When I was 18 a vision of beauty entered my life. Her name was Liz and she was the thirty six years old friend and client of my decorator mother. She was a professional woman with short black hair, thin body and perky little tits. To me, she defined sex appeal.
I did some work for her in the summer, gardening and some painting. While she was at work I could poke around her house where I discovered a copy of the Joy of Sex and a subscription to Playgirl magazine. She was the first woman I knew who I was sure led a very active sex and fantasy life.
Needless to say she was a popular source of my own fantasies that at the time included, all three of Charlie's Angels and a dozen girls from my sophomore class. Angels have long since left my masturbatory repertoire and I have very vague memories of my classmates, but Liz remained a constant. Given that I have known Liz for almost thirty years and stroke my cock at least once a day, I have probably cum thousands of times thinking of sweet Liz and her tiny tits.
Years ago I helped her move on a very hot summer day. She was wearing a tank top and, as usual, no bra. She was sporting the hardest, darkest and biggest nipples I have ever seen, which was the topic of quiet conversation between my buddy and the other moving men. My fantasies for her grew even stronger.
A few years later, I caught a downblouse view that confirmed my great taste in tits. Even later I confessed my love for her tits and she allowed me to pinch her nipples until they got hard. There was a warm and skilled French kiss too. I was rock hard and when she called to say she was home safely, I stroked my hard dick listening to her lilting southern drawl. Sweet.
All these experiences have stretched out over the decades and I feared she would be eighty by the time we finally got crazy with each other.
Last fall that all changed. I was staying with her on a visit to my old home town. Over dinner I finally confessed that I still thought of her when I touched myself. I begged her to watch. 'Just watch,' I said.
She said she had enough of this talk and didn't think I had the guts to follow-thru. Rising to the challenge in more ways than one, I said she didn't have to do anything but unbutton her blouse and I would give her a full show with a happy ending.
We moved from her dining table to her living room where a fire still burned in the fireplace and a cold rain spattered the windows. I took off my shirt and she unbuttoned two of the five buttons to her blouse. I dropped my pants and my hard dick was clearly throbbing in my boxers - a quarter sized cum stain had oozed through.
Liz undid the last two buttons and as I pulled the waist-band past my tight balls she opened her shirt to show me, finally, those gorgeous hard nipples. They were every thing I ever dreamed of. I began to stroke using the cum dripping from the tip of my penis. Liz got closer as I stood before and rubbed the tip with her finger, tasted it and then pinched her nipples.
I stopped stroking for fear that a decade's long fantasy would end as fast as it had started. She was confused and thought maybe I was disappointed, so she wanted to make me hornier. She lifted her skirt and was wearing a French cut thong. I was happy to see little pubic hairs sticking out the side and even happier to see what appeared to be a very damp crotch.
She began to rub herself and told how much she had always wanted to fuck me but was afraid it would ruin her friendship with my mom. She asked me to show her how the fantasy usually ended.
She sat on the edge of the couch and I straddled one leg so I could see her rubbing her wet pussy. My dick was only a few inches from her beautiful green eyes. As I got near I asked her to lay back and just as she did I squirted a load of cum that had been decades in the works. The first shot hit her chin, just below her bottom lip but the others landed on her boobs.
The memory of her hard nipples glistening with my jizz makes me horny all the time. My new fantasy is she will read this and invite me back for more.