Blue Balls 4 Poor Theo
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Blue Balls 3: The Triumphant Conclusion free porn video
I felt like an alpha male for the first time in my life, and I chortled to myself over ‘Coup de gras’ - my witty play on words about the event... my triumph over Angelo and the splendid impaling of Suzanne. The “Coup de gras” was for Angelo, and a “Coup de ass” was for Suzanne - my sexy neighbor.
Suzanne kept to herself for the whole of the next month. No more Lamborghini visits, no more chances for me to spy on her sunbathing sessions at her pool, no more phone calls from her to ‘come over for a moment.’ In fact, I never even spotted Suzanne once in the whole of that time.
So it came as a welcome surprise when one Saturday afternoon my phone rang. It was Suzanne.
“Back bedroom.”
That was all she said, and she hung up. I knew what she meant. I didn’t need any further encouragement to grab my binoculars and head upstairs. I set up the room the way I had before, with the window open a slit and the drapes on the other windows closed.
I was ready even before she got to her pool. I watched as she turned a plastic lounge chair towards the afternoon sun and spread out a large, fluffy white towel over the length of it. Before I could focus on the name of the hotel she’d stolen it from, she lay on it, tilting the chair back until it was almost flat.
She stayed there for a full ten minutes, clad only in her usual microscopic yellow bikini, eyes closed, calmly breathing, her stomach rising and falling steadily.
I stared at her through my binoculars for the same ten minutes, but my breathing was far from steady. My eyes were wide open and my mind was racing, trying to predict what she was going to do. I knew that she was too much of an exhibitionist to just lie there and tan. Some sort of performance was bound to come.
And sure enough, she soon leaned over to one side, removed a small bottle from her beach bag, and began to cover her pale skin with suntan lotion. Her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her arms, her shoulders. She took her time and I waited patiently, knowing that eventually she’d have to come to some of the more erotic parts of her body.
She did. She lifted her bikini’s thin little shoulder strap and rubbed her hand over the top of her left tit. Then, deliberately taking her time, knowing I was watching every move, she slowly pulled the strap sideways a bit, and her rigid little nipple popped into view. She glanced up and smiled towards my window as she poured more oil into her hand and spread it across the lower half of her tit and her broad areola. She gave her nipple a quick pinch before she covered it up with the tiny triangle of cloth, and moved to the other side.
Same again with her right tit, but this time I had to take some time out to adjust my own garments - underwear that is - which was fast becoming too inhibiting. To get comfortable I had to take my pants off and then wrestle with my cock, which was tangled with my briefs. When I looked back, Suzanne had just gotten to the part where she slid the tiny triangle off her nipple, roughly this time, and her whole tit jiggled delightfully.
More lotion, the bikini went back into place, and she set about covering her legs with the slick substance. I did my best to restrain myself from stroking my engorged cock because I was pretty sure there would be more to the show in a few moments. Of course, I was right. But it was hard to resist because the way she stroked her legs translated in my mind to it being me who was caressing her legs.
Finally she covered her stomach in oil, but before she lifted her miniature panties to do the same thing to her mound, she looked up at my window and - in mime - asked me if she should. I crawled to my window, lifted my head high enough so she could see me, and nodded a strong affirmative.
She grinned back, and indicated with her hands that she wanted me to stand in front of the window. Her fingers asked the question, how stiff was my cock? She showed me three positions: hanging limply downwards, straight out horizontally, or headed skyward. I was way past my teenage years when the last position was normal, but I was proud enough of the second position, so I stood and turned sideways so she could see it more clearly.
Very pleased with my reaction to her performance, she carried on and soon her shaved pussy came into view. It was hard to keep my binoculars steady as she inserted one finger and then two, and I began to hear gentle moans drifting in through the slit in the window.
I quickly looked around for a box of tissues because I knew I’d have to join in the fun soon, and when I looked back I saw that she had taken her shiny fingers out and was beckoning me with them.
“Who? Me? You want me to join in?” I asked myself.
My cock made the easy decision for me and the two of us raced out of the bedroom without getting dressed, ran out the side door, leapt over the picket fence and sped over to Suzanne’s pool. My cock got there first!
