4 comments/ 69316 views/ 9 favorites Beds and Breakfast Ch. 01 By: johnnieblue44 This will be the first of an eight-part series dedicated to the sexual reawakening of a mature man and the explorations of a willing young woman. Enjoy, and as always, your feedback is welcomed and encouraged. Don't hold back. Mandy and John won't. John Griffin watched from his office window as the Jeep pulled up the long winding driveway of his quaint Griffin's Bed and Breakfast establishment nestled high in the Catoctin mountain range of Western Maryland. The snow had started to fall at a rate of over one inch per hour, and this brave soul in the vehicle was going to be the only person to not have canceled their weekend reservation due to the forecast for an impending blizzard, prognosticators calling for it to be one of the worst in decades. He looked down at the name on the reservation on his computer screen. Mandy Sinclair. He didn't recognize the name, but in and of itself that was not unusual. However, he looked at the birth date which accompanied the reservation form. July 29, 1987. This guest was only twenty-two years old, which was a bit unique for a solo guest at a secluded Bed and Breakfast. Especially so since the reservation was just made yesterday, about the same time when the remainder of the scheduled guests for the weekend were cancelling due to the forecast. John had opened the B and B about two and half years ago, investing what was left of his pension after the divorce that had depleted his most of his life's savings. Since that time, he had essentially disassociated himself from the hubbub and chaos and general deceit of society. His former life on the outskirts of the nation's capital, where he had worked as a defense contractor in the Pentagon for a quarter-century, seemed like a distant memory, lost forever in the fog of the foothills. He had only been with a few women in these last few lonely years, a regular roll in the proverbial hay with the busty florist from the nearest local town for a few months. And, of course, there was that unforgettable two nights when a pair of recently divorced sisters made him their impromptu chew-toy during their weekend stay, but he no longer actively sought carnal possibilities. That WAS fun, though, he reminisced. John was a well-preserved man of fifty years old, graying at the temples and a few more pounds around the midriff than he would like, perhaps, but he was content with his newly chosen 'after-life', as he called it. He took great pride in the immaculate presentation of his Bed and Breakfast, and it was quickly becoming a popular weekend getaway for the 'Beltway Beasts', as he called the young professionals that made the barely 100-mile sojourn to his place for a weekend of fucking. You can use any pseudonym that you want to, John mused to himself, but couples came to a Bed and Breakfast primarily to fuck, and he estimated that maybe forty percent of his registered guests used an alias, primarily to hide the fact that they were fucking someone who was not their spouse. That's what made this particular visitor so intriguing. A twenty-two-year-old woman, braving a blizzard, to spend a weekend in quiet unaccompanied solitude. It would only be himself and this mysterious Mandy Sinclair this entire weekend, as the other guests had canceled due to the weather, and John had instructed his housekeepers and cooks not to report to work until the roads would be clear, which could take days. He had to admit to himself that he was more than curious to find out more about this Miss Mandy Sinclair, and he wondered for only a split second why he was experiencing a long dormant twitching within his impressive cock. It had been far too long between trysts, he'd decided. John walked to the porch to greet his guest, squinting his eyes in the blowing snow, and when she stepped from the Jeep in her tight plum-colored sweater, spandex leggings, and thigh-high patent leather brown boots, he wasn't sure which jumped farther, his heart or his cock. Mandy Sinclair was a fucking knockout, a petite beauty with tits that couldn't be concealed by any canvas bag, never mind a tight sweater. Was it his imagination, or when Mandy greeted him with a smile of her own, did her glance linger at his bulging crotch? From Mandy's perspective, the long and treacherous ride from Northern Virginia had been more than worth it when she first set her eyes on the ruggedly handsome proprietor. The customer service aspect of this mountain getaway destination had come highly recommended to Mandy from two people whom she trusted as mentors, and it was immediately apparent that her needs could more than sufficiently be attended to this weekend. And, yes, her gaze did indeed linger longer than it should have at John's crotch. Accidentally on purpose. She smiled more broadly when she heard John's deep, friendly voice. "Miss Sinclair, I don't know if you are truly a brave and adventurous woman, or a bit reckless. You had me