Twenty/Fifty-Three

The rain dripped, atmospherically, from the ripped plastic awning and her cigarette went out with a hiss.

“Fuck…” She muttered, already rummaging in her bag for another. It was out of character. When asked, she described herself as a social smoker, and it was true. Her bag – heavy with books – hit her hip uncomfortably, causing another stream of profanities to slip from her trembling lips. She lit up, and took in a long slow drag.

Start again she told herself, breathing a little slower, watching the smoke trail from her lips up into the darkening sky. Her eyes came to rest on the bleak block of flats on the opposite side of the road. The red, victorian brickwork had long since been blackened by exhaust fumes, and the secure door made her nervous. She stood there for a while, taking her time, allowing the smoke to billow in slow motion, trying to calm her nerves and come to some level of acceptance about what she was about to do.

There was no accounting for the part of her that wanted more than anything to go into the building, the part of her that had come here for… what he could offer.

Still she shivered and tapped her boots on the pavement, sucking on her cigarette until she felt it burn between her fingers and it fell to the wet concrete. She hovered for a moment, bereft of a reason to linger on the street, but unready to go ahead. Pulling her hood up, she pushed a stray strand of mousy hair under it’s shelter and with one final breath, dashed across the rain-spattered road.

Almost crashing into the scuffed metal door, she raised her hand to press the buzzer for his flat. Her nails, painted for the evening, had been chewed and the red varnish was roughly chipped around the edges. She frowned, but it was too late to worry about aesthetics now. The rest of her outfit hadn’t been easy either. She wanted to appear casual, but desirous, young, but sophisticated, mature, but naïve. In the end time had beaten her, and moments before she had to leave, she had tugged black nylon tights and a short black dress over her white lace bra. He had, at least, been quite specific about the underwear – white bra, no panties. Leaving the house she had bemoaned the chilly air and reluctantly pulled on her boots and heavy grey coat. And thus she stood, trembling with apprehension, waiting to hear his voice through the intercom.

It crackled. “Hello?”

For a moment she paused, and then her words came out fast. “Hi, it’s me, we have an appointment. I mean, we arranged to meet here.”

He chuckled lightly and buzzed her in. “Come up.”

The stairway was concrete, grey and dank. It smelled of beer and drug addicts; filthy and uninviting. She wanted to run, get out, leave, but her desires were stronger. The brief exchange had already excited her and she couldn’t go. Not yet. Her boots felt heavy as she came to the first level and walked down the musty hallway towards his door. Pulling her hood down, her breath caught in her throat as she came to number seven and found him already standing there, waiting for her.

“Hey you,” He smiled, opening the door a little wider and beckoning her in.

She stepped through the entrance and stood in the tiny foyer, looking around. There were three rooms in the small flat, and she didn’t know which way to go. The door clicked closed behind her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She was nervous, her hands clammy as she clasped them together before her. She felt his touch, warm on her shoulder, friendly and terrifying.

“This way.”

He led her straight into the bedroom. The wallpaper – once white – was a little grimy, and peeling in the corners, but the room was homey. The bed took up most of the space, the sheets clean, if a little rumpled. Against one wall stood a bookshelf, overflowing with well thumbed volumes and ancient comic books. In the early days of their online acquaintance he had told her he was a writer, and something of a geek. He was friendly and welcoming, understanding and ever thoughtful of her boundaries and desires. From the outset he had always had her comfort in the forefront of his mind.

“Here,” He said, still behind her, both his hands on her shoulders. “Let me take your coat.”

She shrugged it off, into his grasp. “Thanks,” She smiled weakly.

He gestured for her to sit down and she perched on the end of the bed, putting her bag down on the floor, hands either side of her, pressed into the mattress as he laid her coat over the back of a chair and sat down, opposite her.

“You okay?” He smiled.

She laughed nervously. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…” She trailed off, her breathing still fast.

“That’s okay,” He said, never letting his eyes move from her face.

She cast her gaze around her and then looked back at him. It was a moment she knew well, with boys her own age; tension in the air, expectancy, baited breath. With previous lovers – always her peers – she had sometimes made the first move. Kissed them, or slid her body to theirs, but with him it was different.

Thirty three years her senior, he was old enough to be her Father. Her Grandfather even – in extreme cases. He was balding a little on top, the rest of his hair flecked with grey, lines creasing his friendly face around piercing blue eyes. There was rough looking stubble across his face and throat and the suggestion of hair where his shirt opened – one button left undone. His shoulders were broad, his hands slender. He sat, his tapered fingers interlaced before him, elbows on his knees as he leant close to her. He was slim, but soft around the edges. His jeans fit him well, and he had jokingly told her, early on, that he had love handles – to hold onto.

Meeting his gaze again she saw his eyes sparkle with anticipation. All the nervousness was clearly hers.

“Do you want something to drink?”

She shook her head; in truth, she could have done with some water, to soften the dryness of her throat, but it just seemed like too much bother to ask. He nodded evenly and looked her over.

