Читать книгу Cougar: An Erotica Collection - Elizabeth Coldwell - Страница 5

My friends swore I’d be bored stiff in the countryside. A year ago Soho was my stomping ground. Bars and clubs my natural habitat. Conference calls my mode of communication. But a girl can get tired of the stress and grime, tube trains and flight paths, impossible deadlines and demanding clients.

One-night stands were my sex life, fuelled by frustration, wine and the potential for danger. But a girl can tire of thumping hangovers and meaningless fucking, especially when she hits forty.

So when my fairy godmother bequeathed me her chocolate-box cottage and thriving bed-and-breakfast business I shocked everyone by upping sticks and moving to Camber Sands. People even laid bets on how soon I’d tire of green fields, oast houses, gossiping neighbours and the slow grey roll of the English Channel.

The arrival of a slick, single city girl in a village full of retirees and young families certainly wasn’t greeted with fanfare. I stuck out like a sore thumb with my red lippy and loud laugh, my vociferous reluctance to bake cakes or join the flower rota. I was viewed with suspicion as I struggled to keep my godmother’s hollyhocks and roses going, the tourists arriving and the husbands at arm’s length.

But when the London gang turned up unannounced on the first anniversary of my move they didn’t find me alone and palely knitting. Oh no. They found themselves gate-crashing a raucous gathering of apple-cheeked locals singing along to X Factor and getting rat-arsed on my vodka cocktails.

‘Us backwater types thought Sara was like the woman from that film, Chocolat, springing from nowhere,’ the vicar, who also teaches street dancing in the school hall, confided once my shell-shocked mates were parked in the inglenook fireplace. ‘She was like a beautiful alien, but now you can’t keep people away.’

‘It’s a mystery,’ my friends muttered later as they piled back into their Lexus because there was no room at the inn. ‘I guess you can take the career girl out of London, but you can’t take London out of the career girl.’

Like the meerkat says – simples. People flock here because I give them what they want. So, not only the extra draw of a studio and painting tuition for budding artists, but also food, and lots of it. People have to eat, don’t they, especially on holiday? As well as all-day breakfast, I do a wicked cream tea. And people have to drink. My garden bar is full every evening, cosy in winter, out on the terrace last summer.

They have to sleep, don’t they? I’ve got rooms. Exposed beams, four-posters, chintz. Everything you’d want from a chic B and B off the beaten track. And since the summer, when it was mostly families, there’s been a rash of youngsters, art students arriving in groups. Boys, mostly, the odd smattering of girls. Word of mouth apparently, and my inviting website. They come here to get away from parents, from college. They come to learn to paint. To get stoned. Oh, and they come here to –

‘By the way,’ my ex-secretary shouted as the car pulled away. ‘Where did you find the young hunk handing round the cocktails?’

– get laid. I was going to say they come here to get laid.

Forget the bastards I left behind in London, the hungry husbands I have to fend off here. What I’ve discovered down here is boys. Old enough to have driving licences, obviously – hell, what do you take me for? – but still cute, fresh-faced, uncomplicated. They don’t want much at that age. Just food, friends, sleep and sex. They’re permanently hard at that age, aren’t they? Permanently ready. And permanently grateful.

So where did I find my young hunk? Sniffing my knickers.

It was a breezy autumnal afternoon and I was prowling about in an old maxi skirt and flowery blouse tied round my middle, watering, cleaning, cooking, rearranging the art work. The students had gone to the sand dunes to paint the sea birds.

Except someone was in my garden, fingering my washing. A tall boy I’d seen earlier. I stepped out on to the wet grass, poking my bare toes through the rustling leaves just as he lifted my knickers to his face and inhaled.

‘Oh, God! Didn’t know anyone was there. Got left behind.’

Such a deep voice. Such a deep blush.

‘I can drive you down to the beach to find the others.’

I swayed towards him, cold air whistling over my skin where my shirt was unbuttoned. I’d got hot while baking scones.

‘Rather stay here. Didn’t feel too good.’ He was breathing hard and staring straight at my breasts, bulging in their dark-pink bra. He yanked his jeans up by the waistband, but not quickly enough to hide the outline of his prick, which was trying to stand straight up in his pants.

I came closer and laid my hand on his forehead.

‘Maybe you should have a lie-down.’

His face was so smooth, golden spikes of stubble pushing through his chin and cheeks. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple jumping. He could easily shove me away but he glanced up, brown eyes smouldering. Quarter boy, three-quarters man.

It had been nearly a year since I’d been fucked. I wanted him, badly. But he was a punter. And I have an open-house policy. Anyone could walk into this garden.

