10 comments/ 41178 views/ 8 favorites In Praise of Older Men By: 24UKBlonde I've come to realise at the grand old age of twenty something that I'm a sexual oddity. There's rarely a minute that goes by in any waking hour that I don't think of sex, yet I don't yearn to do it. I can go ages without it and, unlike what some of my more active friends at stage school, say, I don't get warts and pimples after a month without sex. In fact I don't even get that frustrated if I go ages without it. Maybe part of my oddness is that I enjoy mental sex. I can sometimes be shagged six or seven times a day up there, but be celibate down below. I also prefer older men. Not because of their paunches or baldness, but because of their experience. A slow lazy fuck based upon years of knowledge always beats a quick urgent one where we're learning together, or, mega times worse, where I'm the teacher! One fuck in one way or another lasting the whole evening is generally preferential to me than being slammed four or five time in a few hours, even though that can have its merits. I have no inhibitions about sex. Well intellectually at least. In theory I'd do anything, children, animals and body waste apart that is. I cannot see that anything that two people want to try or do that gives them both pleasure and excitement can be wrong. Come to that I can't think of anything that one person wants to do that I'd say is wrong, with the above caveat on children of course. So summing me up. I'm an inexperienced, incredibly open-minded sexual adventurer, who doesn't do it much, but when she does she prefers it with older men. Now is that odd or what? Sweet smelling candles, luxurious, silk sheets preferably on a four poster bed, wine or champagne, vases overflowing with roses and me in the finest, sheerest, laciest, sexiest nightdress imaginable. With me, a handsome, tall thirty or forty something man with the consideration of a Samaritan, the tenderness of a nurse, the experience of an octogenarian, the patience of a saint and a cock like a bull. That's was how I imagined being deflowered. Loving, caring, considerately and so absolutely romantically it would make Mills and Boon, yes both of them, cry with envy. An Audi TT isn't the ideal car to get laid in at any time. It may look funky, corner like a train and go like shit but as a fuckwagon, forget it. There's no proper back seat and the tunnel running down the middle with the gear lever sticking out makes acrobatics essential for all those brave enough to try. So, in the back, half standing, half kneeling bent over the pushed forward front seats I gave up my virginity. Maybe it was inelegant, unladylike, undignified and uncomfortable, but for me it was also fabulously exciting and pleasurable. I'm the only person I know who thinks they had an orgasm when their cherry popped; possibly that accounts for my sexual oddness. On the other hand, of course, it may have been pins and needles or a bout of cramp, but as the somewhat nerdy kid from down the street shoved his thing in me, squeezed my tit, my left one actually, and humped away for a few seconds I believe I climaxed. (Oh yes that's another part of my oddity. I adore intelligence, hence the nerd. A really smart remark, an incisive comment, a statement about a little known fact or an analysis of a complicated issue can, literally, have me creaming myself. And if someone tells me something that's wonderfully intellectually challenging I can almost feel my knickers sliding downwards before the end of the sentence, well let's say paragraph, after all I'm not that easy!) I could hardly believe when I got home and mum said. "Had a nice evening dear?" Couldn't she see that I'd changed. Surely she'd notice I was no longer a kid? At over eighteen and just been fucked, surely she can see I was now a woman? But no, all she said was. "You'd better get off to bed Samantharrrrrrrrrr," She always emphasised the ending a of my name as a long arrrr, like the sound you make when a doctor looks down your throat. That's why, to all but her, and dad when he's trying to get in her good books or wants a shag, I'm now Sam or Sammi. It was the same with dad the next morning. Not a spark of interest in his new daughter. No reference to my new womanly look, well I guess that was diluted somewhat by the cream and red striped summer blazer we wore at my ultra posh private school. I forgave him for not welcoming me to the grown up world of people that fucked, for I was also wearing the blue gingham, pleated skirt, white blouse and tie of a schoolgirl. I desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone almost so the lollipop lady was extremely lucky I didn't whisper as she showed us a cross the road by the school gates. "I got laid last night, I'm now a woman." I mulled over who I could tell but couldn't think of who I wanted to tell. I wanted loads of girls and some boys to know that I was now in play, up for it, fully experienced and ready for anything, but to tell them it was that prick Kelvin Adams and that he'd had me in the back of his mum's car, an uncool Audi TT with no back seat at that, just wasn't on. I decided to be enigmatic about it, although I wasn't quite sure what that was, but it sounded good. So I wandered around for the next few days with an enigmatic smile on my face and an enigmatic look in my eye. "Are you ok Samantharrrrrrrrrrr?" Mum