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It was last summer and mum and dad had decided to go on a fortnight’s camping holiday around the Lake District. They were discussing me at the dinner table a week before setting off. It was bloody typical. As usual they talked about me as if I wasn’t there.
“Will Ken be OK?” asked my father – I’m 18, for crying out loud.
“Yes, he’ll be fine. He knows how to get his own breakfast and lunch and there’s TV dinners in the evening, or takeaways,” said mum – I hate fucking takeaways!
“And anyway,” mum added, “I’ve asked that lovely Mrs Rosario from next door to keep an eye on him.”
Dad grunted. “Well make sure it’s only an eye – she’s a professional body builder and you know what they’re like, worse than blooming rabbits,” he said.
For dad the word “blooming” is as far up the scale of near swear words as he’ll ever go. It’s almost as bad as “fucking” in his vocabulary.
“Now, Jim,” said mum, “Mrs Rosario is a perfectly lovely lady. Just because she’s, well, a little dark because of her Latin background is no reason to criticize her. I think she’s lovely.”
A week later they were gone and I could get on with enjoying myself. The day was going to be stinking hot – summer was superb this year – and I was going to sunbathe out in the back garden.
Although I’m only 18, mum says I’m “a hunk”. She says I’ve got Victor Mature black hair – whoever Victor fucking Mature is – and his sensual lips. I’m just over six feet tall. Don’t ask me how fucking tall Victor Mature is! And I’m sorry about the “f” word, but every second word in the cricket team I play for is “fuck” this, or “fuck” that.
Since I play football all winter and cricket all summer, I’m in good shape. I’m a fast bowler, and unlike those show ponies who ponce around as specialist batsmen, you have to be fit to bowl. Try bowling 10 or 12 overs in one spell and having to bend your back in the hot sun, you’ll find out what I mean. Just ask Freddie Flintoff!
Anyway, I pulled on my favourite scants – a very tight-fitting thong I’d purchased by mail order and kept out of sight of mum or dad. They’d be appalled if they saw me in it! It’s made of shiny red satin and it cups my ball bag and cock (eight inches, uncut, honest!) beautifully tightly.
I’d just got my towel, my sun tan lotion and one of my favourite cricket books, all about great fast bowlers by John Arlott, together under my arm when the fucking phone rang!
“Ello Ken,” said Mrs Rosario’s slightly accented voice. “I see your parents have just left. Care to pop over for a cup of tea and a chat?”
“Er, well, I was going out to sunbathe,” I told her.
“Come on over, we’ll have a chat, then you can sunbathe by my pool,” said Mrs Rosario. That sounded terrific. She’s got a great little swimming pool, secluded from our place and her other neighbours.
“I’m on my way,” I said, and pulled on a T-shirt and shorts before making my way next door.
To be honest I wasn’t too unhappy about her call. Mrs Rosario is a shortish woman, about 5 foot 6, with a terrific head of dark brown hair, all sort of frizzed up. Although she’s ancient – she must be about 30 – she’s got a terrific figure. I know because I’ve seen her in tiny little shorts and a sweater. Her breasts are big for a body builder, her calves are nicely muscled and dark brown and she’s got a lovely smile, even though, as I say, she’s ancient. Fuck, she’s probably only 10 years younger than mum!
I went round to her back door and she opened it and let me step inside. She was wearing a shiny satin little housecoat and her hair looked at if she’d just been the hairdressers, all fluffed up and shiny. Her face was shiny, too.
“Oh Ken, I was just finishing my work out,” she said. “Put that towel and stuff on the kitchen table and watch me finish. You might learn a thing or two.” Prophetic words, indeed, as it turned out!
We went down into her basement gym, which has a long bay window looking straight out onto her pool. When we got there, Mrs Rosario peeled off her housecoat and stepped onto her striding machine. It was the first time I’d seen her less than clothed in a T-shirt and shorts – and it took my fucking breath away!
