1 comments/ 56124 views/ 27 favorites First-Class Feet By: milfleglover (AUTHOR'S NOTE: What follows is a story of romantic sex, much centered around foot worship, between a woman much older than the young man she seduces. If you do not like stories of older women and younger men, do not read. If you do like them, please enjoy and vote accordingly and comment if you so desire Thank you) She saw him right away. Being observant was one of her skills. She was keenly aware of her surroundings, always noticing who noticed her. And the boy had noticed her. She smiled to herself, a little flattered and more than a little aroused. She had a thing for boys his age. Deidre Mattock was CEO of a very successful security company, providing services around the world, and was on her way to Amsterdam this day to meet a potential client, a nonstop, overnight flight. She'd take first class, of course. The boy, she imagined, would not. He sat across from her, waiting for the flight to take him to the Netherlands where he'd catch up with college mates for spring break, a gift from his parents. He saw her when he sat down, drawn by the elegant beauty of the silver-haired woman. He imagined her to be his grandmother's age, in her 60s perhaps, but with an air about her his beloved granny never possessed. She was sleek and lean, poised in her business suit of dark blazer, white blouse beneath, and black slacks. She looked tall and angular, fit and firm. Her feet. Her feet are what drew his furtive gaze when he sat down, beautiful, long, tapered feet in an expensive-looking pair of black leather pumps, a hint of toe cleavage where her presumably equally sexy digits were pointed down into the harsh triangular shoe front. And Deidre noticed that as well. She sat, newspaper on her slender thighs, leg crossed, bouncing that foot, twisting it side to side. His gaze widened. 'A foot boy', she thought. 'All the better to play with you dear child'. She slowly, very slowly, let the shoe slip partially off, dangling it playfully. Peripherally, she noticed the boy fidget nervously in his seat as he tried not to watch but couldn't help himself. The lure of that sexy foot was too much, the tease of toes still hidden in the shoe, the long sweep of her instep, the creamy white skin, the exposed wrinkles of the sole. It drew him in. He ached to kneel and smell and worship those feet. He'd had his moments before. His first introduction to an elderly woman's feet was his grandmother's, for which he still felt shame and arousal. He and his grandmother used to play wrestle when he was younger, innocent stuff, always. But one day, around his puberty, as he lay on the floor before her couch, she had sat back on it, pinning his face beneath her large, wrinkled, sweaty feet. She'd done it before and he'd giggle and pull away. But this time, he could not. Would not. He felt her scent and power embrace him and his dick exploded in his pants, moaning as she wiggled her toes, his mouth open, tasting of the sweaty, salty, wrinkled flesh. She had no idea the effect she'd had on him as flush with embarrassment, he raced off to his room to change his wet underwear. And jerk off, thinking of what happened, the scent of his granny's feet still moist on his face. Over the years since then, he'd volunteered to massage her feet, and she always accepted, always with grandmotherly innocence. And he was gracious and polite about it, giving nothing away, later stealing to his room to masturbate with one hand to the scent on the other. He got bolder. He'd duck into her huge closet on visits to her country home, devouring the leathery, sweaty scent of dozens of shoes on the floor, jacking off into them, with them, always careful to remove evidence of his perverse ways. He'd steal her dirty sweat socks from her gym workouts, or short black trouser socks she'd wear to work, crusty and stale, and have at them, having at himself. He felt filthy and alive, ashamed and energized. It consumed him, this lust for his grandmother's feet and smell. On trips to her house, when her lady friends were there, his grandmother would innocently boast of his foot massage prowess, and he'd eagerly rub their feet as well, none as sexy as his granny's, but equally as smelly, some more so, the old ladies giggling as he did his work, etching the moments into his brain, the scent into his hands, those hands working himself into a frenzy later, at home or if it was too long to wait, in his granny's bathroom, listening to the laughter of the old ladies just down the hall, blissfully unaware of the effect they'd had on the boy. But this lady in the airport lounge, this marvelously well-kept older lady now before him, she possessed feet unlike any he'd ever seen. The foot now mostly bared before him, taunting him, was sculpted and smooth, white and creamy, wrinkled on the bottom, delicately fleshed along the instep, the corded Achilles at the heel, a slight thickened vein running from her toe cleavage up under her pant leg to what he imagined to be a perfect shin and muscular calf. She knew he was consumed by the sight of that foot and mischievously now let the shoe drop, wriggling her red-painted toes, long and slim, and saw him fidget more. She almost felt bad for the boy in a way, knowing he'd have several long hours of imagining that foot as he tried to sleep in coach on the flight. But maybe he wouldn't, she thought: She noticed his cell phone in his hands, presumably texting, but likely snapping photos of that foot. 