Sex and titjob
By: Date: 2023.10.03. Categories: Sex Stories Tags: , , ,

Inside the tenement where he lives, I marched on ahead of him down the hall. His hands were on my hips, flowing down to my waist, but they kept sliding up to grab my breasts, and I adored the feeling of this, what it did to my brain.
I twisted my body to rub back on his hands. I loved this sensation and turned my head to smile. When he got close up to his door, directly in back of me, he shoved his groin into my backside. I felt his solid prick sticking in my ass, between my bottom cheeks.
No man has ever done anything like that to me before.
“It’s still hard,” I said breathlessly.
I looked up and smiled at him, and he laughs and kisses my mouth.
“It’s always hard. You like it hard, don’t you?”
“You know I do. I love a prick when it’s hard,” I say, and begin to believe this Richard actually loves to hear a girl talk dirty.
I try to reach for his prick, but he keeps backing away and then is standing close to the door.
I take a wild chance. I have to know if he likes dirty talk.
“Do you masturbate a lot?” I ask.
“You know I do,” he laughs. “Who doesn’t?”
“Do you jerk off, I mean, do you masturbate down at Emilio’s. That’s what I want to know.”
Sex has always been on my mind, like I talk dirty to myself. I don’t care where I am. Sometimes when I’m waitressing in the back garden, I see a man sitting alone and, since the table cloths are down to the ground almost, I wonder if he’s got his prick out.
There are many moments when I’m so horny, so sexy, I think I see a fist or a hand clutching a prick, or fingers playing up and down, jerking it off while the guy’s looking at one of us sexy waitresses.
Several times I’ve dropped some silverware and when I sense a prick is sticking out of some fly, out in the open, or maybe I see a hand down between the thighs, I go goofy inside and my head does double flops.
I hear a little squeak down between my thighs, and my pussy begin to catch a fever. I have to hurry into the ladies room to open my jeans and play with my pussy which is always weeping.
“Why do you ask?” he wants to know, coming in behind me. He closes the door and locks it.
Primping in the mirror over the sink, I begin to tell him some of my intimate thoughts about the rear garden, what goes on there, how horny I feel when I work there.
His eyes are surprised and he smiles. “You’ve seen men jerking off their hot pricks there? I can’t believe that…”
“Oh yes,” I tell him. He’s getting undressed right there in the kitchen and I’m watching him and, let me tell you – I am all eyes.
“Yes,” I repeated, and I told him about one man whose prick I’ve seen, how pink it was, how huge, how monstrous. I closed my eyes and described it and I could hear his breathing increase.
“You saw this guy’s prick, was it hard, you’ve seen him jerking it off?”
“Yes.”
“Not right in front of you.”
“Well, no, not quite. I’ve seen it, or what looks like a prick in his hand. It’s long and thick and the mere sight of any prick out in the open fascinates me. I wonder what else it would be if it weren’t his prick.”
“Pricks fascinate you?”
“Of course,” I admitted. “Yes, oh yes! Pricks do that. I love to see strange pricks. Sometimes I imagine them all around my face, cumming, weeping over my breasts, on my nipples, all over my pussy.” And I smiled. “And even spitting into my mouth.” I had to laugh. He was eating this up.
Now he’s really undressing. He’d got his necktie off, his shirt, then comes his skivvies. I was very impressed by his body. For an older man, he had no wrinkles and his flesh was very smooth.
I go to him and embrace him and begin kissing his neck and his shoulders. I have my arms around his body, and I feel him responding.
I am falling quickly in love. I smell his shaving lotion and it’s grand. It’s extra perfect. He has long hair under his arms and, bending my head, I smell his perspiration. It’s very masculine.
Still hugging him close, I explore his back, then his upper arms, his fingers. My eyes are everywhere.
I examine his face, his eyes, the quaint wrinkles around them, his nose, his lips.
Then I lean back and I feel his eyes covering me from head to toe. We’re appreciating each other.
“You know, you don’t look your age,” I say.
He glances up. He’s been examining my little feet. “How old do you guess?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’d say about fifty, maybe less.” I’m full of smiles now.
Richard is really doing things to me, to my body. I feel my breasts trembling, and the suddenness of warmth flushing throughout my system has me perspiring. “Fifty-six,” he answers.
I’m thinking to myself: this means he’s thirty-six years old then I am. Suddenly I want to confess. “I feel very young here in front of you.”
I get down on my knees. His fly is open.
“Let’s pretend you’re my daughter,” he says and laughs, then he spreads his thighs wide. His eyes are staring at me, then daring inside his sly smile.
And there, deep inside his fly, I see the head of his darling prick. It’s sticking up and trying to peep at me. I can see fluid covering the tiny hole at the end of it. It’s so smooth and very hard. The enormous head of it is purplish-coloured, glistening and very thick. I see his prick’s eye and it’s sparkling, bright red and flustered looking.
Deep in my heart I want him to hold his prick in his hand. I want him to masturbate it for me. To wobble the head of it before my eyes, like he’s sitting at one of Emilio’s tables in the back garden.
