Chapter Thirteen
E mma
“Emma, honestly, you don’t have to do this.”
Mitch’s protests fell on deaf ears, as they were no doubt intended. After all, if she didn’t do something about that raging hard-on threatening to poke straight through his poor sleep shorts soon, the poor guy was likely to flood her entire living room with his pent-up seed.
“I don’t have to do anything,” she insisted, sinking to her knees in front of him as he sat, uptight and rigid at the edge of his seat. “I want this, Mitch. I want this more than you know, more than you could possibly ever imagine...”
“I can imagine,” Mitch stammered, breath hitching in his throat as she reached for the drawstring around his flat, trembling waist. “I can imagine because that’s just how badly I still want you...”
Emma chuckled, unused to the vibrant energy of a younger man. Make that, a much younger man. “Maybe later, slugger,” she teased, making quick work of the loosely tied bow before tugging the waistband loose. “But first, let me have a turn, ‘kay?”
Mitch was nervous, anxious, flawless, perfect, damp hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes wide and luminous and those big, capable fingers gripping the armrests of his chair. “I mean, what ... what are you going to do to me?”
Emma tugged the waistband down, releasing the thick, purple tip of her lover’s cock as it hummed with youthful, delicious energy. “Whatever the fuck I want, College Boy,” she teased, feeling extra naughty despite the undoing Mitch had helped her experience only moments earlier. “But first, how long’s it been since anyone emptied these bad boys?”
Emma hoisted his thick, heavy sack with one hand while dragging the sleep shorts lower with the other. Her eyes widened in reply, admiring the long, slim curve of her lover’s cock as it grew exposed, inch by veiny, glistening inch.
“Too long.” He grunted, wriggling and hoisting himself slightly up until she’d dragged the shorts over and off his waist and down his long, almost endless legs. “But that’s not why I’m so hard, Emma.”
“No?” she purred, tossing his damp, sticky shorts aside before wriggling atop the throw rug at his feet to bridge the gap between their fervent flesh.
“You’re so hot,” he enthused. “So special, I can’t ... can’t get enough of you. Of this.”
“But we’re just getting started,” she teased, knowing the feeling as she made short work of spreading his thighs all the wider.
“Promise?” he gulped as Emma placed a warm, eager hand on each smooth, silken thigh. They were long and lean, like the rest of him, and shimmering pale beneath her nervous touch.
“Jesus, kid,” she teased, both of them sensitive about the age gap between them. “After what you did to me, and how many times you did it, using only your sticky little fingers? I’m not gonna be done with you until I see what you can do with the rest of your hot, young body.”
Mitch merely nodded, swallowing audibly as her hands slithered up the length of his milky white thighs. “But first, you never answered my question.”
“Which one?” he gasped as her left hand reached out to gently clasp his balls in her greedy little palm. They were thick and meaty, savory with sweat and rich with musk and ripe to bursting.
“You never told me how long’s it been since you emptied these suckers.” Emma wasn’t normally one for dirty talk, but something about Mitch, and not just his age, had her feeling frisky, flirty, and experimental. If she was going to do this, all of this, why not do it to the hilt, right? Really go for broke and suck the life out of this fake spring break, literally and figuratively? After all, her own personal college boy had just dirty talked and finger fucked her into multiple orgasms while clinging to her living room curtain rod in the middle of the night, right?
How could she possibly hold back now?!
“I mean, I spanked it just the other night, just in case,” he gushed, the thought of sweet, sexy, slender Mitch pleasuring himself exciting Emma in ways she hadn’t expected, but could no longer deny.
“Just in case what , player?” Emma teased, admiring the heft and sheen of her lover’s flesh, dancing from side to side in her sticky little palm. “You got lucky?”
“There’s getting lucky,” Mitch grunted, slithering back toward the edge of his seat as if to fill her very hand with his manly essence, “and then there’s whatever the hell this is. Here. Tonight.”
“Sweet talker,” Emma teased as her right hand slithered past the base of Mitch’s long, curved cock and just above it, twirling and swirling grateful fingers through his sticky brown bush. “It is pretty special, huh?”
Mitch murmured, nodded and moaned as Emma used every skill set she’d acquired in her doomed marriage to tempt and tease the sexy college boy into submission ... and then some. She struggled not to think of her ex as she ran her fingers teasingly through her new lover’s pubic thatch, so musky and exotic beneath her touch. And yet, how could she not? After all, Dave was the only man she’d ever had sex with.
Until now, that is.
She hadn’t known a thing about sex until they’d started dating their senior year in high school, but Dave had been a more than willing tutor, patiently guiding her toward his ultimate goal of being pleasured. While he’d done little to make her happy, let alone satisfied, her ex had been a more than eager tutor for all things involving him. From how to fondle his balls to the best way to stroke his cock, let alone suck it, from the missionary position to everything else in between, Emma had been Dave’s willing plaything.
That is, until she realized, too late, she wasn’t his only.
Only then had Emma had the courage to divorce the prick, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t salvage the lessons he’d taught her along the way. After all, who better to use them on now than her sweet, sexy, innocent young lover?
“And before that?” Emma murmured, feeling both debauched and excited, kneeling in front of her twenty-something lover as she eagerly seduced him, mind, body and soul. “How long?”
She squeezed his balls for effect, not too hard but hard enough for him to wince and strain that long, lovely little body of his. “How long since another woman has made you paint the ceiling with your seed?”
“Jesus!” Mitch gasped, thighs spread wide and trembling as Emma gripped the base of his long, curved cock at last. “You sure do have a way with words, Emma.”
“Role play,” Emma insisted, even as her insatiable lust threatened to make this pretend fling a real life romance at any moment. “Remember? You? Me? Pretend spring break?”
“But not ... pretend lovers, right?”
