Gender: Male Age: 57 Location: Mid Atlantic region of the U.S.
|Introduction: I am an older Sugardaddy and have a couple young ladies I "sponsor." Of all of them, Valerie, is my favorite!|
There's something about those special times when my young, (less-than-half-my-age) Sugarbaby, Valerie, shows up at my place and looks at me with those soft, begging-for-attention brown eyes, and says, "I'm all dirty and I need a shower so I can be clean for you."
She may have just been busy with her twins, or her drunken, lay-around husband for a few days and hadn't taken the time to bathe herself, or she may have just been letting herself go so she'd smell and taste spicier for me. Her man may have been ignoring her except for when his mood turned and he'd slapped her around, or pushed her into their rundown bedroom to bend her over their bed and roughly fuck her up her tight little ass. After, he nearly always collapses and falls asleep, leaving her sobbing and in pain, his spooge dripping from her torn little bum. I hate him for that.......
But she won't leave him.
I'll get that call, the one I wait for. She'll be talking quietly, her voice a little cracked. She needs to see me. And I always tell her it's ok and to come over. How could I not?
I park my car in the yard so she can pull into my garage so her car's out of sight. I live in rural southern Ohio and have no neighbors within view, but we take no chances. Soon, there's quick honk in the driveway and I raise the garage door and close it as soon as her little red stationwagon is inside. She gets out and it takes a few minutes for her to acclimate to here and to me, then she hugs me tightly and whispers that she's missed me. She smells of him. His sweat and his cigarettes, that stench that seems so foreign to her small frame. I hug her back. Long and tight. I wish she'd stay, someday, for good, but there's her 3 y/o twins at home, and David the sodomizing drunk.
I hate him all the more.
Of all the girls I've dated in this little river town, Valerie haunts me the most at night as I lay awake in my empty bed.
"I want to get "him" off me," she always says. "Give me a shower like you do. Wash me all over, then dry me and put baby powder on me, ok?" she asks. I always say yes. What man wouldn't give in to those sad eyes?
Her clothes are faded and stained. I can see that much as we enter the bathroom and I turn on the heatlamps that illuminate and warm the room with bright light. Oh, I've bought her nice things; cute low-hanging jeans, colorful undies and tops. I've paid to have her teeth cleaned, filled and brightened, supplied makeup and hair color and small bits of the cheap jewelry she fancies. But, somehow, sometime, between that first day when we come back from the store and she models them for me, and the intervening times that she returns with them on, he's gotten to them, using them for clean-up rags, or lost an earring or kinked a necklace. He's never sober long enough to recognize that someone ELSE had bought them for his neglected spouse. He's just too lazy when he's puttering around his parents' house where they stay, to look for papertowels to wipe up this or that.
I turn on the water in the shower and she stands still, waiting for me to strip off her clothes. I do. His smell on her clothes fills the steamy bathroom as I uncover her body; first her tee shirt, then her jeans. She stands there, shivering, she's always shivering, no matter how warm the bathroom is. Finally she turns for me to unhook her bra. Her pert, 23 year-old breasts tighten. Her nipples harden. I look at her eyes and see that she's enjoying my attention. She cups a breast in each hand and smiles at me, then uncovers them and slides her fingers down over her smooth tummy and thin hips. She's waiting for me to slip her thong down off her and, as I do, I hear her breathe a slow, shallow breath of air that brushes my face. Valerie loves for me to look at her, naked.
I kneel in front of her, feasting my eyes up and down her little body, drinking in that lovely vision that she is. I lean forward and plant a kiss on her tiny patch of pubic hair. It smells so warm. She giggles. With that, she pushes me back and slips into the shower.
She likes the water really hot and it seems to cook his stench right out of her skin. "Oh, I stink," she laughs.
"No, you don't," I insist. "You never smell fishy! You've got the cleanest metabolism I've ever been around, Girl," I say. "I can tell when he's been fucking you too hard back there, but not because you smell. It's because you walk with a little limp. Why don't you make him use lube when he's slamming your butt? If he really cared for you, he'd be more considerate."
"I don't want to talk about him right now. You just worry about me," she says.
"Okay," I reply.
She hands me the bottle of liquid soap and turns to face the wall, her slender legs spread, her butt thrust out toward me, her hands raised as she leans on the wall so I can wash her "all over," as she insists. I slather the fragrant lather all over both hands and, standing outside the shower, start with her neck and the sides of her face, washing everything, then down her shapely back. When I finish her from the waist up, she juts her bum out a little more and somehow makes her cheeks open slightly, then reminds me that it's been days since her last bath and to make sure I wash her THOROUGHLY, "all under."
I oblidge her, wondering how this must look, an old man hand washing this beautiful young woman.
Then I kneel down and reach up between her legs, remembering, outloud, as I wash, that no one ever really knows a woman until he's tasted that essence hidden deep between her legs. She breathes a little louder as I linger there, working the lather up into her labia and around the folds and creases of her taint. She raises up a little and pushes her butt out even more. I know she's enjoying the sensations I'm giving her.