I want him to hold my face close to his penis and masturbate it right in front of me. I want him to bounce it off my lips. I need to see him handling it, working his fingers up and down and around the shaft, around the thick hairy base of it.
I want to see his balls, how crowded they are, crunched up, how they hang down and want to be held; and then I want him to offer his cock to my lips.
I wet my lips with my tongue but he’s staring at my breasts.
All day and all night I have dreamed of sucking his cock. Hardly an hour passes that I don’t think of something sexy. Life is so horny. My imagination is all over the place.
When I pass a man on the street, I stare at his trousers. My eager eyes burrow inside his fly and suddenly I’m inside there, sitting on his thigh, me, watching his prick swing back and forth. I want to know what kind of prick he has, what his prick looks like in repose.
When I am alone, and I don’t care where this is, it’s with my skirts up, my thighs showing, or my blouse half-open, or with my sweater half-open. I want men to look at me. I’m truly what they call an exhibitionist, except sometimes I wonder if anybody is looking.
When I pass by men’s bathrooms on the pier in summer, and I know there are dozens of guys inside with their pricks hanging out, these men sticking them in the urinals, and pissing hot piss.
I want to be there in the stall, all crunched up with my mouth open, going from one urinal to the other. Yes, I confess, this is the way I am.
And now I want Richard to offer the head of his prick to my lips and my mouth.
“Maybe I am… your daughter.” I said. Knowing this father-daughter is his fantasy, and I’m still looking down at his cock which is half out of his fly.
Why was I feeling this way? Well, because I wanted Richard to urge me to suck his cock, to lick it. Maybe take his balls into my mouth. I imagined him pressing my head and trailing his fingers in my hair, making sure my lips are open, saying, “Let me see you suck it now, my pretty one.”
But, instead of having me mouth his prick he pulls me up to sit in his lap. Slowly he’s taking off my cashmere sweater, and when it comes off, I am totally bare breasted for him, for his eyes, for his hands.
He draws away so he can look at me. His eyes are dancing all over the place. I see how much he approves of my aching breasts. As he says, they are truly ripe. Sometimes when I look at them in the mirror, I feel they belong to someone else. I could cuddle them all by myself and I usually do this when I’m alone. I love to kiss my nipples.
Yes, it’s very comfortable sitting in his lap. I’ve got my arms up around his neck and my breasts are free. I’m smiling as I watch his face. His tongue licks his lips and his mouth widens. I can see how really delighted he is.
“My, they’re so rich, so full,” he says, his eyes widening, and shortly he’s bouncing my breasts all over the place. He’s holding each tittie with his palms, rubbing my nipples together, making the nipples more erect, making one nipple peck at the other. He smiles at me and blows kisses at my titties.
“They’re so ripe, and all yours,” I say.
Then I have to laugh and I hold my breasts up to his lips. I squeeze my nipples and he’s watching me. I brush my breasts all over his face, like I’m washing the dimples in his cheeks. I wet my nipples with his saliva, on his tongue, and I’m staring at his tongue as it dribbles saliva on my flesh.
“They’re really hungry for wet kisses,” I assure him. “Very hungry! Terribly hungry.”
So I wasn’t at all surprised when he began to suck on my breasts. I watched his caressing tongue and it was pure silk. It licked my nipples, both of them, going from one tit to the other. He was sucking each breast into his mouth. I felt him wagging his tongue around, eating them, using the point of his tongue to tickle my nipples.
He was cupping my breasts with one of his hands and was using the other on his penis. Looking down, I saw him grab hold of his penis and it was sticking up so nice and proud.
The minute I saw it escape in full view, I fell in love with it. I couldn’t wait to take it into my body, but when I reached for it, he pulled away.
“Not so quickly,” he said.
He started to lave my breasts with kisses, planting each kissable space with a streak of saliva. I could hear him smacking his lips, twisting his lips over my nipples then clutching my breasts, then sliding his tongue down under the wonderful curve beneath my nipples. His eyes were gloating.
Then he forced my upper body back and swallowed as much of my breasts as he could into his mouth. “My tits are so absolutely hungry for your sweet kisses, for your darling kisses,” I kept saying.
He licked under my arms. I have fluffy hairs there and he raised my arm up and looked at them.
“I’m glad you have hair there. Reminds me of sweet pussies,” he said. “So nice,” he said. “I like girls who grow hair under their arms. It means they’re sexier than others.”
He started to unbutton my jeans and as he was doing this, he began licking my armpits, flooding my underarms with his saliva. This felt so sexy. I could imagine what his prick would feel like when it was fucking me.
Next his hand went between my legs. “Ah hah, you have absolutely no hair here,” he said and I could feel his fingers touching my stomach.
“Should I have?” I laughed.
“No, you should not,” he said, and then he took me into his arms. He eased one finger into my lovehole. “You know, I love cunts. I’m very fond of pussy,” he repeated, “and I’m going to surprise you,” he said, kissing me fully on the mouth, closing his mouth over mine.
He stuck in his tongue. “See,” he said, “this is what I’m going to do with my prick once it’s up your ass,” and he began to whip it back and forth.

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