An eighteenth celebration
I was recently reminded of an incident at an eighteenth birthday celebration for the son of a neighbour. When everyone left the party he offered to walk home with me. It seemed rude not to offer anything so I asked if he would like a cup of tea. We sat on the sofa, chatting, when he put his hand in the waistband of my skirt and slipped it down inside my panties. I promptly spread my legs as an invitation for him to finger me.
Maybe he had drunk too much because he was on the point of fingering my bottom by mistake, so I took his hand and placed it firmly back over my pussy. After I had done my bit and helped him out with the geography he did OK. In fact he used all eight fingers, two thumbs and just to finish off he used his tongue as well. I was beginning to relax and enjoy this attention when he admitted that he had just cum in his pants.
To save him from embarrassment at home I told him to just remove his pants and I would rinse them in cold water, and then stick them in the tumbler. It was rather awkward as I had told him to wrap his cock in some tissues in order to stop it dripping, and it certainly killed off any passion. When his pants had dried he put them on and went home. To this day I don’t know how he explained his absence, and we have never had anything to do with each other except to swap pleasantries when we pass in the street.
Looking back on what had happened that night, with him sitting on the sofa with tissues wrapped round his cock, and me listening to sounds of the tumbler, it all sounds like one of those heavily romantic nights. (heavy sarcasm intended).
Maybe he had drunk too much because he was on the point of fingering my bottom by mistake, so I took his hand and placed it firmly back over my pussy. After I had done my bit and helped him out with the geography he did OK. In fact he used all eight fingers, two thumbs and just to finish off he used his tongue as well. I was beginning to relax and enjoy this attention when he admitted that he had just cum in his pants.
To save him from embarrassment at home I told him to just remove his pants and I would rinse them in cold water, and then stick them in the tumbler. It was rather awkward as I had told him to wrap his cock in some tissues in order to stop it dripping, and it certainly killed off any passion. When his pants had dried he put them on and went home. To this day I don’t know how he explained his absence, and we have never had anything to do with each other except to swap pleasantries when we pass in the street.
Looking back on what had happened that night, with him sitting on the sofa with tissues wrapped round his cock, and me listening to sounds of the tumbler, it all sounds like one of those heavily romantic nights. (heavy sarcasm intended).
4 years ago
Every older Man's dream too !