Seasoned Sharon Was A Schemer By R. Valentine

Everything about her was lived into in an efficiently sexy way, that is, everything sexy about her looked efficient and well practiced after decades of perfecting her favorite version of it. She liked the color green and she liked young unassuming boy cock and tonight the hue of her nighty wasn’t the only element working in her favor.

Sharon reached five French tipped fingers down deep into her bra, and from the forest green D cup dug out one dense and malleable breast. She pillowed its cleavage over the gasket of her pretty pushup, and allowed the remaining portion of its weight to settle back languidly into its lacy pine colored sheath. She wrestled the next breast into heaving obedience and then gave them both a hasty open handed jiggle while eyeing her lived in figure in the vintage full length mirror she uses to fuck and dress.

No self-respecting woman would buy such a pretty bustier without bringing home its matching panty, but tonight the forest green gstring would stay clean and cohort less beside the rest of her delicates, having to take a back seat (or shall we say, drawer) to the seamless second skin of her girl-scout short LBD.

Sharon was (by scheme) a complete retard when it came to anything an unsullied young man might capable of assisting her with. She was self-immobilizing when it came to hanging Christmas lights, operating power tools, and assembling furniture. She needed advise regarding her pool, construction on the guesthouse, her cable satellite (which she never uses, and had installed simply to facilitate the requirement for such help). Tonight she was taking issue with the solar lawn lamps freshly purchased from Landscaper Louego this morning, along with his weeks pay worth of untested (and uncontested) overjoyed boy cum. Louego had a little prick but it delivered unabashed amounts of jiz, and Sharon just simply never tired of watching his tiny nozzle spray like a fireman’s hose.

A whole day’s worth of trite obligation had conspired since Sharon had let the Mexican lawnmower boy paint her nearly six decades of willful woman flesh with his epic spray. She had barely unboxed the lawn lamps and she certainly hadn’t given them time to solarize. She hoped this would stump the hairless neighbor boy sufficiently. She hoped he’d feel so heroic and debonair following his success at a solution (put them in the sun) that he’d be willing to accept a favor or two in return…

When the eternally shirtless neighbor boy arrived at Sharon’s door to inspect her lawn picks, she was so damn horny she hardly enjoyed the usual routine of false naivety and pseudo gratitude. The k**, Nick was his name, was even dumber than the last boy who lived next door, and she was beginning to doubt the prospect of rewarding him, as the solar lights were turning out a bigger head scratcher for the teenager than she planned. When he began to look discouraged and starting mumbling about asking his dad she decided to drop the damsel dish and go rogue.

“I bet they were busted when I bought them. Figures. Anyway, would you like a beer? I feel awful keeping you like this, and on a Friday night. Your girlfriend is probably pissed, eh?”
“Yeah my girlfriend’s pissed alright. She’s pissed I let her slutty sister Crystal go down on me after she got all drunk at homecoming last night and then passed out on the floor in her parents bathroom.”

“Well I hope she had the courtesy to at least thank her sister, you know, for picking up the slack at least…”

The boy laughed a little. “Yeah, I’m not sure if even Crystal has the nerve for that one.”

“I see. Your girlfriend must really love giving head. Well if she wants to guarantee her position at number one she’s got to stay present. And at least sober enough to hold a cock in her mouth.”

At the word cock, the boy became suddenly focused, which was a fabulous sign. It was universal, the fight or flight reaction to the word cock being dropped. Teenage boys either recoiled or reveled at it’s initial declaration, and the later type found themselves spellbound at the preposterity of it- at the taboo-ness of such a dirty word forming on the lips of a woman well old enough to know better. Nick was in. He blushed and stuttered but went nowhere.

“She doesn’t really like it that much, actually,” he found something on the ground to look at while he sipped his beer. “Giving me head, I mean.”

“Then why not promote her sister? She likes it, right?”

“Yeah… I don’t think she wants me to fool around with other girls, though, that’s the thing.”

“So your chick doesn’t want you to receive sexual pleasure. From her or anyone, apparently. Wow, that’s bogus.”

“Ms. -uh,”

“-Sharon, please.”

“Uh, Sharon, uh. Do you give head? Like to your husband, I mean, um-“

“Absolutely not. You may find this hard to believe, but I am not married,” She said, winking at the end.

Nick giggled a little and shifted his weight against the kitchen counter, his beer growing visibly slippery in his hand. Time to reel em in.

“It’s tough being single when you enjoy regular dicking. All the young studs
like you have been claimed and drained by greedy joy-killing teenage fem tyrants like your girlfriend, and young boys rarely have the chance to experience how a real grown woman can make them feel.”

