You want to suck that old man dick

Mr. Goreman's question hangs in the air like the smell of your aroused cunt. What do you want to do? You pull your blouse off and stand naked before him. His eyes caress your curves, but you're more interested in the big bulge in the front of his trousers.

"I want to suck that grandpa dick," you confess. "Can I suck your dick, Mr. Goreman? Please?"

He grins and reaches for his belt, but your hands push his away as you step up and kiss him on the mouth. Your fingers unfasten his belt and unbtton his trousers. You drop them to the floor and he awkwardly steps out of them. In the half-light of his bedroom a lot of the blemishes and scars you could see in the park are invisible. You can still see all the moles on his pale legs and the wet spot on his boxers. That's your fault though.

"Sit down in the chair," you say and guide him over to the chair. He's grinning from ear to ear as he sits down, his boxer shorts tented up around his big dick. You turn around and do a little dance for him, showing off your hips and your shapely ass and long legs, turning and tugging at the hard pebbles of your nipples as you lift your big and youthful breasts.

You drop to your hands and knees and come crawling over to him across the carpeted floor like a cat heading for a bowl of cream. You lick your lips and reach into the flap of his boxers and drag out his hard prick. It's very wet with saliva and sweat and cum that leaked out after your fun in the park and the head is glistening with several fresh drops of precum. His pubes are matted with juices and there's quite a strong aroma of sex and sweat. The smell only turns you on more with its raunchy musk and you hungrily gulp his straining fuckpole into your teenage mouth, tasting the salty remains of earlier and letting your tongue explore every ridge and vein as you begin bobbing on Mr. Goreman's eager dick.

"Oh my gosh," groans Mr. Goreman. "That feels amazing, baby doll. Like ahh...ahhhh..ah dream."

You lift your sucking mouth from his cock, teasing his cockhead and piss slit with your tongue and then lift a breast up to press against the underside. You slap his straining dick on your tits, wetting them with his juices and letting him feel the soft slap of flesh on flesh. You stroke his cock and cradle it with your cleavage, letting your tongue slip out and swipe around and around the head of his cock.

"I want you to pump my mouth full of cum," you tell him and bob your lips on his dick for a few strokes. "Feed me your cream, Mr. Goreman."

You resume a steady, deep blowjob, sucking all the way until your nose is buried in his musky pubes and his dick is throbbing against the back of your throat. The room is full with your soft sighs and muffled moans and the steady slurp and pop of suction as your mouth glides up and down the old timer's prick. You lick and suck his balls and let him fuck your drool-soaked cleavage and use every technique you know for getting a guy to pump his load into your mouth.

"Ahhhh sweetheart," Mr. Goreman gasps, shaking beneath your slutty suckjob, "I'm very close now."

No sooner has he spoken than the hard tube of his fuckstick buried between your tender lips throbs and you feel his hot cum pump across your tongue and down your throat. You swallow and suck, greedily devouring his dick all the way to the root as he feeds you the thick, salty broth of his balls. You moan, vibrating his surging dick, and pull up to the head to swirl your tongue and stroke his shaft and enjoy the feel of the hot gobs of goo bursting into your mouth.

You gulp the spermy mouthful and lift your lips from Mr. Goreman's wilting prick.

"Just what I wanted," you say, and you lean forward and give him a kiss on the cheek. You stand up, running your hands over your naked body. Your clothes are heaped beside his bed. You pick them up, figuring you're going to get dressed, but Mr. Goreman isn't quite ready to see you go.

"My dear, I wanted to talk to you about an idea that occured to me while you were performing that delightful maneuver with your tongue on the tip of my prick." He stands, adjusting his boxers and shuffling over to you.

"What's the idea?" you ask.