Venetian Blinds
- 1 year ago
- 10
- 0
Venetian Blinds (2) free porn video
[ For Megan, and her love of BIG black cock, and her cuckold who supports her pursuit of them! ]
After that first time Megan and I had fucked, I probably don't need to say that I could not get her out of my thoughts! I went to work, came home, did laundry, fixed my meals, watched TV, checked my e-mails; and all the everyday things you do---but I couldn't completely put her out of my mind. I didn't really want to put her out of mind. My first wife had passed away some years earlier, which had been devastating to me, as well as to my daughter, who was quite young at the time; and as I dealt with having lost my wife, I had to think of my daughter's immediate needs as well.
These were dark and trying times. But, eventually, as is true of so much in life, I eventually grew accustomed (if that's the right word for it) to being a widow. In the years to come I was busy with the raising of my daughter, and the demands that this naturally put upon me, and I tried really hard to be the best father I could be for her. I'd like to think I didn't do too bad at it.
But even in the midst of all that, I was lonely. I didn't date very much. Partly out of a lingering loyalty to my deceased wife, and also partly because I didn't want my daughter to resent another woman coming into our lives, which I was afraid would happen, and so I put my own need for physical intimacy on the back burner, and threw myself into the role of a single parent.
This is the way my first encounter with Megan eventually occurred.
She was visiting her grandmother, who I lived right next door to, and had done so for some time. Her grandmother was nice to me, though a little bit distant and aloof. She didn't come across as an overt racist; I'll put it that way. However, Megan was very different. She was extremely friendly towards me every time we happened to see one another outside, and eventually, we began chatting back and forth over the fence that separated her grandmothers house from mine. Megan wasn't what I would call 'flirtatious,' or at least not in an overly obvious way; but I sensed a certain 'playfulness', a certain openness towards me that, as time passed, I began to realize was of a sexual nature; or that was what I found myself hoping it was!
At first I wouldn't allow myself to believe that this young, and extremely beautiful young white woman (she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on), could possibly be interested me, sexually; and even though it was 2020, the concern over race lingered in the back of my mind.
So, weeks went by. Nothing different from my normal, daily life, occurred; except that I found myself thinking of Megan more and more; and I began hoping to run into her again when I was outside. I began to feel like a younger man again; like the way I'd felt when I'd been married to my wife; and I hadn't felt like that (or allowed myself to acknowledge such feelings) for a long time; and I enjoyed it.
Then one day, Megan and I got to talking to each other from across the fence, and she came on to me, in an obviously sexually inviting way. She even reach over and touched me on the arm; and she smiled so very invitingly, that I felt my cock reacting right there on the spot! I admit that I wanted to fuck her so bad at that moment, and it felt good to feel that way. But I still told myself that such a thing was out of the question; that it was impossible. After all, Megan was considerably younger than I! She was perhaps 23, and I was in my early forties, but as I stood there, our ages didn't really seem to matter. There was something else there at work between us; something deep; something that disregarded our individual chronological ages; something---primal, and basic; something deeply, and undeniably, human---which had nothing to do with race.
Though neither of us used the word 'sex', or 'fucking', the fact that we were both thinking them was clearly evident. Yet I didn't do anything about it. I hesitated. Later on I regretted not acting more openly towards her.
Eventually, however, Megan and I did manage to get together. Even now it seems a bit like a dream, but it was not a dream, and when she came over to my house around midnight one evening (she said her grandmother was sleeping), the thrill I felt in her presence is almost without words.
She was even more beautiful up close in the privacy of my bedroom, and as we undressed (hurriedly, urgently, as it had been when I was much younger!), the absolute perfection of her warm, pale, silky-smooth skin sent such a wave of lust through me; a lust that had laid dormant in me for decades. There was also the fact that I'd never 'been with', in a sexual way, a white female before, and so the novelty of that added to the over all exhilaration I was feeling!
Without even asking, Megan knelt of the carpet in front of me and sucked and licked my cock as if she was starving for it. Not even my wife, who I had loved, had done that; or at least not as Megan was doing. She said she loved my cock, too. "It's SO BIG!" She said, studying it between sucking it. "And it's SO BLACK! I LOVE that!" Then she'd resume sucking on it. Though I know it probably sounds foolish of me, but I think I started to fall in love with Megan. I hadn't felt that way towards another woman since my wife had died!
When she stopped sucking my cock, which had become so engorged and erect, I had her stand up and then I pushed her back onto my bed, and as I did so, she spread her legs far apart, revealing for the first time, her beautiful pussy. She had a small patch of pubic hair, neatly trimmed into a slender strip, and I eagerly, hurriedly, entered her moist and inviting pussy with virtually no resistance; and as I slid inside of her, her warm moistness excited me, and I began fucking her, and I confess I did so rather roughly; but she seemed to like that, and that, in turn, drove me to fuck her with even more vigor!
That was the first time in such a long time, that I'd been like that with any woman, and I was almost thinking I was dreaming; except I'd look down and see Megan's beautiful face looking up into mine; and I knew there was no dream here. This was real!
