Finally Donna and Dean Cum Together…
In keeping with my ongoing commitment to guarantee the privacy and assure the anonymity of my lady friends, I will call her Donna. Donna is a raven haired beauty—a forty-something MILF—yes, a mother of two. Donna has been divorced for a little over six years.
A little background is in order. When Donna and her ex-husband and my ex-wife and I were together, the four of us socialized quite often. At the time, Donna and Bill lived a few streets over and we would often gather for Sunday afternoon backyard barbecues, holiday parties, and so on—picture a pleasant suburban scene, nice cars in the driveway, neatly trimmed lawns, kids on bicycles, birds chirping and dogs barking, the aroma of glowing briquettes wafting across backyards and you have something of the pastoral setting of our lives at the time.
Still, tensions within both our marriages were beginning to surface. As it happens, Donna caught Bill in an affair, caught him spending a lot of money at titty bars—in general, he went through a mid-life crisis a decade early. They kept the tattered marriage intact for a year or so, but eventually Bill moved out.
In my own life, Terri and I had started to drift apart and, frankly, I had a brief affair that nailed the proverbial coffin lid on our marriage. I moved out.
Terri got the house in our divorce. Donna got the house in their divorce. Donna, however, sold her bungalow and moved to another part of the city, closer to her mother. I did not see Donna for years, until January 3rd of this year.
It was the day after New Year’s Day, of course, and the holiday season was finally winding down. I had been out returning a few Christmas gifts and stopped into a neighborhood bar that I had not visited for quite some time. I spent a while getting caught up with some of the regulars and that is when I noticed Donna at the end of the bar, talking with one of the older bar flies.
Now, let me describe Donna in greater detail. As I’ve already mentioned she is raven haired. She has dark brown eyes and soft, creamy skin—with the exception of during a few weeks in summer when she tans to a light caramel brown.
For a few summers in a row, Terri and I, along with a few other couples, would rent a beach front cabin along the Gulf of Mexico coast and have what we called our Big Chill weekends. Lots of drinking, late night board games, playing the guitar on the deck and so on. For some reason, Donna and Bill would always decline our invitations, except for one summer close to the end of their marriage.
Now, in the interest of fair disclosure, my ex was—is—a very attractive woman. She has a nice set of D-cup sized titties, nice wide hips, and a rolling rump. Even in the darkest days of our marriage, excluding the last six or seven months, we had great sex.
But when I saw Donna in a bathing suit—along with the other guys in our beach party group—I could not help but stare, and stare…and stare.
I always knew Donna was a bit bosomy. But she always dressed rather modestly, favoring blowsy tops and jackets. While she had on a one piece, there was no hiding her huge honeys. Bill promptly got drunk and stayed that way the entire weekend. By Saturday afternoon he had turned boorish and obnoxious. We all had kids in tow that summer and Donna had to spend a lot of time watching her very active son and daughter. But, damn she was a vision.
So, several years later, sitting at the bar of Big T’s, listening to a guy nicknamed Chick (Not his real nickname, but he has one equally silly) drone on and on about his motorcycle, I kept an eye on Donna, remembering that summer and recollecting that wonderful figure.
Donna had gained a little weight, but she wore it well. That afternoon, she sported one of her jackets over a white cotton top, which she kept pulling over her sizeable breasts. She had on a faded pair of hip hugging jeans and pearl white sneakers with pink socks. Her hair was piled up in a loose bush atop her head. In short, she looked incredible; sexy, adorable, and lovely—did I say she looked sexy? She looked sexy.
Eventually, I made my way over to her. We hugged and gave each other a friendly peck on the cheek. She told me her mother had passed away the previous summer. Her kids were away in college. Donna had moved back into our part of town, closer to her work, taking an apartment a few miles away.
After a while, as the bar began to fill up, competition for Donna’s attention increased proportionately. I surrendered and moved back down to my previous place at the bar beside Chick. An hour or so later, she left with a little wave, leaving in her wake the smell of apricot shampoo, a soft, mildly sweet perfume, and the heat of the memory of her huge breasts and shapely ass.
A few days later, I returned to the bar. Skip, the bartender, came over and handed me a napkin with an e-mail address on it. He said Donna had come in the night before. She asked me to give this to you, Skip said with a little mischievous glimmer in his bloodshot eyes.