asked after a day or so. "You sure you're not sickening for something?" So much for me being enigmatic. I had sex with Kelvin a couple more times; more as a reward really for services rendered rather than as a strong need on my part, but I could see it was going absolutely nowhere. Not that I wanted it go any special place, for, after all, there is a limit to how much raw intelligence compensates for looks; and being able to decline Latin verbs as you deflower a maiden doesn't really compensate for acne! In any case I'd got what I wanted and needed. I was a woman now. I was experienced; after all I'd been fucked six or seven times. The mystique had gone; I could have sex whenever and with whoever I wanted. I think that may well have been the first time I realised just what a sexual oddity I was. For now I'd done it, I didn't have a desperate urge to keep doing it. * I was a bit of a whiz at tennis. I'd played for both my school and my county and with a little more dedication I could probably have been even better. My coach told me that with a little more dedication I might be able to get to get into the Wimbledon tournament, but dedication and a teenager finding their way in the grown up world aren't natural bedfellows. So by the time Kelvin had plucked my cherry, my love affair with tennis was on the wane. I still belonged to a club and played quite a lot but not with the ambition of improving. After all I'd found men, well Kelvin, and sex. They were much more interesting. "We've been drawn away to a couple from Colchester" Richard said to me, "I'll drive you down, OK?" "Sure" I replied over my shoulder pretending not to be too keen. Richard was a thirty something, single guy at the tennis club. Quite a good player and an even better looker, we'd been paired up by the club's match organiser to represent the club in a county, mixed doubles knock out tournament. He was tall, well built and always seemed to have a tan. He was funny and witty and spent quite a lot of time with the junior section, not just the girls but also giving tips and help to the boys as well. Nearly all of the girls, me included, fancied him like hell, but at the dances and parties he always had a cracking looking, sophisticated woman on his arm, who, he is reputed to have told others, "was just a friend, nothing serious.". Although he flirted quite outrageously with us younger girls no one admitted or claimed to have bedded him. "Fancy a drink Sam, or wouldn't your mum like that?" he asked looking at me and smiling as we bowled along the A12 in his BMW. "Sure, I'd love t," I replied ignoring the mum remark. "You are old enough aren't you; it's so difficult with you young fillies?" Sort of sitting up straighter in my seat and probably pushing my chest out a bit I said, rather grandly. "I am over eighteen you know." He laughed and glancing across patted me on my knee. "I know, just joking Sam, I can tell you are." I didn't quite know how to take him. He was always joking and taking the piss so you had to be both on your guard and on your toes when with him. I really couldn't tell whether he was sending me up or chatting me up most of the time. "Are you at school tomorrow?" He asked as we sat in the pretty little bar of the country pub he'd pulled into. "Yes I am." "And what time do you have to be home on a school day?" "Oh mum and dad are pretty cool about such things, so around eleven's fine." He looked at his watch. "Good, we've got ages then, so there's no rush." We'd won the tennis match love and one and the whole thing was finished in just over half an hour. We'd had a quick cup of tea and a sandwich with our opponents before setting off for home at around seven so it was now just eight o'clock. As he said, plenty of time. For what though, I wondered, my heart beating a little faster. I'd had a shower after the match, even though I'd hardly perspired, and had put on a clean pair of panties and bra under the white track suit I was wearing. I guessed Richard had done the same but had no idea what he was wearing under it. "Would you like another?" he asked pointing at the emptied glass that had contained white vermouth and soda, a drink I thought sounded all sophisticated and grown up when I'd asked for it? "Or shall we go and take a slow, lazy drive home," he went pausing before adding. "As you don't have to home until eleven." As he was saying that his eyes were boring into mine and he had a slight smile on his face. That made me feel a little nervous, for he was clearly flirting and I knew I was out of my depth. "Whatever, I don't mind." "You sure Sam, you don't mind?" I laughed to cover my embarrassment. "I'll leave it up to you what we do." Still with that smile on his face he leaned forward, glanced around at the other drinkers in the small bar, put both hands on my knees, lowered his voice and whispered. "Sam, if you leave it to me do you know what we'll do?" I could hardly breathe let alone talk so I stammered. "No Richard, no I don't" "Shall I tell you what I would like to do?" "Yes, yes please," I croaked lowering my eyes so I escaped from his almost hypnotic gaze. He paused for a while his gaze running over me as he seemed to be deciding what to say. Then again with that little smile and with his fingers pinching my knees he said. "I'd like us to get in the car, find somewhere very quiet and isolated and then I'd like to