, would he arrive with the bread, would he share with me, could I work things to suit my desires, I was like a virgin on a first date, and me, someone who could usually get someone into my knickers with no problem at all. But he was a boy. At least five years younger than me, maybe more. He was always respectful, but he did flirt, sometimes outrageously.
Oh my god, I was going to be alone with him…if he turned up…and in private too. All the other times we had spoken we had been in public, or at least in a place where there was the ‘protection’ of other people…suppose I have been misreading the signs, maybe he was just being cheeky, maybe he wasn’t flirting, maybe he wouldn’t want there to be anything else with an ‘old’ woman like me.
I made myself a coffee and sat, resolved to calming myself and reassuring myself that he wouldn’t have offered if he hadn’t wanted to, certainly he wasn’t coerced.
I stripped as my bath was running, the breeze from the open balcony door raising goose bumps on my exposed skin. Then on to choosing the sexiest practical garments to dress in after the bath.
I luxuriated beneath the bubbles, I was so excited it was impossible to keep my hands to myself…no, that’s wrong. I could keep my hands to myself, I just couldn’t keep them off my… you know.
The silky smooth soapy water, with the with the support of my wet hands caressing my breasts, the nipples of course erect and tingly as I flicked over them, the sensation as I am sure you can imagine was incredible, obviously, the sensations in my nipple, as it does, did not remain in the nipples, and gradually a sensation was developing in the forested area below my navel if you get my drift.
Talking of drift, my hand drifted toward the newly developing sensation, it needed a little tickle to get things moving, and get moving it did. I was in heaven, lying there in the warm bath, one hand at my bosom (tits to you) maintaining the glorious sensations in my nipples, the other guiding my clit toward a fantastic orgasm.
Suddenly came to my senses, it was twelve thirty, heck, great as my sexual bathing was, I needed to complete my toilette, and get dressed up for my “delivery”.
I didn’t usually dress up when I was working at home, which was always as home was my studio, today was going to be different…I hoped. So what was it to be?
Short sleeve quite saucy chiffon blouse, stockings, suspenders, French knickers, a light nylon brassier in white for purity…sort of, and a wide dirndl skirt. My tits were still quite perky, didn’t sag very much and I didn’t want to conceal my very suckable nipples, a girl can live in the hopes that she will be able to enjoy her assets.
I had just completed, and was primping the last strands of my blonde hair into place, isn’t it amazing the way your hair can be perfectly behaved except when you are in a rush and its important, when it goes which ever which way, when the door bell trilled startlingly. My heart lept, my nipples re erected, and I felt a thrill down below.
I left the flat door just on the latch as I sped down to the block door, I think I touched each stair as I went, but that is by no means guaranteed, I may have missed any number.
Arriving at the door, I paused, I had to compose myself, be nonchalant, I wanted this boy, but I didn’t want to appear over eager…even though I was…for him. Let’s face it, I could get nookie any time, but I was so in need of ‘him’ I could cry. Sounds pathetic doesn’t it?
The doorbell trilled again, waking me again from my reverie.
“Ok, Ok, Ok Brian, I won’t be a moment.”
I opened the door, there ‘he’ was, surrounded by this beautiful golden aura, and bathed in the sound of a million violins…ok, so I was a bit soft in the head. I was fine as I asked him in, with his small loaf in his left hand. Fine until I saw that phallic French stick in his right hand, dribble? Suddenly I felt I needed a pee.
“W w w would y y you like to come in?”
“If you like, I didn’t know you had a stammer.”
“Only when I am nervous.”
He stepped in. I preceded him up the stairs to my studio, knowing full well that he was watching, or at least I hoped he was watching my backside as I climbed. I am sure that had I been naked below the waist it would have been his hot breath on those nether cheeks.
As we reached the top, sorry as I reached the top Brian stopped several steps down and I felt that he was studying my legs, my skirt was just a little long to facilitate an excellent view. I hoped he had liked what he had seen.
“Are you coming in or are you suddenly scared of the fate which may be awaiting you?”
“Oh yes, I am coming in, what, miss a lunch with canlı casino my most beautiful customer, or go back to my bed sitter and read up on cheese production in Britain today, what would you choose?”