Sharon keeps the beers on the bottom rack of the fridge on purpose. She can feel the room air on her exposed cunt as she reaches in for another and knows he saw too. Straightening back out she pops the bottle open and offers it to Nick. Eager to dispel the silence formed by the image of her uncovered pussy, he asks,

“Where’s yours?”

“One’s my limit, sweetie. Unlike your girlfriend, I like to stay on my game.” Sharon was already lowering to a catchers squat and blindly seeking out his zipper, her eyes and their priority maintaining a blinkless bullshitless commitment.

“So here’s the deal,” she said, using her slightly wrinkled hands to produce from between the golden teeth of his fly a perfectly pink and neglected dick.

“No cumming til your beer’s finished. You finish the beer, and I’ll finish the blowjob. You swallow it all before you blow your delicious load and I will too,” she said, which was just training disguised as encouragement, because she wouldn’t dream of letting even a drop of his tasty young fresh cum condition the carpet while she perpetuates this 12 hour dick drought. No, she would eat that cum if she had to suck a pea through a coffee straw to get it. Requiring he finish his beer first simply ensured that she’d be allotted a few minutes time to sit (or squat, as it were) and appreciate the cock, pre-ejaculation.

They didn’t shake on it exactly, but his eager teenage hard on leaked out a few enthusiastic premature drops, thin and perfectly clear, which came to rest in the deep fault of her cleavage, and Sharon took for an “I’m in.”

She wanted to devour it, swallow it in all its throbbing chaste glory and then regurgitate it from the shaft down, over and over again. She wanted to grip it and pump it and growl, but stayed cool and soft and slow, jacking him off with the same rhythm in which she sucked him, her mouth never making a clean departure from his tidy and wholly untainted cock. She would not look away from his face while she sucked, and stared up at her newest, youngest conquest even more intently as she brought up her unemployed hand, and, detaching for the first time since she introduced his cock to her proficient mouth, gave it a long, wet, sloppy lick before spitting into her palm in true whore form.

Nick was only about a third of the way through with his beer, but he appeared to be drawing near the finish on the blowjob. Sharon thought twice about suggesting he pace himself. Often just the near mention of the proceeding orgasm caused boys to loose it all over her expensive lingerie. If she trained this one right she might get so far as to actually take her own clothes off, a feat rarely accomplished during her tirades for teens…

Sharon thought about her pretty green velvet bra with the lace trim holding her wilting and weighty breasts at attention. Nick must have been thinking too, because his hairless fingers reached down and did what they could to clumsily push the straps of the clinging black dress off of her shoulders. Sharon remembered she vetoed the panties, and wanting to be consistent, dropped his dick long enough to pull her dress off over her head and then guide one of his hands to her back where it could practice unsnapping her bra. She let him fumble once, twice, and, just as he exhausted his patience with one hand, she reached behind with one easy swipe and unhooked it herself.

Sharon was naked now, and Nick was two lady fingers away from the bottom of his beer. He ingested the image of her, knees down, dick in mouth, pendulous breasts resting on belly, belly resting on hips, hips resting on thighs. He wanted to pick her breasts up and drop them again. He wanted to shake the sides of her ass with both hands like you would a heavy bottle of orange juice. From above, he could see where gray was winning the fight over youthful brunette, could see the way that age hung sexy and stoic on her ashen skin, the way it had weathered and smartened the features of her face: intensified her eyes, burnt in the edges of her mouth and loosened the skin on her chest and neck. He was frightfully close to the end now, and prayed as he glanced over that his beer was too.

She must of read his mind because just then , whilst still sucking and stroking and squeezing she said,

“You’re ready, aren’t you big boy?”

He was exploding already. Everything was a flood of immutable white.

“I know you wanna see that load shoot all over my tits, but we had a deal. You give me that nice full load in my mouth this time and you can squirt wherever you want next time.”

Sharon attempted a confirming “ok?” but the syllables came out muffled by the onslaught of Nick’s most earth shattering orgasm ever, brought to fruition by this seasoned sex scholar and her consummation of little boy cock. Nick pumped and pumped hoping what his teenage cock produced would be enough to satisfy Sharon’s healthy appetite for new-fangled fuck sauce.

Nick hadn’t even opened his eyes and Sharon had already made a hazy memory of all that cum. Still, she kept sucking the tip and pulling it out to check if there was more, shaking it a little in her last desperate attempt, licking her fingers and feeling sad…