worried that you were safe. I'm John Griffin, welcome to my inn." Mandy extended her hand to her approaching caretaker for the next several days. "Please call me Mandy, Mr. Griffin." She batted her sparkling hazel eyes at him provocatively. Despite the nearly three decade difference in ages, the primal chemistry was instantaneous and undeniable. John wanted to bend her cute ass over a snow drift right then and there, and Mandy envisioned herself falling to her boot-clad knees and engulfing him within her warm mouth. "Adventurous or reckless, hmmmmm?" Mandy pondered the choice. "Well, perhaps a bit of both, is that so bad?" He smiled at Mandy, their eyes locking, as he reached into her trunk, mildly surprised to find only one piece of luggage. After all, she had booked herself for three nights, and with the roads threatening to be impassable beyond even that timeframe, who knew how long they might be sequestered? "It's John, Mandy. Please, call me John." He grinned a boyish smile that made Mandy's crotch as moist as the cascading snowflakes. "Don't make me feel older than I am." Mandy smiled back at him, making sure that he knew that her eyes once again dropped to his belt line, for no apparent reason. "Oh, I don't know, Mr. Grif.....er, John." She blushed on cue at her deliberate faux pas. "You look pretty well preserved to me." John eyed her pensively, his facial features unmoved, taking emotional inventory of this seductive young visitor, but his below-the-waist betrayal caused him to shuffle his feet in the snow. Mandy broke the sexually charged momentary silence as their eyes seared into each others. "So, do you actually have rooms inside, or is the reason your rates are so good is that I have to sleep in the blizzard?" John felt his own cheeks blush for what felt like the first time in many years. "Of course, forgive me, please come, come with me." He slung her travel bag over his own broad shoulders and gestured towards the porch stairs. He watched as the sweater rose higher on her waist as she navigated the stairs in front of him, revealing a firm, perfectly rounded bubble butt, like that of a gymnast. Mandy was acutely aware that her panty-less butt cheeks were directly in front of John's face as she climbed onto the porch. "Oh, I'd love to come, come with you," she mused to herself. "All weekend, in fact." John admired the view and felt his impetuous third leg growing by the minute. His curiosity was piqued almost as much as his libido, yet he resisted the urge to barrage his precocious, sexy guest with a litany of questions, and instead began a cheery little diatribe to introduce Mandy to the history and nuances of his pride and joy. (No, no, not his penis. The inn.) She looked around, impressed by the charm of the stately old Victorian inn. Mandy loved these type of old houses, having grown up in a seaside town herself, and it was so rare to see them in this rural setting. She barely focused on his words. "So, we have seven guest rooms, and of course, this weekend you have your pick." He smiled at her, trying to regain her attention as she continued to survey the interior of the vestibule, craning her neck upwards to the spiral staircase that led to the upper floors. "It's a Civil War theme that we use here, all the rooms are named after the famous battles." He rattled them off, pleased that her gaze had returned to him. The look in her smoldering hazel eyes did not go unnoticed. "The rooms are named Vicksburg, Fort Sumter, Antietam, Gettysburg, Chancellorsvile, Manassas, and Appomattox." Mandy stepped closer to him, so much so that John stopped his monologue. If he wanted to, he could reach out and grasp her ample tits, heaving in the tight sweater. Oh, and how he wanted to. "Appomattox." Mandy raised an eyebrow at John. "Isn't that where the final surrender took place?" John nodded tentatively. "I want that one, then. For starters,at least. To set an appropriate theme. Surrender. Yes, I like that." John gulped, uneasy. He wasn't not used to being the one in control, and his composure was indeed wavering under the spell of this young seductress. Mandy continued, moving closer to John now, her chest rubbing against his. "I have a question for you, though, Mr. Griffin." Her arms reached up to John's shoulders, and one of her tiny, manicured hands snaked behind his neck. "You remember my aunts, Dianne Finley and Monica Gleason, don't you?" John tried to suppress the shock of the mention of the names of the two divorcees that he had shared that unforgettable threesome with a few months ago, his last sexual dalliance. And what a dalliance it was. Astonished, he looked down at Mandy, almost a foot smaller than him, despite the heels on her boots. Mandy? Their niece? Could it be? Aah, at least it was beginning to make some semblance of sense now, at least, he thought. The sisters HAD said they would be sending them a token of their appreciation for his expert services. "You come highly recommended, Mr. Griffin," Mandy