69

She stared at him in horror for another moment, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly parted. Then the resistance in her eyes faded. The threat of a police report, the thong in his hand, the wet spot on the floor—all of it combined left her no choice. Or at least that’s how it felt to her.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He grinned widely, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. At sixty, with a potbelly and gray hair, he never would have thought something like this would happen again. And certainly not with someone like her. Blonde, young, clean-shaven—the kind of girl who posed on Instagram and would never have stopped to talk to him.

He lay down on the floor between the rows of chairs, his back against the cold steps. The lecture hall was silent; only the distant hum of the ventilation system could be heard. “Come here,” he said, patting his belly. “Turn around. Put your mouth on my cock, your pussy on my face.”

She hesitated for a breath, then obeyed. Her short skirt rode up as she straddled him. Suddenly, her wet, clean-shaven crotch was right over his mouth. The scent hit him immediately—heavy, sweet and sharp, unmistakably feminine, mixed with the faint, metallic hint of a previous orgasm. It was the same scent he’d already smelled on the thong and in the puddle, only more intense, warmer, alive.

He took a deep breath and groaned softly. His hands rested on her buttocks, pulling them down lower until her labia touched his face. Her skin was silky smooth, not a single hair in sight. Her outer lips were plump and slightly swollen; the inner ones were already moist and dark pink. He stuck out his tongue and licked slowly from bottom to top, once right down the middle of the slit.

The taste exploded on his tongue. Salty-sweet, slightly tart, thick, and warm. It was the taste of a used, aroused pussy—not the clean, perfumed scent of porn stars, but the real thing. He tasted the remnants of her squirting, the thin, clear juice that had mixed with thicker, creamier secretions. His tongue glided through it again, this time more slowly, gathering up everything she’d already lost.

“Fuck…,” he murmured against her skin. “You taste so hot, you little slut.”

Above him, he felt her twitch. Then he felt her fingers on his zipper. She unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear. His cock sprang out—thick, not particularly long, but heavy and already dripping wet at the tip. The skin was a little more saggy than it used to be, the veins stood out clearly, and the smell of his own sweat and the thong he’d been wearing over his cock all afternoon mingled with hers.

She hesitated again. He felt her warm breath on the tip of his cock. Then her mouth closed around him.

Hot. Wet. Soft.

Her lips wrapped tightly around the shaft, her tongue swept over the underside, and he let out a guttural groan. The contrast was incredible: above, the young, smooth face of an influencer; below, his old, thick glans disappearing between her lips. He lifted his head and licked more greedily.

His tongue found her clitoris—small, hard, already swollen—and circled around it. At the same time, he sucked lightly on her inner lips, pulling them between his teeth, then letting them go. Her juices flowed more freely. He swallowed, licked, swallowed again. The taste grew more intense, almost sweet now, the more aroused she became. He felt her thighs tremble, her ass pressing against his face.

Below, her mouth worked. She took him deeper until the head of his cock bumped against her soft palate. Saliva ran down his shaft, dripping onto his balls. The sound was wet and lewd—smacking, gurgling—every time she lifted her head and slid back down. He felt the ridges of her palate, the tightness of her throat as she tried to take him deeper and gagged. A thick strand of saliva connected her lower lip to his glans as she paused to catch her breath.

Shit, this is for real*, he thought. The little whore is kneeling over me in the lecture hall, sucking my old cock while I lick her pussy.

He pushed her ass cheeks apart harder and thrust his tongue deeper into her. The inner walls were hot and velvety, twitching around his tongue. He fucked her with his tongue as deep as he could, while his nose rubbed against her clit. The smell was now overwhelming—pure, unfiltered pussy juice, mixed with the light, earthy scent of her asshole, which was only centimeters from his face. He licked once higher, circling the tight, rosy ring with the tip of his tongue, feeling her flinch as a stifled moan vibrated around his cock.

Then he returned to her pussy. He sucked on her clit, flicking his tongue quickly and flat across it, while two of his fingers penetrated her. The wetness was incredible—she was so wet that it squelched every time he pulled his fingers out and thrust them back in. The juices ran down his fingers, dripping onto his chin, into his beard.

Down below, her sucking grew more greedy. She took him deeper now, audibly gagging, letting saliva and precum run over his balls. One of her hands gripped the shaft where her mouth couldn’t reach and jerked him off in the same rhythm. The other hand massaged his balls, rolling them gently. The pressure built up in his lower abdomen, heavy and urgent.