We fucked for a surprisingly long time that night. I came quickly the first time, and as my sperm exploded out of me and into Megan's pussy, I felt a little light-headed, but equally happy and exhilarated. After that, and before we fucked some more, I explored every inch of her gorgeous body; with my hands, my fingers, my lips, my tongue. I had no idea if I'd ever get another chance to enjoy her like this, so I tried to experience everything about her I could, while I could!
We did fuck again after that. Twice more, to be precise, and I was amazed at how easily I rallied after each orgasm. With Megan, I felt much younger than I really was. She made me feel at least 20 years younger. She made me feel special, and her obvious enthusiasm towards me being black was an added component of that evenings experiences. I knew she was married, but neither of us brought that up. I'd met her husband (a much older white guy) several times across the fence, and I'd been surprised Megan would have married such an older man, and yet, I'd also sensed a kind of implicit, unspoken agreement between them; and agreement that had (perhaps) a certain openness to her having relationships with other men outside of their marriage. Megan later confirmed this fact as she got dressed to leave.
"You don't need to be worried about my husband," she told me. "We got married with the understanding that I could have sex with other men, when I wanted to."
I'd heard of men like that. Cuckolds they were called. I was intrigued. I didn't want to spoil our time together by talking much about her husband, but I was curious nevertheless.
"Does he know your over here now?"
"Yes," she replied. "But don't worry." She smiled and kissed me. Then she added, still smiling: "My husband is a very understanding, and loving man. He's very open-minded. It's how our relationship works. It's what holds it together."
As she left the house (she left through the back door through which she'd first entered), she turned and kissed me once again. "I like you," she said. "I hope we can fuck again sometime, too."
Hearing that sent a thrill running through me, and I replied: "I'd be very happy to do so as well."
I stood at the door and watched her go through the fence gate, and then back inside her house, and as I did, my cock throbbed with the memory of our recent fucking.
I went back inside, and instead of showering, I left Megan's juices on me; on my mouth; my hands; my cock especially; and when I climbed into bed, I didn't fall asleep right away. In the dark I could smell her sexual aroma all over me; and I didn't want that to go away; or at least, not for a while.
When I woke up the next morning, her aroma was still on me, and except for my hands, I didn't wash it off of my cock, and I wore it all that next day like a badge of honor; as a happy reminder of my very good fortune. Whether she and I would fuck again was not certain; though I hoped we would. After decades of slumbering numbness, Megan had lit the fire of sexual hunger, and I liked the way that made everything feel. I wanted to keep that fire burning, and never let it go out again. But, time would tell. For the time being, I'd savor that experience to it's fullest extent.
The End
After that first time Megan and I had fucked, I probably don't need to say that I could not get her out of my thoughts! I went to work, came home, did laundry, fixed my meals, watched TV, checked my e-mails; and all the everyday things you do---but I couldn't completely put her out of my mind. I didn't really want to put her out of mind. My first wife had passed away some years earlier, which had been devastating to me, as well as to my daughter, who was quite young at the time; and as I dealt with having lost my wife, I had to think of my daughter's immediate needs as well.
These were dark and trying times. But, eventually, as is true of so much in life, I eventually grew accustomed (if that's the right word for it) to being a widow. In the years to come I was busy with the raising of my daughter, and the demands that this naturally put upon me, and I tried really hard to be the best father I could be for her. I'd like to think I didn't do too bad at it.
But even in the midst of all that, I was lonely. I didn't date very much. Partly out of a lingering loyalty to my deceased wife, and also partly because I didn't want my daughter to resent another woman coming into our lives, which I was afraid would happen, and so I put my own need for physical intimacy on the back burner, and threw myself into the role of a single parent.
This is the way my first encounter with Megan eventually occurred.
She was visiting her grandmother, who I lived right next door to, and had done so for some time. Her grandmother was nice to me, though a little bit distant and aloof. She didn't come across as an overt racist; I'll put it that way. However, Megan was very different. She was extremely friendly towards me every time we happened to see one another outside, and eventually, we began chatting back and forth over the fence that separated her grandmothers house from mine. Megan wasn't what I would call 'flirtatious,' or at least not in an overly obvious way; but I sensed a certain 'playfulness', a certain openness towards me that, as time passed, I began to realize was of a sexual nature; or that was what I found myself hoping it was!
At first I wouldn't allow myself to believe that this young, and extremely beautiful young white woman (she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on), could possibly be interested me, sexually; and even though it was 2020, the concern over race lingered in the back of my mind.
So, weeks went by. Nothing different from my normal, daily life, occurred; except that I found myself thinking of Megan more and more; and I began hoping to run into her again when I was outside. I began to feel like a younger man again; like the way I'd felt when I'd been married to my wife; and I hadn't felt like that (or allowed myself to acknowledge such feelings) for a long time; and I enjoyed it.