cooed, lowering her hand to his crotch and rubbing the entire length in her small hand as she moaned slightly, absorbing the length. "How many rooms did you fuck them in?" Her red, full lips melted into his own, sucking his tongue into her mouth with a sensual expertise that belied her tender years. "Because I want you to fuck me on each and every battleground, General. Now bring out your weapon." Mandy had long harbored this secret dual fantasy of hers which was now, to her delight and extreme arousal, being played out. She wanted not only to enjoy the talents of an experienced, mature lover, but she also desired to release her inner nymph, as she called it. She craved a marathon, uninhibited sex session where she could be totally free of any guilt or expectations going forward. She had come to the right place. With that, Mandy loosened John's belt buckle and lowered her lithe frame to the hardwood floor, kneeling in front of him, making his saluting eight-inch steel-shafted pistol disappear down her young throat in a few long, deep swallows. John looked down at his rigid manhood being lovingly engulfed by the young vixen's enthusiastic mouth, and he then reached down to scoop her up in his strong arms before she could orally coax him to sweet relief. Not yet. He gathered his pants that had bunched between his ankles and pulled them up. He carried her up the stairs, kissing her delicious red lips tenderly the entire time, and as he reached the door to the Fort Sumter Room, he kicked the door closed behind him. Fort Sumter, after all, was the first skirmish. TO BE CONTINUED... Beds and Breakfast Ch. 02 Dear Readers: Please read Chapter One of this series first. Many of you were inquiring as to the next chapter's status. Well, here it is! It'll make it much easier for you when you cum along with Mandy and John's escapades. * "Please allow me to explain some of the history of the Fort Sumter Room, Miss Sinclair," John began once the door was closed behind them, sequestering the couple in their own personal sexual fortress. He looked down at Mandy's petite frame as he virtually towered above her, and raised her arms over her head, pulling off the tight sweater and exposing her set of perfectly proportioned pert and firm tits encased in a lacy pink push-up bra. She moaned her approval. He paused for a moment in his educational diatribe to enjoy and massage her sensational globes, kneading and pinching and teasing her nipples through the sheer material of the bra cups as Mandy whimpered slightly. John was determined to set the tone and pace for his aggressive young lover-to-be. There was absolutely no place to go, no people to see, no hurry whatsoever. They had days. He alone would establish the pace and rules for this initial physical skirmish. She was to be his willing carnal prisoner, held captive by her own free will, yet he would provide only pleasure, no punishment. But first, she had to willingly accede to his terms. "Fort Sumter was the location where the Confederates first illustrated their desire for full secession, Mandy." John matter-of-factly unsnapped the hook on the back of her bra as her young tits burst free in all their resplendent glory. "In this re-enactment, you will secede every one of your inhibitions and take commands from the superior officer." He peered at her as he continued to expertly rub her breasts, watching her stomach heave, hearing her breaths quicken. She reached for his cock, but he retreated by stepping back, and chastised her harshly by pinching her nipples roughly, as she squealed in mild pain. "You are not to engage in nor initiate any independent actions, covert or otherwise. You will take your directives solely from my orders, and you will respond ONLY by saying, 'Yes, sir', 'No, sir', or 'No excuse ,sir'. Is that understood, Miss Sinclair?" Mandy nodded bashfully, rapidly losing her aggression and succumbing to submission with each passing second. John was proving to be a more than formidable mental opponent. Most men quivered like pudding when they saw her body. But then, Mandy wasn't used to this type of older man. And she liked it. She liked it a lot, as indicated by the gushing flow within her cunt. John slapped her tits casually and they blushed pink on her skin from the rough handling. "Was that your answer, Miss Sinclair? I didn't hear you." He pinched her nipples and rubbed them between his big fingers until they became the size of thimbles. Mandy felt her juices trickle down into the crotch of her tight thong. He spoke as he leered at her, beginning to unbuckle his belt. "Now, once again, is that understood?" Mandy nearly curtsied in front of him as a show of respect as she whimpered softly, "Yes, sir." John nodded smugly, becoming pleased at his subordinate. "Very good, Miss Sinclair. Now, let me explain what will occur in this room. We will consider the Fort Sumter room to be the Foreplay bedroom." Mandy looked up at him quizzically, not daring to let her eyes