Mrs Rosario was wearing a little brown bikini, made of some stretchy sort of satiny material. It was the same colour as her superbly tanned and toned skin, so much so that it was difficult to tell where escort izmir the bikini ended and where her skin started.
Her breasts were quite full, only about 34-inchers, I reckoned, but with full globes. You could see the lovely bulges at the side of the cups. Her bikini bottom covered her pubes OK, but it was cut scandalously briefly at the back, showing off these succulent brown buns. I felt my cock starting an upwards progression in my thong!
Mrs Rosario was soon pumping the arms of her strider back and forth, her calves and thighs gleaming and shiny as she exercised. She was really moving – it was a great sight. I’m afraid I just stood there and gulped as she worked away. Now I may have been a virgin but I knew hot tottie when I saw it and Mrs Rosario was hot!
Then she looked at me and saw my gaping expression. A big grin formed on her lovely face, her brown eyes sparkling as she regarded me with amusement.
“Oh, I’m sorry Ken,” she said, “this must be so boring for you. There’s some magazines over there, have a look through them. The one on the top is one of my favourites.”
I walked over to a work-out bench where a pile of glossy magazines was piled up. The top one was called “Buffed Babes” and carried a “Warning, adults only” sticker.
It was an American publication and on the cover was a picture of a Mrs Rosario look alike wearing an even briefer bikini than the brown garment she was exercising in.
“I look a little younger there, don’t I?” I heard her ask, hardly breathing heavily at all, despite her strenuous work-out.
I picked up the magazine and looked at her stunning picture first, then the date on the cover: April, 1998.
“I was 26 when that picture was taken,” said Mrs Rosario, “but I think I’ve kept myself in pretty good nick.”
I did a quick calculation. She must now be 32 – see, I told you she was ancient!
“I think you look even better, Mrs Rosario,” I complimented her. Whatever – 26 or 32 – she looked good enough to fuck forever!
I flicked the magazine open and came across a photo spread of a body builder and saw immediately why it came with an adults only warning.
Then I was aware of Mrs Rosario standing behind me, her breasts pressing against my back.
“Oooh, that’s a naughty picture, isn’t it Kenny?” she said, placing her hands on my shoulders and peering over one at the pages I had selected.
It showed a brunette, possibly in her mid-20s, lying on her side on a thick carpet. With her right hand she was holding her right ankle and her leg was shooting straight up in the air. Her other leg was splayed out almost at right angles to her waist. She was nicely built. She was also nude.
“That’s a lovely shaped calf, isn’t it Kenny?” I heard Mrs Rosario whisper as we both gazed at the picture. “Wouldn’t you like to kiss it?”
I looked at the dark-tanned calf and the way it was rippling in the flashlight. “Yes, I would, Mrs Rosario,” I heard a voice whisper, hoarsely. I was vaguely aware that it was mine.
“And when you finished kissing her calf, you could go up to her thigh – that’s nice too, isn’t it, Kenny?” she cooed in my ear.
“Yes,” I heard the almost disembodied voice reply.
“And when you reached her thigh you’d probably be able to make out a lovely aroma, wouldn’t you, Kenny?” said the body builder.
“Yeees,” I heard my weirdly distant voice say as I gazed at the dark brown thatch of pubic hair nestling at the woman’s pussy, her labia lips pinkish and protruding from between them.
“You’d probably like to lick her where that marvellous perfume was coming from, wouldn’t you, Kenny?” I heard Mrs Rosario say, then felt her hand slipping my shorts away from my midriff and down to my ankles. Almost as in a trance I kicked them away.
Then her hand was tracing tantalisingly across the front of my thong, her fingers running up either side of my satin-covered shaft.
“I’ll bet she tastes so good, Kenny, don’t you?” came Mrs Rosario’s slightly panting query.
But before I could comment, Mrs Rosario was kneeling in front of me and pulling my thong down, just to the tops of my hips. My cock sprang away from my ball sac, pointing towards her.