'Sly, sly boy', she thought, a slight smile breaking on her slightly wrinkled mouth. The announcement came shortly thereafter, breaking the boy's reverie. As usual, first-class and business-class customers boarded first. She slipped her shoe back on, leaning forward to do it, letting her blazer open, her blouse with it. She felt her saggy but sexy old tits jiggle into view, thick and fleshy, and lifted her head slightly to let the boy see, feeling naughty in the doing. And he noticed, of course. How could he not. She stood to board, purposely walking close by the boy, smiling down at him as he looked up. "Have a nice flight, young man," she said courteously, startling him with the greeting. "I have a grandson about your age, it's good for young people to travel, see the world." She turned to stand in line, but turned to him with a smile, bending to whisper, "What I like best is putting my feet up to relax for awhile." She overemphasized feet. And felt her loins tingle as his eyes widened as she did. She went aboard. The first-class section was comprised of pods, one row of four on either side of the plane, and one row of connected pods in the middle, a one-two-one configuration that was roomy and comfortable. Each pod was a curved half-wall of molded blue and white plastic, each seat with a command that allowed 16 options for reclining, including laying the seat flat into a bed. Each came with a giant swing out television, and a package with a thick comforter and fluffy pillow and small overnight bag with toiletries, a sleep mask and sleep socks, among other things. She put her bag into the overhead, pulling out a small pair of silky white running shorts and a t-shirt, into which she would later change to sleep the flight away, as she always did. She sat down, arranged her space and looked around. For some reason, she found herself quite alone in the section, most unusual. The flight attendant, a lovely older woman herself, offered her champagne before the rest of the flight boarded. "Very sparse crowd today, Rebecca," Deirdre said, eyeing the woman's nametag. "Odd." "Yes, very, Ms. Mattock," Rebecca said warmly, her job being to know the names of the passengers paying the most for the flight. "It wasn't that crowded to start with, but weather in the Midwest forced many cancellations, and our connecting passengers couldn't make it." "No upgrades?" Deirdre asked. "No," Rebecca said, placing the real glass of champagne on her tray table, the bubbles catching the light from the window. "We've got a lot of young people I guess doing spring break in Europe, and they can't afford first class. Well, their parents could probably." The women laughed. Rebecca went off. Deirdre crossed her legs, kicking off her shoes, picking up a magazine. Moments later, coach passengers streamed by, most wondering what it would cost to fly up front where this apparently rich older woman sat by herself in the last single row to the plane's right. She looked up from time to time, wondering about the boy. Moments later, he stood right before her seat, waiting for the line to shuffle along. He was short and handsome, with shaggy brown hair, a beat-up jacket on his slender frame, a raggedy backpack slung over his shoulder. She looked up just as he was looking down. Directly at her bare feet. "Oh, hello again, young man," she said softly. "Do enjoy your flight. And don't forget to put your feet up." With that, their eyes locked, she extended one long finger to press her red-lighted seat diagram to slowly extend her seat bottom, lifting those bare feet into clearer view, her pant legs riding up ever so slightly to reveal those perfect creamy shins he'd imagined them to be, her long, painted toes wiggling. "Uh, yes...of course," he stammered, thankful and disappointed as the line slithered along before him, necessitating he move with it, his eyes on those feet all too briefly. "Thank you, ma'am..." She smiled warmly at him as he walked away, catching one last glimpse of the feet so fascinating him. She laughed to herself and shook her head, returning to her magazine. "My, my, that boy seemed smitten with you, Mrs. Mattock," Rebecca laughed a few minutes later, bringing Deirdre the chardonnay she'd requested earlier. "Oh, I don't know, it's flattering, but I don't know," she sighed, sipping the fine wine. "Perhaps I remind him of his grandmother." "Well only if his grandmother's a silver fox," Rebecca said with a knowing grin. "I hope you don't mind me saying that, Mrs. Mattock." "Of course not, dearie," Deirdre smiled. "I accept the compliment." The plane lifted off into the new night it would follow for hours, and after her meal of filet mignon, fresh vegetables, a puff pastry dessert and more wine, she carefully wriggled out of her clothes and slipped on her shorts and t-shirt, as well as the short black socks found in the overnight bag left at her seat. She padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and looked at