Megan

She was flaky, dangerous, and irresistible.

From the moment he saw her at the lunch, he knew three things: she'd fuck him; the sex would be incredible; and he might regret it.

He escaped lunch safely, and then the email arrived. All that he needed to do was hit the delete key.

Instead, he replied. Great to hear from you. Sure, coffee, why not?

They met. She had the free spirit that sucked middle-aged men in, despite the danger. The peasant blouse, the unadorned hands, the tight waist and slim hips. The burning desire to be youthful again.

Coffee turned to a late lunch. That turned to one of those deep, meaningful conversations. The kind that you used to have late at night in college, the kind that inevitably led to one or the other saying "please, don't leave, stay the night", the kind that always led to the bedroom.

She took him to her house, of course. Bohemian, spartan, the books of a woolgathering student and intellectual. Herbal tea. The first kiss in the kitchen, the second in the hall, the third in the living room. Sprawled on the couch, hands grasping for each other. Lips joining passionately, slightly desperately. His hands cupping her breasts, hers framing his face, then drawing his shoulders closer.

And inevitably, the clothing is no longer comfortable or convenient. She shucks off his jacket, he drags her blouse out of her skirt. Shirts open. Her skirt hikes up higher and higher. Then the couch is no longer comfortable. She stands, takes him by the hand, and heads for the inevitable bed.

One by one, pieces of clothing fall away. With only underwear, they dive under the covers. She's panting, aroused, wet between the legs. He's hard, eager, aching to consummate the tryst. Their bodies twine closer, hands stroking, lips locking, legs twisting. He feels her brush her hand over his cock, the invite to him to go further. He fingers her labia through her underwear. She reaches into his underwear and gently wraps her hand around his cock, stroking his bare shaft. He slides his hand into her panties and gently slips one finger into her honey pot. She moans into his mouth as they kiss, tongue, stroke and touch.

With one hand, he fumbles at her bra clasp, gets it open. Her breasts, revealed, press against his chest. The firm ripe breasts of a young woman, only in her 20s, compress against his chest. She releases his cock and grabs at the elastic waist of his underwear: "let's take these off"; the universal code for "I'm going to let you fuck me." He smiles, knowing that he's getting laid, knowing that in a few moments, he's going to sink his cock into a sweet, wet, pussy. He slides his finger out of her, grips her panties, and - while kissing her - starts to slide them off.

Clothing gone, they merge together. Her leg rises up over his hips and his cock slides into her crotch, probing for her hot, wet pussy. She's moaning as they rub together; he's aching to slide his hard cock into her lithe, young body. She looks into his eyes, smiles, and starts to roll onto her back. "Come on, I want you..." she whispers. He rolls with her, on top of her. Her legs rise up, around his thighs. The head of his cock slides into the groove between her legs. It's the last possible moment to turn back, but they won't. His cock is lined up at her vagina - poised, ready, rock hard. One small push would shove the head into her. Her outer labia are already spreading around the knob, lubricating it and getting it slicked up to plunge inside.

He whispers her name, asks "are you sure?" The final check that she's not changing her mind.

"I'm sure. Make love to me!"

Oh, those words...her facile delusion that this is about love. That the forty-year-old laying between her twenty-seven year old thighs is madly in love with her. That their coupling is an emotional bond, not just raging hormones.

He kisses her and pushes it forward. The head of his cock pushes through her lips, entering her pussy. He exhales in ecstasy, she purrs in lust. The shaft follows quickly behind. He thrusts, burying the entire shaft inside her. Her warm, willing body parts to accept the penetration. His cock sinks inside, slippery, wet and hard. She twists her hips, grinding her pelvis into his as he drives in all the way.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," she moans, "oh, that's so good..." A moment later, "you're really big..." Or deep, or hard, or some other compliment. Or "mmm, it's been a while, can you tell?" He can't, but he says "yeah" anyway.

He knows he can't possibly compete with the last guys to fuck her. The 33 year old ex boyfriend with the gym body and a younger man's stamina. The 28 year old she met at the gym and fooled around with for a couple of weeks. The local guy she picked up at a coffee shop, with the hot car, fat wallet, and big dick. He knows that this is just a lark, a one-off, just fulfilling her need for a mature man to show her some approval. He knows he's just in it for the thrill, and the idea that someone her age is willing to spread her legs for him. But at this point, he's thinking of none of that. The only thought in his head is that he's in her, he's fucking her pussy and it feels so good to bury it deep in her 27 year old body.

'Make love to me' transforms, eventually. At some point, she moans - he still has some technique - and says "oooohhhh, yeah...that's really good! Come on, harder..." He gives her more. She wants even more. "Oh, fuck me...come on, fuck me hard!"

Maybe he turns her over, slides in from behind. A little doggy puts him in the driver's seat, now he can really pound it into her. He grabs her hips, pull her back hard with each thrust. She's moaning, it feels good. He's looking down at a trim, tight, young ass and his thick, hard dick is pumping hard. Forty years old, slipping it to a girl only just out of grad school.

He turns her over again, gets a little fancy. Puts her legs on his shoulders and pushes his cock back in. A few long, hard thrusts, and she's really moaning. He whips out, pushes her up on the bed again, and climbs between her thighs. His balls are tight - they've pulled up close, and he knows he's close to ejaculating. He gently eases back in and starts stroking, fucking her pussy. He wants to unload inside her, fill her cunt with his cum and claim her. No matter what happens after, whether they fuck again or never again, he'll know that at least once, he came in her and marked her with his seed. He wants to know that this hot, wild 27-year old is walking around with a load of his sperm between her legs.

Now, the next hurdle. He takes a deep breath.

"Baby - (or honey, or sweetie, or even her actual name) -"

"I'm getting close."

Pause. Another cock thrust.

He leans down, kisses her.

"I'm gonna cum..."

She kisses him back.

And then the question he doesn't really want to ask: "you want me to pull out?"

Translation: "Please, let me stay inside. Please tell me I can shoot this load inside you..."

She smiles. "Don't pull out. Go ahead."

Bliss. Ecstasy. Incredible joy. She's giving him her pussy, and she's ready to take a load.

At this point, it's all about cumming. His cock is hard, thrusting, swollen. Hurting, almost, because he wants so badly to shoot. He'll give her a good finish, thrust a little harder, push his hips hard into hers. Maybe his cock bottoms out, maybe not. He's crashing his hips into hers, thrusting in, totally focussed on triggering a climax. Then he feels it - the tightness in his balls, the ache in his shaft that says he's gonna shoot.

"Oh, yeah, baby, here it comes..."

He pushes hard and deep, to the hilt. Holds it there, counts to three, and then feels it start. Spurts of semen rush down his shaft and shoot from the knob. He can feel the spray pulsing from the slit as he ejaculates in her tender young pussy. She smiles, purrs, and pushes her hips against his, as he spills out his load into her.

They sleep. In the morning, there is cuddling, but no repeat of the night's fucking. Just coffee and breakfast, posed smiles, offers of "another coffee". In the morning light, they both know that it was just a moment, just a fluke, just a one-night stand. But he also knows that he fucked her, filled her, and that for one night, it was like being young again. They dress, and kiss at the door. She thanks him for a great night. He thanks her likewise. And then, with a smile, lighter shoulders and a sunnier outlook, he leaves, sauntering down the street thinking he just spent the night, and spent himself, between the tender, lithe thighs of a hot 27 year old. She heads for the shower to wash him away and is already thinking about the rest of the day ahead.