He groaned against her pussy; the vibrations made her tremble. “Lick… yeah, like that… take it deeper, you little slut…”

She obeyed. Her head bobbed faster, her lips tight, her tongue working the underside. He felt his glans bump against the entrance to her throat, felt her gag and yet keep going. Saliva dripped in thick strands; the noise level was obscenely loud in the empty lecture hall—wet smacking sounds from above and below, his moans, her muffled gagging.

He focused on her again. His tongue flattened out and licked in long, slow strokes from her entrance to her clitoris and back. Then he sucked the entire swollen bud between his lips and flicked the tip of his tongue over it. At the same time, he curled his fingers inside her, searching for the rough spot on the front wall. When he found it, she reacted violently—her thighs clamped around his head, a loud, muffled moan vibrated around his cock, and a new surge of warm fluid ran down his chin.

*She’s about to come*, he thought greedily. *The little slut’s coming on an old janitor’s face.*

He picked up the pace. Fingers, tongue, sucking—all at once. The taste grew even more intense, almost creamy now. He swallowed everything she gave him, licked the excess wetness from her inner thighs, and returned immediately. His own pelvis lifted involuntarily, thrusting deeper into her mouth. She gagged again, saliva running all over his genitals, but she didn’t stop.

The pressure in his balls became unbearable. He felt the throbbing, the swelling. “I’m coming,” he gasped against her wet slit. “Swallow it… swallow my cum, you whore…”

He thrust deep into her mouth two more times and came. Thick, hot spurts of cum shot straight down her throat. He felt her swallow, gag, swallow, while he continued to pulse inside her mouth. Some of it ran out of the corners of her mouth and dripped onto his balls. In his mind, the taste of his own cum mingled with the taste of her pussy on his tongue—dirty, salty, perfect.

At the same time, her body tensed above him. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, another gush of warm fluid splashed across his face, and she moaned loudly around his still-twitching cock. The vibrations squeezed the last few drops out of him.

They lay there like that, panting, wet, sticky. His face was covered in her juices, her mouth full of his cum. The smell of sex hung heavy between the rows of seats—sweat, pussy, cum, an old man, and a young woman.

He slowly licked her twitching slit one last time, gathering up the last remnants, and groaned with satisfaction.

“There,” he murmured hoarsely. “Now we’re even.”

The next morning, the janitor woke up.

His cock was still damp. Not just from sweat—it felt as if someone had sucked on it. An intense, unmistakable taste of pussy lingered on his tongue and throughout his mouth. Sweet and tangy, slightly salty, warm. He blinked, and there was the thong, still lying across his face, over his mouth and nose. The fabric was slightly crusty, but the smell hit his nose again immediately.

He reached for his cell phone, just to check the time. When he unlocked the screen, the camera app was still open. A small thumbnail was in the corner. He tapped it and froze.

The photo was in focus.

The blonde student from his dream. On all fours in the lecture hall, ass in the air, her smooth-shaven pussy and tight asshole thrust right at the camera. Exactly the position in which he’d found her. The lighting was right, the rows of chairs in the background were right—even the wet spot on the floor was visible.

He stared at the picture, his heart pounding heavily. Confused. This couldn’t be. It had been a dream. A dirty, horny dream. And yet there was the photo on his phone, as if he’d really taken it. The memories weren’t blurry like they are in normal dreams. They played out in his mind’s eye like a video: the smell, the taste, the feeling of her lips around his cock, the twitching of her pussy on his tongue, the hot cum he’d shot into her mouth. Everything was clear. Everything was real.

He slowly set the phone aside and stared at the ceiling.

At the same time, Lena woke up.

She was still basking in the afterglow. Her body felt heavy and pleasantly drained, the muscles between her legs twitching slightly. For a brief moment, she just felt good—warm, relaxed, satisfied.

Then the memories came.

Not in fragments. Not like in a normal, sexually charged dream. But in full. She’d given the janitor a blowjob. The old, fat janitor. She’d taken his cock in her mouth, sucked him deep, swallowed his bitter, thick cum. And he’d licked her. His tongue had been inside her, his fingers, and she’d come. Really come. On his face.

She could still feel it. She was wet between her legs—not just from arousal, but sticky and warm, as if someone had really been there. There was a strange taste on her lips and tongue—salty, masculine, slightly bitter. The taste of his cum.

Lena stared at the ceiling of her apartment, her heart suddenly pounding faster. The shame came late, hot and stinging. In her dream, she’d let a sixty-year-old janitor lick and fuck her. And her body had gone along with it. Had enjoyed it. Had come.

She slipped a hand between her legs. The wetness was real. The taste on her tongue was real.

Just like in the dreams before.