Beth sipped her drink as the hotel bar neared closing. She smiled, feeling the cooling cum on her supple old calves beneath her pant legs just above her sexy black trouser socks.
Earlier, she’d used them, her feet, her calves, her socks, on young Michael, a 21-year-old stranger in the bar. She’d been sitting alone, at the hotel for business, when she noticed the young man looking at her legs. She’d crossed them, the pant legs riding up to reveal her shiny shins and muscular calves, one black shoe dangling, and he took wide-eyed note. She beckoned him to her.
And she dominated him, with her sexy 60-year-old legs, those muscular calves and stinky black socks. He’d worshipped them in the nearly empty bar, then she’d made him cum in them, hoisting her meaty lower legs up on his lap, hidden by his suit coat, and jerked his aching cock in their velvety, scissoring fleshiness.
But just before he came, friends of Beth’s stopped by to chat. She was undeterred, and during the course of conversation, with Michael’s cock trapped in her calves and hidden beneath his coat, she quivered them on him, making him spurt. After they’d left, she made him kneel and suck his cum off her shapely calves and those dirty black socks.
And all throughout, she made him call her “Mother.” She’d then sent him on his way — but not before getting his room number.
“Room 223,” she smiled to herself now, a good half hour after their encounter, draining the rest of her drink and putting it on the bar, standing to walk away, feeling the thin sheen of cum crusting on her muscular old calves.
Michael was about to turn in for the night, still processing the impossible situation that had just happened, how he had succumbed to her pressure, from her mind and those amazing legs. Granted, he’d long been a fan of older women, but this woman was something else, and he was completely under her spell. He wished she’d come to his room, but now, after 1 a.m. and with a series of boring business meetings facing him in seven hours, he clicked off the light and climbed under the blankets.
Beth stopped by her room, grabbing a chilled bottle of chardonnay, and took the elevator down to room 223. She knocked, waited, knocked again. Finally, she heard shuffling, coughing. She saw the eye piece darken. She smiled, and heard the door latch slide open, then the door. Michael blinked at the hallway light, the beautiful dominant woman silhouetted there.
“Here,” she said, handing him the bottle. “Open this and pour me a glass.”
She walked in, Michael’s eyes riveted to her magnificent ass pressed tight in her black slacks. She sat on the bed, snapping the light on, crossing her legs. Again, the pant leg rode up, revealing that sexy, shiny shin, that marvelously sculpted calf bulging above her low-slung sock.
“Uh, I didn’t…,” he stammered, scampering to get a corkscrew to open the wine and pour her a glass with shaky hands. “I…didn’t think you….”
“Don’t think, thinking gets you into trouble,” she said sternly, bouncing that leg, dangling the shoe. “Just do. The wine?”
He regained his composure and rushed the glass to her. She sipped as Michael sat beside her in his boxer shorts. She didn’t look at him.
“Did I give you permission to sit?” she snarled, nodding to the floor. “There, kneel.”
He obeyed, his cock hardening as he was inches from that sexy foot in the black sock and shoe dangling playfully from it. The smell hit him, ripe, raw, funky, that glorious sweaty aroma he remembered from the bar.
“Well?” she asked.
“Uh, Mother, what Mother!” he said quickly.
She smiled and let her shoe drop to the floor, taking his eyes with it.
“Pick it up, stupid,” she sighed, sipping her wine and wiggling her toes, the shin creased with freckled flesh, that calf flexing. “And smell it.”
“Yes…Mother…” he groaned, picking it up and putting the inside to his nose.
He thought he’d cum in his boxers. The stench was heavenly, acrid and sharp, alluringly so. He looked inside as he inhaled at the white insole coated with streaks of dark, evidence of her wearing them barefoot many times, a layer of sexy grime. Peripherally, he noticed her pulling up both pant legs, taunting him with the sight of her amazingly muscular old calves, knotted muscle bubbling above those sexy, stinky socks. He stuck his tongue out, tasting the funk, freshly sweated up and ripe.
She shot her feet out, knocking the shoe from his hands and clamping her solid calves around his neck. Calmly leaning back on the bed with one hand, drink in the other, she glared at him with her dark eyes, him on his haunches, her incredibly strong calves twisted vise-grip tight around his neck. His hands shot to them, feeling steel in his fingers. She laced her socked toes together behind his head and worked her chiseled calves harder into the sides of his neck. He went dizzy, his extremities tingling, about to pass out. His hands fell loosely to his side as she snapped casino siteleri his neck in her crushing calves with thrusting jolts.
