Fulfilling my girlish crush on an older man… [FM]

Dad texts. “Miles is going to stop by to pick up some parts. Will you let him into the garage sweetie? Love Dad.”

Dad does remodels, makes good money doing it, too. He has a team of guys to help him build. I help him, too, between classes, answering the phones and email. It’s good to contribute, and the extra cash is nice.

Twenty minutes later, I hear someone pull up. I peek out. A white pickup truck on the driveway.

The garage door rolls up, revealing Miles inch by inch. He towers over me. I’m not short, he’s just a big guy. At least six-six. Broad. Built. Bald, in a good way. Maybe in his mid-30s. I’ve had a crush on him since I met him.

“Hey, Monica,” he says, grinning behind his wrap-around sunglasses, “Slow morning?”

It’s quarter past ten, he’s already half done with his workday, and I’m still in pajamas, cotton shorts and a t-shirt from my college. “Day off,” I giggle, “Anything I can get for you?”

“Nope. Just grabbing your dad’s scraps. He needs them for this thing.”

“I could make you some lunch?” I say. I’m smiling, flirting, shoulders back, tits out.

He notices, but looks away, picking up a pile of wood. “Nah, that’s alright. I just wanna get back.”

“Come on, please? I’ve got some leftover lasagna. Way too much for me to finish by myself.” I tuck my chin.

He drops the wood in his truck and takes off his glasses. “You’re trouble, girl.”

“I’m a good girl,” I pout. “It’s just so boring here by myself. I need a little bit of company.” I make puppy dog eyes, drag my words out slow. “Plus, the lasagna’s really tasty. It’s rich and creamy. I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

He runs a hand over his head.

“Please, Miles,” I say, “For me? It would make me so happy.”

“Fine,” he sighs, “But just lasagna. Nothing else.”

I smile. “What do you mean?”

Inside, he washes up while I get the oven started. This doesn’t usually require bending over at the waist, but I do it anyway, feeling my shorts stretch tight.

“It’s not ready?”

“It’ll be just a minute,” I say, “But sit down with me while it’s heating up. Chat with me.”

We’re at the kitchen table, a round wooden piece Dad built himself. Miles sips from the glass of water I poured him, and asks me, “So how’s classes going?”

“Going great, actually.” I lick my lips. “But is that really want you want to know?”

He watches. “What’s that mean?”

I slide my foot across, brushing his calf. “Surely my school life is less interesting to you than my sex life.”

He pulls his legs back, but they’re already against the chair.

I continue, “For school, all I can do is tell you about it. You can’t actually experience it. Sex, though?” I slide my foot up. “Well…”

He pushes back, grabs my foot. “I don’t think you should be doing that, Mon.”

“Doing what?”

He sighs. “Don’t play games.”

I hold his gaze. “Being horny isn’t a game, Miles.”

He’s about to say something, when the oven dings.

I pop up. “Lunch is ready.”

We eat in silence, me sending him grins, him ignoring them.

When he’s finished, he drains the rest of his water. “Thanks for the lovely lunch, Mon. I’ve got to get back now.” He stands.

“So soon?” I sulk.

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“It’s not like that,” he pauses, “You’re great. Smart. Pretty. All that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You’re a kid.”

“No I’m not.” I reach behind my back, grab the neck of my shirt, pull it off. “Not anymore.”

He’s frozen in place, staring at my chest.

“Touch them,” I say.

“I– I shouldn’t.”

“Yes,” I say, taking his hands, placing them on my tits, “You should.”

He looks at his hands as if surprised to see them squeezing my breasts. “I shouldn’t,” he repeats, but quiet this time, like he doesn’t believe his own words.

“Grab my ass.”

His hands are big, strong, his grip aggressive. His fingers dig into my butt, pull me into him. I look up, into his eyes. He kisses me. I slip my tongue into his mouth, moaning, intoxicated by his smell. I grab his sides, revel in his muscles.