kiss you Sam." "Oh God" I couldn't help blurting out in amazement, shock and surprise. He laughed. "It's not that terrible an idea is it?" "No, no," I laughed. "You just surprised me that's all." I went on trying desperately hard to appear to be cool and grown up about it and give the impression this sort of thing happened to me all the time. Smiling, well almost leering I guess now that he he knew he 'had' me he said. "Don't tell me you've never snogged in a car." "Of course I have" I replied almost telling him that I had also been fucked in one. "So the ideas ok then?" he asked cleverly putting me on the spot, "It's just the surprise is it?" I had no idea how to handle this so I went to take a sip of my drink, completely forgetting the glass was empty. Again holding my gaze he said. "So shall we then?" Trying to be smart I said. "What have a drink or a surprise?" Leaning even further forward and quite unashamedly peering right down the front of my tracksuit top, he kissed me on the cheek. "No Sam neither of those, this" he muttered as his lips found mine. BMW 5 series do have back seats: big, wide, deep back seats: luxurious, leather back seats: back seats that are big enough to lie out on. And it was on one of those that Richard fucked me. He didn't just fuck me, though; he taught me and educated me. And I loved every single minute of those two and a half hours on the back seat of his BMW. I was easy, I guess. I put up only a cursory struggle after we'd pulled into a little car park in some woods just off the busy A12. When he leaned across and kissed me, I did say, "Richard you shouldn't." But I knew as his hand so confidently found and so maturely and properly squeezed my breast, my words lacked conviction. He knew it as well for he took not the slightest bit of notice and continued caressing my breast just as if I'd said nothing. In some ways, no in most if I'm honest, I was pleased he was being so assumptive about me. He obviously thought I was far more experienced than I was for he was treating me so grown up, like a woman, like an adult lover really, I suppose and that was precisely how I wanted to be treated. But seeming experienced and play-acting at it are far different from actually being experienced, for I had no real idea how to act or what to do. "God I've wanted to do this to you for so long Sam, you can't imagine," he breathed into my ear as his hand on my breasts and his tongue and lips on my mouth did such delicious things to me. I thought I knew about kissing, knew how to kiss and knew what a good kiss from a boy was all about. But I was so wrong, as Richard showed me so quickly. What he showed me was that I may well have known how boys kiss, but not men and their lovers. They kiss with adventure, excitement, confidence and passion. They kiss with mouths wide open, tongues deep in the other's throat and lips grinding and squirming together. They suck on each others lips, firstly the top then the bottom, they nibble their partner's tongue, they pull it and the other's lips into their mouth and they kiss all over the mouth, face, throat and neck. Yes, I soon learned I knew nothing about kissing, but I learned very quickly and soon I was kissing Richard with the verve, energy, eagerness and passion that he was kissing me. I hardly realised he'd slid the zip down on my trackie top. That is until I felt his hand right on my bra, then with hardly a hesitation, inside it and without further ado lifting it from its cup as he pinched the rapidly hardening nipple. "Oh Sammi you have such magnificent breasts, I've lusted for them for ages." God did adults really talk like that? Did they say such expressive things? I knew they did in films, but in real life? "I've wanted you so badly Sam is almost hurts. When I see you at the club, especially in your tight tops and that skimpy pink skirt you wear, I get an instant hard on." "Oh Richard," I sighed as I ran my fingers through his long, rather old fashioned hairstyle, "I bet you think that about all the girls at the club." "No Sam," he said sounding very sincere, "it's just you." Then, playing what was probably his trump card, he went on. "You're different to the others, more adult, more grown up, they seem like little girls, you're a woman." I was gone. I was totally out of it; out of my depth, out of my mind and, had he have asked, I'd have been out of my clothes as well. "Let's get in the back?" he asked, saying it, though, more like and order than a suggestion, "I want to be able to undress you, properly." Oh God he's going to undress me, and properly, in a car, I repeated in my mind, fervidly wondering what, properly, meant when applied to undressing. No may I or would you like that? No simply, I want to undress you properly. So wonderfully assumptive, so erotically perfect, so shudderingly exciting and so, so, so grown up. It was obviously such a natural and normal thing for two such grown ups to say to each other that I was on my feet struggling back between the seats with no further asking. As I sank back into the corner of the big, black leather, BMW, backseat waiting for Rick to join me, I realised I'd always preferred beamers over Audis and now I knew why. Thinking like the woman I now was and like the mature lover that Richard was treating me as, I mused, "they're so much better to be fucked in than Audi's!" But I had little time for musing, for