Sylvia Seduces

She smelled good too, but the disconcerting thing, even more disturbing than the shivering jellies of Sylvia's breasts, the tops of which he could clearly see displayed in the V of her décolletage, was how attentive the woman had been.

"I thought," Sylvia began in a breathy voice. "That perhaps we could eat together, share a bottle of wine -- What do you think, Justin? Good idea?" He'd squawked some inarticulate gargle, bemused and embarrassed. Sylvia had laughed then. "What's the matter, Justin? Do I make you ... uncomfortable?" Did she? -- Hell yes! Especially tonight done up as she was. Justin's erection throbbed painfully, outraged at the restriction, but Sylvia's next words caused the leaden lump of anxiety to form in Justin's guts. "I think we need to have a little talk," she'd said. "There's something we need to discuss. Clear the air."

For the next half an hour Justin fretted. As he worried in his bedroom upstairs, while Sylvia watched inanities on the telly, and with the lasagne -- pre-prepared by Sylvia earlier in the day -- baked in the oven, Justin considered running. It had to be the letters. Sylvia had sussed him and was now going to confront him. His mother was out, that was a relief. The mortification if his mother knew ... Justin rolled onto his stomach on his bed and buried his face in the pillow. He groaned as a fist of chagrin twisted his vitals.

"Shit. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit," he mumbled. Why had he done it? What possessed him to write those bloody letters? Why was he so tongue-tied and twisted with embarrassment around girls? A virgin -- still -- at nineteen! He listened to his mates at work, the shelf-stackers and deliver drivers at the supermarket where he was a trainee manager. They all boasted of conquests, and even if not all the effusive self-congratulations were true, at least a portion had to be. And Justin had nothing to contribute. Not even a single, solitary kiss.

But he'd written the letters to Sylvia. What an idiot. The dinner and wine was all about letting him down gently; Justin knew how it would go. She'd be flattered: Very sweet, darling boy -- boy, he cringed. That's what she'd say. Very sweet, darling boy. And of course she'd smile to soften the blow, maybe hold his hand, her eyes filled with sorrow. But you're much too young; I couldn't possibly be interested in a nineteen year old ... A trainee manager ... Oh no, sorry, but ... etc. And Justin would mumble a red-faced apology, eat his meal, sip the wine, and then go upstairs and die.

For her part, Sylvia had prepared the food and then herself. She took a lot more time and care and deliberation with herself. For clothing she went for obvious; her signature of legs and tits, with emphasis on the tits. A long bath, during which she resisted the urge to touch herself. "Patience," she counselled as the bubbles foamed around her. "Don't be a greedy bitch. It'll be so much better later." Sylvia had meticulously depilated her legs and most of the jungle of her naturally thick, still black -- no grey hairs yet -- pubic bush. For decoration she left a neat, triangular tuft at the apex of her slit. "A conversation piece," she giggled to herself as fingers of anticipation tickled her freshly smooth vulva. Light make-up, nothing too tarty, a mist of perfume, and then she dressed. Stockings -- men were so predictable and easily pleased -- a corset in which to wrap the girls and perhaps to hide just a hint of middle-age. Sylvia pushed thoughts of her years out of her mind. "Looking delectable," she told her reflection. "Good enough to eat ... I hope." She grinned at herself and slid her feet into the towering heels. "Still got it," she assured herself.

And indeed she had, if Justin's boggling eyes told the truth when he reappeared from the den into which he crawled. Sylvia silently congratulated herself when she saw him framed in the parlour doorway.

"A glass of wine before we eat?" Sylvia asked. Her eyebrows raised in question as she held the bottle aloft. A nod from the boy and she poured, noting that he avoided her eyes. "Dinner's ready. I thought we could have a little talk before we ate."

Shit, Justin thought. Here it comes. But there was nowhere he could go. Even if he bolted now, there would only be a next time. As scared as he was he pulled the chair reluctantly from under the dining table and sat down, with the air of a condemned man at his last meal.

"Why the long face?" Sylvia asked, eying Justin over the rim of her glass. His eyes slid away. "Something on your mind," she teased, knowing full well. She reached out and touched Justin's hand, lightly tracing loose circles with her finger. The boy's breath caught in his throat. "Those letters," Sylvia whispered.

There it was, the accusation. But Justin's concentration was divided. Her knowledge that he'd authored the letters was one thing, but uppermost in his mind at that moment was the physical contact -- her finger on the back of his hand. Justin froze, barely able to breathe. His heart raced and his penis, independently-minded screamed at him to kiss her, rip the buttons from her blouse and bury his head in that delicious cleavage ... acres of creamy flesh!

