Human Digest - Indian Sex Stories

The Internet was to blame for my obsession. Well, blame is the wrong word, because it implies guilt or dissatisfaction, and I feel neither. It was a rainy day last March when it happened. I should have been doing my English assignment. Mum, Dad and my younger brother, Rohit, had all gone to see a movie. I would have liked to have gone as well, but I had to have this homework done by tomorrow. I was working at the computer when I got bored and decided to spend some time on-line. After surfing for half an hour or so, and by pure accident, I came across a site that contained photos of people having sex. Curiosity got the better of me, and I went in.

This was the first time that I had come across this kind of a site. Of course, I knew about their existence, everybody in school did. It was just that they had never really interested me. Not until that moment that is. I was looking through some thumbnail photos when I came across a set that was described simply as ‘The dirty old man and the teen.’ I was pretty aroused already, but when I went into the site and saw the photos, my whole body started to tremble.

There were about 25 pictures placed together to make a series of this really pretty teenaged girl and an elderly man. It starts with her bringing him a drink. The old man is sitting on a couch, and as he takes the cup out of the girl’s hand, he pulls her forward to give her a peck on the cheek as a thank you type gesture. In the next frame, the old man has put the cup on a side table, and is beckoning the girl to come sit next to him, which she does. She has long blonde hair, and is wearing a short white dress with a pair of white high heeled shoes. The old man is then shown with his hand on the girl’s bare thigh. She makes it clear that this is not what she wants. But in the next picture the old man is standing above the teenager with the back of his right hand threatening to smack the girl across the face. The old man is then seen dragging the girl by her hair so that she has to kneel in front of him. He forces her to undo his trousers and take his penis into her mouth. He then rips her dress off and proceeds to have sex with her in a variety of positions. In the final three frames, the old man is holding his willy in front of the girl’s open mouth and shooting his semen onto her tongue.

I know that any teenage girls reading this will think I’m so gross, but I honestly felt so excited looking at these photos. In fact, more aroused than I had ever felt before. It made me wonder what kind of a girl would let a man who was so old do things like that to her. I mean, he wasn’t even a good-looking old guy. I wondered how they greeted each other at the photo studio. Did they shake hands formally or would they kiss? I began to wonder what it was like for this girl when the old man kissed her. Did he have false teeth? Did his breath smell? What did it feel like to have some old guy’s hands roaming all over your body, touching you everywhere that is private to a girl? It would be easy for him to get aroused; I mean what old man wouldn’t want to get his hands on a teenager, but how did she get ready for him? Did she feel dirty after he had put his smelly old willy inside her mouth and pussy? And what about all that horrible goo of his that she had to swallow? Yeeeuch!!

But as I thought of all these things, it suddenly dawned upon me that for the last ten minutes my right hand had been tucked down the front of my knickers and doing things that my friend, Sania, had shown me last year. I managed to get it over with just before my family came back, but I kept those pictures on disc, because I knew that I’d want to see them again and again.

Fate played its hand two months later. A friend to whom we used to live next door about 10 years ago had invited mum and Dad to a wedding; her daughter was getting married. We moved to a new house about 25 miles away just after Rohit was born, because our old one only had two bedrooms. Mum used to keep in touch with our old neighbours, Mr and Mrs Sharma, and she and Dad would go out with them a couple of times every year.

We had all been invited to the wedding, and also to stay over at the country hotel where the evening reception was to be held. It was a beautifully hot, sunny Saturday as we drove to the small hotel for the ceremony. I wore a pink summer dress, a pair of white ankle socks with a turnover fringe, and black shiny sandals. Rohit and I sat in the back of the car as usual, and Rohit was playing with his Game Boy, as usual. Lots of guests had arrived at the hotel before us, and were milling around outside, as it was too nice to stay indoors, especially as the groom was still to appear. We all went over to talk to a family we used to know from our old neighbourhood. Suddenly, from behind me, I heard the booming of a man’s voice calling out my Dad’s name. We all turned in the direction of the noise, and when my parents saw who owned the foghorn, their faces beamed with delight.

‘Mr. Verma, you old reprobate’, Dad said to the man as he pumped his hand enthusiastically. ‘Jeez, we haven’t seen you since we left the old place. How are you, and how’s Mrs. Verma? The man had his back to me but I heard him tell Dad that Mrs. Verma, who I guessed was his wife, had died the year before, but that he was fine and glad to see his old friends. Mr. Verma kissed Mum, said she looked wonderful, which made her blush, and asked where the rest of the family where. When Mum told him we were right behind him, Mr. Verma turned around to greet Rohit and I.

