Who needs a dirty secret lover like me

I am his dirty secret lover and he is mine

 

“Just stand there,” I whispered past a clog in my throat, my voice coming out husked. I had no idea what I was saying. My pussy was in control now. Then I reached out a hand to his hip, feeling the way his skin flinched away from my touch. There under his shorts before he mastered himself and, hesitantly, reciprocated. I smiled, feeling his fingers on me. “We are dirty secret lover..” Then I stepped into him, craning up, looking to capture his lips again and, this time, go further.

I was surprised and pleased when his tongue beat mine to the punch, slipping into my mouth. I approved with a small moan, tasting him again, my eyes going wide to find his closed tightly. This wasn’t the kind of kiss that liberated, celebrated, and exhilarated. Not the kind that unleashed our bodies. This kiss focused and concentrated us, bringing the passions close around us, our bodies touching now. And I smiled against his mouth as I pulled back.

“But you’ve already got a dirty secret lover.” I cooed.

Indeed: his cock was a fat pipe behind his shorts, prodding my belly. At some point I’d wrapped my arm around his neck, but now I brought it slowly down his chest, past where my nipples peaked my tits, his eyes glued there. “A fun one,” I chuckled, and he nearly jumped as my hand found his dick.

“Stand there and kiss me, honey,” I murmured, a burring sound of triumph in the back of my voice now as I leaned back up, feeling more and more confidence from his lips as I took him back in.

On a hot, sweltering morning, the space between his stringy thighs as I eased my hand in there was a furnace. I watched his eyes carefully as my face broke back from his, our heads still close, looking for him to flee and growing increasingly bold when he didn’t. My fingers reached upward, seeking balls, both of us gasping when I found them through his shorts.

“Okay,” I breathed, squeezing his scrotum once. I’d never sucked a cock out in public like this. And that alone had me creaming my underwear even apart from the fact I was going to do it to an old guy who was almost a priest. He had both his hands in front of his junk now, covering up but not stepping back; even after I got his shorts to his calves and then let him go, he didn’t try to get away from me. Then I settled myself on the dirt, staring up past his clasped hands. I saw a velvety head, dark and thick, extending past his wrist.

“That’s quite a dirty secret lover.” I purred, making eye contact, seeing doubt in there.

Then I rocked back on my knees, my hands resting lightly on his lower thighs, and looked up into his face with a smile. “Relax.” We stayed that way for a few long seconds before he slowly unclenched his fingers and revealed himself.

His cock was beautiful: a nicely thick mass of flesh, curved just slightly to the left under a thick nest of silver. It loomed in the morning, moist and twitchy. Its veins stood sharply out in the pearly sun with liquid glistening at its smoothly pointed velvet tip. Beneath hung his balls, heavy and tight in their water-balloon scrotum, visibly tensed to give me, a hot MILF housewife his cum…

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