Old man and Shoolgirls - Sex Stories

Sex Stories, Erotic Stories, Porn Stories, XNXX Stories, Adult Stories, XXX Stories

Sex Stories Categories: Fiction, Blowjob, Anal, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Fantasy, Incest, Hardcore, First Time, Dark Fantasy, Young, Group Sex, True Story, Romance, Masturbation, Domination/submission, Male/Female, Teen Male/Teen Female, Written by women, Teen, Erotica, Lesbian, Mature, Bi-sexual, BDSM, Exhibitionism, Virginity, Taboo, Humiliation, Female/Female, Cheating, Reluctance, Male/Teen Female, Rape, Threesome, Bondage and restriction, Gay, School, Voyeurism, Non-consensual sex, Cruelty, Love Poems, Violence, Teen Male / Female, Ass to mouth, Coercion, Wife, Male / Females, Job/Place-of-work,
Best Porn Sites

Old man and Shoolgirls

Date: 4/26/2017, Categories: First Time, Group Sex, Taboo, Author: brianbigdogsmith, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

bravely; not quite the response I wanted. If I didn't relax them, this was not going to be much fun. I decided on the gentlemanly approach... "Hello, Jean, Fiona, come on in". Jean was in front, but only, I suspect, because Fiona had pushed her up the garden path. "It's all right, I don't bite" (much, I thought) I waved them through to my lounge, sat them on the sofa and hovered, asking "Are you nervous then, girls?" It was Fiona who replied "Yes, a bit, Mr Aardvark". More than a bit, her complexion was already fair, but she was now deathly pale and her hands were clasped together but still shaking. Jean had that rabbit in the headlights stare and seemed incapable of speech. "Call me Adam", I smiled. "Are you all right, Jean?" Manifestly, she wasn't but, when Fiona dug her in the ribs, she f***ed out "Yes, Mr Aard - I mean Adam" through gritted teeth. "Would you and Fiona like a drink? Do girls your age drink nowadays? Things seem to be less relaxed then when I was your age". I imagined their visions of uniformed dinosaurs serving me when "I was your age"... "Dad lets me have a glass of wine at meals", ventured Fiona. Jean remained silent, but I reckoned she'd go along with her friend. "Would you like a glass now, Fiona? Red or White? How about you, Jean?" A little alcohol might relax them; something had to! "White, please, Mr... sorry, Adam" mumbled Fiona, trying still to be brave. "And you, Jean?". Jean nodded, her first sign of life since she had sat down. I disappeared ... into the kitchen and took my time about pouring the drinks. Indeed, I took enough time to hear Fiona whisper "Think about the six hundred pounds". One of the disadvantages of a cut glass accent is that even a whisper carries for a surprising distance. It wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear, but it was a step in the right direction. I emerged from the kitchen with three large glasses of Macon Blanc Vilages, which I suspect was a good deal more pokey than Fiona's dad's table wine, and a more substantial measure. By the by, it is also quite delicious and highly recommended by your author. I handed round the drinks and sat opposite them in the comfy chair, a prevision of the scenario I'd negotiated with them in the cafe. I started the ambient chill-out CD I'd prepared beforehand. I waited while they had a swig or two, as did I (if truth be told, I was almost as nervous as them) and asked "Is it OK?". "It's really nice... Adam. Isn't it, J", nudging her friend to respond. She did, with "It's OK, I mean it IS nice. I mean, I'm not very used to wine, but I like the taste...". This was practically an oration compared with what had gone before. Mirabile dictu, she was loosening up. I waited a few cc's longer, then asked "Shall we take our drinks upstairs?" This was the critical point, disguised as a question about their drinks. Fiona was first to respond. "Oh, yes. Right. Come on, J". I'd already twigged that Fiona's use of the nickname was a sign that she was relaxing, and Jean's ...