Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Beth sat in the dim glow of the bar of the hotel she stayed at on business. The smartly-dressed, pretty 60-year old blonde wore a business suit, including black slacks and low black women’s dress socks. She sat at the bar, legs crossed, her pant leg riding on the top leg revealing a hint of freckled, shiny shin above her sock, and a supple, muscled calf in back.
She noticed him staring, a young buck of 21 or so, nervously. She dangled her shoe, revealing her socked foot and he stared harder. She smiled at him and curled a finger. He looked apprehensive and came to sit by her. They were alone at the end of the bar.
“You like feet, young man?” she hissed, a little drunk. “And shins and socks? You’ve been staring pretty hard at mine. What’s your name?”
She was sharp, defined, in control.
“M…Mike,” he stammered, extending a hand.
She looked at it and then away.
“Don’t do that, you cheapen me,” she snarled.
“Uh…well…what..what’s your name?”
She smiled darkly. “Mother,” she said. “You may call me Mother.”
“Leave then,” she sighed. “I don’t care…if you want to stay and play, you’ll do what you’re told. And they way you’ve stared at my shin and sock and foot, I’m guessing you want to stay and play…Right?”
“Right…mm…mm…mother,” he mumbled.
“It’s a start,” she growled. “I ask again and there won’t be a next time: Do you like feet, shins and socks young man? Specifically mine?”
“Yes…Mother,” he complied with a low moan, hardly able to look at Beth.
“Good,” she cooed. “I’ve been in meetings all day and my feet are tired and I suspect, more than a little smelly.”
She purposely dropped her cocktail napkin, then looked at Mike.
“Well?” she asked impatiently.
Mike gulped and had to get off his stool and kneel to pick it up. Beth pulled her pant leg up a bit more, the white, shiny shin inches from his face. She let her shoe fall from her crossed leg.
“Smell it,” she hissed down at him, sipping her wine, feeling the rush that came with it. “Smell my socked foot. Now.”
Mike moaned and leaned forward, taking her foot in his hand. Instantly, Beth pulled up her other pant leg and now used her bare calves around his neck, squeezing it in the muscles of her smooth flesh, crushing him dizzy in mere seconds, her socked feet crossed, toes clenched together.
“Did I tell you to TOUCH my foot, Michael?” she growled, throbbing those big muscles on his neck. “No, I did not, I said SMELL my foot. Now try again.”
She unsnapped her scissoring calves and crossed her legs again, the dangling right foot in Mike’s face. He leaned forward and inhaled, coughing immediately at the musty, sweaty, ripe smell of Beth’s black sock. She laughed.
“Lick it,” she hissed. “Lick that dirty sock.”
Mike obeyed, caught up in the fever of being dominated by a beautiful woman old enough to be his grandmother. He licked the fabric, the instep, down over her toes and then the flat of her foot, feeling the moist heat tingle his tongue. Beth flexed her calves, both visible in her pulled-up pant legs above her stinky socks. She shook her foot from his mouth and put them both on the rungs casino siteleri of her stool, to the side, balling up her amazing calves inches from Mike’s eyes, which darted side to side to look at both and make sure no one was watching. No one was.
“My calves are beautiful,” she said, not as a question but a statement. “And very strong, as you know, I have knocked men and women out using them to scissor necks. Now lean over and lick, from my stinky sock to my bony knee, each calf, run your worthless tongue up the sweet curve of the muscles and taste my calf meat. Go on, do it.”
Mike was dizzy from domination and obeyed this leggy mistress, starting at one sock, sweeping his tongue up over the salty flesh, feeling the muscle beneath silky skin, ending at her knee and then starting at the other sock, taking his time, tasting every bit of Beth’s supple calf.
“Good, good,” she cooed. “Now up on the stool, sit, massage my tired, aching, smelly socked feet.”
“Yes,” he groaned.
“Excuse me?” Beth asked sharply.
“Yes, Mother,” he groaned more loudly.
She put her feet up on his lap, smiling as she felt his hard cock in his dress pants. She nodded and he gulped, looked down and began massaging her sweaty, stinky sock clad feet, hard and firmly.
