Blame It on Monica
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Well, I couldn’t blame it on anyone else!
I mean, there I was, off on a course for a few days, staying in a sleepy little archetypal English village. Next door was a pub, next to that was the church, dating from the 1100s, next to that another pub. One called the Swan, the other the George and Dragon. The Bed & Breakfast overlooked the village green - more typically English would be quite impossible to imagine. Except that the housekeeper in my old English Guest-house was actually Hungarian. About 36 - 26 - 36 Hungarian to be more precise, with an accent that was so strong it dripped stereotype continental sexy.
We had spoken several times on the phone, so her, ‘so we meet at last,’ wasn’t as contrived as it sounded when she greeted me at the door. I asked about her accent - ‘Hungarian,’ was the reply - so of course I had opened my big mouth and told her that my forebears had also been from that part of the world. From that point, we had gotten along famously.
She signed me in then led the way to my room. I followed her up the stairs - closely - and had to resist the temptation to caress the rather lovely backside in front of me. As she walked along the landing, in front of me, she had stopped suddenly and without warning and I had bumped into her as she showed me the bathroom - I got a grin rather than a complaint - then on down
the short corridor into my room.
She sat on the four-poster bed briefly, then perhaps realizing what she had done, blushed a little before getting up and pointing out the ‘features’. I followed her downstairs again where she waited at the door while I got my couple of bags in from the car. She insisted on carrying one of them back upstairs for me - determined it seemed to make a fuss of me, as she told me I was the only guest and therefore it would appear the only other person in the house that night.
She seemed almost reluctant to leave me, though really at the time I was more than a little tired and didn’t pick up on it. It was only later when I thought about things that I realized. I mean, white-haired men of over seventy do not attract twenty-five-year-old women - except it seemed I did.
About an hour later she had brought me an unexpected ‘bedtime drink’ and again, even though I was working on my laptop, she had lingered to chat. Again, that wonderfully sexy accent. It raised, amongst other things, the hair on the back of my neck.
Not a great deal later as I’d had a long day I turned in, perhaps a little earlier than normal. Maybe she heard me turning off the light, maybe not. Half asleep, I was vaguely aware of the door opening and then closing. I felt the bed move as someone got in beside me.
Monica said, ‘Sven - I’m lonely - hold me.’ Always a gentleman I decided I had better do so…
Now, I sleep naked, and so it seemed did Monica. I discovered that even at sixty the application of one hundred and twenty pounds weight of naked Hungarian female to my one hundred and ninety-pound weight of naked male still has a very rapid effect on certain parts of my anatomy. I became instantly, achingly, as hard as nails. Monica found it with a hand about one second later.
“Oooh! Is that for me?”
Well, as there was just the two of us in the house I sure as hell hoped so because I would hate to have wasted it. She threw the bedclothes back - it was summer and not at all cold - looked down at him standing quite nicely, even though I say it myself, illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the window.
Hungarian, she was. Inhibited or shy, she certainly wasn’t as she turned around, wrapped both hands around me, and then followed with her lips. It needed a lot of willpower not to spoil the whole effect right at that point, but contain me I managed, but only just, as illuminated in the moonlight was the most perfect heart-shaped rear - not too far away from my head, fingers and mouth.
As she attacked me, I ran my fingers gently around the top of her legs, then round a swollen mound. God, if anything she was more turned on than I was. The moan that she made while still trying to deep-throat me made me shudder. I eased my thumb between her juicy, slippery lips whilst pulling her back towards my head with my other hand. She moved her knee over the top of me so she now knelt with my head near that wonderfully open and now quite drippy and aromatic vulva.
Pulling her down to me, I eased my tongue along her lips and was rewarded with a wonderful shudder. My doing it again coincided with her sword-swallowing me - all of me - in itself one hell of a feat - I’m not small. Even though my mouth was somewhat full I moaned to her that I was coming… just as she did as well.
I think - no, I know - it was just as well we were on our own in the house because our combined yells of ecstasy might well have
caused offence to other guests.