“Mr. B., would you mind putting some oil on my back?”
I was hoping for more than that, but I’d never turn down an opportunity to caress an almost naked young woman. Suzanne stood up, ignored the fact that I was naked below the belt, turned around, and saucily passed me the bottle of oil through her legs. A strong odor of coconut mixed with the scent of aroused pussy floated up to my flaring nostrils as I began, as calmly as I could, to smear the oil on her shoulders and down the small of her back.
She leaned forwards and wiggled her ass back at me, pushing my cock vertical.
“Mr. B.,” she went on, “would you be so kind as to do me a favor? Please?”
I was amazed at how politely spoken my neighbor could be, my slutty neighbor with the foul mouth.
“Ah, sure,” I gulped, “anything you like!”
“I really need to have a fuck stick in my coozie while you oil me up!”
“I understand, my lady! One throbbing trouser snake coming up to titillate your tickly twat!”
We both giggled as I pushed her flimsy thong aside and plunged my joystick into her slippery snatch.
Immediately, my Darwinian instincts took over and the joy of fucking enveloped my entire body. Forget the survival of the species! I just wanted to fuck this eager female. It was a bit tricky grasping her slippery hips to pull her back onto my tumescent throbber, but she helped, being as enthusiastic as I was. We were both nearing our climaxes when my eye caught some movement by the side of her house. I looked over and froze. It was Angelo!
My cock shrank in short order, and it slipped out of Suzanne’s pussy. She looked up and saw him too. He was striding confidently across the lawn towards us.
“What happened to your Lamborghini,” she demanded. “I didn’t hear you coming!”
“I’ve got a Chevrolet Spark EV. It’s electric. Almost silent!”
“But what about your Lamborghini? You loved that car!”
She kindly didn’t call the car what we usually called it - the penis on wheels!
“Don’t need it any more,” he replied smugly.
“What do you mean, you don’t need it any more?”
“Didn’t you wonder what I was doing this past month?”
“No, not really,” she answered unfeelingly. “I thought you were just wanking off at home.”
Angelo ignored her rude comment. “I was taking a course.”
“So you’re a doctor or something now?” she asked sarcastically.
“No,” he went on, “I’ve been using the Long Dong Penis Pump.” He began to sing; it was a jingle I’d heard before on the radio. “Thirty days from Omega to Alpha,” he sang. And then came the punch line, “You won’t be short for long!”
I couldn’t resist entering the conversation.
“You’re kidding,” I exclaimed. “You believe those gadgets do anything?”
“You better believe it,” he replied, and undoing his belt, he dropped his pants to the ground.
Suzanne gasped. Her boyfriend with the tiny penis now had something like a fire hose hanging down his leg.
“Jesus!” she exclaimed, “Come over here; I want to take a suck on that monster.”
“I don’t think so, Suzanne.”
Angelo’s voice was beginning to sound more like Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea.
He turned to me and boomed out, “Mr B. Out of the way! That end’s mine!”
I was too stunned to react. But I could tell I was no longer the alpha male. I moved away, unable to take my eyes off his huge dong which was now rapidly stiffening. A couple of quick strokes and he was able to slip it easily into Suzanne’s hole. She shrieked as he sank his entire length into her.
I stood watching, and the horrible blue balls syndrome began to hit me. Luckily, Suzanne came to my rescue.
“Mr. B. Come over here, I need to suck on your ding-a-ling.”
I started to move towards her head, but hearing a weird grunt from Angelo I stopped and looked around. His face had turned a sickly gray; he pulled out and sank to his knees on the grass.
“Not enough blood,” he murmured as he collapsed onto the lawn in a dead faint.
“Your turn again, Mr. B.,” sang out Suzanne, caring not a whit for her boyfriend’s condition, and I wasted no time in plunging back into her and regaining the rhythm that had brought us so close to cumming a few moments before. As we fucked, I watched Angelo’s dangler shrink back to its regular pint size as he slowly came to with his limited blood supply returning to his head. He woke just in time to hear Suzanne scream as I sprayed my juices all over her back and carelessly - not really! - onto Angelo’s naked backside.