But he just sat there, immobile and inarticulate, disabled by crippling anxiety. What does she want me to do? he thought, unable, as ever, to interpret a woman's mood, to read the signals. She didn't seem upset by the letters, in fact every sign so far indicated that Sylvia intended to seduce him -- the wine, the meal, those tits ...

But Justin just never knew which way to go. Innate, over-developed shyness made him inarticulate, a stumbling, red-faced fool in potentially romantic situations.

"I know you wrote me those letters," Sylvia continued. Both her hands covered Justin's now. "Look at me," she ordered, suddenly stern. Somehow, with great effort, Justin's eyes levelled with Sylvia's. "And I'm flattered." The words he didn't want to hear. He knew what was to follow. "A good-looking, intelligent young man writes to me like Lord Byron, and sends them anonymously ... Why of course that's going to pique a woman's interest. Even an old biddy like me."

"You're not old!" Justin blurted, surprising himself. His eyes fell from Sylvia's. "You're ..." He hesitated.

"Go on," Justin, Sylvia whispered, her hands squeezing his gently. "Tell me. Just like in a letter. Tell me it all. I think the letters are beautiful. So full of feeling. And, Justin," her tone grew stern again. The young man looked up, stared right at her face as she spoke. "I want you to tell me what you're feeling, what's on your mind -- all of it. I won't laugh, I promise you. I want you to tell me, honestly, what you want from me."

She saw the youth struggle. She lifted a hand to his cheek, knowing that the movement would cause her top to gape. Justin's eyes flicked to her breasts. Sylvia squirmed against the hard wooden chair. Come on, she urged him silently. Come on, you're fucking killing me here. For an instant Sylvia considered that Justin could be playing her, that he might be the consummate cocksman and just be teasing. My cunt's growling, boy. Can't you fucking hear it? Can't you smell it?

But, of course, he was just a scared virgin, callow and way out of his depth. All she heard was the youth mumble: "I think you're beautiful."

Sylvia fought down a scream of frustration. With great effort she managed: "When I was nineteen ..." Sylvia decided, on the spur of the moment, on a different approach. '... I had a friend, Valerie." She reached for her glass and sipped. "Valerie found an advert for models one day. In a local paper. So we answered it. We found out it was for some glamour stuff, nude an' that." Justin noticed Sylvia's diction had suddenly slipped from the precise 'parlour accent' his mother used to something more ... natural, less contrived. "Well both me an' Valerie weren't put off by showing our boobs, maybe flashing some fur, but when we got to the grotty flat it turned out to be more."

Jesus Christ! Where was Sylvia going with this?

"It turned out to be a porn shoot. And I tell you what, Justin ..." Sylvia sipped at the wine again, regarding the boy over the glass, judging his reaction. Justin just stared at her, open-mouthed. "I tell you what, Justin," she continued, "the thought of it, fucking two strangers ... I melted there an' then. Valerie was a bit put off but I talked her round."

Sylvia went on, between sips of wine, to recount the story of the faux wedding. She told the boy about the dress, Valerie being the bride, and how she'd loved being fucked simultaneously -- "One in my mouth and one in my cunt" -- by two men.

"I was so frustrated," she said finally. "I hadn't come. We just posed mostly, for the camera. The boys got to come all right. Of course they did. That was the point. My tits got a good covering, Val took a load inside ... Shit 'erself for weeks she did. Thought she'd be up the duff ... Dunno why, the silly cow was on the pill. Still ..." She shrugged. "But I was desperate to get off ... So I fucked the cameraman." Sylvia paused then. She looked at Justin, a statue, his face a mask of shock. "Just like I'm desperate now, Justin." Sylvia laid her cards on the table. "I want to fuck, she said." And she could have laughed, really guffawed. If Justin could only see his own face ... "Let's go upstairs, Justin," she gently said instead.

Justin was shocked. Partly in light of the revelations Sylvia had imparted, but mostly from when, after her candid disclosure, she leaned right across the table and, almost upsetting the wine bottle with her bosom, kissed Justin's mouth. The youth didn't react, just sat with his lips together, too stunned to move.

"Come on, Justin," Sylvia coaxed. Her stockings swished and the heels click-clacked woodenly as she stood and walked around the table. "Please. Don't turn me down." She ran her fingers through Justin's hair. He blinked up at her. "Don't worry, I'll show you what to do. It'll be fine. You'll have a good time. I promise."