Mr. Verma picked up Rohit and held him high up in the air. ‘So, you’re young Rohit are you? You’re a fine big boy, aren’t you?’ Rohit, who was a little shy of the stranger, just nodded his head slightly. Mr. Verma put my brother back on his feet, and he and my folks had a good laugh. And then Mr. Verma turned to me. I craned my neck to look up at him; I’m only four feet eleven and Mr. Verma was taller than Dad, and Dad is over six feet. ‘And this beautiful young lady, must be the lovely Diya.’ Now it was my turn to blush.

I offered Mr. Verma my hand and said a whispered hello. As he took my hand into his large palm, Mr. Verma remarked that I had been just five when he had last seen me and hadn’t I grown into a beauty just like my mother. It was only when he said that he thought he deserved a kiss from me that I realised I had become aroused by Mr. Verma’s likeness to the old man in the sexy photo series. Both were tall and fat, both wore glasses that made their eyes look huge, both were bald except for a little fuzzy grey hair at the side of their heads, and both had red faces. As Mr. Verma’s face approached my cheek, the hand that wasn’t holding mine came to rest on my shoulder, which was bare apart from the thin straps that held up my pretty, pink summer dress. When I felt his hot, sweaty hand on my skin, and his hot, moist lips on my face, I almost swooned. I sensed that he realised this as well, because he was brave enough to run his tongue over my cheek just before he pulled away. As Mr. Verma continued talking to Mum and Dad, both of his hands clasped the one I had offered to him a minute ago. I made no attempt to move it away, and he made it look so natural that it didn’t seem anything other than an old man’s friendly gesture.

Dad asked Mr. Verma if he’d like to join us in hotel, as he had come on his own, and he said he would be delighted. He finally let go of my hand as he walked into the hotel ahead of Rohit and I, with Mum and Dad. At the end of the crowd, Mr. Verma played the gentleman and let Mum and Dad in first. Then he suggested Rohit go in next so that he could be close to Mum, before he ushered himself in at the end of the queue, next to me.

All kinds of thoughts were running through my mind. I was sure that Mr. Verma thought I was attractive, and I was also sure that he had been flirting with me. I had heard him tell Dad that he had just turned 67, and my wonderings of what it would be like with a man so much older than me began to grow. I started to think that if I was to flirt with him, then I could stop it if I didn’t want it to go on, and besides, it might all be in my imagination. I mean, he was a pensioner! As we all crowded to see the bride, I noticed that Mr. Verma’s left hand was by his side. Without anyone noticing, I gently slipped my hand into his palm. His hand was damp with sweat as I played with his fingers. Neither one of us looked at the other, but we both let go as we got back. During the ceremonies, our hands followed the same pattern. I was becoming very, very excited at the thought of how wicked I was being, and what a tease I was.

Soon, the wedding was over, and the congregation was filing out after the bride and groom, back into the sun outside. In the rush to get photographs taken, I got separated not only from my family, but also from Mr. Verma. I stood at the back of the crowd in the pretty little hotel, and saw Dad at the front, taking shots of the happy couple as Mum stopped Rohit from getting into trouble. I looked around for Mr. Verma but couldn’t see him anywhere. Then, two minutes later, I felt a pair of strong hands holding my bare arms. As I turned around and saw Mr. Verma, I almost fainted with excitement. He had come looking for me. Soon, his hands were moving gently up and down my arms. Part of me wanted to cringe, but the greater part of me was excited beyond description at the thought of being touched by such an elderly man. Slowly, Mr. Verma bent his head down to my ear: ‘The bride’s very pretty,’ he remarked. I nodded my agreement, hardly able to breathe. ‘Not as pretty as you, though.’ And as he pulled himself upright again, his left hand moved up to my shoulder. Nobody was looking in our direction, but it didn’t really matter, because he made it look like an accident. Only he and I knew that the strap that fell off my shoulder was as a result of Mr. Verma’s sleight of hand. I felt the power that this old man still had as he fondled my naked skin, and pulled me slightly back towards him. Suddenly, I was aware of something hard sticking into the small of my back. I knew what it was. I knew that this old man wanted me, badly.