Mrs Rosario looked up at me with a serene smile on her face, then I felt the ineffably delicious delight of a woman’s mouth on my still-virgin cock, sucking strongly on my helmet. I placed my hands escort izmir on her head and pressed her against me, not wanting this magnificent moment to stop, ever.
But stop it did, far too soon for my liking. Mrs Rosario stood, removed the magazine from my hands, which were now trembling so much I could hardly keep hold of it, then she kissed me lingeringly on the mouth. She tasted of fresh mint.
“This is no place for us to be, eh Kenny?” she said, when she finally broke off from the kiss. “I know a far better place, come on, let’s go.”
And with that she peeled the thong all the way down my legs until I could kick it away, then took me by the hand and proceeded to walk me out of her gym, upstairs, through the kitchen, up more stairs and then into her large bedroom.
The bed was king-sized, or whatever the fuck they call those big jobs, and had no blankets, only black rubber sheets and two big pillows, with garishly contrasting red rubber pillowcases. As if in a dream I pulled the T-shirt from my upper body and climbed onto the bed.
Mrs Rosario followed but not before peeling off her bikini top to reveal firm titties, the erect brown nipples surrounded by even darker brown areolae. Then she stepped out of her bikini bottom, this time revealing a shaved pussy, with only a sliver of dark pubic hair at her mons. Her pussy lips were lush and almost red.
As she lay beside me I immediately I tried to insinuate my cock between her thighs, but she put a warning finger to my lips and shushed me: “No, no, Kenny, you will come too quick. First you must pleasure me – with your tongue.”
And with that she pushed me until my head was down and level with her pussy. The aromatic perfume invaded my nostrils, sending shivers of delight through me. I had never smelled a woman’s pussy before and I was like a drunk in a distillery – I wanted it, urgently!
I pressed my mouth against her moistness, licking her cunt lips, then her labia, then at the little bud I later learned was her clitoris. Then she proceeded with my tutelage.
“First kiss my chutney chute, darling,” she ordered, pushing my lips down to her anus. I’d never heard it called that – the only term I’d known was arsehole, but if it was her “chutney chute” then fine by me. It was tangy and tasty, so I tried to push my tongue into it.
“No darling,” she said, “you can put it in my cunt, not in my chutney chute, there’s a good boy!”
My oral adoration there lasted for no more than a minute or two before Mrs Rosario spoke next: “Now it’s time for my cunt, darling.” My tongue flickered at its damp opening, then I tried to push it up her, but I only got it a little way before she said: “Now my clit, lover!”
I traced my tongue over her labia, tasting the succulent sweetness of her sex juice, but then she pulled me higher until I found the rosebud nubbin that was her clit. As I started kiss and lick it, she began to pant, then moan, then suddenly her pussy got warmer and she grabbed my hair and forced me down onto her.
“Put the flat of your tongue against it, now, that’s it, Kenny, that’s it, just tongue it, don’t stop – don’t stop!”
And then, with a little series of shrieks she exploded on my face and a massive shudder went through her magnificent body. I didn’t know what to do next, so I continued kissing her there, until her sobbing and quivering slowed and she placed a hand back on my head.
“And now you may fuck me, Kenny,” she whispered and I raised my body and placed my cock against her cunt lips. For years I had fantasized about what I was going to do, but suddenly realised I wasn’t sure what to do. Mrs Rosario smiled at me, then I felt her hand guide my cock into her dripping little cunt. As I penetrated her divine snatch, I felt the constriction of her vaginal walls grab on my foreskin and pull it back down past the ring, a sort of temporary circumcision, as it were. Quite what I had expected my foreskin to do, I don’t really know, but I just loved the tight feeling in my cock as the foreskin was peeled back.
Then I started to hump her, delighting in an almost electric body beneath me. Her muscles felt strong and smooth, her cunt was grabbing my cock with a tight grip, her hands were roaming over my back and buttocks, her nails scratching little trails across my naked flesh. I was in heaven!
