Dirty Old Pervert 5 - Sex Stories

Dirty Old Pervert 5

... myself to end our kiss, and I pulled her hand off my cock that was poking through my pants. “Coffee time,” I told her, and she nodded and smiled, and followed me into the kitchen, where we heard Savannah stirring. They had a Kuerig machine at home, so making coffee was a cinch. They had some fancy K-cups that could be inserted into the machine, and I chose one that had ‘Dark Magic Extra Bold’ written on it. I had a steaming cup of black coffee a moment later, and decided that I’d take it black just then. Somehow it seemed appropriate. It tasted like a rich espresso, and I was glad for it. Then the afternoon descended into debauchery. Joy wasn’t anywhere to be seen just then. I asked Pooja about her, and she told me that she was in the bathroom. I guess we all have to be there sometime. I ogled the two girls while I sipped my coffee. I gave Savannah a little bit more attention though. This afternoon I had big plans for her. Her single black cloth dress was wholly inadequate in hiding her assets, and she appeared to have chosen this dress for the sole purpose of titillating me to insanity. Halfway through my coffee, I inched in Savannah’s direction, and started playing with her tits. Just like that. She giggled, but didn’t stop me. I had my coffee cup in my right hand, and sipped it at a leisurely pace, while I cupped her gigantic breasts alternately with my left hand. I reached into her cleavage, and moved my hand left, and found her right nipple (given that she was facing ...

... me) and stroked it. It was hard, and she was more turned on than I had realized. Then I moved my hand right, and stroked her left nipple. It was just as rock like. I leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, and felt something between my legs. She had placed her hand on my boner. It wasn’t out in the open. It was simply poking out like a rock hard pipe through my trousers, and her palm was face down on it, rubbing it with tender ferociousness. We kissed for a long time, while her hand kept rubbing my trouser clad cock, and my hand traveled between her breasts, and then went down south to explore her pubic triangle. I almost gasped into her mouth, as our tongues did the dance. She was abundant in the pubes department, and my fingers were lost in the expanse of nether hair. “When was the last time you shaved?” I asked her, as our lips parted. My cock was even harder now. There was something about being fully clothed, with her hand on my cock, that made the whole experience even more ribald and more tempestuous than if I had been fucking her in the anus while screaming curse words that would make a sailor cross himself. “It’s been two months,” she said, treating me to her shy smile again. Imagine Carmella Bing, in all her voluptuousness, with a one piece black dress inadequately covering her, and with an innocent look in her eyes. That was what I was seeing in front of me. The innocent look was, for its apparent deception, ten times more potent than any looks of salaciousness. ...