Muslim Slut and her Driving Instructor
- 4 years ago
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From Teen Bride To Hot Wife, 8: Lessons For Her Driving Instructor. free porn video
Joe is home, and for a while, their lovemaking becomes that of their first months together all those years ago when Caroline was just sixteen. When they surface again and lie limb knotted and fused in the hush of their darkening bedroom, Caroline begins to sob quietly from the joy of her man back at her side. And in the silence of the deepening night, before she drifts off to sleep, she wishes tonight could be a new beginning, that the world would leave her alone and that she had never set foot in Dammartin Manor.
When the week is through, after six nights squandered to appease the ache of a month apart from Joe, she prepares to tell him the things he wants to hear. But she does not want to say all, not that new thing; she doubts he will like to hear about that, how Harrington fucked her in the arse, taught her its pleasure. Anal sex is something never mentioned between her and Joe, never considered an option in their years together.
They discuss Dorothy, but talk of the girl does not excite him like when she speaks of other men. He is more interested in meeting her in the flesh, keeps asking when it will be. Caroline has caught him looking at the girl's photos, the ones she did not send to him. She knows he has peeked more than once when she is out, can tell by how the order of the prints shifts in the envelope she stores them in, the one she keeps in her underwear drawer. She has not yet decided whether to show them to Harrington.
She decides that Friday evening is the best time to tell a new tale. This one will be hard for her, wonders if she has gone too far this time, to have been so adventurous so close to home.
She skirts around the edges.
"You never congratulated me for passing," she says.
"Your driving test?"
"I said in my letter."
"I know. Well done you. I thought it would take you at least three goes."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I suppose Colin was patient with me."
"Bet you're glad I recommended him."
"Did I ever say about Colin?"
"Say what?"
"That I think he's a little bit in love with me."
"Isn't everyone? But Colin must be sixty if a day."
"Fifty-four, actually."
"Time's done him no favours."
"He's a lovely bloke," Caroline says, her eyes all a dazzle of secret delight from knowing her latest salacious adventure is about to be revealed.
"Oh, Caz! I know that look. Please don't say what I'm thinking. Not with Colin, please, no. He's my dad's best mate! "
"He was so sweet to me while I was learning."
"He was sweet to me too, but I didn't — Oh, fuck! Please tell me you're winding me up."
"I think we'd better go upstairs."
"If he mentions this to Dad, 'cause you know how Colin gossips. He's like an old woman. Oh, god, Mum's going to find out."
"No, he won't tell anyone. I made him promise."
"And exactly what is there for him to promise not to tell?"
"You'll have to come to bed to find out."
Joe's hurt is more than she imagined, his excitement more than she had hoped. When he is naked, and before she begins her tale, she licks his cock. She applies saliva copiously so her lips will skate, to facilitate the ten long and sloppy laps to the underside that she draws out so slowly. His foreskin back, she spits on the tip before twirling her tongue round and round, then down and up from tip to balls, balls to tip.
"I think you might be a little more receptive now."
"Anyone else, Caz. But why the fuck him — of all people?"
"I wish I hadn't, but I did. So you might as well make the best of it."
"So was you planning to bed him all the time you were practising your reversing?"
"I never planned it in the least, never thought about him that way until on the way back from the test centre when he seemed so sad that he wouldn't be seeing me again."
"And so you thought you'd cheer him up by letting him fuck you?"
"The idea just popped into my head."
"Just popped into your head? Jeeez, Caz, what are you like."
"Do you remember when I was leaning, and how my lessons were after work, and how he'd have the car waiting for me in the free car park at the edge of town for when I'd clocked off? I never told you, but when I used to get into his car I'd catch him staring at my legs, so I've always known that he fancied me. And I know It's my fault, that I shouldn't have worn my short skirts for his lessons once I'd seen how he ogled my thighs while I was driving. He never said anything creepy, though, none of those suggestive comments blokes come out with when they're testing the water with you. Colin was always the perfect gentleman. And besides, I quite liked to think my legs were getting him all flustered."
"You're such a bitch in heat, Caz. You need spaying."
"Ha, ha! Anyhow. When I got back from my test with the examiner and told Colin I'd passed, he gave me this big hug and said how pleased he was for me, but also that he was sorry he wouldn't be seeing me again. He held me to him, and I could tell he didn't want to let me go."