he quickly clambered into the back and took me in his arms. Pulling me to him, he was half lying on me and half on the seat as we again kissed deeply and, I thought, quite wildly, certainly wilder than any I'd ever done previously. His hand was again all over my breasts, outside the thin bra squeezing and rubbing and inside pinching and caressing. My trackie top that I'd covertly zipped up as I transferred from the front to the back, came, as if by magic unzipped again and his fingers were easing the bra cups away from my boobs as we continued kissing and kissing and kissing. He reached up and switched on a dim light in the corner that was presumably used for passengers to read and not disturb the driver. It doubled very well, though, as a light for the driver to look at a passenger's tits by. "Oh God Sam, your breasts are gorgeous, so firm, so full and so fucking lovely I could eat them" he moaned into my ear, his words arousing me almost as much as his hands and the large lump of his erection pressing into my hip. He was fumbling behind me with my bra clasp. That made me smile for the three or four boys and Kelvin who'd done that to me all seemed to struggle with that and I thought, 'even experienced men find undoing a girl's bra a mystery.' "Oh fuck," he said right into my ear, "these bloody clasps, I don't know why they aren't made of Velcro." "Oh Rick, don't be silly, they're easy." "Well if they're so bloody easy you do it." I fell for that line, for, somewhat foolishly, I sat up, reached behind me and as quick as a flash undid the clasp. Letting the strap go the cups slithered down my boobs a bit but stayed on them, covering my breasts. In a thick voice he croaked. "Take it off Sam, please take it off." I knew that to get the bra off I'd have to remove the trackie top and that once that was off I wouldn't easily get it back on and I'd be in the car half naked. Well at least half I thought, for he'd clearly only just started and I didn't for one moment think he was going to stop there, nor really did I want him to. But it was dangerous; anyone including the police could suddenly come into the car park and catch us. I couldn't bear to think of the repercussions if they took my address and then told my parents. I didn't want Rick thinking I was a wimp or that I was unused to such things, for so far I think I'd done a pretty good job of giving him the impression that I was far more experienced than I really was. I was, though, scared. "No Richard I can't" "Why, why not?" "Someone might come." "Well I hope we both do" he laughed pulling the cup away from my left breast so that the nipple was bared. "Don't be silly" I smiled back pulling the track top back around me. "I can't undress here." "But you would if you were sure it was safe then?" he cleverly retorted kissing me and slipping his hand inside the top right onto my boob. "You know what I mean Rick, what if a police car pulled in?" "I reckon they'd ogle you through the window as they asked me a few questions, very, very slowly." I couldn't help smiling at both his attitude and the way that he was slowly opening my track suit top again. "Tell you what," he said quickly, "if we go right to the far end of the car park, over by that big tree, we can park under it and no one will see us and if anyone drives in we'll see their lights first. Ok?" He cuddled me to him as he finished talking, kissing me and caressing my tummy. "Yes Sam, yes? Let's do it, I so want you, so want to see you and make love to you. You're such a totally desirable woman Sam, I just can't help myself." In Praise of Older Men Again, his choice of words was so perfect for the situation. I didn't know whether that was purely coincidental and lucky or whether he knew just what he was doing. I didn't care, though, for he was saying the things I wanted to hear. I wanted to be wanted, I wanted him to want to make love to me, I wanted him to think I was, and to treat me as, a woman, not a schoolgirl. "OK, but directly we see a car we stop, yes?" As he clambered back into the front he said over his shoulder. "Of course." We were hardly parked up when he was alongside me in the back again removing my top and bra almost in one go. "Let me have the top," I said to make sure I could cover myself quickly if necessary. We kissed again and once more he caressed and squeezed my boobs and nipples before slipping his hand down onto my thigh. My legs were closed, his erection pushed firmly against the outside of my thigh. I obviously knew what was coming next; after all that's how seductions go isn't it? That's the process. Some kissing, tit caressing, bare them and then check out below. See if she's up for the whole bit, well at the very least some fingering and if you're lucky maybe a wank. And of course, if you are really, really lucky you might get a shag. That's the men's charter for sex isn't it? At least that what we girls think and so far Rick had followed it to the tee! But then suddenly there was a major diversion, a change of rules, a breaking of the procedure. Instead of his hand squirming its way between my thighs, opening them a bit and then sliding upwards to the "promised land," his hand grabbed mine. I didn't know why at first, but that quickly and spectacularly became very clear. It was big, very hard and surprisingly warm. His erection through the thin, material of his track trousers