Soon, as she had predicted, I came – and it was too soon. I wanted to slide my cock up and down her cunt forever, but my youthful lust took over and soon I was pumping my spunk deep within her. Then I fell down onto her mouth and kissed her hungrily.
“First time, my darling?” she asked, curling her fingers through my hair, as I recovered.
“Yes, Mrs Rosario,” I panted, kissing her firmly on the mouth.
“It won’t be the last, eh?” she grinned.
The rest of the morning I lay nude on a poolside recliner as Mrs Rosario – who now insisted I call her Rosalie – smeared sun tan lotion all over my body, then plied me with sandwiches and drinks. She also sun bathed – although she had no need to, her tan was superb – wearing only her bikini bottom.
At lunch I surprised her by downing two bottles of beer, thanks to my introduction to the amber fluid by the blokes at the cricket club. Then we returned upstairs for another torrid session on the rubber sheets, which made sensual slurping, slippery sounds as we grappled on the bed. Mrs Rosario – sorry, Rosalie – showed me how to fuck doggy style, one of her favourite positions, demonstrated the delights of soixante-neuf for my eager mouth and cock, and let me fuck her as I sat in an easy chair and she straddled my penis.
By the time evening and dinner time neared I was becoming far more proficient at holding back my climaxes and tending to her orgasmic needs before my own.
That night she spent in my bed, teaching me more and more about the intricacies of love making. Just before dawn, she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and slipped home so as not to be spotted by prying neighbours.
The second day I also spent fucking Rosalie until I felt my cock would drop off. It was a week of sexual pleasure which I shall never forget. But towards the end, I had to take it easy. We were playing a big match at the week-end and I needed some energy for that.
We played a strong team from the other side of the county. They had an opening batsman who played several seasons for Surrey and two middle order batsmen who’d been in the Minor Counties teams for several years.
Whether it was the week’s shagging which had put me in a relaxed state of mind or not, I don’t know but I bowled like a combination of Glenn McGrath and Freddie Flintoff. I was aggressive like Freddie and cunning like that Aussie bastard.
The ex-Surrey opener lasted an over and two balls before I totally deceived him with an off cutter that he nicked to the ‘keeper.
As he walked past me on his way out, the gnarled old veteran snarled at me: “Fucking lucky!”
“What – that you lasted so fucking long?” I snapped at him. Fuck him, I didn’t care if he was Don Bradman, I’d got him fair and square.
Later I got the two Minor Counties’ blokes – one with a ripper of a yorker which sent the middle stump cartwheeling, the other with a change of pace which he completely missed and was plumb leg before.
I ended up with six wickets for a paltry 32, my best performance yet.
As I put my feet up in the pavilion, a tall chap in a smart suit approached me and handed me a card. The name on it was of a Middlesex all-rounder who played more games for England than I’d had hot dinners.
“Call me next week,” he said, “I want to arrange a net for you at Lords, get some of the county batsmen to see what they think of you. I reckon you could be something if you’re prepared to put some effort in, young man.”
I called Rosalie on my mobile on the way home and told her the good news. When I let myself into her back door there was no sign of her.
I dashed upstairs and found her, propped up on the rubber pillows, stark naked, her thighs splayed wide, her pussy looking moist and inviting. I was out of my clothes in a flash and leaping with a raging hard-on onto the bed.
She gave me a long, lingering kiss on the mouth, tasting once more of fresh mint. I told her again of my six-wicket haul and how I had a chance to impress the men of Middlesex.
Rosalie smiled and stroked my erection. “Well, my darling Kenny, you’re going to have to be fit for that, aren’t you?” I nodded, afraid she might refuse me my richly-earned reward.
“In which case I think it would be a good idea if you did some push ups, don’t you?”
I nodded again. Rolling onto her lithe, muscular but oh-so-fucking sexy body I pressed my cock into her and pushed it up her cunt, feeling the now familiar drag as my foreskin was pulled back down my shaft.
God, I love playing push ups with her. It’s got the other kind totally fucked, I can tell you.
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