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  • — Men Only —
    Straight Male / 47

    I had finished college and was trying to get into grad school. I took a job on campus and was living in a duplex. Next door lived a woman with a cat. She was in her early forties, worked for the county in the tax collection office. I was sitting on the stoop with a beer passing time. She came home from work and saw me and stepped over to ask me how I was doing. When she turned to go into her duplex, she said over her shoulder that anytime I wanted to play with her pussy I could. I laughed and said I didn't really care for cats. Her answer was that there was more than one kind of pussy.

    Several days later she knocked on the door and said she had prepared too much dinner and if I wanted a hot meal to come over. I never thought about the incident earlier that week, I just thought she had made too much food. Her place was nicely decorated in a feminine sort of way. It was all soft and she apologized that she didn't have a big dick chair for me. She served me some iced tea, and told me that dinner would be ready in a few minutes and we set down to talk, or rather to answer questions. She inquired or interrogated me asking a lot of questions about my personal relationships. She told me she had been married a long time ago but he had run off with the cashier at the Wynn Dixie.

    She set the table like my grandmother, with knives, forks, spoons, placemats. She said she didn't have company that often and certainly not a man to serve. She leaned over when she said that, something about how she had been born, she just had the other sort of equipment, sort of like that light switch over there, you want to plug in the light but you never think of the wall wanting to get plugged.

    The dinner was good, it was a chicken pot pie, and it was good. She served me twice, telling me that she liked to watch a man eat. She hinted that she had something special for desert. Something she was sure a man like me would like. She asked me to guess, what would a man like me really like for desert? I went through apple pie, chocolate cake, brownies, vanilla ice cream, but all she said was nope. She leaned over again and said she had something much better, she had pussy pie for me, and I could eat as much as I wanted because it didn't have any calories, and after I finished eating I could plug in the light.

    I sat at the table while she picked up, she finished washing the dishes while I drank a cup of coffee. She dried her hands on her apron and walked over and lifted her dress up and she was bare naked underneath. She had cleaned off the table and she took the coffee cup out of my hand and worked her way between me and the table and sat down and pulled her dress up over her knees and spread her legs and told me that I could eat as much pussy pie as I wanted.

    I stared, I still have that image in my mind, those were the days when a woman didn't mow her lawn, she let me look for a while, I don't know, a minute maybe. Her next comment was that she had fixed that dinner and she had fed me and she wanted my big dick, but first she wanted me to eat her pussy pie. With my head down all I could think of was bobbing for apples when I was in cub scouts, I held my breath and went in.

    Her pie was so delicious, moist and warm, and she presented in such a manner that I couldn't get my fill. She counted the minutes and when I came up for air, she would count to three and down I went again. Until I came up for air and grabbing me by the hair she told me to go ahead and give her that bid dick of mine, just shove it in and light her up. I fucked her on the kitchen table, the same table she had set so nicely for dinner, I fucked her with all my might, until I was done and she said she liked cream in her pussy.

    For all the time I lived in that duplex I ate dinner with her. I thought that as at 23 I had fucked all I could fuck, that I knew all about things to do with a woman, but I was wrong. She had lots of tricks up her sleeve, whether it was being my maid, or my teacher, or my mother, she always had a game to play, like the day she got down on her hands and knees and pretended to look for a book on the bottom shelf, with her dress up high, and her full womanhood screaming at me to get fucked.

    With that lady I grew up. I hate to admit it, but finding another lady like her has not been a successful hunt. Half the time when I am mounted up, I am thinking of her and not the mare I have with me right them. And not to be left aside, that lady could cook.

    #39803 — Comments (0) — Mar 28, 2018 at 8:36 AM — That's Juicy! (13) Remove This.

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