"How did you know he didn't?"
"Because he held me longer than he should have, and so to break free of him I said what a good instructor he was, and that I would never have passed first time if not for him. I kissed his cheek while he held me. And when it was time for our embrace to end and it didn't, I thought, oh-ho, Caz."
"So you encouraged him with a kiss."
"I wasn't encouraging him — not then. I was genuinely grateful for all the patience he'd shown while I was learning. But when we got in the car, just before he started the engine, he told me he wished he was twenty years younger and I ten years older. And I asked him what did he mean, even though I knew what he meant. And he said, 'Oh nothing,' and looked embarrassed for saying it. But I thought it was a sweet thing to say, and the way he said it was nice too — not lecherous or anything, just dead sweet. That's when I started feeling all sad for him because he is a gentleman and he often made me laugh when he was teaching me, and he was always interested in my day, and was patient when I messed up my three-point turns."
In a long, compelling look, she sends Joe her love, and they kiss long and deep. Reassured, she continues her confession:
"And then it got me thinking about all the types of men I might meet up at the manor and how some of them might be older men, and how Colin might be a chance to see how it is with an older guy, because up at the manor I might have to do things for one even older than him. That wasn't the only reason. It would be my way of saying thank you to him."
"And did you just come out and say it: 'Hey Colin, want to fuck?'"
"No, I didn't say anything like that, Joe. When we pulled up outside our house for him to drop me off, I just asked him if wanted to come in for a bit."
"Jeeez, Caz! 'Come in for a bit.' You really said, 'Do you want to come in for a bit?'"
"More like, 'You can come in for a bit If you like, Colin — and have a cuppa, maybe?'"
"And what did he say?"
"He just looked at me."
"I bet he fucking looked at you. He knew what you were offering, believe me."
"No, he didn't, because he said that tea would be nice, but it would have to be a quick one because he had another lesson booked."
"So when did the penny drop?"
"Not then for sure. He had no idea what was happening. First, it was small talk while the kettle boiled. He asked how I was getting on with my psychology course and stuff. And he told me about his grandson — named Rory — and how he's two now, and into everything. I poured out tea, and we took them into the back room and sat on the sofa, but the drinks were a bit too hot for drinking, so we put the cups on the coffee table in front of us."
"Fascinating!"
"And because I knew how much he liked my legs, when the hem of my skirt rode up as I sat down I left it alone so that all my thighs were showing."
"Which skirt was it?"
"The plain black one with pleats. Why?"
"I want to picture what he saw. Tights?"
"Yes, Joe, of course, I wore tights... and my long boots."
"Your daily call girl look, then?"
"Fuck you, Joe. Do you want to hear this or not? I do this all for you, Joe — only you. Do you understand?" She moves to sit up, away from him, but he reaches for her arm, says:
"I'm sorry, Caz. I know you do. I love you too — love how we are. Go on. Is that when it happened, when he clicked what you were about?"
"I asked him if he liked how I dressed. He said I was a very smartly turned out young woman. I tried to get him to keep eye contact with, but I think being so close to my legs made him uncomfortable. I let my leg rest against his and began to stroke my thigh. He watched my fingers moving just like a cat watches when you tease it to attack your hand by wriggling your fingers. And like a big old tomcat that can't help himself, even though he knows it's only a hand coming and going and not a mouse at all, Colin was the same: a cat who couldn't help himself, a big old pussycat who should have know better."
"Did he kiss you?"
"Not then. He adjusted himself, and he put his hand on his knee so that it brushed the side of my knee. I told him he could touch my leg if he liked, that I knew he wanted to but he picked up his drink instead. Before he took a sip, he said, 'I'll have to go when I finish this, Mrs Higginbottom will be wondering where I've got to.'"
"What a pathetic git. You're handing it to him on a plate and he's scared to death."
"That's when I said I thought he liked my legs, that I'd seen the way he had them a lot when we were in the car on my lessons, and that it really was okay to touch them now. Well, that was it, he couldn't help himself. He placed his hand on my knee and squeezed, but he didn't look at me at all, as if trying to make out he wasn't responsible for his own hand's actions. So I placed my hand on top of his and guided it higher, and he gave this creepy whimper like an old biddy might do if they were dying. Finally, he turned to me and said, 'I think about you all the time, Caroline, I can't bear the thought of not seeing you again.' Then it was like he'd gone crazy, taken some fucked-up drug. He began kissing me in like smash and grab, ransacking my mouth with his tongue all sloppy and back and forth on my lips until I let it pass to inside where it kept going round and round."
