I stood naked in front of the full-length mirror surveying what God
had given me forty-five years earlier. After two children, my body had
seen its better days, but all in all, it wasn’t bad. My hands traced the
shallow pockets of my waistline, the curve of my full round ass and my
substantial breasts, which were surprisingly full for a woman of my
advancing age.
I was pleased. I enjoyed the exploration of my own fingers, which no
longer employed the tentative touch of my formative years. They now
traced over every inch of my eager skin with confidence and great
anticipation. Over the hardening nipples, down the curve of my belly
toward my shaved and throbbing pussy. A delicious smile painted my face
as I thought about the exquisite birthday present I could give to
myself. But I wanted to wait. With any luck, I’d find someone special to
celebrate my birthday with as my girlfriends and I painted the town
red.
A short time later, I saw a new woman staring back at me from the
mirror. She was a woman about to go on the prowl. Her blue eyes sparkled
under flickering candlelight and her blond tresses were soft and shiny,
the kind of hair that one might imagine wrapping their fingers through
and pulling roughly while fucking her from behind. The dress she had
chosen was a thin black slip of a dress that dipped dangerously low in
the back and came to rest, in the front, at the cusp of her ample bosom.
With any luck, a handsome stranger would be compelled to slide his firm
palms inside of that dress, move them up her warm sides and massage her
tits while pushing his mounting erection firmly against her ass,
holding it there as it bounced and poked at her bottom.
Gooseflesh dotted my arms as the delirious thoughts bumped into each
other inside my head. “Don’t get wet,” I told myself, “Don’t get wet.”
This wasn’t the kind of dress that lent itself toward wearing underwear.
And certainly not a bra, as I was reminded when seeing the tents
created by my fully erect nipples.
The music in the club throbbed provocatively around our table. We
laughed and chatted about how we’d met years earlier in college, when
life was simpler and we were all free. Yet I knew that I would not have
traded my forty-five year old self for that younger girl for anything. I
was well aware of the sexual liberation that I found in my thirties and
forties. The kind of liberation that might have allowed me to reach
under the table at that moment and stroke my full pussy, dip my fingers
inside of myself before using those same finger to stir my drink. I
grinned at the thought of it.
Then I saw him, the man in the black trousers with the white button
down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and his shirt
was opened to the third button, making him appear casual yet
professional at the same time. To me, this was the sexiest possible
combination. His gaze met mine. We both stared a little too long through
the slightly tipsy haze between us and it was immediately apparent that
if I consented, this man would be giving me a brilliant, if filthy
birthday present later that evening. My pussy twitched as if speaking to
me. “Show him your dress. Get up and show yourself to him. Make him
want you,” it urged.
“Excuse me girls,” I smiled as I stood to leave, “Nature calls.” I
may not have really had to pee, as my statement might have suggested,
but nature was definitely calling. What could be more natural than
spreading your legs for an exciting, anonymous fuck?
As I had hoped, the stranger rose from his seat, collected his drink
and followed me. We walked silently toward the back of the club, his
hand on my back, pushing me gently in the direction that he wanted me to
go. Through a doorway, where the music still pulsed, down a flight of
stairs and out into the open-air courtyard. A small reflecting pool
collected the moon’s glow and tossed it back against the brick façade of
the club. It was quite romantic, but not terribly private. A number of
other couples sat at small bistro tables sipping cocktails and speaking
in hushed whispers.
“Not here,” the stranger whispered, pushing me toward a shadowy inlet
at the rear of the courtyard. “Here,” he groaned into the nape of my
neck as we slid into the obscurity of the recessed pocket of night.
Before I could process the unfolding event, his tongue was in my
mouth and his hands caressed my breasts as if he hadn’t touched a woman
in ages. The desperation and urgency with which he touched me made me
ache uncontrollably. My pussy swelled and throbbed. It felt as if it
were being torn apart. My back and head hit the brick backdrop a bit
more forcefully than he had likely intended as he recklessly pushed me
against it while fumbling with my tits. His tongue foraged about my
mouth and licked its way down my cheek. He ran it across my ear and I
faltered as a barely perceptible moan dribbled from my throat.
My lithe body came to life, and pressed against his. His chest felt hard and strong against mine.
“Do you trust me?” he asked?
“I don’t know you,” I responded, only slightly aware of the dangers that could present.
“Are you afraid?
“Should I be?
“No.”
“Than I am not.”
“Turn around,” he commanded, guiding me with his trembling hands. “Face the wall.”
The fact that we were not truly alone was somewhat arousing. I wasn’t
certain that no one could see us. Did people know what we were doing?
Did anyone pay attention when we slipped into the darkness and he
reached into my dress?