“Take those off,” He said, gesturing to her boots. It was his first order to her and she felt the words ripple through her body as she leaned down to undo the laces.

It took her some time to loosen the boots and pull them off, and then they hovered above the ground, held in her uncertain hand. He nodded for her to put them down and she placed them carefully at the end of the bed, neatly beside her bag. In one smooth movement he slid from his chair to sit beside her on, leaning on one hand, poised carefully behind her on the mattress. She shivered and smiled slightly as he leant in to kiss her cheek, just above her jawline. His other hand curled around, stroking her other cheek and turning her head to face him. His eyes scanned her expression, one of nervous and desirous anticipation, and he pressed on, planting his masterful lips over the pink fullness of hers. As he kissed her, he pulled her further onto the bed, positioning her with his hands until they sat, knee to knee in the centre of the room. His hands clasped her body close to his, roaming and feeling her through the cotton of her dress. They swayed and he made her purr with his caresses, their bodies grinding and moving where they knelt, intertwined.

She felt his fingers under the hem of her dress, sliding against her thighs as he pulled the fabric from her body, over her head. She felt more than heard the growl in his throat as his hands spread across the naked skin of her back, pressing her closer, his mouth, lips, tongue, teeth, delicious against her neck. The sensations were overwhelming; his hands moved fast, everywhere at once, as they pressed between her thighs and caressed her back, felt the fullness of her ass through her tights, and parted her knees. He broke contact between his lips and her skin for just a moment, to undo his shirt and – with the help of her small hands – push it off. His torso was soft and firm, flecked with hair, stomach flat, body warm against hers. His arms encircled her, fingers playing over her young skin. He seemed to devour her, indulging decadently in her youth, in her nubile flesh, in her bright-eyed eagerness. His tongue slipped over her flesh and his fingers, caught between her thighs, began to rub her hungry sex through the nylon of her tights. He groaned feeling her wetness seep into the thin material and his fingers worked a little more firmly before they moved up to grope the roundness of her breast, teasing her nipple through the lace of her bra. His other hand hooked around her waist, she leaned her head back, arms hanging limp as he lowered his mouth to her breasts, biting the hard nipples through the lace. Behind her, his hand worked to undo the clasp of her bra, and soon the material was slipping away from her body, leaving her hard nipple naked to his teasing mouth. She emitted little gasps, the press of his hardening cock thrilling her, against her nylon clad skin, through his worn denim.

“Turn around,” He ordered, already twisting her in his hands. He pushed her head down onto the mattress, the hand between her thighs holding her ass up. Her back arched as he spread her wider, leaning back to examine the shadowed folds of her sex through the opaque black of her tights. Skintight and wet, the material clung to her and she felt him move, his tongue suddenly against her, licking through the nylon. She heard him sniff her scent, trailing a wet path along her lips with his tongue.

The bed creaked as he moved, his hands on her ass, spreading her cheeks through the fabric, his tongue roaming delightfully from the lips of her cunt to the tightness of her asshole. He sucked the juices from her cunt, saturating the nylon with his saliva, pushing the top of his finger – encased in her tights – into her asshole. She moaned and writhed and he used his body to hold her still, as his hands and mouth explored every inch of her veiled sex. She pressed back against him, her body violated, her lust desperate for more. Grinding against teeth and lips, he tongued her, ate her through the nylon and she felt the growing heat of ensuing orgasm begin to tingle through her body. He plunged deeper, tongue penetrating her cunt as his fingers rubbed the bud of her asshole. She felt her body tense, her discomfort at the thought of this old man touching her so intimately now turning to arousal. With a small mew she exploded, panting, gasping, into his open, eager smile, and felt him sucking the nylon back into his mouth.

Orgasm still sending waves through her shaken frame, he moved her – no rest for the wicked – onto her back, ripping the tights from her body. Almost intact, he threw them to the floor and returned his tongue to flick at the pulsing, open pinkness between her legs. Slipping inside her, lips against her labia, he sucked wetly, and she could hear and feel every movement of his tongue. She breathed heavily, the sensations almost too much, still riding the wave of climax as she came down to the divine caresses of his mouth and tongue between her parted thighs. He slipped one, and then two fingers into her tight asshole and she arched her back, moaned and breathed, relaxing.

“Good girl,” He murmured as he began to fuck her ass with his cunt-wet fingers, sliding in and out of her, easing her into the feeling. This is what she had come for.

As he loosened her she wondered how it might feel to be him. She couldn’t help smiling at the idea of herself as a rare, much wanted object of desire. She hoped this was the apex of his many fantasies; a young girl offering her body to him, sexual as she relaxed into the palms of his hand. He had made her come. In her mind, he was grinning with pride, feeling it swell in his chest as he was allowed to touch her youthful arousal. But more than that, she had come to give him something particular. It was only after she had lost her virginity that she began to fetishise it. The idea of a young girl offering her purity to an old man made her slick. But she still had something to give.