“My calves, don’t forget my calves, they need attention too,” she hissed, drink in hand, leaning back on her stool. “That’s right, massage the muscles in them, feel the soft, smooth flesh covering that steel beneath! Do you like my calves, Michael, do you like your hands on my shiny, smooth shins as well, do you like the smell of my socked feet coming up to your nose?”
“Yesss…mother…” he moaned, thrusting his cock up into the soft curves of her calves.
“You disgusting pervert, your cock is hard, your cock is VERY hard from rubbing your mother’s muscular calves and massaging her feet and smelling her dirty black socks!” she snarled. “Take your jacket off.”
“Take it off, you pervert, and drape it over your lap and my calves!”
“Now,” she hissed, swirling her drink. “Take your disgusting penis out and put it between your mother’s muscular, socked calves! It’s the only way to handle a dirty boy like you. DO IT!”
He trembled and obeyed, taking his stiff cock out of his pants and feeling it enveloped in the hot, meaty grip of Beth’s socked, muscular calves. She crossed her feet and rippled her calf muscles on his cock, vibrating the meaty flesh on it, fucking him in her calves. He groaned, he’d never felt anything so delicious in his life.
“You want to cum in mommy’s calves, don’t you son?” she said sweetly. “Say it. Now.”
“I want…to cum in your … your calves, Mommy!” he groaned looking at her desperately, her look one of casual detachment.
Impatiently, Beth crushed his cock in her scissoring calves, making him wince.
“Are you that stupid, boy?” she growled. “I said ask if you may come in your mother’s socked, scissoring calves!”
“May I cum your socked, scissoring calves mommy?” he squealed.
“Of course,” she giggled. “I’m not totally heartless.”
Mike closed his eyes and didn’t move, letting Beth relax canlı casino her calf grip and now just flex and roll and ripple and quiver those meaty gripping tubes of sexy, 60-year-old muscle on his young cock. He was close, so close, closer still when she slipped her legs up a bit and now captured just the head inside the velvet clamp of her meaty, undulating calf meat.
“This is what gets them most of all,” she said proudly. “My calf quiver on their little cock heads, it feels heavenly the way that muscle, that sweet, sexy, smooth, socked 60-year-old muscle is just vibrating on you, doesn’t it?”
“God, yes, Mommy, it does, your calves are incredible, your smelly socks, your feet, it’s all so unbelievable!!!”
“Of course it is,” she cooed, continuing to vibrate-fuck his oozing pecker. “Think of it, a 60-year-old woman – your 60-year-old MOTHER – is giving you such a great feeling in her old, wrinkled calves! And look at me, Michael, look at this!”
He turned to look and Beth tilted her head back, exposing her sexy neck wrinkles, sweet folds of them, sagging and white and smooth as silk.
“My neck wrinkles, Michael, that turkey neck they call it, look at the flesh of my neck, the creamy smoothness,” she teased. “You’d like to suckle on my neck wrinkles wouldn’t you, Michael, to lick, chew and suck your mommy’s wrinkled old neck!”
Michael groaned, watching Beth finger her own wrinkles as her wrinkled meaty calves worked his cock.
“And you know what, son of mine, once you cum, and you will cum, in your mother’s scissoring, wrinkled old calves,” she hissed. “You will get down on your knees, you will take each cum-covered calf in your hand and you will EAT up every disgusting drop of your boy sperm!”
“Oh..my God…” he moaned, eyes closed and about to spurt.
“Jim, Lucy, how are you?”
Mike’s eyes shot open and there next to Beth were two other middle aged people, chatting away with the beautiful blonde, who laughed and talked and looked at Mike with an evil smile.
“And this is my new friend, Michael,” she said sweetly. “Michael, Lucy and Jim!”
They smiled and reached for Michael’s hand – which had just been under his coat feeling the sweet, sexy, smooth wrinkles of Beth’s quivering calves and lifted it, with a dollop of pre-cum on it, taking Lucy’s hand and shaking it weakly, feeling his pre-jizz transfer to her palm. She looked at it quizzically and wiped it on her blouse as Jim shook Mike’s hand.
