Barbara , Vikky

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I’d known Barbara for some time now. She was a mutual friend of a friend, Trina, and we often bumped into each other in the street, or at the store. I liked her and appreciated her company and humour. She was 57, somewhat older than me, being in my mid-30’s. We spent many evenings chatting and laughing, drinking and debating.

This of course had lead to the obvious situation. One night, a balmy and stormy Saturday, I found that the atmosphere was closer than usual, and this was not strictly due to the conditions outside. There was a spark between us, and I had a delicious sense of the impending, making my heart beat a little heavier and my mouth dry.

Barbara was blonde, with a mature, curly hairstyle, and favoured the seasoned-lady-of-leisure appearance: lots of jewellery, plunging necklines, too-tight jeans or too-short skirts, tottering heels [her right ankle tattooed with a small baroque cherub surrounded by ivy]…and replete with a large quivering bosom, something she would humourously refer to with many self-depreciating quips, such as ‘look at me, titty old bitch I am’, and so on. She was an endless source of fun, and now it seemed, as I imagined transgressing the line between friend and potential lover, she was an endless source of wild imaginings. Now it was time to explore possibilities.

My first serious relationship had broken down six months previously, with a beautiful, honey blonde called Vikky. Although I’d loved her, we’d drifted apart, especially in the domain of the bedroom, and upon breakup, I’d been hurt to observe her begin a series of stormy romances, not seeming to take any respite from our time together. I’d drifted, mostly disillusioned, until Barbara had appeared, and gradually life was good again. Dare I push my luck?

‘Are you listening to me, honey?’

Barbara was looking at me with a quizzical smile. I raised my eyebrows and shook my head…what did she say?

‘Hmmm, you’re miles away. I simply asked my favourite boy whether or not his glass would like a top up?’

‘Oh of course, thanks.’

Barbara laughed and reached down to the wine bottle, and once again, I had a cock-hardening view of that expansive, pale, wobbling, cleavage. I could wait no longer. This was to be my girlfriend…I couldn’t settle for less.

‘Barbara…I want you to tell me if I’m wrong here…I couldn’t stand it if our friendship was lost, but…’

‘Yes?’ she smiled. She looked at me seriously…or mock seriously, I couldn’t tell. Just that I was silently freaking out. Was she playing with me?

‘Well, I’m no good at speeches, but…is there something between us?’

Barbara laughed long and heartily. I didn’t know what to say. Was I crushed, elated…what was I to take from her reaction?

Finally she settled down. I was preparing to leave. Mentally, I almost had.

‘Darling, you lovely thing. If only you knew exactly WHAT was between us.’

I imagined that my hard-on was visible and grew incredibly self-conscious.

‘I have a little, mmm, secret.’

I waited. Was this good or bad?

‘I have a cock.’

– – –

So it was that Barbara had shocked me. But the astounding thing was that my impression of her, not to mention my desire çanakkale escort for her, was undaunted. I felt no different. To cut a long story short, Barbara had undergone extensive hormone treatment and breast surgery, the works, but had never gone the whole way, preferring to remain at the, how should I put this…advanced transexual stage. I would never have believed that she was nothing but a typical feisty middle-aged woman, but there it was. I was astounded.

Some uneasy moments had passed while she allowed me to digest this knowledge. Finally I looked at her. Rain fell steadily outside. Then I came to, as it were.

‘You still haven’t answered my question: is there something between us?’

Barbara smiled, stood and walked over to me, lofty on her white spike heels.

‘I thought you’d never ask’, was all she said, cosily sitting sideways on my knees, then sliding down so her trim ass was resting painfully on my hard-on. We kissed for many many minutes, Barbara’s wet cherry tongue deep in my mouth, my hand fondling one great hanging tit, now released from her blouse, my thumb brushing her big bumpy dark knob of a nipple. The smacking of our saliva seemed to be enhanced by the wet sounds of the rain.