It was just as he was beginning to rock me against his hardening, that all of the photographs seemed to have been taken, and my family were walking slowly towards us. Mr. Verma’s hands were like a magicians, in that he had pulled my strap back into place, and released his hold on me almost before I could think. As Dad got near, he asked Mr. Verma if he’d like a lift to the hotel, to which Mr. Verma said he would be very grateful. Mum said that Mr. Verma could get in the front of the car with Dad, but Mr. Verma suggested that he get in the back with Rohit and I, so that Mum’s dress wouldn’t be squashed. Mum thought it was very kind of him. Had she known his real reason, I don’t think she would have approved.

Rohit got into the back first, then Mr. Verma jumped in ahead of me. He said he was helping me into the car as he put his left hand around my shoulder, but his real motive was to help himself to a feel. It was about 5 miles to the hotel, and even before we drove out of the hotel car park, Mr. Verma’s hand was playing with my long, auburn hair. Mum and Dad could not see what he was doing to me from their position, but the tip of his thumb was poking at my back and drifting below the top of my dress. I think he was trying to see if I was wearing a bra or a slip. After a minute or so, he knew as I did, that I wasn’t. Satisfied with this, Mr. Verma’s hand then went down my back, and around to my left side. As he caressed my waist, I realised he was trying to trace the outline of my knickers, to see what type they were. Presumably, he must have felt all he wanted to, because his hand than travelled out of everyone’s sight, onto my thigh. Slowly his fingers moved along my leg. Neither of us said anything, we just kept on looking ahead at the road. Half way down my thigh, where my hem was, I felt the first of his fat, damp fingers on my bare skin. When Mr. Verma realised that his hand was now on my naked leg, he coughed as if to cover up his own excitement. His finger moved in small circles on the side of my bare thigh. I had never felt it before, but I had the feeling that I wanted to pee, even though I didn’t. I had to squirm my legs together just to ease the feeling. I briefly looked down to see that Mr. Verma’s other hand was on his groin, and that he was obviously trying to hide his own arousal.

Just when I thought that I could go on no longer without touching myself for relief, Dad pulled the car into the hotel car park. It was a big hotel in acres of its own gardens and fields, and it looked wonderful. By the time we had come to a stop, Mr. Verma’s left hand was back in his lap. I flattened my dress as I got out, just in case he had raised the hem and it attracted Mum’s concern. But there was nothing to worry about, Mum and Dad were already talking to friends. When Mr. Verma struggled to remove his great bulk from the back of the car, he came over to me. He was very calm and matter-of-fact as he asked me whether I would like it if he could arrange for himself to be sat next to me at the wedding banquet. Although extremely excited myself, I too remained calm, and just nodded slightly to indicate my approval.

Mr. Verma was as good as his word, and somehow managed to change the seating plan so that he was right beside me throughout the meal. Trouble was that Mum, Dad and Rohit were so close that nothing could pass between us. I was getting quite frustrated by now, because the reality of knowing that this old man wanted to have me was finally sinking in. I had already had to go to the bathroom twice, because I was so wet down there I thought I had peed myself.

When it came time to cut the cake, Mum and Dad went down to the front of the restaurant to take some pictures. Rohit was too wrapped up in his game to notice as Mr. Verma leaned over towards me.

‘What’ll your folks do before this evenings function?’ he asked, quietly.

‘I expect that they’ll put Rohit and I in our room, and have a little sleep themselves.’ I replied.

Mr. Verma visibly took a deep breath and glanced downwards. My gaze followed his and I saw his old, mottled right hand go under the tablecloth and onto my left knee.

‘Do you think you can get out and come to my room for an hour or so?’ he asked, with a definite waver in his voice. I realised that he was taking a big chance by coming flat out and asking me. I looked up at him and demurely nodded my assent. He licked his lips as though examining a juicy steak, and told me his room number.

Just as I had thought, at about four o’clock, Mum said that she and Dad were going to lie down for a few hours and suggested that Rohit and I do the same. I took my brother to our room and told him to undress for bed. I can’t explain how sexy and excited I felt. I also felt sluttish and cheap, but that only made me want to go to Mr. Verma’s room even more. Rohit seemed to take forever to drop off, and I secretly cursed him because he normally sleeps about a million hours a day. At about four-thirty, after Rohit hadn’t moved for around five minutes, I gently called out his name. There was no answer. He was fast asleep.