Over the course of the next week, Donna and I exchanged a number of e-mails, until finally I was able to extract her cell phone number.
As if happens, Donna has developed quite a taste for booze. We met for lunch, which turned into an afternoon of boozy fun. Laughing, flirting, little subtle and some not so subtle touches and brushes against each other. Alas, at the end of the long lunch we went our separate ways.
A few days later, we met for drinks after work. In the parking lot, when I walked her to her car, I got to the proverbial second base—copped a feel of her big titties, grabbed and groped over her ass. We were a little tipsy and I really thought she was going to invite me over to her place, but it didn’t happen. I drove all the way to my townhome with a rock hard cock and jerked off within minutes of my arrival home.
Now, indulge me a brief digression. Since my divorce, I’ve been fairly fortunate in the area of sex, able to fuck on a pretty regular basis. Now, there have been periods of drought, no doubt. But all in all, I have always been able to count on getting my share of pussy and generally have been able to find it with busty women.
Currently, I have a “friend with benefits” in a single mom in her mid-thirties. I admit to helping her out with some of her bills so we have an “arrangement.” But I genuinely like her—I’ll call her Cassie—and I believe she truly likes me. The sex, however, is incredible: torrid, wild, raucous and randy romps punctuated by long moments of tender touching, soft embraces, gentle explorations and slow, methodical fucking—then back to the bawdy banging.
Cassie stands 5’2” and has a set of double to triple D cup sized titties and, in general, a body built for fucking, a body built to give and receive sexual pleasure. The only problem is that our sexual encounters are irregular as her work schedule often takes her out of town and she has to take care of an ailing mother. Plus, her ten year old son, and thirteen year old daughter live with her half the time.
I am also involved in an affair with a married woman—for the purposes of the blog, I’ll call her Helen. As I’ve described her elsewhere—Helen has the voluptuous, pin-up girl figure of a bygone era. Bit ole titties. She sports a true set of flopper whoppers. I call them my Hindenburg Hooters. And, Helen loves to titty fuck. She has a broad bottom, an ass that quivers and quakes with the right kind of attention—she really likes getting it put to her doggy style—with mirrors angled so she can watch the action. Oh how I love to watch her walking around naked between our sexual couplings. She is my age, with a very heavy sexual appetite and our times together are exhilarating and exhausting.
The problem with this relationship is that I am associated with her husband in a couple of business ventures. We are making a lot of money together—and thus Helen and I have to be very, very careful and our encounters tend to also be very irregular.
So, when Donna came onto the scene, I was looking for a steadier and more reliable fuck buddy. Things finally came to a climax—several times in fact—a few weekends ago. By this point in our relationship, I had told her several times that it was just so damned difficult for me to keep my hands off her. Each time I was with her, I felt I was making it closer and closer to at least third base. I really needed to hit a homerun with her, a grand slam.
Well, on that fateful Saturday morning, I awoke early, cleaned my townhome for about an hour or so. I took my coffee upstairs and went out onto the balcony to enjoy the day. My cellphone came to life and it was Donna.
We chatted a while and she said she was on her way to Big T’s for brunch. Every weekend Big T would set up a banquet of free food for his patrons. When he was on the premises, T would also work up a huge breakfast on Saturday and Sunday mornings; offer Mimosas and Bloody Mary specials.
Donna asked if I would like to join her. My first inclination was the suggest meeting someplace else as I didn’t want to share her with the regulars at Big T’s. But I agreed. I put on some jeans and flannel shirt—the weather had cooled, and set off on my way walking the four blocks to the bar.
I arrived first and found a place at the bar. Skip was tending and brought me my Bloody Mary eye opener. When she came in, Donna looked fantastic. Her dark hair was loose with bountiful waves of curls framing her face and crashing over her shoulders. Donna wore a light blue sweater, the material stretching over her ample bosom and a short denim jacket. She had on a pair of tight slacks that caused everyone to zero in on her ass each time she went to the bathroom.
Donna greeted a couple of the regulars, little hugs, buffs on their cheeks. When she saw me, Donna made her way to me. She asked if it would be okay if we sat in a booth. For a few seconds, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop in that bar. Skip would later tell me when one of the regulars saw Donna and me slipping into a booth together he leaned over to another regular and said something like, “Now I think I know what happened to their marriages.”