It didn’t matter now. My body had become a ravenous monster created by a
desire to feel this stranger’s cock inside of me. My hands and forehead
pressed against the cool rough bricks. My ass jutted out toward him as
his hands raised my dress along my thighs. Thank God I had the foresight
not to wear underwear.
“Very nice,” he moaned into my hair as his hands kneaded my ass. “Very nice.”
I could feel him trembling and rocking his pelvis against my bottom.
His breathing grew more shallow and I could feel his desire mounting. I
wondered if he could feel mine. Should I speak? Should I invite him
inside of me? No. My complicity in arriving at this place was invitation
enough. I reached behind me and pulled his hips hard against me and
slid my eager body up and down his impossibly hard cock. I flexed the
muscles of my ass until they forced ripples of overwhelming pleasure
coursing through his body.
He continued kissing and sucking at my neck and cheek as his hands
collapsed into himself, tearing open his fly, reaching in and pulling
out his painfully stiff cock. I spread my legs, allowing him to rub his
glans against my dripping slit. I could feel the moisture pooling
between my legs and it allowed him to slide his swollen tip effortlessly
into me.
“Oh fuck,” I grunted without even thinking. My pussy twitched, pulsed
and literally screamed to be filled. I repeated, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh
fuck…”
And without another word, this stranger was plowing into me, again
and again, splitting me in two with his magnificent erection. I gasped
and bit into my lip hard, to keep from screaming. I didn’t want to draw
attention to our little corner of the world. I could hear the music,
which was considerably slower and more apropos to our tryst but I knew
the music wasn’t nearly loud enough to mask the sounds of my pleasure,
which could have consumed me if I had let them.
The stranger slid out of me and whirled me around in one fluid
motion, pulling my right thigh back and sliding into me again. This
time, his eyes bored into mine and never wavered. It was the sexiest
fucking thing I had ever experienced. I didn’t want to be the one to
blink first. My strong, confident gaze was meant to say, “I’ve done this
a million times. I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you. Don’t you
fucking even think about stopping!”
“Oh you are a deliciously bad girl,” he managed between gasps.
His free hand roamed up my midriff, over my tits and paused on my
neck, where he squeezed me just tightly enough to send a sense of
panicked pleasure rushing through me. His lips covered my open mouth to
stop the probable squeal from emanating from me and alerting the others.
He bit down on my lower lip and pulled it into his mouth before
releasing it, and my neck, from his grip.
My eyes continued to stare back at him and the hint of a smile again
painted my lips. This time, the message was, “I can take it. Fuck me,
spank me, squeeze the air from my lungs. I can take it. As long as you
don’t stop fucking me.”
I felt close to coming now, as my bare back chafed against the
exposed brick. His cock pushed against my cervix repeatedly, pounding
me, stimulating me to new heights. My eyes finally closed as I gave in
to the rush of blood filling my pussy, and the waves of euphoria
crashing through me. Chills over took me and I shook uncontrollably,
gasping and panting.
The stranger pulled out. I could have come over and over, but he had other plans.
“Get on your knees,” he commanded. His voice was stern, but not rough stern. Instead, it was provocative.
I dropped to the pavement in front of him. The moonlight illuminated my juices on his slick shaft.
“Suck it off for me,” he whispered. I did so with relish, licking his
balls, and the underside of his wet cock. My lips parted over his head
and I slowly suckled my way down, pulsing my lips periodically in a
series of sweet, tantalizing squeezes that left him gasping for air.
He laced his fingers through my hair and guided my head down farther
onto his cock, forcing it deeper into my throat. I couldn’t breathe, but
I was helpless to stop him. Not because he forced me, but because this
was what I wanted. There, on my knees, on my forty-fifth birthday, I was
having an anonymous tryst with a handsome stranger. I didn’t know his
name. I didn’t want to. I had dreamed of such a moment my whole adult
life. The gift he was giving me was really a gift I had allowed myself. I
was allowing myself to be bad; filthy in fact. This was dangerous and
ill-advised, but so fucking sexy I could scarcely believe it myself. I
enjoyed the taste of myself mixed with his precum. It was sweet and
salty, like a chocolate covered pretzel.
I devoured him, using my left hand to massage his ass and push him
hard against my face, while using my right hand to pull at his balls and
press against that delicious spot between his balls and his ass. He
responded by unloading his thick salty load into my ravenous mouth and
throat.
The stranger helped me up from my knees and smoothed the wrinkles
from my little black dress. His hand returned to its familiar spot
against the small of my back and we retraced our steps past the
reflecting pool, the other patrons and their knowing grins.
After all was said and done, only one melodious thought ambled through my hazy brain.
“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear Jaynie. Happy birthday to me.”
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