Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 39

For all the new sensations, I lasted much, much longer than I’d have expected. But all good things come to an end. And cum I did. With another breach of respect, I didn’t even bother to tell Maggie I was about to ejaculate, I just assumed it would be okay. Thankfully I was correct. As I repeatedly deposited a glob of spunk into her mouth, she swallowed it down, without breaking her rhythm on my cock. It felt like I shot more in that one load than I had for a long time. Mind, it had been several months now, since I’d had any outside assistance to do so. She continued to mouth me for a few minutes longer, draining every possible droplet of jazz from me, until I finally started to wilt in her mouth. She then sat back on her heels, and eyeballed me with a smug grin and quipped, “I told you I was good at making coffee.”

For a moment, I thought that was it, and I would have been perfectly content if that had been the case. But after allowing me a short interlude, to catch my breath and for my legs to stop shaking from the blow job, Maggie-Mai stood, took my hand and guided me towards the stairs. Entering the front bedroom, I found it warm and cozy, heated by another open coal fireplace, which along with the two low wattage bedside lamps gave a seductive, flickering glow to the room. The bed was neatly made and turned down ready to receive occupants. Us.

We would have made a comical sight to any observer as we stood in front of the fire, enjoying its warmth. Me, a reasonably good looking 22-year-old guy, wearing just a shirt and jumper, wet dick dangling in front of him. And her, a slightly wizened and chubby older woman, topless, with huge saggy tits exposed, wearing just a skirt, far too short and tight for her. It certainly made me chuckle, but that was probably still nervousness.

The first order of business was to lose the rest of the clothes. I lifted my pullover over my head and off, and made to unbutton my shirt, but Maggie brushed my hand away and continued the task of removing it, leaving me totally naked. She ran her hands all over my chest and flat tummy. I was not ripped by any means, but regular beastings by the PTIs kept me fit and in reasonable shape. She seemed to like it, and cooed appreciatively. I too, moved my hands to her chest, and once again started to massage her soft hanging tits, tweaking her nipples between thumbs and forefingers making them bullet hard, increasing the volume of her moans of pleasure.

Soon, Maggie pulled back from me, breaking our contact once again. She reached behind herself and unzipped her skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, stepped out of it and kicked it away. All she wore now was plain, white Bridget Jones knickers. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she gently pressed me to my knees in front of her and ordered me to “Take them off, now.” I did as instructed, grabbing them by the waistband and peeling them down her substantial thighs.

I was immediately confronted with a pubic mound, almost totally devoid of hair. It wasn’t shaved, that era was still many years away. It had simply thinned naturally to a few wispy strands, as is not uncommon in post menopausal women. It did though reveal her stout puffy outer lips, partially opened, and from which dangled the longest labia I’d ever seen. Again, she seemed to be proud of her fanny, and taking a flap in each hand, pulled them apart, to show me her glistening vaginal opening. Then, placing a hand on the back of my head, she started to manoeuvre my face towards her crotch.

I knew exactly what she wanted, but once more, I was hesitant. Did I really want to use my mouth on this elderly vulva? To buy myself a bit of thinking time, I released myself from her grip, grasped her hands and backed her across the room towards the edge of the bed. When we reached it, as gently as I could, I lay her down, with lower legs over the end. She spread her knees to give me access to her. Still debating with myself, I didn’t go straight down on her. Instead leaning forward I once again took her tits in hand, and went back to kissing, licking and chewing lightly on her nipples.

As much as she seemed to like that, it wasn’t going to placate her, and soon she was pushing me down towards her fanny once again. For fuck sake Titus, I told myself. It’s just a pussy. It may be a bit older and plumper than you’re used to, but it won’t hurt you, and nobody will die if you get in there, hopefully! So kissing and licking all the way, I allowed her to lead me all the way down, across the fleshy folds of her stomach, to her vulva. Once there, I took the plunge and licked and sucked the length of her cleft and across those exposed labia flaps.