As I was about to turn into the house, he lifted his hand, pushed my blouse to one side, and touched my left breast. It was juddering with my crazy heartbeat. He moved his hand over the lace. I laid my hand over his to show him I liked it. He pressed harder. Then I licked my finger, ran it down the crack of my cleavage, stroked the soft swell, then pushed the bra down to expose my breast and to show him how my finger, wet from my mouth, was teasing my nipple.

He followed the movement, so now his finger was inside my bra, too. He circled that nipple, then hooked his thumb over the bra to push it down. Now they were both out, proud, tingling in the cold air. Nipples stiff as nuts to show him my excitement.

I came to my senses and walked into the house, pulling my blouse closed.

‘I think maybe I do need that lie-down,’ he croaked behind me.

Desire stirred in my belly. Think quickly, but carefully.

‘More peaceful up in my room,’ I murmured, rearranging some lilies in a vase. ‘I mean, in case the others come crashing back and disturb you.’

I started to walk up the crooked little staircase that leads only to my own private quarters.

‘All women should be motherly, and sexy, like you.’

I started to blush like a schoolgirl and laughed, much too loudly. I nonchalantly opened the door to my private quarters.

‘I could put you across my knee for saying things like that, boyo.’

‘I’d much rather take you across mine.’

Wow. These boy-men have a way of pulling the rug out from under you. One minute helpless babies, the next coming on like a practised lothario. The way he said it, his voice so low and rough and rude, was all the more thrilling for being so unexpected.

I responded in the best way I know, which was to beckon him into my bedroom under the eaves.

My B and B is immaculate, but from the mess you’d think a slut lived in the attic. And you’d be right.

By now I was creaming for him. My breasts were aching to be sucked, nipples hardening just thinking about it. I didn’t know if he was following me, but still I checked my reflection. I looked like a gypsy. My hair had fallen in messy ringlets round my flushed face.

I wriggled out of my skirt, let it drop to the floor, and there he was, behind me in the mirror. My hunk walking right into my bedroom and flinging himself down on the sofa.

‘You said I could lie down?’

I nodded, swaying towards him. A button popped comically off my blouse as if unable to contain itself, or my cleavage. He was right there, his hands on my buttocks, pulling me against him. His nose pushed into the soft give of my pussy lips, barely concealed under my silky knickers, and I parted my legs a little. He closed his eyes and sniffed at my pussy, then ripped the tiny knickers off with his teeth. Three-quarters man, one quarter boy. Then I felt the tip of his wet tongue. Like he was striking a match on my clit.

I froze, but he mistook my silence and hesitated. I gently touched the top of his head, and that was it. He grabbed me round the waist and tumbled me on top of him. I landed, skin on skin, my blouse dropping off my shoulders like falling petals, and now I could feel all the warmth of his gorgeous young body spread out under me but mostly the battering of his heart and the urgent hardening of his cock inside his jeans.

I tried to land on my hands and catch my own weight, rather than knock my elbows into his face and ruin the moment, but it was my breasts that fell forwards, bouncing against his face. I languished for a moment, then raised myself up to look at him.

He was mine. All mine. My prize on a cold, lazy day. A feast of young manhood laid out on my sofa, comfortable as you like, not going anywhere, any doubts knocked out of the ring by the force of his lust. I was rubbing myself against him without knowing it, hungry to get him inside me. Everything about him was irresistible, his eyes, his full lips, the little bubbles of saliva at the corners like a kid impatient to tell you something, the pulse pummelling in his tanned neck.

And that big young cock barging up in his shorts. Any minute now, at a time I was going to choose, I was going to have a damn good look at it. I was going to touch it, hold it. I wouldn’t be able to help myself sliding on to it –

It makes me horny even now, can you tell? Remembering the sight of him, the smell, the heat burning off him that first time. I wasn’t his first, but I was going to make sure he’d never forget me.

‘Oh, my God, those tits, good enough to eat. Oh, God, I want to fuck you.’

I cupped my breasts, massaged them together, licking my lips like a porn star. ‘You seen breasts like mine before? Full, generous, begging to be touched?’

He shook his head, watching me fondle myself.

‘Different, aren’t they?’ I whispered. I was chancing it, but I knew he was hooked. His little girlie friends would have cute white baps. Not even a handful each.

‘Dark, aren’t they?’ I said softly, leaning nearer, dangling them over him, juicy like fruit. My nipples had turned the colour of raspberries. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. They were inches from his mouth and lips and tongue and teeth. I wanted him to suck me. The tension was so electric you could hear it.

I arched my back to thrust my breasts towards him. His Adam’s apple jumped again. His hands came up from my hips, where they’d tried to steady me in falling, and slid up my ribcage until they reached the outward curve of my breasts. I breathed in tiny gasps as his hands slid closer. The room was so quiet. His body was straining up under me. My nipples were stiff and burning, each one now the size of the tip of his little finger.