linger to his crotch, though it took every bit of self-control for her not to dive down and engulf his big sword in her throat. She loved to suck cock, and she already had experienced that this was QUITE the weapon. A man's cock. A true man's cock, veined, hard, Heinz-ketchup-thick, and angry when provoked. John stepped out of his pants, pulled down his boxers, and stood before her stroking his thick meat with one hand and lowering his other hand to her tummy, tugging at the waistband of her leggings. Mandy's cunt involuntarily spurt another small stream of nectar into her thong as her legs already quivered like a hummingbird in the wind. "Accordingly, there is no be no ultimate penetration within the confines of this particular room. Full cock-to-cunt penetration will happen subsequently, at my command. For now, we will use only our tongues, lips, mouths, hands, fingers, palms, feet, and other assorted appendages as our implements of battle. But no fucking. Not yet, Not here, much as you obviously need to be fucked." He paused, examining her reactions, trying to conceal a smirk, before resuming. "You will commence by removing your leggings and whatever item or items may lie beneath them, and once you have done so, turn around and bare your ass to me. I want to begin a cavity search and first explore your pussy and ass. They will be mine soon enough, your body is under my capture. Understood?" Mandy felt as though her nipples would explode from her chest, they throbbed from excitement. His touch, his words, his cock, his commands. She was his, to be taught, and led into battle unarmed. "Our goal during your stay will be to form a more perfect union, Miss Sinclair." Mandy didn't hesitate this time as she quickly became naked in front of him. "YES, sir!" John stepped back once again, but this time to sincerely admire this exquisite young woman's body that was ready to acquiesce to his every order. The perfectly trimmed auburn hairs above her creamy pussy dripped and exuded an aroma that wafted through the small room, drifting off of the walls and ceiling and seemingly right to his nostrils. In response, his cock twitched incessantly now, nearly thick as a soda can. He stroked his chin as he had to compose himself to gather his own self-control. He barked his next order. "Masturbate for me, Mandy. Finger-fuck your cunt and ass at the same time. Begin." Mandy's hips swayed as she assaulted her two tunnels simultaneously, and John watched her various digits disappear into her holes. "Pull your cunt apart, Mandy, wide." He shook his head in animated chagrin as she separated her labia by only a few inches. He shouted, "Wider, let me see all of your cunt." Her fingers eventually spread her cunt to what felt to Mandy like a two-lane highway. John nodded his approval, aroused beyond belief but not exhibiting his satisfaction to Mandy. "Now turn around and do the same to your ass, I want to see what you had for breakfast." Mandy couldn't help but giggle at this image, and her laugh lightened the sexual tension in the room, but only for a brief interlude. John had to bring her back to the realization that her lapse was to be permitted only momentarily. He stripped off his own shirt and laid down on the carpet, stretched out right next to her. Mandy continued to play vigorously with her anus and cunt, she was on the verge of an explosive orgasm, but she was curious as to his strange prone position. She soon understood when he said, "Now drop and give me fifty squats." She gazed at him wide-eyed. Did he mean push-ups? He clarified immediately. "Right on my face. Twenty-five pussy squats, followed by twenty-five anal squats. I will tongue-fuck you while you do so, do you understand now? Begin!" Mandy bounced like a shot, lowering her gleaming young directly onto his face. "YES, sir," she shouted as she felt his warm tongue penetrate her folds. She repeated, moaning, writhing on his face as she maneuvered up and down, feeling his tongue tease her with each downward thrust of her taut torso, "Yes, sir!" Her first orgasm occurred at about her twelfth squat, spurting tasty love juice onto John's face. "Did I tell you that you could cum yet?" he shouted up at her as her pussy covered his mouth again and again, muffling his words. "NO excuse, sir," she yelled, but it was already too late, and she soon came once more, a entirely different sensation this time, coming from another region of her loins, as he snuck his talented tongue into her sphincter for the first time. Mandy was suddenly becoming very fond of push-ups. Yes, she could quickly get used to this facial-push-up thing, she thought, her body trembling in aerobic ecstasy. This man was a five-star sexual general, she thought. Her aunts had advertised his tonguing skills accurately. And, oh, that cock of his. It looked so strong, so powerful, she HAD to have it soon. She would beg for penile mercy, if necessary. As if sensing her distraction, John abruptly grabbed her hips and held