For all her nights of passion, for all her young fucking, no man had ever taken her anus. None of her lovers had gone beyond the gentle caress of running their hands over that tight hole, but she was here to give her virgin ass to him; a man of experience, a man old enough to know the delight of young flesh, supine and savoured.

He licked and sucked the pulsing orifice of her cunt, the fingers in her ass pushing harder and faster, forcing gasps and moans from her mouth. Her eyes shut tight she relaxed into the feeling, began to enjoy his violent use of her as she arched off the bed, so full, the attention so intense.

And suddenly it was gone. His touch moved away, leaving her spread wide to the cool air in the room. He rolled onto his back beside her, deftly unbuckling his belt and jeans, sliding them off, his cock springing from his clothes.

“Suck it, slut.”

The words were staccato in the warm room. She felt their cut and saw the seriousness in his face. It made her shiver to see such coldness. His eyes displayed nothing but entitlement, and she forced herself to remember his warm words, his comforting conversation. At the same time she wanted to believe he was cruel and unloving, taking her as he pleased with little disregard for her wants. But in truth she felt too fragile to utterly give in to the fantasy.

Raising herself up on hands and knees, she leaned over him, taking the swelling head of his cock in her mouth, licking and sucking it with a keenness she knew he favoured over experience. She ran her tongue over him, teased and sucked, made him wet with pre-come and saliva, felt him grow to his full size. He was thick. Average in length, but thick. She noticed how her small hands stretched to encircle him and felt her cunt pulse, aroused and made afraid by the knowledge of how full she would be. He felt hot in her palm and she took more of him, loving the feel, sucking him into her wet, eager mouth, making love to his cock with her lips.

And then he was pulling her body over his, her knees either side of his head, so he could continue his attentions to her wet, heated cunt. One thumb pressed over her asshole, but not entering as he lapped wetly at her sex.

They devoured, licked, indulged, sucked sensations through one another. She began to lose herself, grinding her body against his mouth and trying hard to focus on his pulsing cock. The taste of him was nothing but heat and want, and every inch of her body panted with her. They stayed that way, tasting each other, indulging in the wet heat, until he decided he wanted more. Gently moving her, he slid out from beneath her panting body and, pressing her head down into the mattress once more, positioned himself behind her. For the first time, she felt the heated pressing of a man’s hard cock against the pucker of her asshole. She shivered and moaned even at the anticipation, the mere thought. Her hole was slick with her cunt juices and he was not gentle as he pushed inside her. She screamed, digging her fingers into the sheets, and he held her just there – where he wanted her – sliding firmly inside her, until she could feel his balls come to rest against her clit. She gasped, moaned, cried in pain, the pleasure so exquisite. And then he began to fuck her. Mercilessly, roughly, fast, pounding her tight hole, his hands grasping her hips as he drove into her body, making her buck and scream, gasp, pant, cry, all in such ecstasy. When her body squirmed, his hand came down hard on the pleasing flesh of her ass, leaving red handprints. When she moved, disobeying the orders he gave with his body, he held her in place, drove deeper and harder, pinned her down, forced her to be still as she screamed. He took her so completely. So unbending to her cries of pain. He worked his cock into her young body, fucked her roughly as he had been fucking for so many years. He knew when cries of pain were cries of desperation and fear. And hers were not. Hers were cries of intensity, of fulfillment.

Her mind screamed that this was not how any first time ought to be. The act was devoid of love, but at least she felt the safety net of his concern. Despite the divine discomfort and the pulsing unfamiliarity, not once did she think to ask him to stop. All words of rejection escaped her as she sunk, breathing in her fantasy come to life.

He moved her to lie beside him, going deeper into her than ever, holding her thighs open, and let his balls slap her flesh, the sound ringing in the room. He pressed his fingers into her cunt as he fucked her, made her full, made her drip. He twisted her body, forced her legs apart, pushed himself deeper, until finally, pinning her down, pressing her into the mattress with his hands, she lay almost flat beneath him as he pounded her harder and harder, and with a guttural groan and the panting of passion, filled her ass with his hot come. She felt it spurt, almost scalding inside her, making her scream again. And then he collapsed on top of her, his cock still pulsing inside her.

Panting, skin sweaty, bodies hot against one another, they lay still a moment. The silence in the room beamed over her glistening skin and she felt the overwhelming disbelief catch in her throat.

Surprised, she felt his rough lips move over the skin of her back, caressing and kissing her heated flesh. Moving up, over her shoulders and, one hand turning her head, stroking the hair away from her face, he found her lips, and kissed her deeply, passionately.

“You divine creature…” He growled against her skin, slowly sliding away, to lie on his side next to her, one hand stroking the sticky skin of her thigh. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, flushed, smiling, once again without the words. She suddenly laughed, the strangeness of sex reminding her of all it’s weird primality, and buried her face in the sheet. His arm pulled her in by his skin, their bodies pressed together, not a sign of affection or possessiveness, but of human kindness.

He purred to her, “That was rather delicious…”