herself in the mirror. "Silver fox indeed," she said confidently, looking at her remarkably well-preserved body with the usual wrinkles and sags of a 63-year-old woman, but with flesh supported by muscle beneath, tanned and firm, her breast slightly splayed to the sides and down under her tight t-shirt, but shapely. She was single, long divorced, dating little, occasionally stepping out with younger men, who found her fascinating, pretty and sexy. She'd take the occasional sexual dalliance with those she found worthy of her attention, but was selective about it. She'd never carried on with one as young as the boy who seemed to love her feet. She wondered how old he was. College age, to be sure, she reasoned. So young. So accepting. So willing. She smiled at the thoughts racing her tired brain, then retired to her bed. She slept for how long she wasn't sure, but was roused by Rebecca's gently insistent voice. "I'm sorry young man, but you can't use the first-class bathroom," she said. "But the ones back there are full, and I...I gotta go...please?" Deirdre looked to her left, to the black curtained opening between first class and coach. There stood the young boy, stripped down to tight white t-shirt and gym shorts, his body slim, small, hard. "Rebecca, it's all right, if you don't mind, I don't mind," she yawned, sitting up to smile at the lad who looked at her in the dark. "No one else is here, really..." "Well, OK," Rebecca acquiesced with a slight smile at Deirdre. "You're the only one here, Ms. Mattock, so the section is pretty much yours." "Thank you, darling," Deirdre said as Rebecca ducked back into the dark, going wherever flight attendants go on long overnights. "Thank you, ma'am, thank you," the boy smiled, walking past. "My pleasure, young man," she said. "Now be a dear and stop on the way back for a chat. I can't sleep much on these trips." He gulped, eyes wide in the dark as Deirdre's blanket slipped to the floor, revealing her long, tanned and supple legs, with noticeable sagging flesh on the insides of her beautiful thighs, and those incredible toes down below encased in black socks. Black socks like his granny wore. Black socks he'd cum in and with over the years of his sexual gathering. "Ooops!" she said, feigning embarrassment and very slowly picking up the blanket to cover those luscious limbs from his obvious stare. "Silly me!" He shuffled to the bathroom, pulled out his half-hard cock, courtesy of the fleeting glimpse of Deirdre's legs and socks, and pissed. He put his head back, stroking himself fully hard now as he finished his piss, feeling the insistent ache in his bloated balls build. He was nearly there, envisioning his hands and feet on those black-socked feet when there was a knock at the door. "Don't be greedy!" he heard the woman say. "Some of us have to go, too!" He stopped mid-stroke, calling out, "OK, almost done!" and stuffing his stiff prick back into his shorts, willing it down. It obeyed, half heartedly, and he cracked the door, looking out into the softly wrinkled blue eyes of the silver-haired woman in black socks, standing in those socks and t-shirt and shorts. His cock swelled anew. "There's two bathrooms up here, but the pilot's using one," she whispered, pointing to the barred gate that was put into place separating that lavatory from the cabin when pilots were using it. "Sorry, son." "No, no, that's fine, fine," he said, bending slightly as he exited the bathroom, turning to watch her scoot inside, their bodies agonizingly close in the passing, smelling the scent of her perfume, sniffing the air for a foot smell and finding none. She turned before closing the door as he averted his gaze from the slightly sagging backs of her amazingly sexy thighs and calves knotted above her socks. "Hey, feel free to lay down in my bed, check it out," she said with a glimmer of mischief in her blue eyes. "You've never traveled up front have you? Go on, I don't mind, and the flight attendant doesn't either. Be my guest, relax, put your feet up..." Again, his cock throbbed as she said 'feet' and he smiled weakly at her, walking the aisle to her seat, the blanket folded to the side. He shrugged and slipped into the seat, flat and comfortable, the cushion still warm from her body. He settled in, reveling in the residual heat, and softness of the cushion. And noticed her black shoes down below. He darted his head out of the pod to the empty still dark, the hum of the engines far behind him. He leaned forward, picked up the shoes and lifted them to his face. All at once it hit him, the urge to cum, as he had under his granny's feet years ago, the leathery, funky sweaty smell devouring his being. He inhaled deeply, ravenously, nose tight to the inside, his tongue darting out, licking, tasting, imagining. He wanted to badly to put his cock in one of her shoes and lick the other, cumming harder than he'd ever cum in his life, but knew she'd be back soon. He put them back. And then noticed neatly folded to his right on the shelf there, her black slacks. He looked out into the dark again. He picked up the slacks, found the crotch, burying his face in it, inhaling her musky pussy scent, perfumed and clean yet with a hint of sweat and urine. He thought