He lifts me off my feet, carries me into the living room. Then I’m on the couch, Miles pulling my shorts off. I’m naked, he kneels in front of me, his face buried in my crotch. His beard tickles me but his tongue is silk. I squeal. My fingers scramble at his head, I’m so wet, so turned on.

He pulls back. “You’re gonna get me into so much trouble, Monica. But fuck, you taste good.”

I’m panting, spreading my pussy for him. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I met you. Fuck me. Hard. Don’t hold back.”

He shakes his head, stands up. “Since you…?”

I look up at him, my face flush with ecstasy. “Do you know how horny fifteen year-olds get?”

“Yes.” He strips naked. Body tight, rippling with defined muscles. A nice, thick cock hangs between his thighs.

I crawl forward, leaning down so my lips can wrap around the tip of his shaft. Hands free, I suck and lick him until he’s hard, until I can taste his precum dripping. His dick towers from his hips, and he watches me, our eyes locked. He groans.

I pull off. “Still feel you like shouldn’t?”

He growls, “Shut the fuck up.”

He walks around me, pushes my face down to the ground. My hips are high in the air, I wiggle them, swing them side to side. He grabs my ass, squeezes my cheeks, pulls them apart. Fingers tease my ass, play with my sex. I moan.

“So fuckin tight,” he mutters, fingertips sliding up inside me. “No substitute for real teen puss.”

“Do it,” I beg.

I feel the heat of his shaft a split second before it skewers into me. He grabs my hips, pulls me onto him, and he’s deep, so incredibly deep. I’ve never felt anything like it, and I’m shuddering already, groaning.

“Is this what you want?” he growls.

“Yes,” I moan, “Yessss…”

He’s a machine, driving into me, relentless and severe. My face is pressed against the carpet, my mouth hanging slack, drool smearing. I’m barely aware of any of these things, Miles’ dick being the only thing that matters. He’s grunting and panting, slamming into me, his hands on my waist like steel.

When I start climaxing, I don’t know. I’m just there, groaning, spasming, enjoying getting so thoroughly laid.

“Fuck,” he says. He sounds impressed.

I get a reprieve. I lay on my side, catching my breath. He’s behind me, cupping my tits.

“Did you…?” I mutter.

“No.”

“Then finish.” I lift my leg, spread my pussy. It’s red, swollen. But I can take it. I need it.

He grabs behind my knee, pulls it to my chest. And then his dick is back, sliding deep inside me while he clutches my tits.

I’m in heaven, moaning and gasping, loving being so completely penetrated by his cock, loving being the focus of his need. He’s so strong, I push against him just to feel him hold me in place. His hand slides up to my neck. I squeal, I’m having another orgasm.

“Yes,” I moan, “Like that, like that…” This is insane, I never dared to dream it would be this good.

And then I’m on my back, Miles on top of me. His hands wrap around my ankles, my ankles are beside my ears. My pussy is stretched wide open, his cock impaling me over and over again. My pussy lips, I’ve never seem them so plump, so wet.

I look at his face, see him gritting his teeth. We make eye contact. I must look good, his pace quickens, his fucking even more savage.

“Cum in me,” I beg.

Then he jumps back, roaring, shoving me onto him. I feel his cock throb, feel him blow his load inside me.

“Fuck, Monica,” he says. His cock is still thick, in me to the hilt. “You cum a lot.” His thumb is on my clit, teasing, massaging, making me whimper, making me squirm.

“I can’t…” I writhe, my back arching. Apparently I can, because them I’m having yet another orgasm. Not that I mind.

He stands, pulling his clothes back on. “Shit, I’m late.”

I’m sweaty, my hair clings to my forehead. “Just tell them you were fucking your boss’s daughter,” I say, “Screwing her brains out.”

He shakes his head. “You’re trouble, Monica.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/tgjno7/fulfilling_my_girlish_crush_on_an_older_man_fm