We’d spent the rest of the night fucking each other steadily, ocassionally resting to suck cocks, hers being a thick seven-inch, veiny, circumcised monster, her balls big, floppy and hairless, she having shaved regularly. As my glistening cock slid in and out of her pink, tight anus, I continued our tradition of languid conversation, as if it was a normal Saturday night. I asked how it was that she’d concealed such a big cock all this time.

‘Why, I keep it under (uh, uh) control, naughty boy. It fits into my little (oh yeh, oh yeh) g-string, even when flacid. Most men would just assume I have an enormous clit!’

I laughed happily at her humour, then withdrew from her asshole, and, after urging her to fall to one side and over onto her back, effortlessly, ecstatically, came wave after wave of thick semen on her face and slobbering outstretched tongue, dripping down to her tits. She then lay next to me as I wanked her big cock steadily, her breathing coming sharper, until great dollops of cum gushed forth, some dollups landing on my belly and even my cock, and looping up over one of her massive nipples, accompanied by Barbara’s throaty moans…’ooooh, mmmmm, ohhh’, she groaned, before falling asleep next to me.

– – –

We were some months into our relationship when one day I received a perturbing phonecall. It was Vikky, in tears after one of her new guys had dumped her. I listened disinterestedly, just happy inside to consider which colour thong I should buy Barbara for an upcoming dressup session, and how she’d look in some cliched transparent soled platform heels, like so many lap dancers…cheap, slutty and ludicrous, especially with a thick cock hanging down! Or perhaps a female executive role…pinstripe suit, short skirt and hard-on! I was getting steadily turned on…

‘Are you listening to me?’ sobbed Vikky.

‘Oh, of course’ I uttered. But then, with a sudden rush frustration at Vikky’s self-centered, big-headed attitude, not to mention her thinly-disguised çeşme escort plan to somehow get me back, no doubt due to boredom…something chemical clicked inside. Eureka!

‘When are you in? This evening? Do you mind if I bring a good friend? You’ll love her. No, there’s nothing going on, I mean, she’s old enough to be my Auntie! But you will like her, and it’ll cheer you up, no end.’

I hung up the phone. Even if nothing happened, the mere proximity of them both together would keep my imagination fertile for weeks!

– – –

I had of course descibed Vikky in detail to Barbara, who now smiled and shook her head at my callous plans, which, let’s face it, were pretty obvious. We were strolling along the road near Vikky’s, Barbara enjoying the attention from men who whistled at her trim form and large bosom, her blonde curls shining in the afternoon sunlight. She was adorned in tight denim jeans, red stilettoes and a pink peasant blouse strung ridiculously ‘secure’, the tie dangling loosly parallel with her tit-crease.

We knocked on the door, which was promptly answered by Vikky. To say she was ‘dolled-up’ was understatement of the year. She had her golden blonde hair piled high, demure make up, and a long black satin dress leaving very little to the imagination…except a rather visible thong line, which admired as we followed her into her living room. I exchanged glances with Barbara, who simply raised an eyebrow, glanced at Vikky’s pert ass as she clipped along on her gold spikes, and back at me, winking one of her liquid blue eyes, darkly framed with fluttering, lush, mascara-caked eyelashes.

We sat and discussed life in general, and I eventually felt at home with my two girls. Vikky took in every detail of Barbara’s form, and I noticed some lingering glances at her chest, much to my satisfaction…Vikky, though spectacularly endowed in the posterior and leg departments was lacking in the bust area. This had always been an issue with us, and I couldn’t help but speculate that this was on her mind, seeing Barbara’s huge proportions, and witnessing her mood in general. Jealous? Definitely.

The afternoon had now retreated, swamped by a humid, sultry evening. Vikky leaned over and pushed her window open as much as she could, affording us both a glimpse at her angelic rear, and her miniscule thong-line. She fanned herself as she returned to her seat and topped up our glasses…I calculated that we were on the fourth bottle of wine. Barbara was visibly content, teasing the cool of her glass against her cheek, listening to Vikky’s conversation. Vikky resumed her seat, then pseudo-casually spread her legs and pulled her dress up to her thighs. ‘Phew! It’s so waaaarm!!!’, she exclaimed, fanning her face.