he'd burst in his pants, so he refolded hers carefully and returned them to their perch. And just in time. Suddenly, she was there, standing above him, smiling, her silver hair glistening in the dark, her white teeth beaming. He looked up, those majestic tits pressed against her t-shirt, free of bra, nipples hard and visible. Her thighs were at eye level, fleshy and tanned, slightly saggy but alluring, shins hard and shiny and wonderfully freckled above those sexy socks. "All the comforts of home, right?" she laughed quietly with a spread of hands, her upper arm flesh jiggling, the sight of that soft warm flesh exciting him. "Yeah, it's pretty chill," he said nervously, looking around, anywhere but at her. She looked over at her pants. They'd been moved. By him, she assumed. It made her pussy tingle in her silky running shorts knowing he'd likely had them to his face. She saw her shoes down below, also not exactly as before. The thought made her smile. "Well now," she said softly, barely above the engine hum, sitting on the arm of the middle row of pods, arms crossed, one leg over the other, the muscle of that calf spreading in a meaty, sexy flare around her shinbone, her black sock low on her slender ankle. "Tell me about yourself. Your name, what's your name?" And thus began a long, uncomfortable conversation, at least for the boy, his dick hard in his shorts as she tortured him with that crossed leg and black sock, occasionally crossing the other leg, torturing him anew. They filled each other in, he awkward and uncertain, she poised and calm, knowing full well the effect her bare legs and socked feet were having on him. His name was Bryan Allen, he was 19, a college freshman. She told him of her work, how she traveled a lot, that she was single. A fairly nondescript conversation opening windows into two disparate lives now coming together in the dark of the first-class cabin. "You remind me of my grandchildren," Deidre said, suddenly stretching, her breasts scraping the t-shirt, nipples moving up and then down, taking Bryan's gaze with them. "Oh, you're too young to have grandchildren, Mrs. Mattock," he said convincingly. "You sweet boy!" she laughed. "Darling, I'm 62, more than old enough to have grandchildren. Great-grandchildren in fact! I married at 20, had my first child, who gave me a grandson when I was 40. And two years ago, he had a child, also when he was 20, so that makes me a great-grandmother." "Amazing," Bryan said, jaw dropping. "I just cannot believe that." "You're so cute, you really are," she smiled. "Now tell me, is there anyone special in your life." He blushed. There were only a few dates here and there, and nothing of a sexual nature. Ever. He was loathe to admit that to anyone, much less this vision of elderly beauty before him. "Uh...no, not really...I haven't found...I mean I haven't done...I mean...." He stammered. She leaned over to him, her astonished face inches from him, her breath sweet from the mouthwash she'd just used in the lav. "You mean....you don't mean...," she said wide eyed. "You're a...." "No, no, no I'm not," he said a trifle too vehemently, blushing, giving himself away. "No, no, that's laudable, my boy, quite laudable, you're holding out, that is so wonderfully old fashioned!" she laughed. "Now had I held out, I wouldn't be a great granny now!" They chatted a few moments longer. Then as she sat on the armrest across the aisle, she suddenly, on impulse, put her feet up on the armrest of her seat, where the boy sat. Staring down at the wiggly toes encased in those black socks that were driving him mad. "Mmmmm, I need a good stretch, I cramp up on these long flights," she sighed, leaning forward to hug those tanned thighs, her pretty face on her knees as she hugged them, stretching her back. "That feels so good...oh, I'm sorry, my dirty feet are right in your face!" She started to retract them and he barked out, "No, Mrs. Mattock, that's fine, you leave them right where they are!" He realized the intensity with which he spoke those words and looked frightened up into her gently wrinkled eyes. She smiled. First-Class Feet "Why thank you," she said with a husky, low tone. "I think I will. They, uh, they don't smell too bad now do they?" "No, no, not at all, Mrs. Mattock," he blabbered, again with more force than he'd have liked. "They don't, uh, smell bad...they don't smell...at all..." But they did. They were inches from his face as he turned it toward them, sniffing the air without being obvious about it, and gloriously inhaling the sleep smell, the slight dank air about them, the smell of foot and fabric, sweat and sock and flesh. It was driving him crazy. She giggled and wiggled her toes at him. He smiled a weak smile. She had him, and had to reel him in. The thought of it made her entire body tingle. She felt flush with the joy of discovery and experimentation. She hadn't had a young man in ages. She'd never had one 43 years her junior. "Do you have your phone on you, Bryan?" she suddenly asked. "Uh, yeah, in my pocket," he said cautiously, wishing he hadn't, remembering the photos of her feet he'd shot hours ago in the airport lounge. "May I see it?" she asked, putting her hand out. "Uh...why, Mrs. Mattock?" he