David Alexander - Bert

In spite of what Robin had said, she wanted him. She wanted him badly to relieve her own sexual tensions. The woman didn't want to have an affair with a boy, but she saw it was useless to protest. He was determined and, in a perverse way, she was glad. Robin could let Bert take some of the initiative and, in some fashion she could not easily determine, the boy was vastly more than he had been. No longer scared or unsure, he appealed to her on the most elemental sexual level possible.

Robin wanted Bert's long, hardened prick shoved between her legs and up her cunt. She wanted the satisfaction a woman received only when a man fucked her.

The coral tip of her tongue raced around her lips a split second before Bert's melted against hers. It was a silent invitation. A tacit acknowledgement that she was saying one thing while her body, her very core of being, screamed out another.

Bert's kiss was not very adroit. He had much to learn about properly kissing a woman. But Robin was just the person to show him. As she warmed to the feel of his lips against hers, the woman began to return the kiss with ferver and ill-suppressed desire.

The youthful photographer felt the difference instantly. He hadn't missed the tiny circuit of the lips Robin made before he kissed her. Bert certainly couldn't miss the feel of her mouth opening slightly, the increased pressure and the probing tongue delving into his mouth. Although the youth had been the one who started the session, it was obviously turning into another educational experience for Bert Ellis.

He'd always wanted to get sex education out of the class room and back onto the playground where it belonged!

He continued holding Robin's head firmly pressed toward him as she teased his tongue with her own dextrous oral digit. The taste of her saliva was sweet, succulent and indescribably delicious. The delicate, feather light touches of her tongue against his seemed to ignite passions in Bert's body that were barely controllable. Bert felt himself growing harder, the head of his cock spreading like the hood of a cobra preparing to strike. And, like a snake, he felt the sinuous wiggling back and forth as his excitement grew.

Robin reached down and pressed against the lump in her sexpartner's trousers. He would have gasped except that the woman's tongue had completely entrapped his; he could say nothing, only breathe harder and faster as she constricted her hand and grabbed onto his balls.

The teenager pulled her head back, breaking the mouth to mouth tutoring with some reluctance. Bert managed to mumble, "Free it…my cock feels like its going to burst open!"

A tiny smile danced on Robin's lips. "It will, Bert, it will. I promise."

The rythmic squeezing of his crotch excited Robin as much as it did the possessor of those proud, churning balls and quivering dick. Robin descended again onto Bert's mouth, forcing his lips apart with her darting, agile tongue. Inside his mouth once more, she began to explore, an expert at spelunking in men's oral caverns. This one was a real treat because Robin knew she might be the first to ever explore the depths. The woman wasn't certain but, for all of Bert's newfound confidence and take-command airs, she guessed that he had not been on many dates and that girls were still a wonderful mystery, if not a little bit frightening.

If Robin could have read Bert's confused mind, her hunch would have been confirmed. Bert was thinking that this had to be Heaven, he must be dead and gone to his reward. Kissing Robin was nothing like kissing Alana or Patty, his first heartthrob in junior high. This was something greater, a higher class, a quantum jump in excellence and arousability. The kiss was electric, dynamite, but it was nothing to the sprouting manhood building into a towering spire at his groin.

His cock was unbearably bloated with desire to be buried again in Robin's clutching, tight, hot cunt. He wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of her love tunnel around his length grasping at his rod like she had done before.

But Robin had other plans. The woman wanted to initiate Bert into as many of the intriacies and delights of sex as she could; she felt like a schoolgirl again, leading a stumbling student along the path to satiation.

Her hand stopped gripping at Bert's jeans. Thumb and forefinger carefully reached out and took the zipper in a firm hold. Slowly, with a teasing, torturous slowness, she dragged the piece of metal down its track. Bert's eyes were glued on the spectacle. The slender fingers tipped with fucshia-tinted nails opened the front of his trousers. He began to feel even more excited just thinking of what was to come…him!

Those agile, groping fingers dived inside the opening that had been created and fumbled until his fleshy rod pulsed against them. Again between thumb and index finger, Robin grasped the sweaty, shaking tool and pulled it out into the cool air of the living room.

The sight of the purpled head quaking in lust – for her! – caused her crotch to begin to water. Robin could barely restrain herself from ripping off her clothing and cramming that turgid tool far up inside her and reveling in the feel of a pulsing cock beating out an erotic tempo in her cunt.

Bert's hands, even shaking as they were, managed to free the buttons running down the front of Robin's blouse. The garment hung open, and he saw for the first time the black, lacy bra that did little to hide her tits but supported the twin demiglobes of flesh nicely. His hand strayed and gently plied the smooth, warm expanse of her flesh, wanting to completely free those enticing mountains of tit from their lacy encumberance. Jugs were meant to be felt, handled, fondled, sucked, not trapped in some conical contrivance originally manufactured by a demented Frenchman.

Bert managed to insinuate his clumsy hand behind Robin as he searched for the eyes and hooks of her bra strap. His inexperience with such things betrayed him. Or it might have been his inability to concentrate as Robin began stroking his cock from its hairy base to the sensitive, twitching crown. her initial stokes were soft, gentle and barely perceptible. As the woman squeezed down, gripping Bert's length harder, the sensations smashing through his body increased tenfold, a hundred-fold. Lances of pure, undiluted joy seared his nerves like acid.

But it was pleasurable torture Carole's mother was meting out to him. He could have rocked back on the loveseat and allowed her to do nothing more than give him a handjob.

Through his lust numbed brain came other messages, the maturing voice of sexuality from a higher plane. Bert continued to strain and eventually managed to free the diabolical fasteners of Robin's black, frilly bra. As if spring loaded, the bra snapped around her, hanging only by the twin straps over her shoulders. A little bit of maneuvering on both their parts and Bert soon had gotten the woman out of both her blouse and brassiere.

The sight of Robin naked to the waist sent a jab of excitement through Bert's psyche that caused him momentarily to lose the sexual control he was learning. The two jugs bouncing and bobbing, tracing out invisible figure eights in the air with the ruddy nipples were almost too much for him to bear without ejaculating.

The woman's breasts were tributes to her femininity. The first time he had seen them, his mind had been dulled and blurred with the shock of what had been happening to him. This time, although extremely excited and desirous of fucking this woman until she was cross-eyed, Bert retained some small vestige of objectivity.

The teenager studied the expanse of skin revealed to him. And it was marvelous. The slight sag in Robin's tits was the only indication that she was nearly forty years old. She kept herself in superb physical shape. The idle thought drifted through Bert's mind that fucking a couple times a day might do it, keep that mysterious glow that seemed to flush a woman's complexion after a really good fuck.