"The dirty old fucker! I suppose you loved it, didn't you?"
"Not at all. Even though I'd led him on, that kiss took me by surprise. All that tongue in my mouth without warning was really horrid. I froze. For an instant, I was disgusted by him — and by myself for encouraging him. But he kept kissing me like it was his last ever chance with a woman and that no way was he letting it slip by."
"Probably was his last chance," Joe says.
"While he was kissing me I held my breath. It was like being underwater, and I kept thinking I'll never surface again, kept saying to myself this is just his tongue, Caz, soon it'll be his cock in your mouth. I felt so awful for leading him on and now hating it."
"This must have been the most stupid idea you've ever had."
"Because I'd frozen up, I still had my hand on his hand, pushing it flat against my inner thigh. When I didn't respond to his tongue, and when my grip tightened on his hand from the tension of it all, he thought he'd read me wrong, that perhaps I was playing some horrid joke on him. He broke away from me, apologising, repeating how sorry he was over and over. He started to stand up, but I still had his hand in mine and pulled him down."
"I managed to regain some composure, get back on course, let him have me as I'd planned. I said, 'It's okay, Colin.' But he still couldn't look at me, even though I said again how it was okay and that he'd surprised me that's all, and that he could kiss me again if he liked. But he wasn't really taking it on board, just started going on about his wife and how he loved her, and then about how young I was and how stupid he was even to think I would be interested in an old fool like him. He still didn't look at me, was talking into thin air, and so I reached out and turned his head to face me, and then he was looking at me, and I could see him battling with himself, so I leaned in and kissed him, just to show him everything was still okay between us."
"Did he feel your tits up?"
"Bloody hell, Joe. You have a real way with words. Let me tell you in my own time."
She reaches to the bedside table and takes a drink out of the glass she has brought up with her. Joe does the same on his side of the bed.
"Where was I? Oh, yeah. At first, he was dead passive when I kissed him. You know, just lips. And then I began getting into him a bit more, slipped all my tongue into his mouth and found his waiting. Even then he was still unsure, and so I went for it with my lips and tongue until I got him on the boil. That's when we began kissing like real lovers, and when his hand moved up my inner thigh until it was pressing against my crotch. His finger began massaging the mesh of my tights against the silkiness of my knickers so that the seam went sliding all over. That's when I parted my legs so he could feel me better..."
"— fucking dirty old Colin, rubbing you up and you loving his old hands between your legs."
"I began to get all wet inside my knickers. It was so exciting to feel I was breaking a taboo by being with a man thirty-five years older than me, and at the same time feeling worthless, as if I could never go back to normal things in life. It was all so deliciously horrible — if you can understand that? I kept saying to myself this guy's ten years older than your dad, Caz. And all the time I was getting him more and more excited until his breathing was almost like a runner after a race. I thought oh, god, please don't let him have a heart attack — 'cause, you know how he's a bit overweight and middle-aged and all, and you do hear about old blokes having heart attacks when they're having affairs with younger women."
"God, Caz. Just imagine him dying while he was shagging you. How would you have explained that to everyone?"
"He didn't though, did he. Thank god!"
"Show me how you kissed him."
She kisses Joe. He is passive for her. How sweet Joe is, how pleasing his young-man freshness, the beauty of his youthful mouth in his handsome face. Her only pleasure in kissing Colin came from knowing how much she excited him, and the feeling of power it gave her to reduce him to less than the man she had always respected.
When she breaks from kissing Joe, he says, "It is a wonder he's not dead if you kissed him like that."
She resumes her telling: "He broke from kissing me and was like a starving man at a buffet who did not know what to taste first. He began biting and sucking my neck, and I thought don't you dare leave love-bruises. And I had to twist my neck away, wriggle my head to let him know it wasn't on to do that. And then he moved on to lick my cheeks, my forehead, even my nose and ears until his slobber drenched my face and neck. Then his hands all over me, squeezing my breasts through my top. You should have seen him, Joe. His desire for me was off the scale, and it made me horny as hell to know I could arouse a man to such a pitch. As he groped and licked me, I had horrible thoughts about how if I got naked for him, seeing my young body might finish him off. And yet a part of me wanted to see what I could reduce him to, actually wanted him to die, die because he found me so beautiful, so arousing. I whispered to him that we should go up to bed, that I wanted him to fuck me over and over until I said he could stop."