asked with more caution. "I'm thinking of getting one like it," she lied with conviction, owning one like it already. "I want to check it out." He slowly drew it from his pocket, handing it to her. She pecked at it, her gaze on it, Bryan's gaze free to linger on those wriggling socked toes, up the slender curve of her supple calves, to the gently swaying flesh of her loose, wrinkled hamstrings. He was about to explode. Then his world did. She cocked her head at him, giving him a disapproving look. "I thought so," she said, her tone dark and dominant, purposely so though inside, she was delighting in the moment. "Pictures of my feet? Really young man?" "What? No, no," he said trying to be convincing and failing miserably. "Oh, I must have been playing with it back there, and just snapping photos without knowing it, you know, I was...." He stopped at her stern look and turning the phone toward him to show the grid of about 30 photos there. All of her feet. All close up. "Oh, it was accidental, that what you're saying, my young man?" she said, trying not to laugh through her mock indignation. "Dozens of photos of my nasty old feet? Accidental? Really..." He blushed and shut up, his meager attempt at defense shattered by evidence. He looked up at her. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Mattock, it's just that...it's just that," he stammered, not sure at all what he was going to say, what he possibly could say. She smiled ever so slightly, returning the phone to him, making it all up on the fly, consumed by the sudden urge to do so. "It's quite all right, my dear young man," she said with a throaty purr. "I'm flattered. I'm flattered you find my feet so ....so sexy, so... necessary. I guess that means I'm attractive to you." "Oh God yes!" he blurted, immediately wishing he hadn't. "I mean...." She leaned over her feet, cupping his chin in her bony hand, turning his gaze to her face inches away. Her eyes widened. Her mouth corners wrinkled into a smile. "Smell them," she said plainly, not sure what she was doing but loving the dominant improvisation that suddenly overtook her.. "Wh...what?" he asked, eyes wide and white in the dark. "Smell them," she repeated. "Smell my feet. Smell my feet in my black socks. It seems to be what you want. So do it. Now." She sat up and back, those feet so close to him. He gulped, looking at her there, arms crossed, waiting, a stern look on her pretty old face. She nodded down with her head, toward her feet. "Well?" she hissed. All the while looking up at her with trepidation, he tilted his head down, nose to those wiggly toes encased in black socks that cupped the gentle curves of her muscular calves, and he smelled. It almost made him cum in his pants. She smiled as she watched his eyelids flutter as in sniffed the air of her feet. "Nice, nice," she cooed. "Now kiss and lick my dirty socks!" "Wh...what?" he asked incredulously. "I said smell my dirty old socks!" she said with a slight snarl, her eyes flashing in the dark. "Go on. Smell. My. Socks." He heard himself groan as she drew the words out with delicious deliberateness. He closed his eyes, darted out his tongue over the rough fabric, licking it, the toes, the soles, then sucked those toes into his mouth, feeling the heat through the socks. He groaned louder, working his mouth on those sexy old feet, tasting the damp material. "Shhh!" she warned with a giggle, looking around. Deidre watched, a slight smile on her gently puckered lips, feeling his anxious sucking, the sensation running up her creamy old calves and thighs directly into her pussy, which was getting wetter with each ardent toe suck. She wiggled her toes in his mouth, playfully stretching the corners of it until it hurt and he moaned at the tug of toes on his flesh. "Take them off, my socks, my dirty...black...socks..." she heard herself hissing, quite pleased with the sound. "With your teeth..." He couldn't believe it, and for a fleeting second thought of his beloved granny, then shook the thought away, easy enough to do as this woman, this graceful, elegant great-grandmother, was far sexier and more well kept than his granny. He looked at those feet, those socks, up the shiny shins, and bent forward to clamp his teeth around the toes of one, tugging back, hearing it scrape over her skin as he pulled it off, dropping it on the bed, returning for the other. He reveled in the unveiling of those feet and impossibly long, slender toes, the nails glowing red in the dim cabin lighting. "Put your nose there," she said, pointing as she spread the toes of her feet wide. He obeyed, putting his nose between the big toe and adjacent one of her right foot, smelling the pungent tang of them, moving to the next gap and the next, then the next foot, inhaling the glorious scent each contained. His cock throbbed in his gym shorts and he feared cumming in them. "Lick," she said plainly, leaning over her knees to watch his tongue flash over her toes, between them, ingesting the funky flavor of them, his eyes closed, his mouth moaning around the digits he was so slavishly worshipping. "Gooooood boy, gooooood boy, gooooood little foot slave!" She popped her toes from his mouth, resting her heels on the armrest, exposing