Young and Old, Summer heat.
I was lounging by the pool after school, killing time. Still, in my uniform, I was full-on lazy—your typical winding down senior college girl — checking — Facebook — on my new phone.
Responding to girly — tweets, posting on — Instagram, a snap of myself, my nice leg tan.
I should have changed into my bikini or gotten topless for a more even look.
Mmm, it was a long summer afternoon, maybe later. It had been a while since I'd taken a selfie of my tits.
I saw the pool guy arrive. Yeah, he's our usual old dude. He was always quiet, minded his own business, and very professional. He was never in your space.
I ignored him. I was bored because I wasn't getting instant girlfriend feedback on my fabulous legs. Instead, I watched the pool guy. He was skim-raking a few nuisance leaves from the pool.
Did he glance at me because he couldn't think why I might be looking at him?
I tried pretending to be mobile phone engaged, but my girlfriends weren't responding.
Where were their bitch tweets and selfies when you needed them?
Shit, Shit, he was coming straight at me.
What did the old guy want?
Near sixty, my mum had said once, forty years married, eight children, several grandkids already.
Who cared, not me?
Oh, yeah, the filter system was right behind me, I realised.
The Pool guy was behind my deck chair.
I couldn't do algebra, but I knew essential addition; he was close to or triple my age.
Then triple shit; as in, I actually said it out loud, "Shit, Shit, Shit," as my hot friend Jodie snapped back a shot of herself topless by her backyard pool.
I was caught out in a skanky bored shitless girly sexual sexting brinkmanship competition.
Of course, just behind me, the pool guy saw it before I could close it.
God, Jodie's nipples were pert, pink and presumptuous.
"Woh," he got out as he leaned naturally, two male steps male in, then added, "Hot", then only one step back, and the geriatric cocky bastard with poise stated, "But, not as hot as a blonde like you."
He brushed my nape with the back of his hand.
Tingles of seventh heaven invaded my pink taco.
I was flustered. I was a dither of limbs, not knowing what to cross or where to look.
My eyes focused where a girl's eyes go too easily when a boner is stirring. Age, I realised, didn't keep cocks in check. And call it slut intuition; he was a storeroom of massive unpacked goods.
His package was nearly bursting through his shorts.
His shorts were so close to my face. It was my call. I did what I needed to do, tugged his shorts and boxer pants down and exposed his —
OMG—
mammoth cock.
I mean, I was holding a whopper of a new smartphone yet his dick had change!
If you had asked me five minutes ago what I would be doing now, I would have blankly stared at you and wondered.
I let my phone slip from my hand.
Replaced by a humongous cock. I was sucking his big stiffy. My hands were double-clenched on his shaft. My lips were shaped around his happy head.
He was yanking back on my ponytail to stuff his sausage in and out of my gob.
Suddenly, the experienced bugger; he had me spread on the sun- lounge. My legs splayed. My plaid skirt flipped up, and my super thin panties eased down over my ankles.
If I thought I was getting a leisurely pussy loitering experience to match his sensuous downward series of calf kisses as my undies went off, I was totally mistaken.
He licked my shaved pussy rapidly with a purpose. Get me excited fast. He succeeded.
"Orrh, Arragh, Mmm, Oh Mmm… Ooh… Urrgh …Fuck… Oh Fuck….Yes…Ah…Ah."
All from me and luckily no one else was home, because I was very noisy.
The fucker had teased my clitty and pussy lips to the cusp of an orgasm. Then the cunning sod pushed my legs, really wide and back, nearly to my ears, but hey, I'm young and flexible.
His meat harpoon stabbed into me with the most amazing of deep, repeated thrusts. He slashed my gash. He tunnelled to my girly innards.
"Oh fuck, Oh my fuckin God…Oh…Orrgh…Ah…Ah…harder…Ah, Ah, Ah…Oh."
Yes, I was frickin enjoying a remarkable root that had come from 'out of the blue' and got fantastically better.
He urged me to get above him, slipping off my skirt.
There I was, half-naked like the mature pool guy, still with my bra and blouse on but nothing below the waist, and he had on his company t-shirt and nothing else.
And I was perched above him. My feet rested on his thighs, and I was cock lanced in all my youthful sexual glory.
My toes were curling, pressing into his skin; the balls of my feet were rocking into his thighs for traction. His hands were on my hips, and I was bouncing up and down off his huge cock, and he was guiding my body down and up as well.
I was in — absa-fucking-lutely — girly-filled pussy enjoyment.
Caught in my rise, caught in my fall; the rise, the fall.
The action had a life of its own. Controlled but not controlled.
My pussy plunged, then my pussy ascension, each time dragging his massive stiffy up and down with me and luxuriating in the length of his rod.
Then occasionally, his pecker knob only was held in me, shaped by me; up, up, to his cock ridge, but never losing it. Then down, spiralling down, plunging to his balls. I was fixated on my enjoyment.
Pleasure registers, pleasure dominates, then pleasure seeking becomes unbounded, yet body-to-body binding.
The process encapsulates the mind. My psyche was filled with sex, only sex, and the sexual conjoined moment.
Small surges of satisfaction started in my pussy, and my pressing clit became a throb. A surge of localised pleasure held momentarily, delectably, deliciously in the tip of my clitty.
Then, the bliss sensation was a compelling wayward explosion of delight. Through my entire clit, deep in my pussy, heaving up through my chest and swirling through my mind and sinking back through the pit of my stomach and embedding itself in my womb.
The veteran codger knew he had super pleased me, and of course, the bastard super pleasured himself by creaming my pussy.
But I enjoyed it. My body filled physically with cum, and my mind filled emotionally too. I was on top of the world.
Our senior pool guy got back to work.
His pipe drained, but he said, " I have the filter pipes to check."
I collected my phone, panties and plaid pleated skirt. I went inside to clean up, as in a good douche, but not before I took the dirtiest selfie possible.
Top this, you bitch, Jodie, I said aloud as I sent the snap.