At any rate, we ordered some food and fresh drinks. She asked me about my car: I didn’t see it in the parking lot, she said. Well, I only live a few blocks from here, replied, I bought a townhome a couple years after the divorce.
For an hour or so, we had a nice time. But she kept putting her big beauties up on the table and leaning in—I simply couldn’t stop staring and, frankly, gave up trying.
Right after eating, Donna got up and went to the restroom. Of course, everyone watched her hips sway, her ass roll. When she came back, instead of sitting across from me, Donna slipped in beside me and emitted a throaty laugh—do you mind? Look, she said, they’re all going to talk about us, what’s that line in Bonny Raitt’s song—let’s give them something to talk about.
And, we did. Donna sat close, occasionally brushing her breasts against my arm. Eventually we ended up with our hand on each other’s thighs, stroking softly. We necked a little. After about half an hour of this and two more beers I was so sexed up.
Finally, abruptly, she leaned back and fanned herself a bit. I’ve got to go baby. Not only was I completely and utterly crestfallen, I was a little miffed, if not angry. We ordered our tab and I paid up which added to my angst and anger. She leaned over and nibbled on my ear and whispered, let’s really give them something to talk about and leave together.
Imagine my dismay. Nevertheless, the idea of everyone in the bar thinking Donna and I were together, thinking that I just might be tapping that gorgeous tail, handling those huge, hopping hooters, held a certain appeal to me.
When we got to her car, she let me kiss her, feel around a bit. I got to touch a tit, grab some ass. I breathed along her neck and, much to my chagrin, begged for it—baby, I tell her, every time I leave you I’m am so worked up.
She gently pushed me away—it’s too soon honey. Give me a little more time.
Now, at this point, I’m about to cum in my pants. But I nod and begin my trek home. I had gone about a block when Donna pulled up to the curb and rolled down her window—the least I could do in return for you buying my breakfast is to give you a ride home.
Our ensuing conversation clarified a lot. And, it enabled us to move on to the next phase. The bottom line is that she did not want to be in a committed relationship—to wit I replied that neither did I and apologized if I had led her into thinking I had other expectations.
Donna agreed to come in for a drink after considerable urging from me. Frankly, I thought I was pushing things a bit, but dammit she looked so hot with her titties stretching against her sweater top. But she agreed and thus, the dance began in earnest.
My townhome is a three story walk up. It is the anchor unit on a corner, at the north end of a row of 12. My garage is on the ground floor, of course, with the second floor housing an open area that comprises the dining and living area. This floor includes the kitchen and a small bedroom and bath. There is balcony in the back that looks onto a sizeable, well-tended city park.
On the third floor there is the master bedroom with a nice entertainment area in one corner, including a wet bar, liquor cabinet and small refrigerator. Adjoining it is a huge bathroom, containing a stand-alone shower and next to it nice, roomy tub with water jets for a Jacuzzi affect. A separate room at the back was designed to be either an extra bedroom or play room. I have my office here. This room looks out onto a balcony a little smaller than the one on the second floor.
The townhome is nicely appointed throughout. One of my cousins is an interior designer and she frequently sets me up with nice, but cast off furniture, artwork, etc. I think Donna was impressed. I poured her a glass of wine and we went onto the balcony. The weather in my city is mercurial this time of year. One day it can be cold and dreary, the next day hot and bright. Sometimes, such changes occur within the same day—as in the case of this one, only reverse. The sun was emerging and there were a few joggers and walkers in the park. It was warming up.
I remember helping her out of her denim jacket. The tight cotton shirt and the well-designed bra gave such sweet definition to her big, bulging boobs. I had to catch myself from staring and going slack jawed with lust.
As I mentioned earlier, Donna had developed a penchant for drinking. Now, I try not to be lecherous; getting a woman boozed up to loosen her legs. But, then again—as I say, I try not to be lecherous. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don’t.
We switched from wine to scotch. When it comes to liquor, as in most things, if I can afford it, I like the best. I opened up a single-malt and poured us both a couple fingers worth with a little ice. We sat down again, sipped and chatted.