the thickly wrinkled flesh of her soles. She didn't have to tell him what to do as he slowly ran his tongue up from one calloused heel over that skin, that beautifully wrinkled skin, his tongue trembling. He couldn't help think that old flesh felt like thick paper under his tongue as he bathed her soles, licking up and then suckling the balls of one foot before switching his adoring face to do the same to her other foot. "My, my, my, you are a proficient young foot boy aren't you?" she laughed with a hoarse whisper, clenching her muscular old thighs together on her pussy which was dripping wet as she watched him worship her feet. "So proficient..." Deidre seldom had huge orgasms, rare occurrences with the right man, but always had a succession of smaller ones. Like the one she was having now, watching young Bryan's tongue tickle up and down the length of her long, sexy feet. She shuddered, clamping her thighs together, feeling it overcome her, eyes fluttering as she let out a low moan, biting her lower lip, waiting for it to subside. When it did, she looked down at his astonished face framed by her feet. "Did...did you...?" "Yes, dear boy, I did," she cooed, reaching for his face and stroking one cheek. "Dear boy..." He watched as she stood then scooted him over on the bed on his side, snuggling in next to him, face to face, pulling the blanket over them both. She looked into his eyes and drew him to her, kissing him long and deep and wet, tongue flashing inside his mouth, stabbing his. His eyes were wide open, locked on his. She laughed. "You've earned this, my young man," she sighed. She pulled up her t-shirt, her large breasts falling free, the flesh white and freckled around the big brown nipples, the wrinkled flesh of her cleavage tanned and inviting. He groaned and attacked, burying his face into the warm meat of them, licking and sucking, lapping over the white flesh around the nipple of one and then sucking it into his mouth, lips wide and sealed tight on her quivering flesh, his tongue lapping madly at it. She lifted her head to give him room and rubbed the back of his eager head as he worked her nipples. "Very nice, very nice," she growled, running her left hand down his back and hip, then around front and under his loose shorts. He froze the instant her bony hand closed around his stiff dick, groaning and trying not to cum. She gently tugged his gym shorts off and with the boy's mouth still attached to her thick nipple, drew her left leg up. She pushed the instep into his huge balls and onto his cock. There was pain at first, that low, dull ache a man gets when his nuts are being worked, then an incredible rush of pleasure as he looked down and saw that delicious foot push up and down, the sole on his nuts and then cock as she moved it up and down, his cock pressed against his belly. "There now, Bryan, there now," she cooed as she felt him tremble, his whole body shaking under her insistent, stroking foot. "Let it go, let it go...." He groaned, sucking her tit harder now, his eyes cast down to watch the elderly woman's foot squashing his nuts against the base of his cock, then push up, then back down, over and over, his dick oozing pre-cum that sheeted on his young gut. As she worked it, the big muscular ball that was her sexy calf rippled and flexed beneath the slightly wrinkled tan flesh, powering her footjob. It was more than he could take, and his body stiffened as he felt his balls erupt. She was a limber woman for her age, always doing yoga and pilates and working out and now she quickly bent, her foot still pushing on his dick and balls, her tit popping out of Bryan's moaning mouth, and slipped the jetting head of his cock into her puckered lips. The first blast filled her cheeks, the volume and heat triggering another one of her mini-orgasms, and then the next and the next, so much cum, too much to fully swallow. She pressed hard on his balls now, not stroking but pushing hard, flattening them against his body to a painful degree as her old sole sought to milk every ounce of sperm from them. He finally stopped and realized then he hadn't breathed during the entire 30-second course of his orgasm, panting now as he looked at her pop her mouth off his cock, returning her foot to the other, twisting back up to face him. She smiled, a dollop of cum escaping each corner of that sexily wrinkled mouth. With a moan, she gulped his load down, then ran her tongue around her lips, leaving a pearly smear around her upper and lower lips. "You gave me a lot, boy," she said, breathing that bleachy aroma of cum into his face, leaning into him. "Now kiss me...." He couldn't resist, didn't want to resist, as she kissed him insistently, lips mashed together, tongue darting into his mouth. He had tasted himself before; when jerking off, he'd often lace his own face with his creamy load, aghast the first times he accidentally did it but then minding it less and less, reveling in the taste, always wondering what it would be like to kiss a girl who'd just blown him. Now every fantasy was coming true as Deidre growled into his mouth, thrusting her cummy tongue down his throat. "You're a very secure young man, one who doesn't mind the taste of his own sperm!" she