Then she said yes you can eat me, I like that a lot, she was looking at me smiling and winked then said maybe I'll suck your cock, but I thought you w...ere gay, oh not particular whose lips are on your dick huh? Ok let me go, so we can get to your house and hung up, got dressed, put make up on and we left. When Stan let us in he had a silk smoking jacket and slippers on, house was lit by candles and indirect lighting, as we had walked up sidewalk to front door she had unbuttoned 3 buttons on her. He’s still going slow, being gentle. That’s not what I want.“Harder.” I plead.“Slow down,” he says, “I don’t want to hurt you.” As he says it, I realise that’s exactly what I want. Exactly what I deserve.“Harder!” I say again, though this time there’s an edge in my voice and it’s more of a command than a plea.“Shhh.” He says, pulling my head back by my hair and clamping his hand over my mouth.“Do it harder.”“Stop it,” he hisses, his voice fraught with tension, “you’re going to make me lose. I honestly didn’t think she’d do it, but we were both quite pissed. She stood in front of me, never breaking eye contact. She slowly undid her belt and then her button fly jeans and dropped them round her ankles. She was wearing a pair of white Calvin Klein panties. I could see a bit of camel toe where her panties hugged her pussy lips; I could also see her short neatly trimmed pubes through the cotton front just above a damp patch. I didn’t remember doing it but I was sat up with. With the son it was at was at my duplex apartment in London Docklands. With Peter senior, it had been adultery for both of us, but with the son we were free spirits as I was now divorced and he was not attached. The dad had been in his fifties when we had made love, the son was in his early twenties. Both had been excellent fucks. * Peter and his team had been working in my apartment for several weeks. We chatted a lot, just as I had all those years ago with his father. They were very alike,.