For Porvenier

When we talked about meeting, I asked you to be beautiful, because I already found you alluring, and you are indeed beautiful. It's still a surprise to me that a 28 year old girl like you would do this for a 58 year old man like me. I look at you and enjoy, your small feet, toes both pointed toward me in the simple black flats without socks or stockings, the simple, floral print dress, fluttering gently at your two perfectly formed knees, the way the dress rests on your hips and how it hangs tantalizingly on your shoulders, for now, your chest giving the dress form, accentuating the hourglass of your hips, your hair, tied in back, feather against your bare back. And when I look at your face, you're blushing, looking at me uncertainly and I know that you know that I enjoy looking at you so much.

At the risk of stating the obvious I say, "Hello, you look beautiful. I can't believe you did this for me." I must be looking at you too intently, you blush even more, I can see it on your chest, your dress is not tight enough for me to tell if looking at you has made your nipples hard. I fantasize that it does.

We go to a cafe, have a cup of coffee together and croissants. I feel so predatory and I like it, you are so delicate and yet, so willing. I think about last week, what did you look like, there, in front of the computer, in your black panties and bra, what was it like for you to take the chance when you put your hand down your pants. Was it done feverishly as you imagined I would do, a rough groping or was it delicate and exploratory and were you transported by the sensuality of yourself, as you described, wet, so capable at that moment of being fucked? I realize I've been daydreaming, I realize I'm hard in my pants, here in public, with a girl 30 years my junior, a girl who has agreed to come up to my place, a girl who told me that she wants me to have her, tied up.

"It looks like we're going to go through with this", I say. "I want you to feel comfortable asking me to stop at any time."

You think for a moment. You blush. You stammer, "I want you to enjoy me. I want to know... I want to know you're not holding back."

I look at you, it's so intoxicating that your pleasure is me, taking such hard, carnal and complete pleasure in you/ I flag the waitress, pay her, you might look at her, find her beautiful, wonder if she's alluring to me, catch her flirting, but I am looking at you, fixated on you, on your breath which makes your chest rise and fall, on the shape of your mouth, on your eyes when you look at me. I shiver when I get up and, yes, you're going to follow me, you're actually coming with me, you're actually going to go through with this.

...

We go to my pied-a-terre. I'm married, this is my city apartment that I use as a place to shower, to sleep if I need to work into the night and miss the last train home and also for this. I wonder if my wife knows, if she senses that I still lust and I wonder why she doesn't. So perhaps it's an arrangement. Perhaps she doesn't want to know. The apartment is neat, kept up well by the cleaning staff and it's simple, but it has Van Gogh's death's head moth drawing over the towels next to the shower, the flowers that I picked out this morning, on the bureau next to the bed, light white curtains, fluttering like your dress does, when we were talking online, I looked at them and imagined that, thought of how little they really hid, thought of your dress that way.

And as I let go of your hand, soft and small in mine, to unlock the door, as I let you in, telling you, "it's one flight up, on the second floor", I watch. My heart races, your back to me, the straps of the dress hanging so tentatively on your smooth shoulders, I'm looking at you from behind, the sway of your hips as you climb, your calves, the taut and supple muscles, the back of your knee, yes, the bottom of your thigh, your dress swaying precariously and barely preventing me from seeing up your skirt from looking at your panties. Do you know what I'm doing? Are you innocent of the accident that comes so close to revealing you or did you plan this? Thinking of it sensibly, you seem to have chosen a conservative dress, taking pains to preserve your modesty, but as my blood races, I fantasize that you didn't, that you planned this, that you were ambiguous on purpose to leave me confused and hoping.

We get to the door to my apartment, I'm behind you. I'm taller, your dress hangs loosely. A gentleman would not look down, would not take advantage so he could see your supple breasts, the smooth, clear skin, firm, nestled in your bra, but I do look, I look frankly and you look over your shoulder, reach to adjust your dress, stop, let me look, stand there blushing as I do. And as you stand there, so unsure, I brush my hand past you as I reach to put the key in the door, brush my hand over your hip and lean into you, knowing that brings you up against my crotch, knowing that you will have to feel that I am hard for you.

I close the door behind you. "I've run this day through my head so many times. You look so beautiful. I want you so badly."

You nod. I wonder, what was your fantasy? The last time, when I had to leave Lit, what did you do? What did you think about, I was hoping that you'd lie in your bed, naked, I was hoping you'd get yourself off, fantasizing it was me. I've thought of you in so many ways, what you'd look like, what you look like when you manage to bring yourself to orgasm?

But in reality, you are so different than I imagined and my response, different too. You seem so unsure and tentative, but at the same time, you seem to be looking to me for guidance.

"I want to do something", I say, "Here, sit down."

