I was a non-traditional student who went back to graduate school after a fifteen year hiatus from the halls of academia. I somehow fooled an English department into letting me in and hell, they even offered me a a research assistantship. I had to put in an easy twenty hours working in the library for my tuition and a stipend. I was researching rhetoric in advertising scripts for a professor who thought he was something of an authority in post structural cultural criticism. That and three dollars would get a cup of coffee in the restaurant, in which I had been waiting tables.
I was (and still am) married to a wonderful woman-Maggie. Maggie is a short petite woman with dark brown hair ad eyes so brown you might think the were black. She is a painter. Sh paints such beautiful pieces i could not begin to describe them. She was also the hostess in the same restaurant, in which I worked. I knew she was going to be my wife the first time I saw her. I swear it. It wasn't until we spent a few nights together that I realized I was also going to be happy. It was her idea for me to get back into school.
We moved into a small two bedroom house about fifteen miles outside the small college town in Maryland where I was going to school. It was rustic to say the least, but it was also charming--yellow paint and flower boxes under the windows. Americana. The real advantages in the house: it was close to Maggy's job managing a local craft store, the rent was about a third of the going rate in town, and it was nestled in the woods, near a small stream. The fall was beautiful when we moved in.
I had been working in the library for about three weeks when a young man, who had been nervously looking at me from the computer bank almost every one of those days, approached my desk. He asked if I was new this year and attempted a clumsy joke about his second home being the library. I introduced myself and humored him. I chuckled and told him I was very new. Now, I make it a point not to talk myself up, but being over forty has afforded me the wherewithal and confidence to recognize when someone is interested in more than small talk. I was flattered, but I felt fairly like what the kids here call a creeper. I made a little small talk as he was carrying an English minor under his pre-law major. We talked authors and a little theory when I effectively dismissed him as I referenced being on the clock. He took the hint, but his head looked a little like he took a jab from a quick left hand. I paused and made my first mistake. I looked him over. He had good body with wide shoulders. His legs were long and his thighs were thick and strong. His hair was strawberry blonde and his nose had been broken. His lips were full and he held them open slightly, which meant either a little cocky or a little slow. I must have betrayed something on my face....or paused a little too long. The kid said, "My name is Alex. My partner is also into literature. we should meet up some time...after work...for a drink." I smiled, "Are you even twenty one?" Alex nodded and said, "22 actually." I noted I had to get back to work. I turned to the computer. I heard a muted goodbye about the time I noticed the slow but deliberate swelling in my Levis.
At dinner, my wife put a bottle of cabernet in my hand. She made flat iron steaks, red potatoes, and broccoli. She had told me about her exasperating day in returns. I tried to join her in complaining about Alex and his clumsy hitting on me. She saw through the bullshit. she started immediately teasing me. She knew I liked it. She knew me. She knew I had been with men. Hell, there was a few nights in the restaurant that we even shared a busboy, a manager, or a particularly good looking customer. It was a couple of those nights that I realized my future happiness.
After dinner, and a few glasses of wine we retired to the living room (which meant the couch beside the dining room table. The couch faced the TV, the front door and one of the two windows on the first floor. It faced away from the tiny kitchen. We sat on the old yellow and scratchy couch talking about some of the nights we spent in the wine cellar of that old St Lois steak house. My wife noticed my cock growing down my right pant leg when we talked about James the manger we had sex with on a regular basis for about two months (until he got fired for stealing bottles of vodka). She noted that it had been a while since we had spiced things up with some "company." She said "company" in her most playful and sultry voice. She slid off the scratchy couch.
Maggie pulled her top off and slipped out of her pajama pants. She was wearing basic satin panties slightly more pink then her creamy skin. her breasts were not huge, but they were full enough to give her a curvy figure. her pink nipples were alert in the cold November house. She looked me in the eye as she slid her fingers gently under the thin waistband and into her pussy. She rubbed her self as she talked about seeing me with a young college cock in my mouth. Seeing her (and even beginning to smell her sex fill the room) was enough to turn my cock rock hard. It was uncomfortable wearing pants.
I stood up and undid the fly and my cock flopped out as I wasn't wearing anything underneath. She quickly grabbed me with her free hand and began moaning as she fingered herself faster. I began to hear her wetness. She let go of my cock and began pushing my jeans to the floor. I stepped out of them and then guided my cock to her lips in time to hear her first orgasm of the night. She took her hand from her wet pussy and held her fingers up in a lady-like bent wrist fashion. I put both her index finger and middle finger in my mouth. She put my cock into her mouth. She slid her mouth to the base effortlessly. This was unusual, not because of my length which is under seven inches, but it is a thick six and a half. I cannot even reach my hand all around the base. She knew she was one of the few to swallow me whole.
She stroked me fast and alternated her mouth and her hand before motioning me back onto the couch. She used her hands to inch my ass to the edge of the scratchy sofa. The fabric was exhilarating and irritating at the same time. She pushed my knees back to my chest and began rimming me. She was tonging my asshole hard and deep. She wasn't doing her usual routine of small kisses around the target. She then looked up. looked me in the eyes and asked if I was ready for Alex's cock to be inside me. I was short of breath. She knew she had me. As I let slip a small yes, she slid her two wet fingers inside me. I caught my breath in my chest. She took my thickness in her mouth again. I came into her mouth within seconds. Deep pulsating ejaculations that started four inches behind my asshole and ended four inches down her throat. Pulsing, thick ribbons of cum into her mouth. She let my cock slide from her lips and slap against me...a few small spasms wetting my belly right above the cock head. She spit what cum she did not swallow. it pooled on my stomach. Maggie drew her fingers through it, scraping up the semen and glossing my lips with my own seed. I looked at her and said through cum glistening lips, "I will set something up....Yeah...I'm gonna set something up..."