Then one day, Megan and I got to talking to each other from across the fence, and she came on to me, in an obviously sexually inviting way. She even reach over and touched me on the arm; and she smiled so very invitingly, that I felt my cock reacting right there on the spot! I admit that I wanted to fuck her so bad at that moment, and it felt good to feel that way. But I still told myself that such a thing was out of the question; that it was impossible. After all, Megan was considerably younger than I! She was perhaps 23, and I was in my early forties, but as I stood there, our ages didn't really seem to matter. There was something else there at work between us; something deep; something that disregarded our individual chronological ages; something---primal, and basic; something deeply, and undeniably, human---which had nothing to do with race.
Though neither of us used the word 'sex', or 'fucking', the fact that we were both thinking them was clearly evident. Yet I didn't do anything about it. I hesitated. Later on I regretted not acting more openly towards her.
Eventually, however, Megan and I did manage to get together. Even now it seems a bit like a dream, but it was not a dream, and when she came over to my house around midnight one evening (she said her grandmother was sleeping), the thrill I felt in her presence is almost without words.
She was even more beautiful up close in the privacy of my bedroom, and as we undressed (hurriedly, urgently, as it had been when I was much younger!), the absolute perfection of her warm, pale, silky-smooth skin sent such a wave of lust through me; a lust that had laid dormant in me for decades. There was also the fact that I'd never 'been with', in a sexual way, a white female before, and so the novelty of that added to the over all exhilaration I was feeling!
Without even asking, Megan knelt of the carpet in front of me and sucked and licked my cock as if she was starving for it. Not even my wife, who I had loved, had done that; or at least not as Megan was doing. She said she loved my cock, too. "It's SO BIG!" She said, studying it between sucking it. "And it's SO BLACK! I LOVE that!" Then she'd resume sucking on it. Though I know it probably sounds foolish of me, but I think I started to fall in love with Megan. I hadn't felt that way towards another woman since my wife had died!
When she stopped sucking my cock, which had become so engorged and erect, I had her stand up and then I pushed her back onto my bed, and as I did so, she spread her legs far apart, revealing for the first time, her beautiful pussy. She had a small patch of pubic hair, neatly trimmed into a slender strip, and I eagerly, hurriedly, entered her moist and inviting pussy with virtually no resistance; and as I slid inside of her, her warm moistness excited me, and I began fucking her, and I confess I did so rather roughly; but she seemed to like that, and that, in turn, drove me to fuck her with even more vigor!
That was the first time in such a long time, that I'd been like that with any woman, and I was almost thinking I was dreaming; except I'd look down and see Megan's beautiful face looking up into mine; and I knew there was no dream here. This was real!
We fucked for a surprisingly long time that night. I came quickly the first time, and as my sperm exploded out of me and into Megan's pussy, I felt a little light-headed, but equally happy and exhilarated. After that, and before we fucked some more, I explored every inch of her gorgeous body; with my hands, my fingers, my lips, my tongue. I had no idea if I'd ever get another chance to enjoy her like this, so I tried to experience everything about her I could, while I could!
We did fuck again after that. Twice more, to be precise, and I was amazed at how easily I rallied after each orgasm. With Megan, I felt much younger than I really was. She made me feel at least 20 years younger. She made me feel special, and her obvious enthusiasm towards me being black was an added component of that evenings experiences. I knew she was married, but neither of us brought that up. I'd met her husband (a much older white guy) several times across the fence, and I'd been surprised Megan would have married such an older man, and yet, I'd also sensed a kind of implicit, unspoken agreement between them; and agreement that had (perhaps) a certain openness to her having relationships with other men outside of their marriage. Megan later confirmed this fact as she got dressed to leave.
"You don't need to be worried about my husband," she told me. "We got married with the understanding that I could have sex with other men, when I wanted to."
I'd heard of men like that. Cuckolds they were called. I was intrigued. I didn't want to spoil our time together by talking much about her husband, but I was curious nevertheless.
"Does he know your over here now?"
"Yes," she replied. "But don't worry." She smiled and kissed me. Then she added, still smiling: "My husband is a very understanding, and loving man. He's very open-minded. It's how our relationship works. It's what holds it together."
As she left the house (she left through the back door through which she'd first entered), she turned and kissed me once again. "I like you," she said. "I hope we can fuck again sometime, too."
Hearing that sent a thrill running through me, and I replied: "I'd be very happy to do so as well."
I stood at the door and watched her go through the fence gate, and then back inside her house, and as I did, my cock throbbed with the memory of our recent fucking.
I went back inside, and instead of showering, I left Megan's juices on me; on my mouth; my hands; my cock especially; and when I climbed into bed, I didn't fall asleep right away. In the dark I could smell her sexual aroma all over me; and I didn't want that to go away; or at least, not for a while.
When I woke up the next morning, her aroma was still on me, and except for my hands, I didn't wash it off of my cock, and I wore it all that next day like a badge of honor; as a happy reminder of my very good fortune. Whether she and I would fuck again was not certain; though I hoped we would. After decades of slumbering numbness, Megan had lit the fire of sexual hunger, and I liked the way that made everything feel. I wanted to keep that fire burning, and never let it go out again. But, time would tell. For the time being, I'd savor that experience to it's fullest extent.
The End
Vera
- 06.04.2022
- 18
- 0