I guide you to a big chair, my arm around you, feeling your waist, so delightful under my hand, sit you down. I stand in front of you, squat down, looking up at your eyes, at the little bit of confusion there. I take your shoes off, one by one, caressing, holding your small feet in my big hands, I take one ankle, then the other, placing your left foot, then your right on the seat cushion, your dress resting on your knees, the fabric of your panties stretched over you (I want you to pick out your underwear, I want you to pick out the things that I know you want only me to see). I gasp silently I hope, so close at that moment to cumming in my pants at the sight of you, confused, now holding your knees, your underpants not able to hide the crease of you. I hope they are damp. I look at you like that, amazed that I get to do that to you, that you put on those undies just for me, that you're waiting right now, to find out how I'm going to fuck you.

I sit back for a moment, looking up your dress, so grateful to you for letting me do this to you. I get up, as you reach briefly with your right hand, to pull the shoulder of your dress back up, to cover your bra strap. I reach out, put my hand over yours. I pull the shoulder of the dress down, looking at your beautiful skin, taking pleasure in the permission you have given me to do that to you, to make your soft shoulder naked.

And it's so beautiful, the way you look with that shoulder pulled down, how it's so easy for me to extrapolate, from that shoulder to you, with your dress pulled down to your waist, how you will look, your breasts heaving and pressing against your bra as your chest rises with your ragged breath.

I do it. Looking into your eyes as I do, looking down. "Do you know what this does to me? Do you?". I say it maybe a little too roughly, you look a little scared by my passion. I take your hand in mine, from behind, not the loving clasp, standing beside you, I take your hand, I rub it on me, on the front of my pants. "You did this to me. You made me hard."

I may be crude, it might break a romantic spell. But truth of the matter is, I am incensed by you. The contrast between your firm body and what should be my expectations for having a woman, the gap is so extreme, that it makes me feel like such an animal, it makes me want to rut on you while I have the chance, before you come to your senses, before you bolt. Will you bolt? Where are the ties, it's so lucky for me that you want me to tie you up. Maybe that will get us through the inevitable second thoughts that you will have, maybe tied up, when you panic, you'll pull, then think twice, bite your lip, let me.

"Let's get you taken care of", I say. I pull out the silks I have for this, soft, sensual, simple and white. "You're ok with this, right?"

I see you swallow briefly as you nod yes. Poor dear, are you conflicted? Are you scared? You shouldn't be. I will get off on you, but I won't hurt you and part of what I need to get off is to see you shiver and buck, to feel you spasm around my hard cock as you lose it, for you to soak my sheets and make a mess.

Your dress drops back down over your knees as I pull you up by the hand, out of the chair (what a shame, although you will be naked soon, you will never look as vulnerable and you will never again cross that line between being unknown and just a fantasy to revealed and giving this to me).

I'm gentle and solicitous lying you down in bed. You need to be comfortable but also, and here, you might realize how focused I am on setting you up to have you, I put a pillow under your ass, pushing up your dress as I do. I can't help myself, I grin and leer. My dick jumps in my pants, seeing your underwear again, from a different angle, how low your panties ride on your hips. At that moment, I have to, I push your legs up in the air, your round ass, the panties not covering your asscrack, you have to take them off before securing your ankles, what a thrill to get to pull them down, to know that you let me do it.

Naked

What I came here for

I came here to push my cock into you, crude as it is, why I came here is to put my dick between your legs, there, and push and hump and get off spending myself pressed against you, my balls tight, my fat cock as deep in you as I can get.

That's what I'm thinking, looking at you for that brief second, your legs still pretty much together, knees pressed together, the sight of you, bald, you shaved it for me, when I was young, only the kinkiest girl would do that, you did that for me and I look at you with lust, plump, only the bottom of the slit that I am so fixated on showing.

I start with the right ankle, tying you to the bed, loop around the ankle, loop around the bedpost and a knot, ,poor dear, I see you're modestly trying to cover up, your left leg bent at the knee, trying to keep it crossed, are you embarrassed about being exposed? That won't do, I look up at you that way, such a beautiful bird, caught and scared. I go down on your foot, sucking on your big toe, looking up, licking it, my tongue running over your toe slowly. I look up, hoping I'm wearing you down, hoping I'm turning you on and maybe I am, seeing you shift, seeing you briefly open up for me as you move your left leg.

And the left leg it is, as I pull it, your dress falls down to cover you - that seems to bring you relief, but I flip it up, looking at you, split, looking at you fully for the first time, you have such a neat cunt, so delicately formed, how is it that we men are allowed to do what we do there, that women let us molest them so badly, violate them so completely that the goal is to let go in them and yet, they let it happen. It fires me up so badly I let go of your ankle, you put your knee back up, legs together, dress down as I undo my belt. The leather snaps as I pull it through the buckle, unbutton my jeans, unzip. My nasty cock pops out, uncut fat head already glistening because of how often I've come close to shooting in my pants in the hour and a half we've been together.

I go at it again. I grab your ankle, my dick swinging back and forth now, yes, it brushes your thigh, it leaves a stain., glistening there and, are you struggling? my hairy balls hanging down, you see me from the backside as I tie the left leg down, maybe in my passion, I do it a little too tightly.