"Make sure my bum is really clean, she whispers, and I need you to put some ointment on me there, after. I'm really sore from him."
I spread her cheeks open with my left hand, smear the soap around and ever-so-slightly up into her anus, then scrub her there as gently as I can, for what seems like several minutes. She tenses up a couple times, then seems to relax and I know she's had enough. Val loves it when I put my fingers in her ass.
I finish washing her legs and slender feet, then order her to rinse. She does as she's told, then turns to face me. I wash her tummy and her tight little breasts. Then I make her raise her arms while I wash her arm pits. There's a couple days worth of stubble and she tells me to hand her one of the razors we keep here for her. She soaps up and starts shaving under her arms. In a minute they're smooth and she wants me to test them. I do and then she tells me to start washing her pussy again. I can tell she wants another shower orgasm so I tell her that she'll have to place her feet apart so I can get her done properly. She obeys and I add more soap to my right hand and start to lather her crotch. She raises up again and leans back against the wall, closing her eyes. I work the foamy wash deep into the folds of her labia again and circle the opening and her clitoris, over and over. I hear her start to breath heavier and her left leg shutters a little. I wash harder and suddenly her right knee buckles. She catches herself, opens her eyes and smiles at me.
"Now, I'm clean," she exclaims."I'll rinse then you dry me, ok?"
Valerie loves to be dried off after a shower, just like an obedient little girl. I accomodate her, then wrap her in my big, plush, terrycloth bathrobe and lead her to my bedroom and my bed. I spread another towel across the quilt and she drops the robe and lays, face down.
"Powder me," she asks."And don't forget the ointment on my bum."
I cover her with baby powder, then uncap the ointment tube and have her spread her legs so I can sit between them. I tell her to lift up her bum. I slide a knee up under her pelvis and she settles down on it while I open her cheeks. Just as I'd feared, I found that David had torn her rectum with his vicious, drunken thrusting. I used a babywipe soaked with baby oil to sooth the area, wiping it as gently as I could. I told her that she looked really sore.
"It's not so bad," she'd said, often. "I'm used to it by now. I just hate it when he rolls over and passes out after. I feel like a piece of meat."
Did I say that I really hate him for hurting her..........?
I smeared some of the diaper ointment on my index finger, held her bum cheeks spread open and gently began to apply the soothing paste to her torn spincter. She winced and I apologized, then began again, even gentler this time.
"Make sure you cover it all, then put some more ointment up inside me. You can use two fingers at the same time, like you asked me to last time only I didn't want to, if you like," she said.
"You just want me to get you off again, Bad Little Girl," I laughed.
"No. You just know how to really take care of me there so it feels really soothing and good," she insisted.
I squeezed the tube until my two fingers were covered with the stuff, then returned my hand to its work, smearing the paste around and just inside her rectum, using just one finger at first. I felt her tense up then relax, then she folded the pillow over and buried her face in it, but not before reminding me again that 2 fingers might make "it" feel better.
"But you do what you want to me," she said.
If I may digress a bit about our relationship, you have to remember that Val and I don’t fuck. She feels it would be cheating on her b/f. My other Sugarbabies and I do EVERYTHING, but not her and I, yet we do everything but fuck, which may be why our “thing” trips my trigger so much. Joeie and Toni Lee, Jamie, and the two or three others I see from time to time all know that to keep their “Daddy” happy, they must give it up to or risk losing my sponsorship. It gets real intense and is very sexual and sensual between them and me.
But that’s not what Val and I do. Instead, we keep a kind of low key seduction going on, always dependant on HER mood, with the only penetration happening by way of my fingers, a vibrator, or on certain blessed days, my tongue. It’s odd but I seem to reward her more than the girls I fuck. Maybe that goes to the old saying that the best sex takes place between the ears, and not the legs. Valerie is definitely the best cerebral sex I’ve ever had, mostly cause one never knows where it’s going to end up.
And then there’s dress-up days; lots of pole and lap dancing, plenty of hot, sexy pictures, and her solo videos. She loves to parade around naked in front of me, and if you saw some of the smoking hot masturbation scenes she’s done for me as I video taped her, you’d swear she was a seasoned porn star. With Val laying across my bed, gasping and moaning as she pummels her snatch with her twisting, rabbit vibrator, the device buried deep into the folds of her slobbering labia, set to a backdrop of the sounds of a sloppy, soaking pussy swallowing every inch of it. And then there’s her intriguing inclinations surrounding her butt. Valerie’s very anal and has strong, enthusiastic orgasms in her ass. Since “dick-boy,” my nickname for her boyfriend, is grossed out by butt-play other than his drunken journeys into sodomizing her by force, that leaves it to me to satisfy her there. I do so happily. You’d think with all this that we were lovers, but sadly, for me, we’re not, at least in the usual sense.