I went quietly to the door and opened it very gently. I tiptoed out into the corridor and closed the bedroom door behind me. I walked slowly to the stairwell. I was terribly afraid that I would bump into someone who knew me. But except for some voices drifting up from the bar, it was deathly still. I climbed up the two flights of stairs to the fourth floor, and gingerly made my way to Mr. Verma’s room. I could still turn back if I wanted. I mean, I had been with a boy of my own age and we had gone all the way. He was clean and lean and good, and here was I about to give myself over to a dirty, old, fat man.

But I knew that I wouldn’t turn back; I was almost having to touch myself right there in the corridor because my lust was so bad. I walked up to Mr. Verma’s door and looked up at the number. Yes, it was the right room, I was sure of that. Slowly, I brought my right fist up to head height, and knocked against the wood, ever so quietly. Part of me wanted to say that he hadn’t heard me, I had done my part but he hadn’t been in. But if that part had had any chance of winning the battle for my conscience, it lost as the door slowly opened.

My head was already raised to the top of the door in expectance of where Mr. Verma’s head should be. He peeked around the door lower than I had expected.

‘Quickly’, he ordered, ‘come in, quickly, quickly.’

As I entered his lair, Mr. Verma grabbed my arm roughly, and told me to go sit on the couch. As I walked over to it, I turned around to see him glancing both ways along the corridor to satisfy himself that nobody had seen me come in. Mr. Verma was wearing the bathrobe that the hotel supplies. As he turned around to face me, after locking the door, I could see that it was barely large enough to wrap around his rotund waist. A mass of tangled grey hair matted his chest, and his face seemed redder than it had been before.

He walked slowly over towards the couch that I was sitting on. I couldn’t help but think of the pornographic picture series that had gotten me excited in the first place. As he came close, I could smell that old man musk on him, the one that all old men seem to have. Part of me cringed as he sat down beside me and began to rub my bare arm with the back of his hand. There was no turning back now. I would have to let him do whatever he wanted.

‘You know why I asked you here, don’t you?’ He hissed.

I fixed my eyes on his, and just nodded.

‘Good. Now, let’s see what you can do to please me.’

With that, his hand left my arm, and moved towards the six buttons that held the front of my dress together. His other hand came to join the first and I watched, mesmerised, as his fat fingers tried to undo my top button. It was like I was watching these things happening to somebody else, in slow motion. At last he got it undone, and his hands set off for the next one down. He was fumbling badly at the third button, and I could tell that if my parents weren’t in the same hotel, he would have just ripped my dress completely off. As it happened, he did lose patience, but instead of violence, Mr. Verma instructed me to undo the rest myself.

I only just managed to get the final button unfastened before Mr. Verma flung open my dress, exposing by chest and panties to his lustful gaze.

Mr. Verma whispered ‘Oh, my god.’ As his greedy hands came onto the skin of my belly, travelling upwards.

‘So soft, so pure.’ He said to himself.

When the palm of his right hand began to rub across my nipple, I arched back involuntarily, thrusting my body out closer to him. Pleased with my response, the old man began to tweak my teat between his thumb and forefinger. I was breathing hard already with the sensation of his hand on my naked body, but that was intensified tenfold as I saw Mr. Verma’s head move down to my breasts. As his tongue first flicked the very tip of my nipple, I cried out in pleasure. I looked down to see the top of his old, bald head moving from side to side as he chewed on my protrusions.

I took hold of his ears because I didn’t want him to stop. If he just carried on a little longer I knew I would be having another of those intense shuddering feelings. But almost as if the old man sensed my pleasure and wanted me to wait longer for that glorious moment, he suddenly pulled his mouth from my tiny boobs and leered up at me with those magnified, bespectacled eyes.

‘Oh, you like that, don’t you sweetness?’ he grinned.

‘Please do it some more.’ I begged him.

The old man ignored my pathetic pleadings. But as I glanced down, I saw his mangled old right hand moving down over my belly, towards my panty waistband. His tongue flicked out of his drooling mouth as his little finger found its way under the elastic. Now I wanted him to touch me there. I was burning up. Slowly, another fat finger crawled beneath the thin material that separated my most secret place from Mr. Verma’s view. Then, as his third finger crept into my knickers, I felt the tip of his little digit brushing the top of my slit. Oh, the feeling was so exquisite. My head lolled from side-to-side and my mouth filled up with saliva as he inserted first one, and then two, of his fingers into my hole. Mr. Verma remarked how wet I was; ‘gushing’ was the word he used. As he fingered me with greater speed, my own breathing became faster and noisier. My eyes were closed as this heavenly delirium descended over me, so I didn’t notice Mr. Verma’s face move to my ear. As his tongue rasped the side of my face, I heard him whisper to me.