laughed, pulling away to gently peck his lips and lap clean the couple of drops on them. "Women love that and appreciate it. You know what else they appreciate young man?" He could only shake his head slowly side to side, having no idea what she had in mind. "This is a night of firsts," she laughed, shifting slightly to pull herself to a sitting position as she lay the boy on his back. "Your first footjob, your first blowjob, your first cummy kiss! And, I suspect, the first time you've eaten a woman...you haven't before, have you?" Again his head shook side to side, and then he looked down between her thighs as Deidre did. Between those thighs in the dark was a silvery bush of fur, thick and silky. "Good," she cooed, working herself to her knees and straddling the boy's incredulous face, settling herself on it, facing his feet, her legs stretched out over his chest and belly, her silky calves encircling his still stiff dick. "Let me be your first..." He'd always wondered what it would be like to lick a girl's pussy and now here was a woman of his dreams, a much older woman, perched on his face, sitting up, burying his nose into the soft, dimpled flesh of her milky white ass, his mouth pressed into the dripping hairy flesh of her cunt. He felt his dick get harder as she scissored her meaty calves around it, stroking up and down, using the oozing cum left in it as lubricant. She hissed and swiveled, hips moving side to side in a sexy grind, her pussy opening wide around his mouth, his tongue spearing the fleshy folds. He could see nothing as her creamy ass flesh folded around his eyes, his nose lost in the wet pucker of her asshole, and could barely hear her moans as she rode his face. "That's it, boy, get that tongue deep inside me," he heard her growl as those hips continued to swivel and wiggled, his tongue spearing deeper with every move. "Let me use that face." He stabbed frantically at her pussy, the hair abrading his chin that she was grinding her clit on, almost not feeling the silky scissoring grip of her calves on his cock until he felt his balls knot with that familiar feeling of the dam about to burst. Then through his sexual fog, he heard a voice, and not the voice of the great-grandmother grinding her wet pussy on his mouth. "Well, Mrs. Mattock," Rebecca said as she stood next to the seat, noting the unusual height at which her passenger sat and looking at the boy's feet sticking out the far end of the blanket. "Are we comfortable?" "Oh, yes, very, Rebecca, we are very, very comfortable," Deidre giggled with a wiggle of her lush hips. "Is there...anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" Rebecca smiled, kneeling quietly beside her. Deidre smiled and dropped the blanket to her belly, her creamy tits glowing in the dark. "Be a dear, would you?" she cooed, extending her arm around Rebecca's neck and pulling her gently to her left tit. "Of course, Mrs. Mattock," Rebecca sighed. "All part of first-class service, after all..." Her lips closed around the brown nub, chewing gently, licking and sucking as Deidre moaned and ground harder and harder onto Bryan's compressed face, the boy's head pressed hard into the cushion, drenching him, her pussy wet and gushing, flooding his mouth with her orgasmic gel. Rebecca worked one hand to her passenger's other tit, tweaking and pulling the nipple as she suckled the other, pushing up with her hand to feast on the meaty flesh. Bryan's cock burst as he heard the murmurs of both women, and Deidre slipped her jerking calves up, the flesh thickening around the meat scissored between them, to take his second load in the silky, muscular grip of them. Bryan screamed into her pussy, the screams muffled, the vibrations triggering a second orgasm in the older woman grinding harder onto his face. Both finally settled down, panting for air, as Rebecca's face pulled off the nipple she'd been sucking and she sat back in the aisle, smiling at her passenger. "Thank you Rebecca, that was most helpful," Deidre sighed, working her cum-slick calves up and down Bryan's tender dick, making the boy wiggle beneath her. "Will there be anything else, ma'am?" "Uh, yes, actually," Deidre said with a mischievous giggled, pulling up the blanket to reveal her long shins and calves, the interior thick with sperm as Bryan's cock slithered out of their scissoring grip. "Of course, Mrs.Mattock," Rebecca smiled, bending over those legs. "My pleasure to help you clean up." Deidre moaned watching and hearing the eager flight attendant slurp the thick, hot cum from her legs. Rebecca attached her mouth to each shin, sucking up the fluid, then dipped her tongue into the gooey insides of the older woman's muscular old calves, lapping up the juices just shot from the cock twitching below them. Deidre parted her legs a bit to allow the woman to suck fully the cream leaking down the backs of her legs, and watched as she playfully darted out her tongue to run up the length of the cock of the boy trapped under the elegant old woman. She finished and sat up, bringing her face to Deidre, and the two women kissed, Rebecca shooting the load into her passenger's mouth. Deidre eagerly swallowed it down and kissed Rebecca, their lips parting, the smiling flight