“I did NOT tell you to lick my shoe, Michael, did I?” she snarled, now shaking her locked calves on his neck, jerking his head around like a rag doll.
“No…pleash…” he slurred drunkenly, his brain addled from the calf squeeze.
“What? No ‘please Mother’?” she snapped angrily. “For that, you pay!”
Then he was out, in a sudden dream state, her calves crimping the blood flow to his brain, her leggy sleeper knocking him out cold. She let go, and he slumped to the floor, snorting as his body convulsed, fighting to regain consciousness. He finally came around and looked up. Beth sat, smiling, legs crossed, bouncing the top one. The shin and calf and sock were the first things he saw.
“What…what happened,” he groaned, rubbing his neck, adding quickly, “Mother!”
“These happened, young man,” she sighed, nodding toward her luscious lower legs. “My calves happened. You were warned.”
She thrust the glass out. Michael took it, walking to the desk, refilling it and returning. He had a raging hardon sticking up in his boxers. Beth eyed it appreciatively.
“Tell me you didn’t like my calf scissors!” she laughed. “They all do, young man, they all do.”
She let him stand there for a long moment staring down at her. She put her drink down and slipped casually out of her jacket and blouse. She looked up, reaching back to unsnap her bra, letting her 38C boobs swing out. Michael gasped. They were beautiful, slightly saggy as befitting a woman her age, slightly pushed to the side, but thick, meaty and pure white, a delicate patchwork of sexy light blue veins crisscrossing the flesh. The nipples were big, brown, deliciously wrinkled. Her alabaster belly was slightly puffy. Above her tits, that sexy wrinkled cleavage, dark and tanned, and a lovely wattle of neck flesh, slightly saggy and wobbling as she moved.
She retrieved her glass, legs crossed, shins exposed. Turning her head to the side stretched out that gorgeous neck and throat.
“My neck,” she said without looking at him. “Kneel before me and suckle my neck flesh. Older women love their necks adored and worshipped, Michael. Do it. Now.”
“Yes, Mother,” he groaned, his dick about to explode.
It was soft, fleshy, salty, the meat of her neck, and he feasted on it like a hungry dog. Moaning, he licked up and down the sides, the front, suckling, taking in mouthfuls of the delicious throat, tonguing it as he held it in his lips. She groaned as well, feeling her pussy get wet under her slacks. She smiled, lifting her head more, turning to give him access to the folded flesh on the other side. His cock was pressed into her shins and she didn’t stop him, delighting in his insistent small thrusts, aching to press between her meaty calves.
She let him devour her neck meat slavishly for a few minutes, then pushed him away, offering him the empty glass. He anxiously retrieved it, his cock now poking out of his boxers on his return. She took it, leaning back on her elbows, those gorgeous tits splaying out to the sides, nipples fat and erect.
“Suck Mother’s tits,” she cooed, swirling her wine and sipping it. “Come here and nurse on Mother’s tits.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He groaned, lying to her right, tentatively draping an arm over her middle, bending to suck the nearest nipple. He moaned as it touched his tongue, lips sealed around it, tasting the lovely saltiness. His cock poked free of his boxers, pressing into her hip, precum streaking the black slacks still on her luscious legs.
“Nice, son, nice,” she cooed, taking his hand and putting it on her far tit, allowing him to squeeze and massage it, the flesh warm and wrinkled under the pressure. “Suckle Mommy, my son, suckle…..”
He groaned more loudly now, fearing he’d cum on her pants but unable to stop rubbing. He popped her tit from his mouth, licking across the freckled divide, leaning to suck the other into his lips, taking the nipple and opening wide to suck as much of the smooth, supple white meat of her entire boob inside.
She smiled, looking down at him work, placing a maternal hand on his head, urging him on. She let him nurse peacefully for a few moments then pushed his head away. She slipped off the bed, standing, drink in hand.
“Take off Mother’s pants, son,” she said, her tits glistening with his spit.
Never taking his eyes off hers, he knelt, trembling hands unsnapping her black slacks, tugging them over her slim hips. She wore a very small black thong and instantly the smell hit him as her pants cleared her crotch, a funky mix of woman, sweat and pee that made his cock throb harder still. He shucked the tight slacks down her thighs, staring at them now, brown from the sun, saggy and a bit loose on the insides but smooth and inviting. She lifted one foot at a time, allowing him to slip the pants off, standing with her drink, black socks drooping canlı casino on her skinny ankles.
“Now my panties, Michael,” she said firmly.
