Don't Drop Anchor Here (Part III) - Sex Stories

Don't Drop Anchor Here (Part III)

... penis refused to deflate. The nervous boy tried to think of sheep, or how to spell “Mississippi”, but no matter what he tried his throbbing appendage still throbbed and swelled. The besotted young man moved towards the bed, his nerves growing worse with each step. Ronnie was in a place she’d never been before. She was nervous, but now she was ready. She had found the eye of the storm and she was calm. Actually Ronnie had been ready for a long time, but hadn’t realized it. Still Veronica minded her pace and did her best to not scare the poor boy away. Move too fast and even a deer in the headlights can bolt. For the young wife it was step by step. Light teasing touches, bashfully batted lashes, deep glances with her eyes, shifting her body slightly closer; a woman instinctively knows how to attract a man and send out the necessary signals. The genetic imprint is in her brain. The “I want to mate” behaviour is just there inside a woman. Slowly and surely the mood got lighter and lighter and Rob’s jumpy nerves calmed. The beer he had consumed also had an effect no doubt. Veronica took his hand and held it softly as she chatted. Soon Ronnie’s chatter and easy manner had the young man feeling relaxed and cheerful. You could not say he was entirely “carefree” since the cares still lurked, but he was distracted and beaming. Rob couldn’t help looking. Veronica’s pale blue eyes were so pretty. Her blonde hair and flip-curl were so pretty. Her skin was so perfect. Her lips were so ...

... pink. Her breasts were so….so…..close! She smelled so terribly good. Every aspect he chose to consider made him more buoyant and horny. Rob’s lusting eyes kept feasting on the buffet of Ronnie’s cornucopia of sexual attractions. At the same time his groin kept pulsing in surging waves of blood as his cock engorged and throbbed almost painfully. He squirmed trying to adjust the hard rod. The swelled snake trapped in his pants was uncomfortably pushing upwards attempting to be freed from his restrictive briefs. “Let me out to play.” It seemed to be saying. Five minutes or so had passed. Now the turntable was starting on the third song “Will You Love Me Tomorrow”. The Shirelles’s tune would become a big hit for Ronstadt this year. It would later be recorded again by Roberta Flack in 1972 and become a hit for her as well. Ronnie would play the Roberta Flack version after Rob had been killed to remind her self of this special evening they shared. “Oh Rob I love this song. Hold me. Let’s dance.” The uncertain eighteen-year old looked so nervous and embarrassed. He sheepishly cast his uncertain eyes downward and his cheeks flushed a brighter pink. He’d never really danced much. “Um huh Ronnie, I don’t really know how to dance.” The older sexy woman poked him playfully in the ribs. Ronnie grabbed Rob’s larger male hand pulling him up off the bed. The reluctant, but secretly eager young man, made his body a dead weight and half-resisted her playful tugging. Finally Rob stood up and ...