‘Would you like me to lick you dry, sweetness?’

I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded vigorously to indicate that I would like that very much.

A loud popping noise left my vagina as Mr. Verma slid his fingers out. I could see that they were covered in a clear, gooey film as they gripped the sides of my knickers. The old man knelt at the right side of my legs as he eased the garment over my raised hips, down my legs, over my feet, and tossed them onto the floor. My neatly trimmed pussy was now in full view. As Mr. Verma parted my legs, he pulled off my sandals and threw them by my discarded panties. Kneeling in between them, he threw my legs back into the air, so that my knees were close to my head. My hole gaped open invitingly as he did so. As his old head moved closer, his sticky tongue appeared from between his fat, slobbering lips. I will never forget that first touch on my hard little clitoris. It was the slightest of touches, but it made my whole body fall into an uncontrollable spasm. I moaned with satisfaction as the old man greedily sucked, licked and chewed at my most private parts. He was lapping at my pussy like a cat at a saucer of milk. His fat fingers making red marks on my tender legs as he held them back tightly. I wanted him to go on forever, but after a few minutes of this delight, he pulled away and stood up.

‘I’ve gotta fuck you, sweetness’, he exclaimed. ‘Gotta fuck you right now, before I explode.’

Mr. Verma came around side of me and let my open dress fall completely from my body. Wearing only ankle socks, I was picked up by the old man with ease. He carried me the few paces to the big double bed, where he placed me close to the edge. As I looked up into his big eyes, I realised that he was very, very excited. He was sweating like a pig as he began to untie his robe. Now, I may be wrong, but I had been under the impression that as a man gets older, his wiener gets smaller, and arousal is more difficult to sustain. If that was so, then Mr. Verma certainly bucked the trend. I stared at his waist as the robe came apart. Underneath his hairy chest was a fat, hairy stomach. And underneath this, as he tossed the garment onto the floor and stood naked beside me, was a fat, hairy cock. I can still remember my jaw dropping as I looked at it. This was no, half-mast excuse for an erection. What was twitching not two-feet away was something that a large ape would be proud of. The old man’s cock was curved like a banana, and he was so aroused that the tip of it was actually touching his belly. It must have been a long time since he had had someone like me, I thought.

As Mr. Verma bent down towards me slightly, his left hand went underneath my head. As he lifted it easily upwards, I knew what he was going to do. I instinctively raised my hands to grab hold of his manhood as he brought my face close to it. The old man said I was not to touch it, and ordered me to sit on my hands. I raised my bottom and slid my hands underneath as he instructed. With his left hand right on top of my head, holding it like it was a faucet, he turned it around so that my face was square on to his body. Mr. Verma took hold of the base of his cock between his right thumb and forefinger and pulled it down to a level that would reach my mouth. I could see that it took some effort, because it was so aroused that it naturally wanted to spring back up to full attention. In fact, as I offered my mouth fully open, and the old man slipped his meat in, I honestly felt it lifting me up as he let it go. I could only just about envelop his smooth, bulbous dome up to the point where it creased and joined the shaft. Mr. Verma told me to move my head back and forth. He tried to force more in, but my mouth was just too small to take any more of his length. I could even feel that my eyes were bulging as a result of the pressure. The old man was already leaking lots of hot, salty goo onto my tongue as I licked away at his helmet. I craned my eyes up to his face and saw beads of sweat dripping down onto his fat belly and matting his thick grey body hair. It seemed about two or three minutes before he pulled his cock from between my swollen lips. I thought that was it, but he just wanted a slight repositioning. Mr. Verma swivelled my head to the left, and told me to open wide again. This time he pushed it in from a sideways angle. As he thrust it forwards, I felt my left cheek bulging grotesquely outwards. But clearly, this method enabled the old man to get more of a rhythm and more of a purchase in my mouth. The right side of my face was now touching the ripples and folds of his fat, and it was at that point that I did feel a little nauseous. Just as I was about to heave, however, Mr. Verma pulled out of my mouth, allowing me to swallow the pre-semen that had filled it. Then, grabbing hold of my long hair, he pulled my head back with a violent jerk that brought tears to my eyes. When the blurring cleared, I was looking straight up at the ceiling. The old man slid the full length of his meat along my partly opened lips until I felt the weight of one of his hairy balls against my cheek. He ordered me to open wide again and to take one of them into my mouth. It was about the size of a table-tennis ball, and it dropped in easily. I rolled it around the inside of my mouth for a while, until I sensed the old man was beginning to bend double, presumably in delight. When he lifted his ball out of my mouth, his cock was still as rigid as ever. It was at that point that he instructed me to turn over on the bed and kneel on all fours.