Sometime during our previous meetings I had admitted to having a bed buddy. I prudently withheld the fact that I am also having an affair with a married woman.
On that day, as we sat watching two dogs flop around each other in a goofy kind of play in the center of the park Donna flat out asked if the relationship had progressed to sex. To wit I replied, yes.
Donna wanted to know if we were serious. I explained to her that we were basically friends with benefits. Here, I explained that Carrie and I had what we described as a long term, no holds relationship. We enjoyed each other’s company in bed.
I tried to keep the explanation light and airy. I omitted the financial aspect of our arrangement.
Donna seemed to ponder my explanation for a few moments, taking a few sips. She handed her glass to me and at first I thought things were coming to an abrupt end. But, as it happens, she wanted more scotch.
When I returned to the balcony I remember her eyeing me with a level gaze. She asked me, do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?
Donna spent some time explaining in detail her last couple of years. A few dates here and there, even dating one of my acquaintances from the old days. A couple years ago, she had met a man —who after the fourth or fifth date she discovered was married. He was fairly well off and she was beginning to become serious about him, very fast. She continued with the relationship until she realized he was an asshole.
Donna insisted again that she was not interested in a committed relationship. To which I reaffirmed that neither was I.
I realized she was getting a little tipsy. She explained to me that for a few months after our respective divorces, she had stayed in touch with my ex-wife Terri, something of a surprise to me.
Donna told me that one night, Terri and she along with another recently divorced friend went out drinking. Donna said that at one point Terri had gotten pretty drunk and admitted that even though I was a royal dickwad she really missed the sex. Donna leaned forward a bit and said, Terri told me, “One thing about Dean, that man can fuck.”
It took a while to get her naked, a lot of foreplay; another round of scotch. But it was worth it. What a vision. I first felt her up, slipping my hand inside her pullover top and roaming around over her stomach and up over her bra.
When she didn’t resist but instead began to feel along my thigh, it was at this point that I believed it was finally going to happen. We necked for a while. Then, I pulled her up off the couch and we went up to the third story master bedroom, my eyes on her ass the entire climb.
When I slipped off her cotton top, I took a half step back to marvel at the sight of her bunched up beauties. The bra cups were huge and they pushed up her titties into such sweet looking orbs of which I was able to see, touch, and indeed kiss over.
I buried my face into their softness, moaning as I savored the feel of so much female tit flesh. Donna slipped out of her jeans and began unbuttoning my shirt. Suddenly, Donna broke free and went to close the curtains—to dim the light. It would take a couple weeks and a few fuck sessions before she would become comfortable prancing about naked in the broad daylight.
As she was closing the curtains, I slipped out of my own jeans. I remember the delicious moment when I gently turned Donna around and unsnapped her bra. I looked over each shoulder and watched first her right tit and then the left one bulge out and drop free.
Now, at this point I have had a raging hard on for almost an hour. I have the worst case of blue balls I’ve had in a long time. I reached around her and cupped those hanging hooters in my hands. Donnas moans a little softly. I had been dreaming of those titties, jerking off to what I imagined they would look like, feel like, imagining what it would be like to slip my cock in between them. And here they were, balled in the palm of my hands, me lightly bouncing them about, kneading them with my fingers. I nearly shot my load right then and there.
Donna rubbed her panty clad ass against me and I roamed my hands freely over her hips and cheeks. Then, I turned her around so we were facing each other. I heft up each hooter in turn, sucking on her nipples and she emitted little intakes of air with my attentions.
Those titties, those titties…they were big beauties, elongated, pear-shaped. They had slight and subtle stretch marks indicative of their size and heft. They were such splendid titties. I told her, I knew they would be beautiful.
I slipped Donna’s panties down to see the downy thatch of dark hair. She rubbed over the bulge in my briefs and when she pulled them down—my cock, hard and erect, sprung free. Her hand on my dick nearly tipped me over the edge.
I edged her back to the bed and was looking forward to getting my dick sucked, to fucking in between her titties, but I first laid her back. I had every intention of kneeling down and lapping and licking along her thighs to make my way up to the wonderland of her pussy. However, as started, she pulled me up, moving herself up on the bed and commanded me a husky, lust laden voice—fuck me. I will never forget Donna’s little gasp and her quick widening of her eyes—a kind of look of surprise—as I entered her.