Of course, it did not feel, smell or taste fundamentally different to any other fanny I’d gone down on. In fact it was very fresh and welcoming. It was just me being a twat again, and probably a bit ageist, to boot. Anyway, once I’d started, I resolved to make the most of it and enjoy the experience. Holding her outer lips open with my thumbs, I used my lips, tongue and teeth to explore every inch of her large vulva. As I worked on her, she forced my face into her, making breathing a challenge. Before too long, her orgasm bubbled to the surface and the moans and obscenities resumed. As she came, she crushed my head between those man eating thighs, and bucked and trembled to a crescendo.

I was quite relieved when she was finished, though I carried on gently tonguing for my own pleasure now. Momentarily, I moved to pull away from her, but my relief was short lived. Keeping me in place she yelled “Don’t stop, don’t stop yet, I’m cuming again”, and damn it, a few minutes later she did, massively, screaming loudly and gushing her fluids over both of us. This time, she released me, allowing me to breathe deeply again and stretch and rest my aching jaw. So, what I’d nearly decided not to do, turned out to be one hell of a good oral session. I think it was the first time I’d bought a woman to back-to-back climaxes, so a new box ticked too.

After a reasonable recovery period, it was time for the main event. My cock, which had wilted after the earlier BJ, had responded nicely to the subsequent action, but did need a little more encouragement to stand fully firm. I was still half standing, half laying between Maggie’s spread legs, when she sat up, and reached for me. By standing fully upright, I gave her more freedom to stroke me back to life, using a double handed, overhand grip, so she could tease my frenulum with her thumbs.

When she was satisfied that I was hard enough for her, she lay back down and pulled me towards her. Opening herself with one hand, she used the other to position my penis at her slick entranceway. I eased myself into her surprisingly tight hole, until our pubic bones met. A loud sigh of appreciation told me I was fully home. After the customary stabilisation pause, I started to rock my hips back and forth, driving my cock in and out of Maggie’s willing opening. A constant torrent of “Oh shit. Oh fuck. Don’t stop. That’s it” from her spurred me on, and I pounded her for all I was worth.

It seemed to go on for ever. I was not anywhere near cuming yet myself, but desperately needed to pause and regroup for the finale. When I did, Maggie rang the changes, pushing me clear, rolling further onto the bed and moving to her hands and knees, “From behind now please.” she begged. Ready to restart, I moved behind her, going for re-entry. Terrible as it is to say, but I really struggled to find her entrance between her bulging buttocks. After a few abortive attempts, to give me a clue, as it were, she reached behind herself, and spread her large arse cheeks with her hands. This did the trick. Her vaginal opening was clearly visible now…as was her puckered little anus. For a fleeting moment, I was sorely tempted to shove my cock in ‘the wrong hole’, and you know, I’m pretty certain she would have been okay with that. But I chickened out, and went for the ‘front door’ instead.

Firmly reinserted and revived now, I grasped Maggie’s hips and started thrusting in and out of her again. She rocked back against my in strokes, crashing our bodies together with an audible ‘slap’ with each stroke. I pounded on, working up quite a sweat in the warmth of the coal fire. The tone of her groans and moans started to get higher and louder, which I assumed meant she was getting close to another orgasm, as was I. But I was determined to get her there first, to show her we youngsters could be good at ‘making coffee’ too. I told her I was close and to let me know when. “Nearly there.” She said, “Just a few more minutes. Keep going, keep fucking going.”

True to her claim, just a couple of minutes of hard pounding later she yelled out something like, “Oh my fucking god…I’m cuming…Now!”, and screamed at the top of her voice (sorry neighbours!). That was all I needed and I unclenched, whatever it is that holds a guy back, and delivered what load I had left directly into her pouting vagina, using a series of deep hard final thrusts, yelling quite loud as I climaxed myself.

