My Mature Lover Greeted Me Shirtless That Afternoon

Hello again. It had been a long time since I’d sat down to tell anything, but this afternoon he left me with such a craving to write that I couldn’t resist. For those who don’t know me, my name is Renata. I have the body of a woman who already knows what she wants: wide hips, good legs, medium breasts that fit just right in my hand. Dark-skinned, black hair to my shoulders, brown eyes. Curves in all the right places and no hurry to hide them.

For a few weeks I’d been seeing an older man than me, drop-dead gorgeous, the kind who walks into a room and the temperature rises on its own. Sometimes I’d go to his apartment, other times we’d go out to dinner somewhere quiet. That afternoon he’d invited me to his place under the pretext of watching a movie. I knew perfectly well we weren’t going to watch even the credits.

I got myself ready the way he likes: a mid-length dress, a discreet but enough of a neckline, my hair loose. When I arrived and he opened the door, I almost laughed at how obvious everything was. He was in jeans only, no shirt, barefoot. Firm abs, that line of hair running down from his chest and disappearing under the waistband of his pants. I devoured him with my eyes without the slightest attempt to hide it.

Movie, my ass.

—Come in —he said, with that half-smile I already knew.

He didn’t wait for me to decide anything. He took me by the waist, shoved the door shut, and pressed me against it. His mouth came down on mine before I could say a word. He kissed me hungrily, his tongue finding mine, one hand gripping the back of my neck so I wouldn’t pull away. I wasn’t planning to.

His body pressed against mine from top to bottom. I felt his erection against my hip, already hard beneath the denim, while his hands slipped under my dress and held me firmly.

—Look how you’ve got me —he murmured into my ear, shifting his hips so I’d feel it well.

The warning wasn’t necessary, but that rubbing made me wet all the same.

—I love feeling you like this —I told him, and lowered my hand to rest it over the fabric, measuring his length and hardness with my fingers—. I’m aching to have you in my mouth.

—And I’m aching to have you —he answered, his voice already hoarse—. Top to bottom, leaving nothing out.

I didn’t waste any more time. I unbuttoned his jeans, lowered the zipper a little, and stroked him through his underwear with my fingers. His breathing quickened, his hips came forward searching for my hand. He grabbed my jaw with one hand, forced me to look at him, and kissed me again, this time slower, dirtier. With the other hand he kneaded my ass and every so often gave me a soft slap that drew a sigh out of me.

I moaned against his mouth shamelessly. We were both in the entryway, still half-dressed, and I no longer knew where my head was.

The good thing about an experienced man is exactly that: patience. Men my age go straight for the point, as if the prize were getting there fast. Not him. He enjoyed the road, read every reaction from my body, and used it to his advantage. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, held my gaze for a second too long, and I knew that afternoon wasn’t going to be fully fit to tell afterward.

—Come —he said, taking my hand to lead me to the bedroom.

***

Once we got there, he recovered some calm, as if he wanted to stretch the moment out. He left kisses on my cheek, my neck, my collarbone, while his fingers sought the side zip of my dress. The fabric slid down my body and pooled at my feet. His mouth kept descending to the swell of my breasts. He squeezed them over my bra, played with them, nipped softly at the fabric until my nipples stood out.

He gently pushed me onto the bed and I let myself fall back. He climbed on behind me, unclasped my bra in one motion, and tossed it to the floor. His tongue circled one nipple, then the other, sucking them with a calm that had my nerves on edge. One of his hands slowly slid down my belly until it disappeared between my legs.

His fingers slipped over the already soaked fabric of my underwear. He moved it aside and began drawing circles right where I needed it most. When one of his fingers sank into me, slowly, all the way, I arched my back sharply.

—So good, baby —I moaned, clutching the sheet.

I lifted one leg and hooked it around his waist to open myself wider for him. I moved my hips searching for his hand, his skin, anything. With clumsy fingers I finished pulling down his jeans until he was fully free. I took him in my hand and started stroking him from top to bottom, with that slowness I knew drove him crazy.

—I love how you touch me —he said, breathing hard. He ran his tongue between my breasts—. And I love these tits. I want to put it in here, right between them.

—Do it —I answered, not recognizing my own voice—. I want everything. But after that don’t make me wait any longer, because you’re killing me.

He sat up and took his jeans off completely. Then he straddled me, one knee on each side, and gripped himself in his fist. He brought the tip to my breasts, stroked them with it, circled them slowly. I cupped my breasts together with my hands to close them around him and he started moving between them, his hips setting a slow rhythm. I looked up at him from below, not missing a thing on his face, on the way his jaw clenched.

Before he lost control, he pulled away. He traced a wet path down my belly and then positioned himself again between my legs.

***

He yanked off my last garment impatiently and spread my legs with both hands. He pressed the tip at my entrance and slid it up and down, brushing the spot he knew would make me tremble. When he reached the exact point, he gave me a few soft taps that I felt all the way to my toes.

—Don’t tease anymore —I begged, half laughing, half desperate.

Then he pushed in, slowly, letting me feel every inch.

—Yes —I moaned, closing my eyes—. Like that. All of it.

—From now on the only one who does you like that is me —he said, his voice low and firm, as he sank in to the hilt.

He lifted my legs and rested them on his shoulders to go deeper. I clung to the sheets, to his arm, to whatever I could grab. Every thrust tore a sound from me that I didn’t even try to hold back.

—Oh, fuck, so good —I said as his hips slammed into mine—. Don’t stop. I’m all yours. Like that, give it to me more.

—This is what I love about you —he said, with that hoarse voice that melted me—. That you enjoy it as much as I do. That’s why I wanted you for myself, to take my time and give you everything you ask for.

He lowered my legs and dragged me to the edge of the bed. He held my hips and lifted me slightly over his body. He entered me again, this time deeper, and I could only roll my eyes back. I felt him everywhere, in every thrust, while he held me up effortlessly.

—Do you like it like this? —he asked.

—I love it —I answered, barely breathing—. Don’t stop, please.

He held me with a ease that turned me on even more. There was no clumsiness in him, no doubt, only hands that knew exactly how much to tighten and when to ease up. He watched me the whole time, attentive to every expression on my face, as if he wanted to memorize the exact moment my breath caught.

—I didn’t think you’d like it this much —he said, pulling out for a second to catch his breath—. Turn around. I want to see you like that.

I got on my knees, facing away from him, and he didn’t waste a second before sinking back in. His weight against my ass felt perfect. He took a breath and started moving harder, faster. He wouldn’t stop moaning into the pillow. A slap landed on my ass, just enough to sting, and immediately a wave of pleasure ran through me whole.

That’s how he took me, holding me by the waist, driving into me without mercy, marking my skin with every thrust. A deep growl came from his throat and I knew he was close. I slid my own hand between my legs to bring myself off at the same time. A few soft circles were enough for everything in me to tense up all at once and come undone in contractions that squeezed him inside me. Seconds later I felt him finish, driving in one last time to the hilt, both of us breathing as if we’d run miles.

I let myself fall onto the bed, still trembling, and he collapsed beside me with a low, satisfied laugh. He put an arm over me and pulled me against his sweaty chest.

—Do we watch that movie now? —I asked, biting my lip.

—Later —he murmured into my hair—. I’m not done with you yet.

And honestly, neither was I with him.