that is, for with a confidence my limited sex career had not yet encountered, he'd taken my hand and put it right on his hard on. "Oh yes Sam," he groaned, just as if I'd put it there myself. "That's wonderful, baby, stroke it for me." I didn't really know what to do, but now being an experienced woman, a tried and tested lover I let my womanly instincts take over. His grunting and sighing, the pushing of his cock against my hand and the fervid way he kissed me and caressed my chest told me I was on the right lines. After that it all became somewhat hazy and muddled. I forget the sequence of things and all the little nuances; my mind failed to recall the details; I couldn't remember how my hand was suddenly inside his track trousers, holding and rubbing his cock; I don't know how my trousers came to be round my ankles and my panties round my knees. I knew we kissed and kissed and kissed and that his mouth did the most wondrous things to my nipples; that for the first time they were sucked, licked, chewed and gently bitten. I had no idea just how powerfully arousing and how shatteringly exciting it was to have your tits sucked and your nipples chewed, particularly when you're holding and stroking an urgent, throbbing cock and his fingers are exploring your insides at length and in depth. Like that I forgot that I was not an experienced lover; that I had not had sexual encounters with the intensity of this; that I was not the mature womanly lover I was desperately trying to be and that I was what I was. An eighteen year old girl who'd only lost her virginity three weeks previously. And such girls have no resistance to such advances, we cannot hold out, our body isn't able to stop the stimulations and our mind isn't capable of overruling the physical demands. But then neither was Rick, neither was my experienced older lover, for as I rubbed his fantastic cock he started to grunt and groan and push it harder against my hand. It was as though he was fucking my hand and not my pussy. But somehow his thrusts against my hand and his fingers inside me had the same effect as if I was being shagged, well not the same as those with Kelvin, for these feelings were a load more powerful. I moaned, I grunted, I groaned, sighed and almost cried as I felt his hot, sticky mess creep across my hand and thigh. "I've made him cum," I thought proudly. But I had little time self-congratulations, for as he'd started to cum so he'd shoved his fingers deeper into me and had started pumping them. That instantly put me over the top and I too started cumming. I was sobbing and hanging onto Rick so desperately as wave after wave of such fantastic feelings engulfed my mind and body that I knew then that it indeed was pins and needles with Kelvin in his mum's Audi TT. Richard, or Rick as he liked to be called, educated me so much on that big, black beamer seat. He gave me, what was my first real orgasm. He later gave me my second, third, fourth and fifth ones as well that evening. He taught me just how amazing it is to have your breasts made love to and how incredibly sensitive is that piece of gristle at the entry to your pussy, that boys can rarely find let alone stimulate. He also fucked me properly. Just the once after recovering from the hand job. Yes just the once, but what a once. I can remember thinking, as he slid the condom off, tied it into a knot and then threw it from the car, that I'd been shagged properly. That I'd at last I'd made love fully, that now I really was a woman because I'd been fucked like one on that back seat. Unlike Kelvin, Richard didn't rush things. Unlike the other boys I'd messed around with there was no signs of guilt or concern over what we doing, no apparent worries as to whether I would or would not, but then why should there be between two experienced adults like us, I thought, my tongue very much in my cheek as I thought it No we'd started our sexual relationship in an open, uninhibited way. In a way that was wonderfully enthusiastic, awesomely erotic and fantastically sordid all at the same time. Sure I'd been fingered before and yes I'd given a couple of boys hand jobs, so what Richard did to me wasn't new; the way he did it though was very new, very different and very, very much more exciting and satisfying. I really felt that we'd shared something so, so special together. After we'd both cum we just lay there for a while with me feeling very grown up cradling my lover to my naked bosom, just like the novels say it should be. I knew nothing first hand about men's recovery rates and how these varied between kids in their teens and men in their thirties. I didn't know that the older a guy got and the more experienced he was the longer, generally, it took for him to be ready again. So after twenty minutes or so I was expecting Richard to be ready again, for I was. But other than a few little kisses and the occasional caress he simply laid there holding me. "That was wonderful Sam," he suddenly sighed. "You did enjoy it didn't you?" I was probably a little too gushing with my reply that I felt, as it came out of my mouth, might well blow the impression I was trying to create of being so much more experienced than my sexual portfolio of a few times with Kelvin. "Oh yes, yes, yes, Richard it was awesome, it was wicked, it almost blew me away." "I see you did like it then," he said looking up at me and