them firmly as her cunt and ass hovered above him, inches from his face, dripping various fluids. He flipped her around with a mere flick of his wrist, and she landed on the carpet with her stomach down and her ass up. "Stay right there, don't move." He sneered at her as her ass squirmed in mid-air, her face almost leaving an imprint in the carpet. "Make yourself comfortable," he snarled sarcastically. "I'll be right back." Mandy turned her head to the side and watched him as he went to the window and opened it. She shivered as the freezing air wafted into the room and goose bumps rose immediately on he naked body. He grabbed a handful of snow and walked back to her. With one strong hand, he lifted her rear end off of the carpet and with the other, he smeared a handful of snow directly onto Mandy's pussy. She yelped as the cold snow mixed with the heat of her vagina, and John watched as steam literally rose from Mandy's cunt. He lowered his face down to the little mound of melting snow on her mound, the liquid dripping off of Mandy's puffy and swollen vulva, and began to lap slowly around the swollen pink lips of her pussy. He mumbled between licks, "Mmmmm, a special snow cone. House-specialty of the Inn. Delicious. Tastes like pussy." Mandy came like a dam bursting when he pushed a tiny pile of snow into her cunt as he simultaneously tongue-fucked her anus. It was right about then that Mandy realized she was completely out of her element as far as hoping controlling this man sexually. He was a freak, a creatively mad sexual professor. And she had never been so turned on. Mandy lay on the floor, gyrating, small mini-shocks pulsing from her pussy and anus to every other nerve ending throughout her body, and watched as he walked once more to the still-opened window. She awaited her fate as a virtual sexual snow bunny now. He walked toward her with another pile of fresh snow gathered from the sill of the window, this pile a bit larger than the last, and he picked her up by the hair, like a small animal, and she squealed in a mixture of slight pain, significant anxiety, and unparalleled arousal. He smeared the snow onto his eight-inch pistol, mixing in with the man-scaped salt-and-pepper hair of his pubes, and she watched his enormous cockhead turn a bright shade of purple as he pulled her head to his cock forcefully. Like an extra-large grape popsicle, Mandy thought, as she prepared for her treat. Just like a giant icicle dangling in front of her eager lips. "You are now officially my personal snow blower, Miss Sinclair. Suck my cock, little girl. Suck me good." Mandy did exactly as ordered, and with great skill and enthusiasm, until he came violently down her throat after about ten minutes of face-fucking and deep throating. Mandy pleasantly discovered that she had just expanded her gag-reflex capacities. She had a feeling she would be exercising this new-found ability numerous times over the next few snow-bound days. She voraciously swallowed every voluminous drop of John's tangy seed, and marveled at the copious amount of cum that he had produced. She wondered if all fifty-year-old men could cum with such force. She thought back whimsically to an equation from a high school physics class. Force equals mass times acceleration. Who knew then that it would become relevant in such a setting, a fifty-year-old well-hung stud face-fucking a nubile twenty-two year-old cocksucking nymph? She still wondered about that as she felt the warm semen coat her inner belly. In her trance-like state, she felt herself being picked up by John as he carried her, both of them naked, to the site of their next battle. The Manassas Room, otherwise known as Bull Run. She thought she heard John mumble something about 'restraints' in her sex-induced fog before she fell into a blissful post-orgasmic slumber as John propped her on the four-post bed and slipped the handcuffs around her tiny wrists. TO BE CONTINUED. Promise. Beds and Breakfast Ch. 03 Long-awaited continuation of this series, back by popular demand. I truly appreciate all of your kind comments as well as your patience. Thanks for the motivation, Decadentdessert! ************************* John contemplated for a moment before shackling the twenty-two-year old to the bedpost at the bottom of the bed. "To the north," John mumbled, almost to himself. Mandy was distracted in post-orgasmic bliss, and as such, was not an attentive listener. Her throbbing pussy was rendering the remainder of her senses moot. "I want your head facing to the north," he said to his somewhat oblivious one-woman audience as he stroked his thick cock slowly back to life, admiring the nubile captive's sensational hard, young body. "I am going to attack you from the south first." He assured her wrists were bound only loosely within the handcuffs, so that he had some leverage to maneuver her torso as he wished. Mandy's small hands were pulled directly over her head so that she could offer not even token resistance. Not