attendant retreating into the darkness. Deidre slithered off Bryan's face and sat up as the boy lay blinking in the dark, his face soaked with her sexual essence. She looked down. His cock twitched back to life as she bent to kiss and lick his face clean. She gently threw her legs over him, straddling his cock, reaching between them to fist the head and sheath the first inches into her scorching hot pussy. He looked up at her and groaned as she settled on it, slowly, milking him inside her until he was balls-deep. She leaned forward, kissing him. "And now," she growled, biting his lower lip, eyes flashing wide inches from his. "Your first lay...." She slowly wiggled her hips side to side, taking him fully inside her, and then very slowly pulled up and almost off him before settling her pussy back down, over and over, picking up the pace with each stroke. He lay still, letting her do the work, his cock feeling as if encased in warm liquid velvet. His hands came up to her hips, holding them, then cupping that meaty white ass in his trembling fingers, kneading the surprisingly smooth, supple flesh. They made love for long, sensual minutes, Deidre moving her slim hips up and down, a bit harder as she neared orgasm, her big, creamy tits swaying beneath her, scraping across the boy's face. Bryan opened his mouth, extending his tongue, feeling it lap across one nipple and then the other as he moved his head to find them, the pendulous breasts quivering. He felt her pussy tighten on him as she came and then he did, both silently, eyes locked onto each other's, Bryan's third load twisting in ropy jets into her womb. She milked the last drops from him, leaning forward to gently kiss his young lips, their eyes open and accepting. "I do think you've one left in you," she laughed quietly, sitting up and back, those breasts gleaming white in the dim cabin. He watched as she twisted around in the small space, backing over his face, those marvelous white cheeks jiggling as they approached, her pussy open and thick with his cum. She settled it onto his mouth and he cried out with passion, spreading her cheeks in his hands, his nose at the pucker of her asshole, his mouth at the gushing entrance of her hairy pussy. He rammed his tongue through his gel pooling there, the heat of it washing over his face, the thick cum sluicing out of her onto his tongue, filling his mouth. She leaned forward moaning, and fisted his cock in both hands, gorging herself on the thickness. Bryan moaned, feeling the heat of her mouth and throat on him as she jerked it harder and harder, taking his cock deep into her sucking lips. He attached his open mouth to her pussy and sucked, feeling a renewed flow of sperm flood out and fill his mouth, gulping it down. He felt himself thrusting up, meeting her downward sucking motion, and moments later, locked into their perfect sexual synchronicity, both exploded, Bryan's fourth load filling her wrinkled cheeks, as she bathed his face with her own womanly cream. As both orgasms abated, Bryan pulled his mouth from her dripping chasm and turned his head side to side, reveling in the sight of her magnificent feet. He licked each one lustily, running his tongue up and down the curved wrinkled soles. First-Class Feet Finally, they stopped and she pulled herself up to lay next to him, leaning on one elbow to offer the boy a swinging tit to suckle. He did so slowly, intently, the sucking sound the only nose above the low thrum of the engine. She lifted her foot to press against his empty balls, his dick finally gone soft. They both noticed the sun's first rays coming around the bottom edge of the drawn window shade and looked at each other, smiling. Wordlessly, Deidre sat up, gathering herself, pulling her shorts and t-shirt back on as Bryan wiggled into his gym shorts that lay on the floor at their feet. "Time to go," she said in a whisper. "Sun is coming up, people will be waking, ready for breakfast." He nodded, crawling over her to stand next to her seat, a satisfied look on his face, a look mixed with sadness. "We had a wonderful time, Bryan, and I thank you for making this the most...well, interesting flight I have ever experienced," Deidre said gently as she stood up, face to face with her young sexual friend, hugging him close and then pulling back to kiss him briefly on the lips. "I trust that every woman you ever have from now on will benefit from what you've learned tonight." He smiled and turned to walk away. She stopped him. He turned as she retrieved her black socks from the jumbled blanket on her bed. She walked to him, smiling, watching him watch her ball them up, push them down the front of her shorts and wipe. She pulled them out. They glistened with the fruits of them both. She held the socks in her hand and up to his face. He closed his eyes, savoring the scent. "A souvenir," she laughed quietly, "in case you forget me." He took the socks, looking into her eyes, starting to speak. She held a finger to his lips. "Go," she said softly. "And remember." He backed through the curtain, into the dull murmur of coach where people were waking, eyes on hers. He was gone. She curled up on her bed, pulling up the shade, looking into the first light of new day.