Emma was impressed. Even with both her hands currently in play, her young lover was passionate enough to insist that this wasn’t simply a one-night stand.
“Oh, baby,” Emma enthused, squeezing his thin shaft for effect. “I’m not that good an actor. Are you?”
“I suck at acting,” Mitch spat, easing back into his seat as Emma admired every long, smooth sinew in her lover’s young, taut body. “That’s probably why I haven’t gotten laid in three semesters.”
“Three semesters!” Emma was indeed surprised. “You poor thing. No wonder you’re leaking all over my greedy little hand.”
“I can’t help it,” Mitch croaked, admiring the way her fingers glistened with his drizzling pre-cum. “You’re almost too good to be true, Emma.”
She paused, hand midway up her lover’s cock, frozen in place at the sheer kismet of his passionate comment. “I could say the same, College Boy,” she teased, continuing her journey up the length of his delectable shaft until she had teased a fresh pearl of pre-cum from the pulsing, purple tip. “So good I have to taste you to make sure you’re really here.”
Before Mitch could react, Emma did just that, clamping hungry lips around his cock and swallowing him clean. She thought it might be just a tease, a little temptation to see how long her young buck might last, but he tasted so good, so pure and sweet, so fresh and hard and hot and new, Emma couldn’t help but slither gently down the length of him.
Mitch froze, even if Emma didn’t. She’d long ago learned the art of cock sucking, even if she’d never actually enjoyed it before. The thrusting, the grunting, the hair pulling and harsh, dirty talk. But now? Suddenly? The feel of her lover’s sex inside her mouth, the taste of his flesh, warm and savory, the pulse of his desire so fierce against her lips and tongue, she craved more, so much more, then even more still. Only when she felt her nostrils flare at the scent of Mitch’s musk, finding her nose buried to the hilt in his young, bushy pubes, did Emma’s eyes widen to reveal that she’d taken all of him deep, wet and hard inside.
She gulped, swallowed and savored her way back up the pulsing, glistening shaft, relinquishing Mitch’s skinny prick with an audible “thwop” sound that seemed to thrill her young lover almost as much as being deepthroated on her living room chair at 2:00 in the morning.
“Jesus, Emma, I... I...” Mitch stammered, gulping as Emma struggled to catch her breath.
“Just a taste,” she promised, so eager to see him come that she quickly doubled down on stroking him to within an inch of orgasm. She knew the signs well. That much her ex had taught her, at least—curled toes straining on either side of her as she knelt between Mitch’s quivering thighs, his balls twitching as they warred with the rest of him to spill their seed all over his flat, trembling belly and those thick, pink nipples just aching to be tasted, teased and nibbled upon.
“That’s it,” she cooed, lowering her voice so that it registered deep inside his throbbing loins. Their eyes met as he nodded, wide-eyed and eager as she continued to coo and purr and urge him on. “Come for me, Mitch. Let me see that pretty cock spit all over the rest of you.”
“Jesus!” Mitch struggled not to do just that, writhing as the leather chair creaked beneath his dimpling ass and thick, throbbing balls, so meaty and thick atop her sticky palm. “That mouth of yours!”
Emma chuckled throatily, enjoying the show as Mitch’s sweaty body writhed and wriggled, every tendon on display, every muscle tensed as if they knew how much it all turned her on. “Oh, no,” she purred, close enough to drag that pretty prick back inside her greedy lips but determined not to. “Not again. Not until you come for me, baby. Not until you blast those pretty little tits of yours with boy batter and...”
Mitch grunted, thrust and did just that, coming voluminously, energetically, thickly and richly across his panting, glistening, sticky young chest. “Jesus!”
She felt the pulse of his white hot jets between her fingers, clinging lightly to the throbbing shaft as she watched the sticky white ropes splash and splatter across his already basted torso. “Fucking hell,” she admired, lost in the sauce, quite literally, as she admired every ounce of his thick, young jizz as if admiring a masterclass in sexiness. Before she knew it, her mouth hovered near the throbbing head, enrobing it spontaneously to savor the last of his seed upon her hot, wanton, greedy tongue.
Only when she had milked him thoroughly, cheeks indented with the delightful pressure of mining every sweet and savory drop from deep inside his softening shaft, did Emma at last release him.
Mitch sagged back, sweaty, sticky and covered in his own, salty lust. She knelt for a few moments longer, heart pounding as she admired him one last time in all his sweaty, young glory, before the sudden need to be held overtook her.
She rose then, Mitch’s eyes never leaving her as, instinctively, his big hands reached out to drag her onto his lap. They wriggled into place atop the big leather chair, Emma’s body sealing itself against his own as Mitch’s fingers laced themselves around one another at her back, as if locking her in place.
“Jesus,” they muttered at the exact same time, causing them to dissolve into a sticky, sweaty, smutty pile of giggles as the last of Emma’s resolve left her helpless in her lover’s big, young arms.
“Happy fake spring break,” Emma whispered along Mitch’s smooth jawline, finding a comforting pillow atop his smooth, broad shoulder.
“Nothing fake about this spring break,” Mitch insisted as he pulled her even tighter against him. “Or the way I feel for you, Emma.”
“That’s just pillow talk,” she promised, hoping against hope it was anything but.
“You’re so tough,” Mitch teased, peppering her sweaty forehead with butterfly kisses that seemed to chip away at her stone cold resolve to keep things temporary, one by one. “We’ll see how tough you are when I’m through with you.”
“That sounds like a threat,” she teased, though, honestly? She’d never heard anything quite so thrilling in all her days.
“Only if you’re afraid of having the best damn week of your life,” Mitch muttered in reply, eager words bathing her face in his warm, sweet breath.
“Petrified,” she said, only half-joking. Mitch tugged her even tighter, as if knowing the feeling all too well...