Ditch Mr. Wood, but let him down gently

"Sorry," you say.

You wrap your arms around the big older man before he can get too bummed out. You plant kisses on his cheeks and he smiles. You plant a big smooch on his lips.

"I'll be back," you say. "I just have some things I have to take care of."

You give him another lingering kiss and even part your lips a little.

"I'll come over tonight," you say. "Is it okay if I sleep over?"

He grins from ear to ear at that.

"I'd love for you to stay the night," he says. "I'll leave the key under the mat. Just come on in."

"I'll do that," you slide your hand down to the hard cock straining his slacks. "And no jerking off."

You give him a playful squeeze.

"This is all mine tonight," you laugh.

You part ways with a last long kiss. You head into your house and apply some fresh makeup and perfume. It's only the middle of the afternoon, but it's been a wild day so far.

You think about Mr. Crassle waiting for you in the motor lodge. The virile older man, probably with a cock full of Viagra, waiting to have passionate sex with his teenage mistress. You were never that attracted to older men before Mr. Wood, but he's opened up a whole world for you. Now the idea of Mr. Crassle fucking you hard in a cheap motel is getting your pussy all wet.

You finish applying lipstick and hurry out to your little VW Jetta. The motor lodge isn't far, but you're pushing it. It's just a one-floor shithole. A series of rooms with parking spaces right outside the door.

It's easy to figure out which room Crassle is waiting for you in. There's only one Mercedes parked at the motor lodge.

You pull up next to his car in your cute little convertible. You feel butterflies in your stomach as you walk up to the run-down door and drum your knuckles on it.

"It's open," barks Crassle from within.

You step inside. It's dim, the curtain is pulled shut. Crassle is sprawled out on the bed of the motel room wearing boxers, a tanktop, and black socks. He looks at you and grins, but it's a hungry smile.

"Get over here, sweetie," he pats the bed next to him. "I've got something to show you."

You sit down on the edge of the bed and turn to look at Crassle. He reaches down to the flap of his boxers and drags out his cock, stiff as a spear, sticking straight up from his fist and surrounded by white pubes. It looks bigger than you remember.

"What do you think of that?" He laughs. "I bet you can think of something to do with it."