She knew about the letters, had posed for dirty pictures, and she had intuited his virginal status. This was a lot to process at once. But she was offering herself! "Sylvie ..."

"Shh. Don't say anything. Just stand up and kiss me." The boy stood uncertainly at the gentle exhortation. Sylvia noticed his trembling. She moved close to him and pressed her body against his. "Kiss me, Justin," she breathed.

Justin's eyes were wide open as his lips parted. He felt the pressure of Sylvia's lips against his, and then felt her tongue slide into his mouth. His hands came up of their own accord. He heard Sylvia's moan of encouragement and squeezed her breasts through the double barrier of her clothing and corset. The urgency of his kissing increased as desire burned in him. "Really?" he gasped when at last the kiss broke. "You really—"

"—Yes, really, I really want to do it, Justin. I want to do it with you, all of it, anything you want to do ... Anything." To emphasise the point, Sylvia ran her palm along the front of Justin's jeans. He gasped and looked down at his open flies after Sylvia unzipped him. Her fingers deftly unbuckled the belt and, before he knew what was happening, fished his erection from within. "Lovely," Sylvia purred. "Nice and thick and hard." She smiled into Justin's face. "You seem pleased to see me," Sylvia quipped. They kissed again. The boy's hands moved urgently over Sylvia's clothed body. He felt her breasts again, ran his palms down along her flanks and scooped her buttocks in his palms. "You're not so shy now, are you darling?" Sylvia teased. "But let's get you out of those jeans. Let me get a good look at you. I want to see your big cock and swinging balls."

"Sylvia ... Jesus ... No ... It ..." Nevertheless, even as he babbled and blinked, shocked and confused, Justin somehow contrived to divest himself of most of his clothing.

The woman stepped back, a forefinger at her chin with her head tilted in appraisal. "Oh yes," she smiled. "Oh yes indeed." She stepped towards the youth, grasping his waggling erection as she did. "Unbutton my top," she ordered in a growl. "Undo my skirt ..." The lad complied, gasping when Sylvia kicked her skirt away with a tut of annoyance and squeezed his cock.

"Beautiful," he moaned when he looked down and saw the tuft of pubic hair decorating the woman's prominent mons. "Oh shit ..." A groan from Justin at the fingers massaging his stalk.

"You're beautiful too, darling." Sylvia, still in the heels, moved around the boy's body and pressed her considerable breasts against his back. Then she knelt, kissing the boy's buttocks as she reached between his legs. First she cupped the hanging scrotum, lifting Justin's balls in her palm. "How much stuff do you have for me in here," she asked before releasing the wrinkled, hairy sac and gripping the jib of hard gristle that jutted arrogantly from the boy's front... "I'm going to wank this till you come," she murmured, stroking the length slowly. Sylvia let go and stood. "No use fucking just now. Two pumps and a squirt -- game over," she said. "And I want this to last all night, you beautiful bastard." She positioned herself in front of the young man again. As her tongue pushed into his mouth, and his hands came up automatically to squeeze the abundance of tit-flesh, Sylvia's fist moved along Justin's length. The boy swallowed and groaned. His eyes closed. "Just let Sylvia take care of you," she whispered into his ear. "Just stand there and let me do all the work. Just concentrate on how good it feels. And then think of how much more pleasure there'll be when we fuck. Because ..." she paused and licked Justin's nipple. "... Because," Sylvia continued, "I am going to fuck you."

With one hand masturbating him towards his climax, Sylvia curled her other arm around Justin's shoulder, pulling him tight against her flank. She watched Justin's face, saw him grimace with the sublime feelings pulsing through his cock. She smiled when the boy's eyes opened, glazed and lost until they focussed on Sylvia's face.

"How did I get here?" he groaned, his eyes questioning. "How? Sylvia ... I ... Oh ... It feels so good ..." Then, in a whisper he repeated: "Feels so good. So. Fucking. Good. Your tits," he mumbled, eyeing the wobbling jugs.

"Because you were so sweet to me," Sylvia explained. "You're such a darling young man, and I know you're shy, so I thought I'd help you along." She kissed his cheek tenderly. "Just you relax, Justin. Don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of you; I'll take care of you tonight and any other night as long as I stay here. We can do ... things, Justin. Would you like that? Do you think we could have a little fun together?"