“You’re not hitting on our friend here, are you, Mike?” Jim laughed heartily. “Though I can’t blame you, she’s gorgeous.”
“Um…” Lucy said uneasily, pointing at Beth’s legs draped on Mike’s lap, only her socked, crossed feet sticking out the other side of his jacket.
“Michael was kind enough to give me a foot rub,” Beth said. “You know, all work and no play, well Michael’s VERY good at foot rubs.”
“Wish Jim would give ME a foot rub,” Lucy sighed. “Perhaps later, Michael?”
He smiled weakly and couldn’t believe it as Beth’s quivering calves quivered even more madly on his twitching cock, hidden by his jacket. His balls throbbed, his cock ached and he felt his orgasm building, though he tried to not let it happen. Beth’s kaçak casino calves sensed the increasing thickness of his cock and the heat and quivered more and more those delicious muscles on it, smiling at Mike.
“Oh, I’m sure he will, Lucy, I’m sure he will,” Beth sighed. “And he did my calves, too, a long, lingering rub of my calf muscles, mmmm, it was so good…”
Lucy looked uncomfortable and Jim looked keenly interested.
“Yes, well, Beth, you’ve got killer calves, we all know that in the office, don’t we Lucy?” he said happily.
“You do?” she said coyly. “Why I didn’t know my calves were that noticeable, Jim?”
“Oh, they are, they are,” he practically gushed.
“We must go, we have reservations,” Lucy fairly snapped.
“Oh, do stay one more minute,” Beth smiled, looking at Mike and pulsating her meaty calf muscles on his cock.
Mike couldn’t stop.
He felt his balls knot and he came, long, hard, and wet, in the fiercely quivering clamp of Beth’s scissoring calves, coating the insides of them and trying to not look like he was having the cum of his life. Beth chatted with her friends, never taking her eyes off Mike, and they widened and flashed as she felt the thick heat of his cum coating her pumping calf meat. He finally stopped, and Jim and Lucy excused themselves, walking away. Jim clapped Mike on the shoulder on his way by.
“You’re a lucky man if you stick with this one, young fella,” he whispered into Mike’s ear as Lucy impatiently pulled him away.
Beth sat, looking at Mike who looked shyly away.
“Put your cock away now, Michael,” she ordered.
Mike did, wiping his cummy cock on her socked feet and then slipping it into his pants. Beth leaned and took his jacket off his lap, at the same time dropping her feet back to the rungs of her bar stool. No one else was around. She dropped her cocktail napkin again, between her spread feet. Mike gulped, watching it flutter to the floor.
“Ooops!” Beth said in mocking tone. “Be a dear, would you ..son!”
“Yes…mother,” he gulped.
He knelt and there they were again, those enormous muscles of Beth’s wrinkled calves, the flesh soft, smooth, bulging and absolutely coated with thick wads of his cum. He leaned forward, could smell his load, and stuck his tongue out, into the goo. He felt Beth hiss above him.
“Clean my calves, boy,” she growled. “The bartender’s break is almost over, now hurry. And don’t forget to suck my socks, you thought you would get away with soiling my dirty black socks with your cum? Clean them and my thick, muscular, wrinkled calves!”
Mike groaned and attached his mouth to Beth’s right calf, vacuuming every drop of his cum, then the other, then her stinky black socks, his work done in 30 seconds. He looked at her calves, shiny now with his spit and a thin sheen of his remaining cum. He sat back on his stool, the taste in his mouth overpowering and he shot down his gin and tonic quickly.
“You may go,” she sighed, pulling her pant legs down over her impossibly sexy old calves.
She looked at him indifferently.
“You thought wrong, I’ve no need for you now,” she said coldly. “Go.”
He got up and started to shuffle away when she called out quietly, “Room?”
“Room,” she said again.
“Uh…223…” he stammered.
She crossed her legs, a hint of shiny shin showing above her sock.
“Perhaps,” is all she said.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32