Monica was a screamer!
Boy, did she enjoy that orgasm! Mind you that’s not to say I didn’t. She also was one of those delectable creatures that produce copious amounts of fluid when they come and she tasted beautiful.
As things slowly returned to a lessor plane she turned around and smothered me in kisses, “Oh Sven, that was s-o-o good, I want
the next one inside me….”
“Monica,” I said. “Hang on just a moment. I’m seventy, not a teenager. I sometimes take days to recover!”
“No! I don’t care - I will work on him now.” And she slid down me and started to lick and clean and kiss me, ‘back to life,’ as she put it. Magician or witch? I don’t care because she did ‘magic’ me back to life and it seemed a very short space of time elapsed before Monica was sliding herself down on me and I was wearing her like a wonderfully tight, velvet glove.
That most exquisite of feelings, but the feeling of Monica slipping down me will last for longer than most. I think she was coming on me all the time now, making little throaty noises with her eyes clenched shut and also pulsing around me at the same time. I moved slowly, holding her hips and helping her slide gently up and down.
She leaned forward, hands on my shoulders, then lower onto the bed to make it easier for me to suckle on the hard nipples crowning her taut, straining, petite, beautifully formed breasts. She shuddered around me in another massive orgasm and I rolled her over onto her back, picking her legs up and putting them on my shoulders as I deeply penetrated her and then rode her home to my own second, intense orgasm in a ridiculously short space of time.
I fell to one side, just as well, and then Monica turned over and lay on me - putting me back inside her. She was exhausted and seemingly satisfied, with a happy smile on her face as she kissed me, before snoring gently on my shoulder. Still half-hard and inside her, as I also fell asleep I could still feel little aftershocks of her coming.
I think I’m in love again!
My last thought as I drifted off was, ‘If I’m late into work in the morning - I’ll just have to blame it on Monica…’
© Sven the Elder - July 21
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As soon as I got to the office the next morning I went to Fiona's cubicle. She hadn't arrived yet. I left a yellow post-it sticker right in the middle of her monitor, asking her to come and see me. Fiona arrived a little later, carrying a plastic coffee cup in one hand and my sticker in the other. "Morning, Liz. What's the problem?" "No problem, not really. I just wanted to talk to you about a personal matter." "Shoot." Fiona sat down on my visitors' chair, taking a sip of her...
"Good evening, Mister Parker. My name is Liz. I'm a friend of Fiona's. Is she in?" A man - Fiona's uncle, I assumed - had answered the door. He didn't seem very pleased about my unexpected arrival. "Fiona! There's somebody here to see you." He called into the house. I could hear Fiona shout, "Just a moment. I'll be down in a second," from somewhere inside. "Just a moment. She'll be down in a second," Mister Parker echoed. As he stood there, without having anything else to...
So, here I am, back in my room, a nervous bundle of indecision, waiting for the phone to ring. I spent the whole day without wearing any knickers, but that made only a very small contribution to my confused state of mind. I didn't get a wink of sleep all night and now I'm dead tired. Too many things happened to let me find the restoring sleep I need to function properly. In a few minutes Roger will call me and he'll want to know in great detail what happened last night. Of course he'll...
The life of an urban gentleman, work routine, entertainment and festivals, sports, picnics, socialization, games, entertainment and drinking parties, finding aids (messengers, friends, helpers) to improve success in kama, options for rural gentlemen, what one must never do in their pursuit of kama --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HAVING thus acquired learning, a man, with the wealth...
I love wearing latex, black, red, clear etc, doesn't matter what colour. My best mate Jason and myself had been looking on the internet for some really good quality, thin but strong waist to toe latex pants with a cock and ball sheath built in. Not had much luck, mist were VERY expensive, until Jase found a site that were experimenting with new latex body spray,,, guaranteed strong, tearproof, rip proof, stain proof, with a full lifetime guarantee. The ad stated that as the latex was applied by...