In the kitchen, I indicated a chair and started to hack the French stick into pieces before presenting him with the butter, cheese and….
“Would you like a beer or a glass of red?”
“I am your guest, what would you usually have?”
“A glass of red…or two…”
“Then that is what I would like.”
We sat, and ate, we drank, we talked of nothing and we flirted. It was trivial at first, looking into each others eyes. Him looking at my erect nipples poking little bumps in my blouse.
Me giggling, asking,
“What are you looking at?”
“I don’t know if it’s ethical, flirting with customers.”
“You are, but does that mean I should?”
“You are not in the shop now, so I am just a woman, not a customer, maybe I am a friend.”
“Maybe I am too old for you to be comfortable.”
“Good lord no, seeing as you are not a customer, just a woman, I don’t think you are too old, heck, you are upright and breathing and if you know anything about blokes, particularly younger blokes that you have been leading on for weeks you will know that’s the main criteria, age doesn’t come into it.”
“So…it’s just down to hormones?”
“This mornings performance was a bit direct, loose top and no bra, then flashing your naked pussy at me, don’t tell me it was accidental, and then asking for the ‘staff of life’… well.”
“Oh yes, I noticed, I have lusted after you since I first came to work there.”
“I also noticed that you are a real blonde, if you want to keep secrets like that you have to keep your knickers on.”
“When I stooped for the cornflakes!” I wagged my finger… “you must have been quick to study that much detail.”
“Its more, how should I put it, keenly interested in stimulating views.”
“Oh, I am keen on stimulating views too, snap, two of a kind!”
Brian was rifling though my paintings, good, bad and indifferent , still life, portraits, commercials, abstracts, and, I wouldn’t be a real artist if the wasn’t any figure studies, nudes to you.
“You don’t enjoy painting nudes do you?”
“I do, but I am not very good at it.”
“And I know why.” Brian smugly informed me.
“Come on then, why am I not good at it?”
“Its clear, You don’t like painting naked women.”
“So I would be better at nudes if I painted male nudes?”
“See…there are plenty of willing female figure models.”
Brian shrugged his shoulders and resumed his rummaging through my works.
“Would you…no I suppose not…would you sit for me, so I could try a male nude.”
“Ooooh noooo, I am much to shy to do anything like that!”
“You? Shy? You must be joking, an outrageous flirt like you, shy?”
“I really am shy, and I know I flirt but that’s it.”
“Oh go on with you. I bet you are in great demand, I can’t believe I am your only admirer.”
“You are the only one I have ever met up with in private.”
“Oh, so you have only had sex in public?”
“No, I have never had sex, too shy.”
“Good Lord! A virgin!”
“That’s it, embarrass me.”
“Not at all, its sweet.”
“You wouldn’t have to have sex; if you didn’t want.” I crossed my fingers as I lied, “just take your clothes off for a friend.”
I poured more wine. We drank. I poured more wine and we drank yet more.
Brian was a little more tipsy than me, I was probably more used to vino than he was.
“Go on, please, pretty please, sit for me.”
“You promise, you won’t laugh…if I take my clothes off.”
“Oh Brian, I promise, the last thing I want to do is laugh at you.”
“Hic, pardon, I think I might be tipsy.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I pottered about, putting a canvas on my easel.
“Are you going to watch me take my clothes off?”
“Do you want me to?”
Brian shrugged and started to fumble with his shirt buttons.
“I can give you a hand if you like.” I offered.
“The buttons are too big to go through the button holes.” He giggled.
I helped, and his shirt was soon discarded. I rubbed my hands over his sparsely haired chest, his nipples hard, then dropped my hands to the waist band of his trousers. He caught my wrists and held me as I unclipped it and eased the zipper down.
He sat and I knelt before him to unlace his shoes. Standing, as he did, to remove his trousers, they dropped to the floor, I stooped to take them as he stepped out of them, my face very close to his Yfronts tented with his erection.
This was promising to be an interesting afternoon.
“You know you said you have never had sex?”
“Have you ever, you know, got your hands on a woman’s bits.”
“No, not really, I like to flirt, and I do like ladies, but kaçak casino the ones that flirt with me are older ladies…”
“No, much older, and I like them, but they don’t seem to want me like that.”
“Don’t you believe it, I bet they would if you tried.”