She let me fuck her four times that afternoon with a fifth time where I played with her titties and ass while she played with my dick, jacking me off.
The first two fucks were pretty conventional, both missionary. When I had tried to reposition her, she had demurred, pulling me on top of her. Both were nevertheless sweet fucks.
Whether it is a new love, or a new fuck buddy, or even a one night stand, there is something so wonderful about slipping inside a woman for the first time. First, for me there is that feeling of overall well-being that washes over me—oh that feeling of my dick finding its way into a soft, moist, warm pussy. Whether I am entering her from behind, with my hands on lush hips, or her mounting me, her titties swinging out and free, or me mounting her, her knees in the air, titties graded to the sides, and as I slip inside her and she rubs her hands over my back and ass, it’s just simply incredible that initial merging of our bodies that drives me crazy with lust.
Next, when I am fucking a woman I want it to last forever. I just want to fuck and fuck; I want to cum on, at and inside my woman over and over. I want to hear her squeal with delight, pant with passion, I want to make her cum over and over—I want her to know she is being fucked by one of the best. I know, I know—it’s the male ego in overdrive. But I take pride in my ability to pleasure my woman.
Finally, among the strongest of sensations is that of pure, selfish, self-satisfaction. Whether I’m riding my married friend Helen, pumping the rump of my single mom fuck buddy Carrie, or spacing out on top of a pretty college coed, I know I am fucking, sucking on the titties of, grabbing the ass of, a woman other men desire. Yes, I’m getting to bang away at a woman other men dream of fucking.
And as I romped and rutted with Donna throughout that Saturday afternoon it occasionally occurred to me that I was getting the play with a beautiful, big boobed, healthy hipped, ample assed woman that the full male caste of players at Big T wanted. Yes, there is that sense of possession, of smacking my woman’s ass, of grabbing what I want, of rolling her over, taking what I need—again, the male ego at work.
As I mentioned, the first two fucks, were missionary style. But the third one, Donna let me take her from behind. As I’ve so often mentioned, not all butt men are tit men, but all tit men ARE butt men. And Donna has a glorious ass. I got Donna on her hands and knees at the edge of the bed, where I was able to stand behind her…it was a great fuck. I rammed her rum good, made those gorgeous titties gallop, made her bark and grunt in pleasure. I will never forget the saucy sight of her ass cheeks quivering and quaking.
After our second fuck, we had spent some time sipping our drinks, cuddling in bed, talking. Then, we had taken several minutes to get each other worked up. Donna expressed a little surprise at my being ready for more so soon—always a real ego boost. I also think that by the third fuck she was becoming more comfortable with the idea of fucking for the sake of fucking.
She finally let me lick her pussy and I must say she writhed and moaned with abandon. Then, Donna gave me a very nice blow job. Her technique has become more creative and energetic as our relationship has progressed, but that first cock sucking from her was very good.
This time, she rode me and that is always a nice position for me—I love having my dick up inside my woman and then be able take an ass cheek in one hand and a tit in the other.
By the time I entered her from behind, I was really worked up. Satisfied that I had made her cum a time or two—once while I licked her, the second time while she did me cowgirl style, I came inside her, and when I did, I went cum creaming crazy. I growled out in my pleasure and her ass cheeks reddened with my wild, mad-man exertions. I hammered away at her hind end, and then, once I was spent, I reached around and grabbed and groped over her swinging and swaying lovelies—just as I had made that ass mine for a time, I made those titties mine.
We both collapsed onto the bed, laughing, slick with sweat, the smell of sex permeating the room.
The fourth fuck was a round robin. I did her from behind, she rode me, I laid out on her, and we did a side by side, her back to me, her ass pressed against me. We had begun, after refreshing our drinks, on the balcony and ended up in the bedroom, but this time—my fourth climax—it happened on the couch, with her riding reverse cowgirl for a while, titty fucking me, then riding me cowgirl.
What I discovered that afternoon is that with each fuck her inhibitions began to slip away. As it happens, Donna and her sister were supposed to go out that night, she needed to head home. So, we showered together. I couldn’t keep my hands off her shimmering, soaped up titties and ass and we fondled and felt each other up until we both were lathered up in more ways than one.