She does not say how she had thought of telling Colin she wanted him to fuck her in the arse as Harrington had done. She had nearly said it but decided it would be too much for a man like Colin, that he would think her quite insane. She could not imagine the thought of anal sex ever raising its head in Colin's mundane world. But since her night of dabbling in that darkest of arts, she had thought of little else, and looked forward to the day when she might sample its delights again. Anal sex was an acquired taste, she felt, like really spicy Indian curries.
Joe is on his feet, pacing up and down at the foot of the bed. "Oh, god, Caz! Sometimes I think I no longer know who the fuck you are. I'm worried about what you might bring down on yourself — on us both. How many's that you've had? The butler bloke Harrington; and that Neil — a guy you let take you off the street. And let's not forget your new lesbian girlfriend. And tonight I find out you've been doling out sexual favours to needy old men. We should invite the City reserves round sometime; perhaps, just perhaps, a team of eleven might satisfy you."
"No need for the team, Joe. Harrington is enough for any girl."
Immediately she regrets her words and then is relieved to see Joe has not taken them on board. He's returned to the bed and is asking about Colin's cock.
"It was just a cock, Joe, nothing out of the ordinary. He's a bit overweight — not horribly so — and it felt weird to be touching squidgy flesh on a man when I'm used to muscles like yours."
"He'd calmed a bit by the time we got up here. He asked me if I was still sure about making love. And I nodded and went to him, and then it was like undressing a girl. He just stood and let me take his clothes. When he was naked, I kissed all down his body. He especially liked me sucking his nipples, moaned a lot when I did that. And when I got to his cock, he kept saying how sweet I was, 'You, sweet, sweet girl,' he kept saying. His cock was dead hard by then. And I spat on it like I do on yours, and slipped my tongue all around it before taking the tip into my mouth and doing that thing you like so much. Soon he was leaking that funny cum stuff that happens when men are all worked up. You know how I much love the taste of that, don't you, Joe?"
"His pre-cum. You never said you liked it until now."
"Yeah, that stuff. Well, I do like it — and the stuff that comes after it. But I thought I'd better stop sucking him or else he might not get it hard again if he cums now, so I told him to get on the bed. Then I undressed and he watched me. When I began to pull my tights down he asked me to leave them on, which I thought was weird, but he said he liked to see them, that he liked the texture against his bare flesh; and that he particularly liked mine because they were fine denier and did not have that reinforced part at the top."
"Yeah, he looks a bit of a perv. I can imagine him pinching knickers from washing lines."
"So I lay down by his side in just my knickers and tights, and we cuddled facing each other on our sides, just cuddled for ages with his head among my hair while his hands went running up and down the back of my thighs and over my bum. His hands kept squeezing all the time, especially my bum and the back of my thighs at the top. And his big belly was soft against my body, but I could still feel his cock pushing at me. Then we started kissing some more."
"Oh god, Caz, this is not a turn on at all — you with an old fat guy who gets turned on by you wearing your work tights in bed."
She knows he's lying. There is such intensity in his denial. She takes his cock in hand and squeezes, says, "Are you sure about that, Joe?"
"Oh, god! Just tell me how he fucked you."
"He had to take my tights off to do that... But first, he kissed my tits one after the other, biting my nipples hard and I loved it. And then he licked his way to my armpits, snuffling in them. Licking in them tickled and made me giggle and twist, so he kissed all down my arm, to my hands and fingers, and back again. His saliva was all over me. Then he began kissing all down my legs, my feet — just like Kate did. What's with these people and my feet?"
"You have such kissable feet."
"You never kiss them."
"Was he a long stayer? They say older blokes can keep it up for ages."