“Anyway, I live in a bed sitter, so it would not be a good place to take them.”
I had turned away leaving him to divest himself of the last protection of his modesty, the last cover to that essential part of him I desired most. It has to be said, that I had absolutely no idea of what he had, or didn’t have between his legs, I wanted it anyway.
Without turning towards him I directed.
“Over there, on that chaise, on your side, propped on your elbow, one leg straight, the other bent at the….Oh my god… how sweet of you, you brought me a lollipop.”
He was struggling manfully to conceal his quite acceptable circumcised erection. “I am so sorry, I hope I haven’t embarrassed you… not used to situations like this.”
“No sweety, you haven’t embarrassed me, I have seen erections before, maybe not as spectacular as that one, my god that is truly a beauty, but it has certainly not caused me embarrassment.”
“Sorry, but although I have willed it too, it just won’t go down, probably because I think you are so lovely.”
“Oh how sweet.”
“I am sorry.”
“You will understand, its just that I can’t paint you like that, It would just dominate the canvas, and really it should be a small, well in your case a medium part of the whole.”
“Should I dress and we can try to think of something else…”
“No, No, No dear boy, I am sure we can find a way round the problem.” I almost paniced.
Brian lay on the chaise exactly as I had directed him, just with his spectacular circumcised, I love that word, prong before him, bobbing gently in time with his pulse.
“You don’t mind if I arrange things to suit do you?”
“N, N,No, I don’t want to spoil it for you.”
I suspected that I saw almost a slackening of his appendage, and that was the last thing I wanted. Hopefully the touch of my hand would restore the situation.
I touched. It strengthened again.
“I wasn’t sure that was going to work, I think we might be on a loser, I don’t know if it’s the wine, but for some reason I feel rampant.”
“Well, we will just have to try something else.”
I took a very delicate hold on him…
“Now lie back and close your eyes…”
“I would really like to look at you. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever set eyes on.”
“You young man are drunk!”
“No, honest, I mean it, you are without a doubt the mist beaufital woman I have ever seen, and one day I wank to see more of you.”
“Beaufital? Wank to see more of me, you are definitely drunk.”
” I ave wanked over your tits, excuse me boobies, no sorry, beasts many times.”
“How can you have, You have only ever had a glimpse like this morning.”
“Thass right, but one day I will, till then I just have to drink about, sorry think about them.”
“I think you have had enough wine.”
“Well what are we going to do with this thing?”
I knelt before him, then bent towards him and gently sucked on his crinkly sack. Then sucked each of his swollen balls, scraping over my teeth and into my mouth one at a time.
“Will this get rid of it do you think?”
“Oh yes, dear boy, this method is cast iron guaranteed, It doesn’t always last very long, but it will be effective and there are other thing we can try if this doesn’t work, but I have never known it fail yet.”
Making sure that I maintained his erection with my hand, I licked the length of my lollipop, slowly, gently, sensuously, until I got to the top, when I swirled my tongue around the purply head with its hint of precum, Oh God, how delicious. My game continued for about a quarter of an hour when suddenly…
I took that to mean that my ministrations had not been in vain. I slipped my mouth again over the head of his cock, scraping with my teeth as I did so, stretching the orifice wide, and sucked strongly, if the precum was delicious, the cum was a gourmets delight with copious mouthfuls of his nectar being blasted onto the back of my throat.
Did I swallow? You bet your life I did. Not a drop was wasted as I bobbed my head up and down on his shaft. Some of course lubricated the shaft as it passed between my lips, but no waste, as I slurped up the residue on each bob of my head.
From Brian, no words, just a prolonged groan as he discharged his gift to me. Eventually he started to slacken. Swallowing I removed my mouth from his knob, and proceeded to lick his shaft clean. Long, broad licks, the full width of my tongue, gathering up the last of the juice, I glanced the mirror behind Brian and could see the glistening, thick, creamy white seamen pooled on my tongue before each swallow.
A faint snore drew my attention to Brian’s face, his head was back, eyes closed, and mouth open. He was of course slack, but I had no interest in painting a sleeping David, it was my fault, plying him with so much wine, and he had delivered all I could have wished for, well, nearly all, because, one way or another I was going to have that virgin cock.
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