His hands tugged the waistband, pulling the tiny thong down, and before his astonished eyes sprang a bush, gray and full, curly and moist, and the smell blasted him in the face inches away. She stepped out of them, and with a giggle, brought them up to his face. The crotch panel was moist, thick with her juices, light colored and pungent.
“Smell Mother,” she cooed, rubbing his face in her moist panty.
He couldn’t believe how bad it smelled, a ripeness to it, having been worn all day at business meetings no doubt, raw and nasty. It was heaven to him, though he’d never been fond of pussy smells. But he couldn’t get enough as he felt the moist fabric rough on his face. She rubbed it harder, ramming the wetness up his nostrils and then into his mouth.
“Suck,” she snarled darkly, bending to glare into his eyes. “Suck the smell out of Mother’s disgusting panties!”
He moaned and obeyed, clamping his mouth around it, sucking hard, drawing her funky moistness from the material, tasting it on his tongue and cheeks, swallowing and sucking for more. He was rabid now, eyes closed and groaning, tasting her essence. She laughed at him and walked to the bed, lying down, thighs spread. She coughed to get his attention. His eyes blinked open and he spun around to face her on his knees, a strand of panty sticking out of his lips, his face sweaty.
“Lick,” she said, curling a finger of the hand holding her wine glass. “Lick Mother’s pussy. I’ve had a long day, Michael, and need to cum, to relax. Now get over here and do your job!”
“Yes, Mother!” he cried out like a child offered first crack at opening Christmas presents, tearing the foul panty out of his mouth.
Eagerly, he dove into her musky crotch, the smell embracing him. His nose parted the furry lips, tongue darting inside the fleshy meat, wet and pungent. He licked deeply at her well, encouraged by her moans, thrusting in and out, the metallic raw taste magic on his tongue, grinding his nose to her oily clit. He read her body language as she reacted to his movement, his mouth. She moaned more loudly as he lapped down, to tease the hair-ringed rectum below, feeling her shiver. He looked up over her splayed tits to her face and eyes, gorgeous and heavy lidded. Tracing back up with his tongue, he felt her thighs quiver on his cheeks as he attached his mouth to her nub, suckling it like a nipple.
“Right there, son, right there,” she growled with urgency, slowly capturing his face in her tanned, strong thighs, closing them around his neck, the inner muscles tight against the sagging flesh, squeezing. “Suckle…suckle it…suck on Mother’s clit, boy….”
He groaned in pleasure and pain, happy to please his elderly mistress, slightly troubled by the increasing pressure of her insistent thighs. He sucked on that engorged wet nubbin, dribbling it with his tongue as he held it in his mouth, and Beth’s legs tightened with her mounting pleasure, the inner muscles getting harder, pinching into the sides of his neck. He felt himself grow dizzy, and fought it, trying to keep up the sucking pace.
“Don’t slow down!” she snarled, now folding her right calf over the back of his head, hooking that foot behind the other knee, pressing his face deeper and harder into her gushing pussy. “Don’t slow down….suck…keep sucking….”
She squeezed harder and Michael’s fingers and toes tingled from lack of blood to his brain, but he continued to suck on Beth’s clit, his nose mashed painfully into her pubic bone, that muscular old calf strapped to the back of his head. His hands pulled at her thighs, seeking some relief of pressure but none came and he felt himself going dizzier, approaching that dream state from before when she’d squeezed him out in her calves.
“Cummmmmmmmmmmmmmming!” she shrieked, off in another world, hips bucking up off the bed, thrashing, legs crushing.
He was out again, body slack, face a prisoner of her aromatic, gushing pussy as it ground harder on him and she jerked side to side and up and down, his head snapping with it. She screamed in pleasure, completely oblivious to the unconscious man locked in her lethal old legs, and soaked his face with her copious squirting gel. When she finally and slowly came out of her orgasmic high, she settled her butt back on the bed and unwound her legs from his head, which plopped to the mattress. She giggled and slapped at his face with her socked feet until he woke.
“Wake up, young man, you’re not done yet,” she said with a dark smile.
She flipped over, legs together, presenting the delicious whiteness of her round ass, dimpled with the resplendent sag of age, quivering as she flexed the mounds playfully at him. Reaching back, she parted those cheeks. Within he saw the hair-ringed pucker, winking at him. He drew closer, straddling her legs, his exposed cock dragging on her muscular calves, making kaçak casino him groan, a strand of precum streaking them. The smell grew stronger, that musky ass smell of a long day.
“Eat it,” she said over one shoulder. “Eat Mother’s tasty ass!”