that she wanted to. Mandy deserved to be disciplined, in her own mind. In fact, that was why she was here, she rationalized through her fog. To be disciplined, to be taught. To be the prey in a two-person game of hunter-gatherer. Mandy was already deep in the throes of a phenomenon commonly referred to as the Stockholm Syndrome, which, granted, was not diagnosed until a hundred years after the Civil War. Mandy's prison term was self-imposed, and she definitely had developed positive feelings towards her captor, to the point where she could empathize with any action that he would take towards her. She deserved this, she knew. John spread Mandy's slim legs as wide as they could go. She was now spread-eagled in a corner of the huge king bed, John's muscular, mature frame hovering menacingly above her. He climbed in between her ankles, wrapping her calves around his own as he did so, so that she was in a crab-like position, tethered to his lower half. "The Battle of Manassas....," John began slowly, banging his rapidly stiffening dick on Mandy's hard clit, poking out between her swollen labia, "....was actually two separate confrontations, Miss Sinclair. And it is also commonly referred to as Bull Run." Mandy squirmed beneath John now, her brain beginning to grasp that her body was about to embark on a perilous mission. John strummed Mandy's oyster-like pearl nub with his thumb while positioning his huge sheath at the desired target. He continued, almost mockingly, knowing the little slut was now keenly aware just how formidable an adversary she had unwittingly chosen. "Accordingly, to properly commemorate both the occasion of the two distinct battles as well as the aptly named moniker, I will fuck you like a bull, and take both your tight young cunt and your even tighter asshole." Mandy shuddered, both in arousal and anxiety. She longed for this big cannon to split apart her needy pussy. But, her ass? God, this man's tree-stump of a cock would rip her asunder. She groaned. Be careful what you wish for. He tenderly propped two pillows under her head, to cushion the blows of the assault that her skull would absorb as it would soon be banging against the unrelenting bedpost. Hardwood on one side, hardwood on the other, he chuckled to himself as he eased his engorged cockhead into the slippery, humid slit of the handcuffed woman twenty-eight years his junior. The march inside of Mandy's hot cunt began excruciatingly slowly, John orchestrating the advance with measured calm. He had already correctly calculated that his young guest would need time to acclimate to the mighty girth. His cockhead alone was approximately the dimension of Mandy's fist. He reached over to grab a Confederate hat off of the nightstand. John liked to fill his inn with little nik-naks like that. He figured it had never been used quite like this before, as he pulled the hat down tightly over Mandy's forehead, essentially shutting off her vision. She bit her lips as his weapon snaked deeper into Mandi's sopping cunt, now flowing like the Potomac. Half-inch by half-inch, with quick accelerating thrusts accompanied by little-girl-like screeches from Mandy, he plunged his oar deeper into the warm depths of young Mandy's river, moving his pelvis so that he was basically paddling his prodigious dick inside of her. Mandy struggled to match her captor's gyrations, lifting her slim hips off of the mattress to meet his descents with ascents of her own. Blind as she was now, it felt like a plunger submerging into her narrow, sticky channel. The grunts emanating from her mouth sounded foreign to her, like someone else's cheesy sound track overlaid in a porn movie. John grinned down at the blindfolded, handcuffed and helpless Mandy. Her glorious young tits jiggled and bounced in tandem with his insertions into her gash. There was now a milky veneer of nectar oozing from the cunt each time he withdrew out of her snatch, virtually drizzling onto his shaft, coating it with a shear sheen of her moisture. He felt her cunt muscles clenching around his cock, desperate to fully accept his thick saber. His blunt bayonet now was almost fully immersed into her muggy, sodden hole. It was time to pick up the pace, to determine just how much Mandy could handle. "Don't resist," he forewarned his bound captive. "This is going to hurt a bit at first," he almost whispered. Normally, John took no pleasure in inflicting discomfort on a woman's vagina. He was used to letting his conquests get accustomed to his size before really fucking them savagely. But Mandy, no longer the confident cocky visitor who thought she was going to fuck the older man into submission, had this coming to her. And, after all, he reasoned, she was given fair notice. He was most clearly in unequivocal control of this war of the genitals. Mandy's head thrashed from side to side, knocking the hat into the bedpost time and again as John's mighty accoutrements of cock and balls slammed into her fortress. Any