“One for the Gipper,” I proclaimed as I headed back home, carefully stepping over the picket fence to avoid snagging my happily satisfied package.
Suzanne kept to herself for the whole of the next month. No more Lamborghini visits, no more chances for me to spy on her sunbathing sessions at her pool, no more phone calls from her to ‘come over for a moment.’ In fact, I never even spotted Suzanne once in the whole of that time.
So it came as a welcome surprise when one Saturday afternoon my phone rang. It was Suzanne.
“Back bedroom.”
That was all she said, and she hung up. I knew what she meant. I didn’t need any further encouragement to grab my binoculars and head upstairs. I set up the room the way I had before, with the window open a slit and the drapes on the other windows closed.
I was ready even before she got to her pool. I watched as she turned a plastic lounge chair towards the afternoon sun and spread out a large, fluffy white towel over the length of it. Before I could focus on the name of the hotel she’d stolen it from, she lay on it, tilting the chair back until it was almost flat.
She stayed there for a full ten minutes, clad only in her usual microscopic yellow bikini, eyes closed, calmly breathing, her stomach rising and falling steadily.
I stared at her through my binoculars for the same ten minutes, but my breathing was far from steady. My eyes were wide open and my mind was racing, trying to predict what she was going to do. I knew that she was too much of an exhibitionist to just lie there and tan. Some sort of performance was bound to come.
And sure enough, she soon leaned over to one side, removed a small bottle from her beach bag, and began to cover her pale skin with suntan lotion. Her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her arms, her shoulders. She took her time and I waited patiently, knowing that eventually she’d have to come to some of the more erotic parts of her body.
She did. She lifted her bikini’s thin little shoulder strap and rubbed her hand over the top of her left tit. Then, deliberately taking her time, knowing I was watching every move, she slowly pulled the strap sideways a bit, and her rigid little nipple popped into view. She glanced up and smiled towards my window as she poured more oil into her hand and spread it across the lower half of her tit and her broad areola. She gave her nipple a quick pinch before she covered it up with the tiny triangle of cloth, and moved to the other side.
Same again with her right tit, but this time I had to take some time out to adjust my own garments - underwear that is - which was fast becoming too inhibiting. To get comfortable I had to take my pants off and then wrestle with my cock, which was tangled with my briefs. When I looked back, Suzanne had just gotten to the part where she slid the tiny triangle off her nipple, roughly this time, and her whole tit jiggled delightfully.
More lotion, the bikini went back into place, and she set about covering her legs with the slick substance. I did my best to restrain myself from stroking my engorged cock because I was pretty sure there would be more to the show in a few moments. Of course, I was right. But it was hard to resist because the way she stroked her legs translated in my mind to it being me who was caressing her legs.
Finally she covered her stomach in oil, but before she lifted her miniature panties to do the same thing to her mound, she looked up at my window and - in mime - asked me if she should. I crawled to my window, lifted my head high enough so she could see me, and nodded a strong affirmative.
She grinned back, and indicated with her hands that she wanted me to stand in front of the window. Her fingers asked the question, how stiff was my cock? She showed me three positions: hanging limply downwards, straight out horizontally, or headed skyward. I was way past my teenage years when the last position was normal, but I was proud enough of the second position, so I stood and turned sideways so she could see it more clearly.
Very pleased with my reaction to her performance, she carried on and soon her shaved pussy came into view. It was hard to keep my binoculars steady as she inserted one finger and then two, and I began to hear gentle moans drifting in through the slit in the window.
I quickly looked around for a box of tissues because I knew I’d have to join in the fun soon, and when I looked back I saw that she had taken her shiny fingers out and was beckoning me with them.
“Who? Me? You want me to join in?” I asked myself.
My cock made the easy decision for me and the two of us raced out of the bedroom without getting dressed, ran out the side door, leapt over the picket fence and sped over to Suzanne’s pool. My cock got there first!
“Mr. B., would you mind putting some oil on my back?”