‘Let me,’ he groaned. I rubbed one across his mouth. I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach. His face flooded with red heat. Did he flush like that with his little floozies? Did he get rushes of excitement when they gave him a flash? Or a full-on erection like the one banging out of his jeans right now?

I let my nipples hover just above his mouth, torturing us both. I ran my hand over the front of his jeans, felt the rigid outline. I reached inside to cup his warm balls.

Outside it was getting dark. The kettle needed boiling. The guests would be back soon from the beach.

I picked up one of his hands, placed it on one swollen breast. My nipple spiked up, poking against his palm. I went limp as his fingers closed round. I spread my knees to lower myself, my pussy opening, my breasts jumping into his face with each heartbeat.

I had a boy here with the body of a god, just waiting for me to show him. So much for being bored in the countryside.

My stomach tightened as he played with both breasts, moulded them, squeezed until I could bear it no longer. I lay on him, smothering him, so that he had no choice but to nuzzle in between, press each breast against each of his hot cheeks. I took one breast, so heavy with wanting, and rubbed the taut nipple against his mouth again and again. Just the sight of me holding it, offering it to him, made me want to come. I jammed myself against his legs, but my pussy was twitching with frustration.

His tongue flicked out and I angled the tit right into his mouth. His lips nibbled up, tongue lapping round, then, aah, at last, he drew the burning bud in, pulling hard, and began to suck. Sparks pricked at me. I looked down at his tousled hair, at the salt water dried in granules and flecked white across his cheekbones, and I closed my eyes as the sensation nearly finished me off.

He brought the other breast up and turned his head this way and that, lapping and sucking, snuffling through his nose to breathe, groaning, biting and kneading harder and harder as if he owned my breasts now. It wasn’t enough for one breast to be suckled, they both had to be. That’s what really does it for me. Suck one, pinch the other until they’re both singing with pain. So the harder I pushed into his face, the quicker he learned, the harder he bit and chewed and pinched, and the sharper my pleasure.

‘Fuck me,’ a woman howled, and it was me.

‘Show me,’ he grunted back.

I wanted him to go on and on sucking and biting my tits, but I wanted his stiff cock in my cunt, too, wanted to feel it ramming up me. But somehow I still kept it slow. I wanted him to remember every single move.

I planted my knees on either side of his thighs so I was straddling him, still crushing his head between my tits, still making him suck. I wanted him to suck and suck forever, except that soon I would come against his leg like some randy bitch and what sort of education would that be?

As my nipples burned and throbbed, I rolled his jeans and boxers down. He raised his hips so obligingly to let me undress him I wanted to weep with victory. And then I wanted to shriek with it when his cock came thumping out from the rough tangle of tawny curls, pulsating like the rest of him, its surface smooth like velvet.

God, anyone would think I’d never seen one before. It thumped all heavy and warm into my hand and its owner bit me, hard, so that I screamed out loud.

‘You’re a quick learner,’ I breathed, pulling away, letting his head follow me, still nibbling and biting. ‘So here’s a little reward.’

He fell back, mouth wet with licking, and I slithered down till I reached his dick, standing there like a beacon. The tip was already beading. If I wasn’t careful, he’d come like a bloody train, before I wanted him to. But I wanted to show him. So I took that boy’s cock right into my mouth until the knob knocked the back of my throat.

His buttocks clenched as I sucked on him, holding his balls and biting my way down his shaft and sucking the sweet length of it. He started bucking. I wanted him to think he’d died and gone to heaven. Any minute now I was going to heaven, too. As I sucked, I rubbed my aching tits and wet pussy up and down his legs, like a randy mare scratching against a fence. He pulled at my hair. I was in danger of wasting this golden moment by coming all over his shins. My pussy was convulsing frantically now, leaving a slick of juice on his legs.

I gave his dick one last, long suck, pulling it and nipping it, then I let it slide out past my teeth. Next time I’d swallow. I clambered back on top of him, my toy, my boy, as he started to rise up on his elbows, seeking my tits again. I tilted myself over him.

‘See how beautiful it is,’ I crooned at him, showing him his cock in my fingers, wet with my licking. ‘See how well it’s going to fit.’

I aimed the tip of his cock towards my bush, let it rest there, nudge into my wet lips, and I shuddered as each inch went in. The tension was ecstasy, but I was going wild here, especially when he grabbed my breasts and started sucking on them again. I couldn’t hold on to it for much longer, and I let the boy’s knob slide up inside, all the way to the hilt. It was tempting to ram it, but once it was right in I forced myself away again.

‘Let me fuck you!’