Her hand on his cock ... And her tits and her legs and her shoes ... and the stockings ... She was doing this with him. It was all really happening. To him! Sylvia and him and the things she was saying. "Sylvia," Justin groaned. "I think I love you, Sylvia."

"Lust, Justin," she corrected. "Trust me, just pure, animal lust. Men have always wanted me as their plaything. It's something I put out there ... a scent or a sign of some sort. I dunno, Maybe it's me big tits?" Sylvia lapsed into her old Essex diction again, "I dunno what they see, but they see sumfink'." She laughed, squeezing the boy's girth as she did. "An' it looks like you see it too, Justin. Look at you all hot and bovvered." Her face grew serious as she stared into Justin's eyes. "But we can talk about that later. Right now we've got to sort you out. And then, when you've come ..." Sylvia ran her hand across Justin's chest. She kissed him again. And the hand around the erection began to move more quickly. "When you've come for me, we can fuck ..."

"Yes," the lad sighed as his head lolled forward loose on his neck. "Yes please, I'd ... Oh ... Sylvia!"

Sylvia gave her own cry of delight as the boy grunted hugely, convulsing, and shooting long arc of semen in a high parabola that spattered against the wood of the parquet floor.

"Let it come," Sylvia urged, her eyes bright with excitement and her insides clenching with lust. "Just let it spit, darling boy. Just feel it, all that gorgeous spunk coming out of you ..."

And the stuff just kept coming, spurt after spurt of relief gushing from the slit in Justin's cock head. The boy gabbled nonsense; his hips jerked and he fucked Sylvia's fist. Eventually, as the final ooze trickled from him Justin stood gasping and wide-eyed as Sylvia, with a mewl of arousal, moved to kneel in front of him. With pressure from her hand the youth pushed his hips forward, leaving the opportunity there for Sylvia to pop the still erect cock into her mouth.

Sylvia's concave cheeks and quick tongue sucked and licked the gloop from the boy. He looked down at her as she grinned up at him from around his girth.

I'm in her mouth, he thought. She's sucking my cock. He looked at the mess on the floor. She wanked me off. And then the full realisation hit him and his heart soared. Jubilant he recalled her promise: She was going to fuck him!

"You dirty boy," Sylvia scolded, grinning as she wiped her mouth indelicately with the back of a hand. Her eyes shone. "I think we should go to my bedroom. We'll be much more comfy on my bed. Are you ready?"

An enthusiastic nod from Justin and they left the food to cool and the wine to warm.

Halfway up the stairs, unable to contain himself as Sylvia's naked buttocks swayed provocatively in front of his face, Justin made a grab for the woman's hips.

Laughing she turned. "Easy tiger, in these heels I have to be a bit careful." Justin saw her face twist into an expression of lust. "Lick me," she commanded, sitting on a riser and opening her legs. 'Lick my cunt."Justin gasped at the obscenity but found himself turned on by her use of it and the way her legs so casually fell apart to reveal the gaping, sodden invitation. "Come on," Sylvia barked. "Kneel. Get down there and lick it. Kiss it until I ... Oh, fuck ..." Justin's hot breath wafted across her smooth labia. His tongue slid over the nub of her clitoris and she swore again. Then, with moans and mewls and subtle movements of her hips, Sylvia coached the youth in how to use his mouth and tongue on her body. "Fingers," she panted, her face a gargoyle grimace as she resisted the inevitable. "Finger me ... Put two in. Rub me inside. Don't stop licking! Finger me and lick me and ..."

Sylvia came. She pushed Justin's face against her sex, grinding her body against his nose, his mouth, his fucking forehead as the glorious tide washed over her. "Oh. My. God," she gasped, chest heaving, breasts trembling. 'That was divine!" She saw Justin's smeared face and noticed his slack-jawed expression as he eyed her tits. "Yes, she grinned, holding the girls up for Justin's appraisal. "The boys love Sylvia's big tits." She offered a nipple to him, grinning at his expression. "Upstairs. On the bed. I'll ride you and you can suck my tits. Yes?"

And so Justin lost his virginity to a woman decades older than he; a woman infinitely more experienced, but who, true to her word, rode him and let him suck her big jugs until, to her surprise, he elicited a groaning, hip-jerking climax from her.

"Oh, God, darling," Sylvia moaned as the boy eased into her in the good old missionary position. "I think I'm going to have so much fun with you." Justin began to move; and Sylvia lifted her hips to meet his thrust. "Fill me with jizm," she sighed. "Kiss me and just pour it into me."

So he did.