He was too far gone to disobey now, slave to her complete and overwhelming sensuality. He knelt over her legs, trying not to make contact with them. She felt the gooey tip on her calves and opened them.
“Put your cock and balls inside my calves, young man,” she said plainly. “It’s the only way to ensure you don’t stupidly orgasm while you clean Mother’s ass.”
He dipped his waist down, feeling his nuts brush her silky calves and then incredible pain as Beth locked her socked feet, squeezing hard. She was crushing his balls, and cock as well, and the mix of pain and pleasure made him swoon. He didn’t know if he’d cum or pass out or bother. What he did know is Beth now reached back with one hand for his head, pulling his face into the musky chasm of her spread cheeks. His nose immediately skewered the funky wet rectum and his mouth was smothered in butt and thighs, only able to breathe through the milking muscle clamping around his nose.
“Inhale,” she said plainly. “Inhale Mother’s ass.”
He couldn’t help but to do just that, the ripe, raw stench ripping up his nose and down his throat. He panted, desperate for air, clean air, but could only gasp, sniffing deeply at the clenching ring of her rump. She toyed with him a moment, then grabbing his hair, moved his head up, his mouth clamped around the hole. He took the hint, thrusting his tongue inside, spearing the matted hair around it, digging deep inside. She moaned, swiveling her hips, letting go of his head with her hand. She tightened her bum, the soft meat going hard in the flex, trapping his face inside.
“Tongue fuck me, Michael,” she groaned, lifting her hips slightly to slip her hand beneath to frig her tireless old pussy.
He moaned and obeyed, thrusting his tongue in and out as quickly as possible, coating it with her ass fluids. His balls ached as she pulsated her steely calves around them, while the flesh teased the leaking head of his cock, lubricating it, fucking it. He was delirious with pain and pleasure and lay flat on her, face imprisoned in her hunching butt meat, his package squeezed blue in her crushing legs.
Mercifully, she came quickly under her expert hand, and slowly relaxed her grips, freeing first his face then his balls and cock. He sat up, panting, anxious to breathe fresh air. He looked down at her clenched calves, soaked from the crooks of her knees to her dirty black socks.
“Lick Mother’s calves clean,” she sighed, relaxing on her belly as Michael moaned and obeyed, dipping his head down to slavishly lap his gooey fluids from her sexy, freckled calves.
When he was done, he slipped back off the bed, cock dripping wet and bobbing out of his boxers, a desperate look on his face. She rolled over and opened her legs invitingly, the hair wet, lips open. With a slight smile, she curled a finger at Michael.
“Fuck Mother,” she said, opening her legs wider, his eyes drawn to the sagging wiggle of her meaty inner thighs. “You’ve earned it. Now do a good job and Mother MIGHT let you cum!”
“YES MOTHER!” he growled, lurching forward, kicking off his shorts as he did.
He nearly came the second his anxious cock speared her furry lips, but held off, burying himself to the balls in a pussy tighter than most he’d ever experienced in girls 40 years younger. He thrust madly into her and angrily, she hoisted her legs up, thighs against her chest, calves alongside his neck. She locked her feet and squeezed, making him dizzy in the clamp of muscle.
“Slow down, boy, don’t ever attack a woman like that, do you hear me?” she snarled through clenched teeth, squeezing his neck harder, watching his face go red and then bluish in her calves.
“Yes….Mother…” he groaned.
She eased the squeeze, but left her legs on his shoulders and now he slowly withdrew his cock, pushing it back in, finding a rhythm acceptable to his mistress. She smiled up at him and drew her feet to his face. He moaned, holding her skinny ankles in both hands, running his tongue up and down her foul-smelling black socks, digging hard and tickling her soles.
“Good boy, good boy,” she cooed pleasantly, feeling his cock fill her, balls slapping gently against her ass. “Suck Mother’s socks, smell them…”
He pressed his torso into the backs of Beth’s legs as he deliriously lapped and smelled the thick richness of her feet, tonguing the black socks madly, devouring the sensory overload of smell and taste. He felt his balls knot as they slapped her supple flesh and slowed his thrusting. She laughed.
“Oh, close are we?” she said, pushing his face and chest with her feet, knocking him out of her. “Finish here. Mother likes it doggie.”
He watched as she knelt on the bed, head down, wiggling that impossibly sexy white ass at him. Stepping up behind it, he fisted his cock, fitting it to the parted lips and groaned as he worked it fully inside her. The velvety milking walls pulsated and quivered around it as Beth expertly worked them, feeling his dick thicken deep within.