I was hoping for more than that, but I’d never turn down an opportunity to caress an almost naked young woman. Suzanne stood up, ignored the fact that I was naked below the belt, turned around, and saucily passed me the bottle of oil through her legs. A strong odor of coconut mixed with the scent of aroused pussy floated up to my flaring nostrils as I began, as calmly as I could, to smear the oil on her shoulders and down the small of her back.
She leaned forwards and wiggled her ass back at me, pushing my cock vertical.
“Mr. B.,” she went on, “would you be so kind as to do me a favor? Please?”
I was amazed at how politely spoken my neighbor could be, my slutty neighbor with the foul mouth.
“Ah, sure,” I gulped, “anything you like!”
“I really need to have a fuck stick in my coozie while you oil me up!”
“I understand, my lady! One throbbing trouser snake coming up to titillate your tickly twat!”
We both giggled as I pushed her flimsy thong aside and plunged my joystick into her slippery snatch.
Immediately, my Darwinian instincts took over and the joy of fucking enveloped my entire body. Forget the survival of the species! I just wanted to fuck this eager female. It was a bit tricky grasping her slippery hips to pull her back onto my tumescent throbber, but she helped, being as enthusiastic as I was. We were both nearing our climaxes when my eye caught some movement by the side of her house. I looked over and froze. It was Angelo!
My cock shrank in short order, and it slipped out of Suzanne’s pussy. She looked up and saw him too. He was striding confidently across the lawn towards us.
“What happened to your Lamborghini,” she demanded. “I didn’t hear you coming!”
“I’ve got a Chevrolet Spark EV. It’s electric. Almost silent!”
“But what about your Lamborghini? You loved that car!”
She kindly didn’t call the car what we usually called it - the penis on wheels!
“Don’t need it any more,” he replied smugly.
“What do you mean, you don’t need it any more?”
“Didn’t you wonder what I was doing this past month?”
“No, not really,” she answered unfeelingly. “I thought you were just wanking off at home.”
Angelo ignored her rude comment. “I was taking a course.”
“So you’re a doctor or something now?” she asked sarcastically.
“No,” he went on, “I’ve been using the Long Dong Penis Pump.” He began to sing; it was a jingle I’d heard before on the radio. “Thirty days from Omega to Alpha,” he sang. And then came the punch line, “You won’t be short for long!”
I couldn’t resist entering the conversation.
“You’re kidding,” I exclaimed. “You believe those gadgets do anything?”
“You better believe it,” he replied, and undoing his belt, he dropped his pants to the ground.
Suzanne gasped. Her boyfriend with the tiny penis now had something like a fire hose hanging down his leg.
“Jesus!” she exclaimed, “Come over here; I want to take a suck on that monster.”
“I don’t think so, Suzanne.”
Angelo’s voice was beginning to sound more like Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea.
He turned to me and boomed out, “Mr B. Out of the way! That end’s mine!”
I was too stunned to react. But I could tell I was no longer the alpha male. I moved away, unable to take my eyes off his huge dong which was now rapidly stiffening. A couple of quick strokes and he was able to slip it easily into Suzanne’s hole. She shrieked as he sank his entire length into her.
I stood watching, and the horrible blue balls syndrome began to hit me. Luckily, Suzanne came to my rescue.
“Mr. B. Come over here, I need to suck on your ding-a-ling.”
I started to move towards her head, but hearing a weird grunt from Angelo I stopped and looked around. His face had turned a sickly gray; he pulled out and sank to his knees on the grass.
“Not enough blood,” he murmured as he collapsed onto the lawn in a dead faint.
“Your turn again, Mr. B.,” sang out Suzanne, caring not a whit for her boyfriend’s condition, and I wasted no time in plunging back into her and regaining the rhythm that had brought us so close to cumming a few moments before. As we fucked, I watched Angelo’s dangler shrink back to its regular pint size as he slowly came to with his limited blood supply returning to his head. He woke just in time to hear Suzanne scream as I sprayed my juices all over her back and carelessly - not really! - onto Angelo’s naked backside.
“One for the Gipper,” I proclaimed as I headed back home, carefully stepping over the picket fence to avoid snagging my happily satisfied package.
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