Under His Spell - Sex Stories

Under His Spell

... ass and pulled me toward him, while the fingers of his other hand ran up and down my neck. I knew that what we’d done last time was wrong. And even as I masturbated to the memory, I told myself that it could never happen again, that it wasn’t fair to Georgia, and that it certainly wasn’t fair to my husband. I’m not good at lying, or keeping secrets, and it was eating me up inside. But the gentleness, the soft way he touched me…I immediately melted. I was putty in his hands—even with my daughter due to return at any second, Ash could do anything he wanted to me—and he knew it. Again, not expecting company, I wasn’t wearing anything remarkable—a pair of black pants with a high waist, and a simple, striped shirt. As Ash leaned down to smell my throat, everything went blurry for a few seconds, and when I realized what was happening, my pants were unbuttoned, and Ash had discovered that—just like last time—I was sopping wet. He took half a step backward, and without saying a word, took my hand in his, and led it to his pants. My eyes widened in shock as, for the first time, I felt his hardness with my hand. Through his dirty blue jeans, true, but there it was—in my hand. My mouth fell open—even in my fantasies, I hadn’t predicted this. I thought that he just wanted to touch an older woman—maybe as a power thing. I thought he was just interested in getting me off, but it was clear that he wanted something in return. As he stared deeply into my eyes, his fingers began playing with ...

... the front of my panties. It was the lightest of touches, but it was all I needed to roll my eyes back in pleasure. I couldn’t believe how much power he had over me—I wanted to beg and plead for him to play with me like he had the previous week, but he just stood there, one hand brushing against the front of my panties while the other continued lightly playing with my neck. Ash leaned forward, and planted his mouth upon my neck. My eyes rolled back into my head with pleasure, and before I knew what was happening, I’d unbuttoned his jeans, and was holding his plump cock in my hand. There was so much wrong with the situation as we stood there: me, a middle-aged housewife, and him, an unemployed teenager dating my daughter, his cock in my hands, and his hands down my panties. But I couldn’t bring myself to care—all I could focus on was the pleasure that his slim digits were bringing me, and the hard-on I had in my grasp. As his fingers slipped between my folds, I began stroking his cock—I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d given a hand-job, but it’s one of those things you never forget, and by the soft moans coming from Ash’s mouth, I could tell he was enjoying it. His hand stopped toying with my neck, and instead gripped the back of my head. Aside from a slight moan as his hand pulled out of my underwear, I didn’t even try to resist as he guided my head down—soon, I was on my knees in front of him, staring at his beautiful cock, my mouth open wide. In tandem, we groaned in ...