I was (and still am) married to a wonderful woman-Maggie. Maggie is a short petite woman with dark brown hair ad eyes so brown you might think the were black. She is a painter. Sh paints such beautiful pieces i could not begin to describe them. She was also the hostess in the same restaurant, in which I worked. I knew she was going to be my wife the first time I saw her. I swear it. It wasn't until we spent a few nights together that I realized I was also going to be happy. It was her idea for me to get back into school.
We moved into a small two bedroom house about fifteen miles outside the small college town in Maryland where I was going to school. It was rustic to say the least, but it was also charming--yellow paint and flower boxes under the windows. Americana. The real advantages in the house: it was close to Maggy's job managing a local craft store, the rent was about a third of the going rate in town, and it was nestled in the woods, near a small stream. The fall was beautiful when we moved in.
I had been working in the library for about three weeks when a young man, who had been nervously looking at me from the computer bank almost every one of those days, approached my desk. He asked if I was new this year and attempted a clumsy joke about his second home being the library. I introduced myself and humored him. I chuckled and told him I was very new. Now, I make it a point not to talk myself up, but being over forty has afforded me the wherewithal and confidence to recognize when someone is interested in more than small talk. I was flattered, but I felt fairly like what the kids here call a creeper. I made a little small talk as he was carrying an English minor under his pre-law major. We talked authors and a little theory when I effectively dismissed him as I referenced being on the clock. He took the hint, but his head looked a little like he took a jab from a quick left hand. I paused and made my first mistake. I looked him over. He had good body with wide shoulders. His legs were long and his thighs were thick and strong. His hair was strawberry blonde and his nose had been broken. His lips were full and he held them open slightly, which meant either a little cocky or a little slow. I must have betrayed something on my face....or paused a little too long. The kid said, "My name is Alex. My partner is also into literature. we should meet up some time...after work...for a drink." I smiled, "Are you even twenty one?" Alex nodded and said, "22 actually." I noted I had to get back to work. I turned to the computer. I heard a muted goodbye about the time I noticed the slow but deliberate swelling in my Levis.
At dinner, my wife put a bottle of cabernet in my hand. She made flat iron steaks, red potatoes, and broccoli. She had told me about her exasperating day in returns. I tried to join her in complaining about Alex and his clumsy hitting on me. She saw through the bullshit. she started immediately teasing me. She knew I liked it. She knew me. She knew I had been with men. Hell, there was a few nights in the restaurant that we even shared a busboy, a manager, or a particularly good looking customer. It was a couple of those nights that I realized my future happiness.
After dinner, and a few glasses of wine we retired to the living room (which meant the couch beside the dining room table. The couch faced the TV, the front door and one of the two windows on the first floor. It faced away from the tiny kitchen. We sat on the old yellow and scratchy couch talking about some of the nights we spent in the wine cellar of that old St Lois steak house. My wife noticed my cock growing down my right pant leg when we talked about James the manger we had sex with on a regular basis for about two months (until he got fired for stealing bottles of vodka). She noted that it had been a while since we had spiced things up with some "company." She said "company" in her most playful and sultry voice. She slid off the scratchy couch.
Maggie pulled her top off and slipped out of her pajama pants. She was wearing basic satin panties slightly more pink then her creamy skin. her breasts were not huge, but they were full enough to give her a curvy figure. her pink nipples were alert in the cold November house. She looked me in the eye as she slid her fingers gently under the thin waistband and into her pussy. She rubbed her self as she talked about seeing me with a young college cock in my mouth. Seeing her (and even beginning to smell her sex fill the room) was enough to turn my cock rock hard. It was uncomfortable wearing pants.
I stood up and undid the fly and my cock flopped out as I wasn't wearing anything underneath. She quickly grabbed me with her free hand and began moaning as she fingered herself faster. I began to hear her wetness. She let go of my cock and began pushing my jeans to the floor. I stepped out of them and then guided my cock to her lips in time to hear her first orgasm of the night. She took her hand from her wet pussy and held her fingers up in a lady-like bent wrist fashion. I put both her index finger and middle finger in my mouth. She put my cock into her mouth. She slid her mouth to the base effortlessly. This was unusual, not because of my length which is under seven inches, but it is a thick six and a half. I cannot even reach my hand all around the base. She knew she was one of the few to swallow me whole.
She stroked me fast and alternated her mouth and her hand before motioning me back onto the couch. She used her hands to inch my ass to the edge of the scratchy sofa. The fabric was exhilarating and irritating at the same time. She pushed my knees back to my chest and began rimming me. She was tonging my asshole hard and deep. She wasn't doing her usual routine of small kisses around the target. She then looked up. looked me in the eyes and asked if I was ready for Alex's cock to be inside me. I was short of breath. She knew she had me. As I let slip a small yes, she slid her two wet fingers inside me. I caught my breath in my chest. She took my thickness in her mouth again. I came into her mouth within seconds. Deep pulsating ejaculations that started four inches behind my asshole and ended four inches down her throat. Pulsing, thick ribbons of cum into her mouth. She let my cock slide from her lips and slap against me...a few small spasms wetting my belly right above the cock head. She spit what cum she did not swallow. it pooled on my stomach. Maggie drew her fingers through it, scraping up the semen and glossing my lips with my own seed. I looked at her and said through cum glistening lips, "I will set something up....Yeah...I'm gonna set something up..."
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