She gave me a great hand job with her soap slick hands and when I came she muttered damn—you came again.
I called her the next day, but only got through to her voice mail. I left a message, thanking her for a great afternoon. Much to my dismay, I didn’t hear from her until Tuesday.
Donna told me, when she finally returned my call, that she had been embarrassed by her behavior. She was afraid she had come across as a wanton slut. I told her that I had not been able to get her and the vision of her body out of my mind. Donna replied she had also been embarrassed by her weight gain. I responded that she had brought me to climax five times. She admitted she had been quite amazed at that—which told me something about her previous lovers and her ex-husband Bob—but I assured her my performance would have been impossible if I had not found her body so exciting.
Our routine has developed—the dating has been reduced. The fucking has increased. We have evolved into fuck buddies.
There is little doubt in my mind that once she gets this wanton phase out of her system Donna will begin to look for a more stable relationship—one which I am not interested in providing—and then, this pleasure ride will come to an end.
For right now, the last month has been great. I’ve been able to get with Helen and Cassie a few times. But with Donna, if she works through the weekends, she will come over on Monday and we will, “Play house” as she terms it.
Saturdays or Sundays have also become part of our ritual. So, I’m getting her naked and banging away at her two days out of the week.
Typically, she’ll come over to my place. We’ve fucked a few times at her house, but Donna seems to prefer my condo. She likes fucking on the balcony, plus the mirrors have become something of an attraction for her.
Donna arrives around 9:30 or so in the morning. We hump and pump for a while. We prepare a brunch and eat. Then, we fuck some more. After a shower, weather permitting, we sometimes walk down to Big T’s for lunch. At this point in our sex journey, we are really “into each other.” The regulars have accepted us as a couple.
Afterwards, we head back to my place for an afternoon of morI discovered that e fun and frolic.
Let me inventory here a bit, if I may. Some talking points about Donna….
• Donna’s body works so well for me. Bulbous, heavy hanging hooters. Wide hips and broad bottom. Thunder thighs. She is not—even though she still is confused on this point—fat. She is a true, plush bodied woman.
• I discovered that Bob was the one responsible for making Donna feel so damned self-conscious regarding her body. He frequently suggested she go on a diet. Asshole. Further, Donna said he did like to play with her titties, but he rarely stuck his dick in between and never came on them.
• Once I discovered her triggers, i.e. how to lick her clit with just the right amount of touch and tease of my tongue, learned when to pump hard, when to go slow, she cums like crazy. Soaks my face, or my dick.
• We have started playing a little game. It is one I play with Cassie and Helen, although I haven’t shared this information with Donna. After the first fuck or two, while my dick is flaccid, I will sit on the couch or in a chair. Donna prances about, wagging her ass at me, or wiggling her tits about, bouncing them, making them quiver and quake. The rule is, I can’t touch myself. She doesn’t touch me. We try to see how long it takes for me grow hard.
• Donna has become a great little cocksucker. A fetish of mine is that, if I’m not going to cum in my woman’s pussy, then I like to cum on her ass or tits. I’m not that much into facials or even that much interested in cuming inside a woman’s mouth. In short, I like to look at my load flying out onto my woman. But, at least once, during our fuck sessions, she likes for me to cum in her mouth. She has learned just when to alternate between titty fucking me and sucking me to gauge with remarkable accuracy when I am about to let loose. Then, she goes down on me, applying such a sweet grip with her lips and working her tongue.
• She loves riding dick. Cowgirl, with me laid out on the bed, is her favorite position.
• Donna likes dirty talk. Her favorite mantra is “Fuck me deep, fuck me deep.” When I’m taking her from behind she yells at me to hammer her ass. When we do it missionary style she likes to coo, “Oooh yes baby, take what you need. I spread these legs only for you. It’s all yours. You’re the only one who gets to stick his dick in there.”
• I know this cannot last. But for now, I’m having a great time.
Well, that’s all for now….it’s Friday as I write this and I have a dilemma.
Cassie texted me a few hours ago. She is free tomorrow. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve been with her.
Helen called and left a message. She is free tomorrow. Her husband is going on a day long fishing trip.
Donna just texted to see if we were going to be able to “play house” tomorrow.
Wow.
