I'll have to wait

I press the knob of my cock experimentally against her dripping pussy, irritated that my age is affecting my ability to perform. The erection that was almost fully hard in Alison's mouth is already starting to buckle. I still feeling bolts of pleasure from the sensitive crown of my manhood, but even that is not enough to keep the blood flowing into the shaft.

“Mr. P?” Alison is clearly confused by my hesitation, say what I might about Dick, but I bet he doesn't have this problem. She looks back at me over her right shoulder her eyes full of need. “Is everything alright?” It is decision time, I might be able to still make this work, there is a very real possibility that once I'm in her tight teenaged pussy I'd harden up just fine, but there is no guaranty.

“I'm sorry, Angel.” I tell her with an exasperated sigh, “looks like this old man is done for the night.”

“Stop saying that, Mr. P!” Alison straightens and turns even more so she can rest her soft hand on my arm. “You're not that old,” when she sees the expression on my face she changes tactics, “and even if you are, you are still the best lover in the whole world.” With a little shuffling, Alison maneuvers until she is tucked under my arm with her right tit pressed firmly into my ribs. Her naked body fits almost perfectly against mine, and I pull her close with a contented smile.

“I got some pills from my doctor, so I'll do better this weekend, I promise.” Her small hand rests on mine once again, and she gives it a little squeeze.

“Yeah, Mr. P?” I can tell by her smile that I'm going to get some teasing. “Tell me what you are going to do to your new ****.” She pauses for a second before lifting her big eyes to mine. “What kind of **** do you want; a skilled pleasure-****, eager to please her master in every way with her toned body? Or a newly captured raw **** that will need a master's firm hand to teach the poor thing her new role?” She reads the answer in my eyes. As much as I would enjoy having a skilled pleasure **** serve me, breaking in a **** new to her collar is clearly what I want. Alison continues sweetly like she's asking me what flavor of ice-cream I like. “OK, now you just have to choose between a sweet Earthgirl like me, snatched from her college dorm only to awaken in a terrifying new world, or a haughty Imperial heiress stripped and chained by space pirates and badly in need of being broken in?”

It's a good choice to have. John Norman's Gor and Sparrowhawk's space opera world each have their appeal, and I've jacked off to both over the years. Alison obviously looks perfect as a young woman from the 21st century who suddenly finds herself collared and chained, but she could just as easily pass for one of the sheltered daughters of the great families of some far-reaching space empire. Before the weekend is over, I intend to try each of those scenarios as well as a few others too, but for this first time, hmm...