We’d lost the power of language. ‘Fuck’ was the only word we knew.

I moaned in reply, tossed my head back, and down I went onto him again and this time he was with me, pulling at my hips so that he was in as I ground down.

He filled me. God, there were years of wild lovemaking ahead for him and any woman lucky enough to get near him. I pressed myself over him, let him bite and fondle, saw the blood rushing in his face as we started to jerk and rock together. I was really riding him, really wanted to hurt us both, wanted him to suck me while we did it, suck me so hard it would make me scream with pain, knowing my willing pupil would do whatever the hell I told him.

I was jacking up the rhythm, rocketing up and down his cock. I needed to ease the urge to come, but of course that only made it worse and more intense and I was getting tighter and tighter, holding him like a vice, and his cock was getting even harder with each frantic thrust, ramming right up inside.

‘Tell me I’m the best you ever had,’ he suddenly shouted, grabbing my hips and lifting me off him. ‘Want to hear you say it.’

‘Shut up and fuck me, big boy.’

His nails dug into me. ‘Tell me, you bitch, tell me I’m the best.’

I stared at him. His cock was enormous now, so swollen, standing away from his flat stomach and aiming like a battering ram at my wet, waiting cunt.

‘You’re the best, baby,’ I said. And I meant it. I’d never had someone so young, so gorgeous, so well hung, so strong, so eager, so fresh, so obedient, all in one package.

Then his cock slipped up inside again. I was trapping him inside me and going at him so that we were welded together, releasing him so that he could draw back, trapping again as he tensed his buttocks and thrust inside, throwing his head back, pulling my tits with his teeth, thrusting faster now and faster, hearing my own crackling gasps of pleasure as I came and he saw me coming and he laughed with disbelief as he tensed and hardened to bursting point and shot it up me.

I slumped forwards onto his chest and listened to the drumming of his heart. I thought my head was empty, but I heard myself say, ‘I wish that was your first time. I wish I’d been the one to break you.’

His laugh rumbled under my ear. ‘Make me, you mean.’

I went to sit on the chair opposite, my legs sluttishly apart. I started to do up the buttons of my blouse, just a couple of them.

‘Wait till the boys hear about this.’

He sat up, pulled on his shorts, cracked his knuckles. The boys. He was just a boy, here for the summer. For God’s sake, what was I thinking?

‘You’re going to brag? Boast to them how you had the old dear from the B and B? Do you think they’ll look at me different?’

He shrugged as only youngsters can. He went over to the mirror and raked his hair with his fingers.

‘The old dear can take it!’ he said. ‘Respect! Think how the takings will go up when they hear how horny she is!’

‘Do you think they’ll want a piece of me, then?’ I picked up my knickers, flicked them over his shoulder, round in front of his nose. I saw his long eyelashes curve down as he breathed in. ‘Oh, I do hope so!’

He turned his head and looked at me. ‘I was only joking, Sara – don’t be pissed off.’

I kissed him, licking inside his mouth and very gently putting my hand on his dick. Not quite subsided. They can do it over and over, these randy lads.

‘Do I look pissed off? Quite the reverse, honey.’

I tossed the knickers over a chair and pulled a silky dress over my head.

‘I’d better go, then –’

‘When they come back, honey, tell them they can come up here after hours.’

He stopped at the door. Oh, this was almost the best bit, because I knew it would happen. I knew there was going to be so much more of this. Such a baby, he couldn’t tell if I was serious or not.

‘If they want to have a laugh, I’ll show them how. You know I can do that, don’t you?’

I licked my finger, just as I did outside, held my dress open and rubbed my nipple. He bit his lips.

‘I bet I can say it better than you can. Wouldn’t they like to hear how you touched me, touched me right there in the garden, how you followed me up here, how you sucked my tits just like I wanted it?’

‘Sounds pretty horny, doesn’t it?’ He swallowed hard.

I nodded, working my fingers, pinching my nipples as desire tore at me again. ‘But how about, instead of telling them, you and I just show them? They can come up here, they’re always welcome.’

‘All of them?’

I started to stroke both breasts now, spreading my legs over the arm of the sofa. ‘Sure. How I was on top, they can all come and watch how we did it, and then they can all take turns. I could have two latched on at a time, one on each tit –’

My pussy clenched furiously at that thought. It’s doing it now as I’m telling you.

‘– like puppies they can suck, and then you can fuck me, or they can do it, your mates, one by one, all together, from behind, underneath. Baby, I don’t give a shit how they do it, so long as they can go on all night.’

He didn’t need telling twice. He was right there, this time throwing me down on the sofa, scrabbling to get his cock out, pinning my arms over my head, biting at my breasts. He was the big man now.