"I suppose he was, but there was a lot of huffing and puffing, and I had to put it in for him. And then I realised he'd probably not had proper sex for years. There was no ease about him, he couldn't even begin to get in a rhythm, and his big belly was squashing down on me like a giant sponge pudding. He had this kind of lumbering way when he began to fuck me — which was not good at all, and I wanted out. I said I wanted to change position, go on top, but he ignored me, just kept on with his pathetic rutting. So I had to shush him, stroke his cheek to calm him, to pay attention to my needs. I asked him again if I could go on top instead, but he wouldn't withdraw, just looked down on me as if he no longer knew who I was or where he was. So I had to be all girly sweet and say, 'please, Colin. I so love being on top, and Jo never lets me be on top so it will be extra special for me and that I'll make ever-so-nice for you.'"
"And did he get off you?"
"It was such a relief when he did."
"That'll teach you to bring fat blokes into our bed."
"He's not that fat, just has a big beer belly. It's more his body has become set. He no longer has the flexibility of a younger man, what with him being sat in that car all day long. He used to be in the police, you know, and really fit."
"Yeah, he used to bore me with his police stories when he gave me lessons."
"But before I got chance to mount him he went back to kissing me all over my body again. He pressed his face into my pussy — not to please me but to rub his cheeks and chin against it while moaning and lapping at me. I had to get quite stroppy with him to make him leave off. Eventually, I got him to lie on his back so that I could climb onto his cock.
"Did you face towards his head or away?" Joe asks.
"Does it make a difference?"
"To me it does. I need to picture it."
"Towards his feet — so I didn't have to look at him." She does not tell Joe that when she sank onto Colin's cock, she imagined it was Harrington's opening her up, him who was slowly and utterly filling her.
She tells Joe how it was she who had fucked Colin, not he who had fucked her. With words she conjures a fantasy to take Joe back to that afternoon when she had slowly straddled the man and undulated her hips, grinding herself onto his waiting erection. In that moment of settling onto him, a profound understanding of how she was compelled to acts such as these by her search for herself through the bodies of others, how she had become driven to experience sensual abundance in all its manifestations just because she could.
Her youth and beauty were things she no longer disdained in herself. Now she sensed a growing emotional depth, a literacy of mind and body. At that moment, there flared in her mind an irrepressible certainty that she would live her life in whatever manner she saw fit.
Now as she talks to Joe, she recalls how with Colin she drove her body to exceed all self-restraint. She remembers how she had raised her arms to join her fingers behind her head to give herself balance as she rode his cock handless to orgasm, her elbows angled as wings, hands subsumed in the darkness of her cascading hair. She stared ahead as she gyrated her hips in movements never forgot from practising to perfection her hula hoop's rotation when a girl.
His groan of pleasure spurred her on to a gallop, the dome of his belly taking the role of a saddle to support the rise and fall of her buffetting buttocks. And there across the room, the reflection of her head and torso in the dresser mirror; herself naked, fabulously bobbing up and down as if galloping across a twilight English country landscape. And when she closed her eyes, it was as if she had taken to the air and was soring in great sweeps and plunges lifted and dropped by summer thermals.
And for all her skill and energy, the cock that skewered her did not falter, and she came to imagine herself and it as broomstick and rider, its swollen presence transporting her to a Sabbath where all the lost and beautiful girls went to be wicked and self-abandoned with Harrington, he as their goat Mendes, her idol to be worshipped. And so she closed her eyes to let her mind fly where it would until Colin's groans like murder called her back to herself. His sex-sounds became a great expulsion of air and disappointment, the joy and regret of a man who has failed to endure but still has pleasure in his failing.
Her eyes opened as if jerked from an unfolding dream, hurled from one reality to another, one now less real than the one inhabited before sleeping. And then all that mattered was his body straining upwards, burying himself deeper so his cock's pulse like spasms could fill her with its tepid cargo.
Even as he became still, softening inside her, she continued to grind her cunt against him in a futile attempt to prolong her pleasure. And there across the room was her image seeming altered now. The eyes gazing out at her from the mirror were no longer hers but those of a woman in the clench of utter wantonness.
With no cock to ride, her passion faltered, and she sobered and became disaffected, hating that her sexuality had driven her to the rashness of only an hour ago, now seen as inexplicable, a self-induced deviancy she could not rationalise. As she stared at her reflection, while aware of the rise and fall of Colin's belly beneath her and his desperate breathing dying away, it dawned on her that her face was no longer that of a teenage girl and that it was a woman who now looked back at her. It was then that she wanted to cry for the precious young person she had left behind, so rashly abandoned only weeks ago.
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