Seasons of Sex 3: Spring, 1968 - Sex Stories

Seasons of Sex 3: Spring, 1968

... wrapping around me in helpless clutching joy.

And then I came as well, filling her sopping cunt with my cum, feeling it spew out of me into her in huge lumps and ropes, knowing we were making a huge wet fragrant puddle on the coffee table. I picked her up, standing with her impaled on my exploding cock, and I came again, as our juices flooded my scrotum and filled my underwear and trousers.

Annabelle was quivering and jerking in uncontrolled spasms as I carried her, still impaled on my throbbing cock, over to the sofa. I lifted her gently off my deflating organ and let our copious juices pour out of her well-fucked cunt into the clothes still gathered around my knees. I lay her, almost unconscious now, on the sofa, and gently licked the remaining semen and grool from her swollen pussy lips.

“I bet you think you’re something,” she muttered huskily.

“I know I’m something.”

She reached down to feel her moist pussy found it too sensitive to touch. “Shit, you wore me out. But just wait, you’ll get yours.”

“Promises, promises.”

“I’m serious. You’ll get yours.”

“When?”

“You’ll get yours.”

I “got mine” after her graduation a week later. Annabelle met me once the ceremony was over, still wearing her cap and gown. She led me to the Buick and drove me to Mint Julep Cottages, a semi-sleazy collection of single-unit hotel cabins on the outskirts of town. She said she knew the owner and that he always made a lot of money on graduation nights.

Our “cottage” ...

... was actually a nice little cabin, a tiny white-painted wood frame house complete with kitchen, bathroom, sofa, and, of course, bed. The place was clean and neat, but I had a feeling we were going to do something about that.

The first thing Annabelle did once we were inside with the door locked was to unzip her graduation gown, revealing that she wore nothing underneath except some thigh-high stockings. She kept the black robe on, teasing me with fleeting glances at her familiar anatomy as she moved about the room and her body peeked in and out of the shapeless garment. She had evidently been here before, and she was making sure all the lighting—night lights, candles, etc.—was perfect for our romantic time together. Then she came back to me, dropped the robe to the floor, and said, “You’re overdressed.”

Looking directly into her eyes, I began to unfasten my clothes; when each garment was sufficiently loosened, Annabelle pulled it off, and soon I was dressed in nothing but shoes, socks, and underpants. She was slow to remove the shorts, just fingering around the waistband and the leg openings, caressing the growing bulge my balls and hard cock created, occasionally licking one of my nipples or squeezing my butt through the fabric. She even went to her knees and took my bulge into her mouth, her saliva and my precum generously moistening the cotton until the raging hard cock inside was visible through the soaked material. Finally, she pulled the soggy underwear to my knees ...