smiling and adding, "quite a lot then?" "Yes Rick, you could say that, and you, was it good for you too?" "It was babe; you have as natural a talent for this as you do for tennis." "Gee thanks, remember my tennis was crap earlier." "Saving your strength for me weren't you?" We chatted on like this for a while with me wondering just when he was going to make another move. I wanted that, for having gone this far with him I didn't want the evening to end without him shagging me. I had to keep reminding myself, as we lay there, with me still as good as naked, that this was grown up sex, they didn't rush things or hurry the natural process, it was up to me to be patient. I was in very experienced hands I told myself and Rick would know absolutely the perfect time to get things going again. And he did. As we chatted so his fingers started running over my tummy. Making little circles he'd run them upwards towards my boobs then down towards my pubes. They went round and round going upwards, then round and round going downwards; nearer and nearer to my breasts and closer and closer to my pussy. All the time talking about pretty non-sexual matters, he was starting to drive me fucking crazy with want. I slid my hand down between us. I wanted to feel him, to hold him and stroke him. Slipping my hand inside his trackie trousers I was surprised not to have them find his erection. I fumbled around a bit as he continued drawing circles on my body, still going near but not quite touching my real erogenous. Men's boxers and shirttails can be such a maze to get through, particularly when, as was the case I found to my horror with Rick, they aren't erect. I found and grasped his, at best and being very generous, half erection feeling amazingly disappointed and really, terribly hurt. I'd never touched anything other than a full erection before and had no idea that sometimes the woman has to help her partner gain his full rampant majesty. 'What's wrong with me? Why hasn't he got hard, what have I done wrong?' I was thinking as on one of his upwards sweeps his finger trailed across both of my breasts. "Mmm that's good Sam, keep doing that," he murmured rolling more onto his side to give me more room. "Yes, yes, just like that," he went his fingers sweeping across my pubes and then up and across my nipples. He moved away a bit and in the dim light I saw that he was pulling his trousers down. I helped him to struggle them and his boxers right down round his ankles. I was holding him again and I couldn't help sneaking glances at his tackle, for I'd never been with a boy and looked at them and not seen a full hard on. "Mmmmmm, that's lovely," he muttered as, with my confidences growing, I not only stroked his cock but, tentatively at first then more assuredly, I stroked, cradled and rolled his balls in my hands. That felt wonderful to me. It was something I'd never done before, but there and then in that car I resolved that it was something I was going to do many, many more times. As I loved his cock and balls so he was squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples and running his fingers over my mound, alongside my clit and round and round the soaked perimeter of my pussy. All the concern, the disappointment and the self-doubt were disappearing, and fast. They were being more than compensated for by yet another load of new sensations for me. Other than have it happen in your mouth, but that was something for much later, I don't think there can be a warmer, more endearing, loving, sharing, caring and sheer fucking sexy feeling than having your lover's cock grow to its full size in your hands. If, at the same time, he's using both his hands on your breasts and pussy and sucking and slurping at your nipples, then clearly it's erotic paradise next stop. He was now fully hard and as good as naked; I was soaking wet and also as good as naked; he was ready and I was ready. And we just simply did it. He slipped a condom on, pushed me even further back into the corner of the car, and laid between my legs that I knowingly opened for him. A moment or two getting the angle right as we kissed and his arms went round me his hands finding the bare cheeks of my bum and then we were doing it. The whoosh of feelings as he surged up me took my breath away and it stayed like that as he started to fuck me. He was thrusting quickly up and down my pussy. Using long deep surges the tip of his cock went to totally unvisited areas of my insides. He found places up there that were so wonderfully sensitive that it seemed to me as if my entire pussy was alive. I was groaning and moaning; my head was thrashing from side to side; my body almost convulsing and I was finding it hard to breath, so intense were both the emotional and physical reactions to this awesome fuck. What Rick was doing to me was as far away from what Kelvin had done as Concorde was to Kittyhawk. I tried to resist, I tried to think and act experienced, I tried to give something back and I tried, as I'd read a woman should do, to find his rhythm. But when being fucked as I was all those plans, efforts and thoughts go out the window. It was only later at home in bed as I was masturbating while reliving the two hours I had spent on that back seat that I realised that I had become an older guy junky. And I could hardly wait for next one who, I smiled could well be in their forties.