Although not in the direct view of Barbara, I was privvy to an exclusive display of Vikky’s creamy thighs, and the two questions which had plagued me all afternoon were explicitly revealed: her thong was a sheer black, and yes, she still shaved. Very closely. This was easy to tell as the black fabric of her thong was just over a centimeter wide, barely enough to cover her pussy-lips. She was gleamingly shaved.

At about this time, it also occurred to me that Vikky was diyarbakır escort notoriously unable to hold her liquor, and after so many glasses…now was the time for play.

‘Barbara, have you seen Vikky’s necklace? It’s stunning.’ I prompted.

Barbara sat up. She took my cue. Now she tottered over to Vikky, saying ‘Oooh, let me see…doesn’t it suit you?’ Barbara was now sitting on the arm of the chair, reaching down to inspect Vikky’s necklace. I admired Barbara’s cleavage for the umpteenth time that day. The fact that I maintained the view of Vikky’s crotch was, in my mind, an xxx double feature. Vikky smiled happily up at Barbara, who continued to chat, to cajole, and to pamper. Barbara stroked her hair and asked if Vikky would mind if Barbara could ‘play’, to arrange her hair, an option Vikky accepted, laying her head on Barbara’s knee, as the older lady let her hair down, to brush, stroke and arrange it.

I helped things by filling Vikky’s glass and offering it to her, which she gratefully accepted, draining it in three passes.

‘Aren’t you beautiful?’ murmered Barbara. Vikky merely sighed in response.

‘Oh, she is, Barbara. Look at those legs!’

Barbara then took this prompt to gradually slide to the floor next to Vikky, stroking her calves, then slightly above the knee. Vikky murmured softly with pleasure.

‘I think you need a massage, starting with the foot. Have you ever had one?’

‘Oh yes!’ exclaimed Vikky. Although unsure which part of the question with which she agreed, we knew she was hot. Judging by the bulge in Barbara’s jeans, she wasn’t the only one.

Barbara knelt on the floor and made flimsy, unconvincing passes over Vikky’s right foot, and made no attempt to relieve her of her spike heels. Vikky moaned softly regardless. After a few passes, no time at all, Barbara was sliding her hands over Vikky’s knees, towards her toned thighs…still no sign of obstruction from her. I rose and went to the kitchen to find more wine: this was going to be an interesting afternoon. How interesting, and how spontaneously things would happen, remained to be seen…

Whilst in the kitchen hunting for the corkscrew, the phone rang. I answered, to detect a strange voice, male, on the other end. I assumed it was an ‘ex’ (although aware it may have been a work colleague, of course) and hastily made some flimsy excuses on behalf of Vikky. Then, with a second thought, I decided to ‘go and check’ to see if she indeed WAS home…and left the phone off the hook, wondering how sensitive it was, in regard to picking up sound…

Nothing could prepare me for the spectacle that followed. As drunk as I was, and how hot I’d been, this was something that surprised even me.

Vikky was now sitting up straight, and Barbara stood next to the chair with one slender leg up on the arm, her face a study of absorption as she looked down at Vikky, who sucked long and greedily on her cock whilst also wanking it steadily back and forth, and who returned her gaze, eye to eye. I was so amazed to see Barbara’s cock glistening with Vikky’s saliva…that was my first impression.

Vikky’s legs were wide open now, and whilst one manicured hand slowly wanked Barbara’s big cock as she sucked, the other deftly and daintily rubbed her clit, her thong pulled right over to one side. I was amazed, and a little heat of jealousy arose, I must admit. For Barbara, for Vikky, I wasn’t sure. But it was forgotten when Barbara looked at me, smiled, and beckoned me over.

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