I don’t know for sure how long after we peaked, we stayed coupled. I was finally roused by the feeling of my, now softened, cock slipping out of her vagina. I was flopped forward on Maggie’s back. She was still on all fours, but with her head now resting on the bed too, and was supporting both our weights. I’m certain she was more than capable of holding us there, almost indefinitely, but I moved off of her, and crashed on my back on the bed, completely fucked, quite literally. She too lay back and drew the bedcovers up to cover her nudity, not that I hadn’t seen, and touched and tasted it all already anyway. She made no attempt to initiate any post coital kissing or cuddling, so neither did I.

Very soon, Maggie started to drift off, but disturbed when I got out of bed to search for my clothes. “Are you going?”, she asked. I truthfully told her I was back on duty early the next day, and needed to get back and make sure all my kit was squared away first. She simply responded with an “Okay. Bye!” and promptly rolled over and started snoring. I’d served my purpose and had been dismissed, not that I particularly wanted to stay and face the morning awkwardness with her next day and I really did have an early start. I found my shirt and pullover, then remembered my trousers, underwear and shoes were downstairs, next to the settee. So I just grabbed what I’d found and made ready to leave. The cautious, obsessive part of me had to check the fire was safe and put the guard in place, then turning off the lamps, I exited the bedroom and closed the door behind me.

I realised I was gagging for a pee, and searched out the bathroom, which I could not locate at first. I finally found it, tucked away at the very back of the property. A much later addition to these terraces, which originally had no sanitation or running water when built. I dressed, did another quick fire warden duty in the sitting room, then left, pulling the door locked on my way out.

As I made my way back to my B&B, praying that I had not been locked out (it was about 1am by then), I mulled over the evening’s experience. As I’ve openly admitted several times, I was extremely reluctant to get involved with Maggie-Mai, and I’d nearly bailed out at the start, and several times during the evening. But in retrospect, it had been a good experience all round; god knows, the sex was fantastic. If you’d asked me before the det, if I’d soon be fucking a ‘Grandma’, which she was, I’d have died laughing. I was never going to morph into a mature-chubby chaser going forward (and I mean no disrespect to anyone in saying that; it’s your life enjoy it exactly as you please,) but I’ll remain glad that I was one on that one occasion at least, until the bitter end.

One thing troubled me a little bit though. We’d fucked and sucked with abandon, but no latex had entered into the equation. There was no chance of unwanted pregnancy, of course. No, my concerns were from a ‘safe sex’ perspective. If Maggie was as promiscuous as her reputation suggested, and I had firsthand evidence she probably was, was she ‘clean’. Particularly given that she lived in one of the country’s busiest ferry and fishing ports, and had a penchant for itinerant youth, like me. But the itching and rash never materialised, and I’m still alive to tell the tale, just. So I guess I got away with it, again.

Of course, I got mercilessly slagged of by the other members of my team the following day and for the rest of the week. And the rat bastards made sure the tale preceded us back to our home base, where the shit show continued. Fortunately the hierarchy never got to hear of my antics, or at least never reacted to them if they did.

For the record, our audit exercise was completed most successfully, and when we presented our findings to the Squadron Commander and his staff on the final day, they accepted our findings without argument, and even would consider implementing a couple of our suggestions. We were delighted when he stated they would be having a ‘beer call’ in the squadron crew room at cease work that afternoon, in our honour. (An RAF tradition, where a few slabs of beer were served, to mark the end of some event, such as an exercise, deployment or, in our case, an external audit).

At the Beer Call, the Squadron OC gave a little speech, telling his command that, in general, we had found them to be outstanding in their role, not that he ever thought differently. Any observations or suggestions we had made were very minor, and easily resolved. As our team lead, I responded, thanking the OC for his hospitality and everyone in general for their patience and cooperation. Especially as the whole thing was really for our benefit, and not theirs, though a second opinion never hurts. I then presented the OC with a plaque with our unit crest, to join the many others that adorned the crew room walls.

Formalities concluded, beer was served. I could not partake personally, as I was driving the minibus back to our base later. But it was a great way to round out an eventful couple of weeks. To add to the party atmosphere, some background music was put on the stereo system. Was it coincidence that the first songs played were Rod Stewart’s Maggie May and the Beatles version of the folk song of the same name? Was it fuck!

To Be Continued...