I rested on my elbows with my bottom high in the air, as Mr. Verma wanted. I felt him climb onto the bed and position himself in between my parted legs. I felt his left hand on my left hip, and then moments later the tip of his cock rubbing along my pussy lips. The old man was breathing noisily behind me as I felt the first movement towards penetration. Slowly, his big round dome forced its way past my labia and into my tight crack. I winced as its initial pain sent messages from my groin to my brain. I remember clenching at the bed sheets in an effort to reduce the agony. While my eyes were shut firm, Mr. Verma continued to push his meat further into me. I thought it would never stop, and had visions of being rushed to hospital with severe internal bleeding. But, at last, I felt the weight of his bulk against the cheeks of my bottom, and knew that that was as far as he could go. The old man then started to build up a rhythm of full strokes. Soon, he shifted his legs so that they were outside mine, which allowed him to crouch on his feet rather than kneel. I immediately felt the bulk of his body as he pounded into me with added venom. His big hands gripped my small waist and I felt his nails digging into my soft skin as his momentum increased. I turned around and saw a look of what seemed like pain on his face. But I’m sure that his gritted teeth and tightly closed eyes were more a reflection of the pain that he would have liked to put me through, had I not had my parents just two floors below. Then, one of his arms came into my peripheral vision on the left as he shifted position again. The old man used this to take his weight, whilst his right hand moved up to my neck. Underneath the hairs on his mottled arm, I could just about make out the figure of an eagle tattooed onto his skin. Even at 67, he was still a powerful man. His pumping was faster than ever now, and as his grunts became louder, I felt his grip around my slender neck tighten. He pushed my face firmly into the pillow until I was struggling to catch my breath. Just when I thought that I was going to faint, I felt a release.

As I came up for air, Mr. Verma was repositioning our bodies so that we were in a spoons configuration, with him leaning over me. For the first time, I could now see his cock sliding in and out of me like a greasy, hairy piston. The surplus skin on his bulky frame wobbled at each forward thrust. His left hand was now free to fondle my body. I turned my head further and looked into the face of a stereotypically lecherous, dirt old man. Through his animalistic grunting noises, Mr. Verma’s face descended towards me, and before I knew what was happening, his fat lips covered mine and his tongue had forced its way into my mouth. As he eagerly gorged on his young prey, the old man’s tempo increased so much that my pussy felt as though it was on fire. Notwithstanding my self-disgust, I was brought to my third noisy climax as the old man rammed himself into me.

Suddenly, Mr. Verma broke free his mouth from mine and gruffly asked me a question.

‘You on the pill, sweetness?’

I shook my head from side to side, because I couldn’t speak at that moment.

‘I’m gonna cum up inside you very soon,’ he continued, ‘you’ll be unlucky to get pregnant from this, but I’d think about contraception if I were you. Specially if you’re gonna be making a habit out of this kind of thing.’

Then his cruel expression returned. He called me a dirty fucking bitch and began to repeat the phrase as his own orgasm approached. Then, as he quickly put his tongue back into my mouth, I felt a powerful thrust of his hips against mine. At the same time, he sucked all the air out of me, and I saw through his thick, steamed-up glasses, that his eyes were shut tight. I realised that he had just shot his first jet of goo into my insides. He gave me another seven or eight jerks before he announced, triumphantly, that he’d emptied his sack into me. When he slipped his thing out of my gaping slash, it was drooping for the first time since he had first unveiled it to me. The old man looked down at it.

‘You’ll get all of that in you now,’ he began, ‘go down and lick me dry.’

I turned around and he pushed my head down over his fat, wobbly belly towards his groin. For the first time, I touched his cock as I brought it into my mouth. It was still throbbing and twitching, and exuding small amounts of semen. As I took its salty length to the back of my throat and swallowed and licked the stickiness away, I heard the old man groaning with pleasure behind me.