pretense of defense by Mandy was shattered as her cervix was assaulted relentlessly. With each piercing insertion and exertion of his musket, Mandy felt as if her now impossibly stretched pussy was being fragmented. Her fragile piece of pussy porcelain was effectively being splintered into tatters. Countless rockets' red glare flashed in front of her covered eyelids. John bucked his hips into her even harder, determined to knock all the piss and vinegar out of his young rebel, so that she would be completely obsequious for the duration of her stay. He sneered down at her and lifted the hat from her head, fully expecting to see her hazel eyes rolled back into her skull. What he saw instead was a fledgling wildcat snarling up at him with defiance in her eyes, hell-bent and resolute that she was NOT to be defeated. "Is that all you got, old man? And here my aunts told me you were a GOOD fuck." Mandy spit up at him, catching him squarely on the chin. "Fuck you, grandpa." John had to gather his composure for a long second, taken aback by this complete surprise of a counter-attack. However, experienced battle-tested warrior that he was, John's hesitation didn't last long. With a guttural roar, he took Mandy's legs that were wrapped around him in a vice-like grip and unhooked them from his buttocks. He pushed her knees roughly up against her sizeable tits and withdrew his mighty instrument. The release of angry cock from overheated cunt made for a loud "pop" and a gush of Mandy's vaginal cum streamed down her thighs. He spit back down onto Mandy, but his target was slightly south of Mandy's chin. John's phlegm landed directly in Mandy's gaping anus, winking up at him like a brown jewel. "Second battle is about to commence, you little fucking wench," he growled. "Give it to me," she hissed back at him like a cornered rattlesnake, determined to go down spewing venom. "Fuck my little asshole." The gauntlet was thrown. John groped at Mandy's jiggling boobs and mauled them with his big palms, pinching the rubbery blood-filled nipples so that they nearly separated from her puffy areolas. This distracted Mandy just enough momentarily so that she didn't have time to pull back from the massive cock permeating her sphincter. She cried out in severe, sudden pain, the shaft of his cock sending searing hot flashes rumbling through her anal cavity, his cock buried four or five inches into her asshole on the initial penetration. Mandy's first instinct was that a coffee mug was being crammed up her ass, such was his massive thickness. But even as she struggled to refrain from crying, Mandy remembered one thing. She really, really, REALLY liked a steaming mug of hot coffee. After a few agonizing seconds as her bowels adjusted to what felt like a volcano in her asshole, Mandy began to thrust up into him, causing his hanging heavy balls to whack against her firm butt cheeks. John didn't know whether to be disappointed or aroused that Mandy was more than up to this anal challenge, so his cock took over the reins and chose "aroused'. The unlikely duo somehow swiftly found an extemporaneous rhythm as well, Mandy leaning back and arching her back in synchrony with John's now more careful and deliberate strokes. Almost in appreciation and admiration of the young woman's sexual fortitude, John leaned down between the vixen's knees and kissed her passionately. Their mouths struggled for supremacy even as their frantic ass-fucking picked up the pace, preparing for John's eventual release. John knew that once Mandy had sucked him off in the Fort Sumter room that his staying power would be prolonged. Such was another benefit of experience, as Mandy was now learning first-hand. But there wasn't a man alive of any age that could withstand the sensation of Mandy's anal canal clutching his dick with a talent that belied her tender years. The paradox of passionate kissing and animated anal adventure continued for another few minutes. Mandy felt John's already impossibly massive tool begin to flex deep inside of her anus, and she knew she was about to receive her asshole's first shot of cum ever. Although Mandy had limited experience with anal up to now, she had never let her prior suitors shoot up her ass. But she had a battle plan today, as she felt John's seed splash into her tunnel, four, five, six spasms. Exhausted, sweaty, gasping for breath, the fifty-year-old AARP card-carrier collapsed onto Mandy's round, perky globes. Mandy lay under him, composed and looking for all the world that she had not just been the recipient of a spirited, rousing ass plundering. "Can you do me a favor, Mr. Griffin?" she purred into his ear, as he panted on her firm chest. "Can you un-cuff me, and then lick your cum out of my asshole?" History tells us that the two Battles of Manassas in the summers of 1861 and 1862 sent a message to both the Union and Confederate armies that the war was not going to be a romantic adventure, but rather a prolonged struggle. On to Antietam.