Then, the dress has to come off, pushing it up over your head musses your hair and yeah, I know topology, the bra can stay on, but the bra straps have to come down over your arms. By now, I'm almost snorting in my rut, sitting on your stomach, my dick either resting on you, dribbling or poking your tits through your bra. And little minx, front clasp or back? Are you gonna do something that makes it easy for me to take it off so I can feel you up, so I can rub against you? You look so sexy, you are so available to me, ass up in the air, legs and now arms pinioned. Now it is all about me and what I want to do to get off on you.

Is this not as romantic as you hoped? Did you want it to be softer and more gentle? The truth is, you need to be fucked as much as I need to fuck you. It's been over a year, what were you thinking? It's not healthy, it's going to seal itself up if no-one puts a dick in it. I am doing you a favor.

I want you. I want your cunt.

On the way, I do unclip your bra, I leer and lech over you so firm and I will tell you that I know what it means when your nipples crinkle up like that. But as I suck and bite on them (and you can't do anything about it), my hands are at you, right cupped over your cunt, diddling your clit (and would I find you wet, are you wet right now thinking of being pinioned, sucked on and felt up like this?), the other, yeah, groping and maybe pinching your ass, nice and round, that turns me on so much.

I switch, I want to suck on you and as I do, so easy to reach up, one breast in each hand, it turns me on to roll your nipples between my fingers and pull on your tits. And yeah, I lick you and yeah, I do it even if I can taste that you pissed since you last took a shower, do you know, I do it anyway, maybe get off on you being an animal to be fucked and not a perfect angel. You know, you can tell me with your gasps or even with your words, where you want me to put my tongue, every woman is different and I want you so particular, I want to know if it's easier for me to make you cum by sucking on your clit or licking, trying to figure out where the head of your labia starts and how your little girl-undick fits under it. I'm gonna take my cues from what I do to your body, does it get you closer to have two of my fingers shoved into you (or even into your ass) or does that break your concentration and you can't cum with that distraction. I'll figure it out, or maybe I'll end up trying some different stuff, no matter what, I am going to make you cum.

What a thrill, to see you bucking. How's it going to be, are you a screamer, a moaner? Are you going to cum so hard that, not being able to move your legs, you'll hurt yourself as you thrash? Man, so hard to explain in the emergency room when that happens, so embarrassing for you. And, are you neat or messy? Sweetheart, are you a gusher? Are you gonna leave me with a fragrant and wet bed and a big laundry bill? I want to find that out, I so hope you end up with your ass wet. Don't worry, it's even a trip if you piss the bed, let go for me sweetheart, the point is for me to make you lose control.

After that, we need to take a rest. You're a mess, you're worn out, sweaty, maybe even feeling uncomfortable as the pillow becomes colder in addition to being damp. Refractory period, warmth, chance for me to heft your breasts or run my hand down the length of your thigh. That might be a mistake, such a temptation, move my hand up higher, you are now so obviously easier to fuck. You have no idea how hard that makes me. I look down at you again, at you split, at where I need to be to put it in. I want it, I want it, I want to see what it looks like with me inside you, with you around me and yeah, what you look like getting fucked, not being able to do anything about it. My breath is ragged, I feel like such a perv being able to do this to you, yeah, get out the rubber, tear it open with my teeth, roll it down, yeah it's so incredibly nasty that I bought these things to roll down my cock so I could fuck you as much as I want without knocking you up.

I love holding my hard-on in my hands, looking down, rubbing it against you. It looks so cool to see your labia kissing it, spread around it. It is so dirty that you agreed to this, that you're gonna let me put my nasty dick in your beautiful young body, hump on you and dump my sperm while I'm inside you. Do you like it baby? Do you actually get off on me doing that dirty thing deep inside you? As I'm writing this, my nostrils are flared, my pupils dilated. My pants are still on but my dick sure is stiff enough to get it into you. And you, dirty baby? Are you wet enough right now for me to do it? Do you want to? For real?

How would it happen? Would I go for full-body contact? Biit that means I can't see you underneath me, see your breasts heave up and down, see them jerk and jiggle with each stroke if you are a delicious full-figured girl or see that sharp wave cascade through them if your titties are small and firm. Maybe later, I would get off on being an animal, rutting against your body or mounting you from behind, the first time, I'm gonna watch, get off on seeing for real, how you look with my dick inside you.

You have no idea what it feels like for a guy to cum. You feel like such an animal, getting to push it in feeling your fat dick actually parting flesh. Do you ever stop and think how far I shove it in? Do you ever think how, deep inside you, this old guy that's me, his balls are tightening, his spunk building as he feels the muscles of your cunt, the cunt he's voilated, contracting around him? Yeah. YEAH, push it in, there, my balls against your wet ass, here I cum, the waves of pleasure matching the peristalsis of my cock pumping my ball's jism into you.

That is so hot. I want to fuck you so bad.