Which brings me back to my story………….
There she lay in front of me, flat on her tummy, with her cute, round little bum lifted up by my knee under her pelvis, her cheeks spread slightly open revealing her tiny hole. I swear she smells like vanilla and flowers. Even there. And I can’t see a stray hair anywhere near it, save for the soft and fine, dark-blonde, peach-fuzz that seems to cover her all over. My babygirl sure shaves everything clean and smooth. I wish you could see just how hot she fuckin’ is.
While I have fantasies of tying her down and taking her asshole roughly with my fingers, and yes, we’ve discussed that, I have to go about this as gently as I can. It goes to her trust issues. With the thumb and first two fingers of my left hand, I spread her open even more. She moans a little. Quietly.
Smearing the ointment around as I encircle her spincter, she lifts up a bit, like she’s begging for the penetration to begin. I slip the tip of my index finger in and she gasps. Pushing further, I work it in up to the second knuckle.
“Use two this time,” she insists.
Sliding my middle finger in just a bit, I spread the two digits while bending them at the knuckles, which gently opens her up. She moans again and reaches down under herself and begins to rub her pussy. I listen for that sound I long to hear, the one that tells me she’s getting into the moment and getting wet at the same time. There’s the slightest whisper of a “slurp.” She’s there.
I keep my fingers in her ass but let go of her cheeks and slip my own left hand down her ass to her secret place. Her cunt is wet, and getting wetter. It takes no effort to push three fingers into her drooling box and I start churning them around in the slick warmth. She breathes out loudly and sucks in more air.
“Is it good, Babygirl,” I whisper.
“Yeah. It’s good!”
“Say it again,” I insist.
“It’s good. Really, really good!” she moans.
“Good Girl,” I reply.
With her cunt all slippery and drooling onto my left hand, I renew my gentle assault on her bum with my right. Pushing my two fingers deeper into her body, I spread my fingers further apart, stretching her rectum open even more. It hurts, if her wince means anything, but it must be a good kind of pain, if her deeper moans are telling me anything more.
“Aw-w-w,” she purrs. “Do it deeper. Hurt me if you want to, just don’t stop.”
“You want me to hurt you, Val, ‘cause I will. I’d love to make your little bum so sore you’d have to think about me and what I did to you, tonight while you’re laying next to David.”
“I don’t care what you do. Do what you want to me. Just don’t stop till I say, okay?”
“Okay, Babygirl!” I drive the fingers of both hands in harder and deeper.
She yells, lifts her ass up toward me even more, then reaches back and spreads each cheek even further apart, like she’s needing me to drill her even more roughly.
My head is spinning. She’s moaning even louder, squeezing the fabric of my jeans, twisting it into balls in her hands, sweat oozing from her pores, the scent of it filling my mind with thoughts that are becoming more depraved the hotter she gets. I want to know her every way that I can. I want to taste every square inch of her sweet little frame. I need to know what she feels like deeper inside, how her sweat and piss and ass taste and feel and smell. I want to hear her scream with lustful agony as I force orgasm after pulsing orgasm into, across and though her body. I’m drunk with desire for her.
“Bring your ass up to my face, Babe,” I order her.
She does that and I bury my face deep between her cheeks. My lips taste her. I feel my fingers pumping her ass as they brush against my nose. She’s still moaning, only louder. Her spunk oozes down my chin, its sweetness like a nectar from Nature’s own table. I stay at it, feasting like the glutton for Valerie that I am. Somewhere, like a voice far off, I hear her say that she’s afraid she might pass out.
I stop what I’m doing.
“We can quit,” I say.
“Okay. For a little break, okay?” she says.
“I gotta go pee. Come wipe me when I’m done, okay?” she asks, sounding for all the world like a little girl.
“Sure will, Sweetness,” I say, and get up to survey my face in the mirror, as I wonder if today signals a new era in our sexual relationship. Or if it’s just one more adventure that, despite its intensity, won’t change things all that much in the long run. As it turned out, the latter was the case.
“I think you started my period,” I hear her say, her voice set to a backdrop of the muted sound of her tinkling in the toilet. I look at my face. She’s right. It’s covered from my forehead to my chin with a scary looking smear of tan ointment, her own fragrant spunk, and her own bright red blood. I taste the fingers on my left hand, which are also covered. She’s delicious.
Earning my red wings, a local-ism for going down on your girl when she’s having her period, doesn’t bother me, as long as she’s clean about herself. And Val is. I walk to the bathroom where she’s waiting obediently for me on the toilet. She laughs at my smeary face as I tear of a hank of tissue and kneel in front of her open legs and wipe the piss from her dripping pussy lips.
“Wanna a re-match?” she giggled.
“Yep, I do, Kid,” I reply.
“We’ll have to see. Either way, today’s really gonna cost ya.
“Who didn’t know that?” I answer. And lick my lips again.
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