Maureen switched on the little iron and took the first pair of lacy panties from the ironing bag. As she smoothed them flat, she smiled to herself. It had been a while since anyone else had seen, or handled, these, but she still wore them occasionally, out of habit. Perhaps some of the young men at the gym would like to see them…Standing with the iron in her hand, she let herself day-dream for a moment: she had just come home from the gymnasium and, not bothering to get changed (after all, there was no-one to see her), she was still wearing the white vest, blue pleated skirt, white socks and pink trainers that she usually wore there.
She thought that this outfit showed off her slim figure quite well; even if the vest and skirt were like her old school uniform, the pink trainers definitely weren’t! And she could see the effect she had on some of the men by the tight bulges in their tracksuits and shorts as they glanced (or in some cases, blatantly stared) at her taut, tanned thighs as she rode the stationary cycle or worked out with bridges and curls on the training mat. She liked the feel of the cycle saddle between her legs, pressing into her groin as she leaned forward onto the handlebars, allowing her breasts to swing free under the vest. She was in pretty good shape for her age – strong legs, tight bum, slim waist and pert little tits – it was a shame there was no-one to take advantage of it…
Yes, life was pretty quiet these days; aside from the gym, she didn’t get out much and she spent quite a lot of time on her computer. Recently, she’d stumbled across a gambling web-site; she liked a bet, and she’d spent rather a lot of money backing horses – not that she knew anything about “Form”, and often bet on a pretty name or a handsome young jockey. Actually, she was a bit worried about that – the last time she had logged off the site it had flashed up a figure of £500! That couldn’t be her winnings – what if she owed that much to someone?
“I’d better check that out – now” she thought, propping the iron up on its base and heading for the PC on the desk by the window. But even as she crossed the room, there came a knock on the front door. A visitor? Who could that be? And she was still in her sweaty gym outfit! Quickly, she grabbed a housecoat from the ironing pile and wrapped it around her as she hurried to the door.
Opening it, she saw a tall, powerfully built young man with a briefcase. Suddenly, she realised she had seen him before – he was one of the men at the gym who liked to watch her on the training mat as she bumped her hips up and down, doing the “bridge” exercise. Had he followed her home?
“Good Morning, Mrs Kisswell, “ he said with a smile, “I’m from the ‘Playfair’ organisation.” He flashed a plastic card at her. “You’ve recently joined our gambling web-site and you’ve placed quite a lot of bets. You currently owe £500 and I’ve come to collect the money – you’ll have seen the notice on the web-site about our collection policy. I can take a cheque, or cash if you prefer.”
Maureen stepped back from the door, her knees suddenly weak. He’d come to collect £500 and he wanted it now! She didn’t have more than a few pounds in her handbag and her bank account certainly couldn’t stand a cheque for that sort of sum. “You’d better come in, “she stuttered., trying to think of how to deal with this unexpected problem. Dazed, she wandered back into the living room, the man following her, looking around.
“I know where I’ve seen you before,” he said, out of the blue, “you go to “Le Coq Sportif” gym, don’t you? I’ve seen you working out there a few times. So, you’re a sporting lady, are you? I must say, you’re in pretty good shape! What do you play?”
“I used to be quite good at tennis,” she replied, distractedly, delving into her handbag in the forlorn hope of finding a wad of banknotes, “but I can’t find the partners these days.” His eyes flashed for a moment as he observed the curve of her hips under the loosely-belted housecoat. “You do surprise me, Mrs Kisswell”, he said gallantly, I’d have thought you’d be spoilt for choice.”
She turned to face him, flushing with embarrassment, her voice shaky and anxious. “I’m not very good at lying or pretending, I’m afraid,” she said flatly, “I haven’t got anything like £500 here and I can’t get it quickly, either. What are you going to do about it?”
He studied her as she stood, leaning back against the desk, breasts u*********sly thrust out at him (or was it on purpose?), breathing heavily. She had a good figure and a pretty face and he knew she was fit; so what if she was a bit older than him? Maybe he could make something of this…
“Mrs Kisswell? What about your husband? Can he pay it for you?”
“I don’t even know where he is; he left me months ago for some young tart at his office. And I don’t have a boyfriend either, or anyone else who would lend me money; I’m all alone!”
“He came to a decision. She did look like a sporting type, he knew she liked to gamble, and it didn’t sound like she’d been getting much sex lately. He would try his luck – even if she said No, he doubted she would report him – after all, it was a compliment really…
“Alright Mrs Kisswell, I’m going to make you an offer – no, a wager! You like betting don’t you? What if I offered you a bet which might pay off your debt completely – without you even leaving home?” He grinned at her and sat down in the rocking chair next to the desk, dropping the briefcase on the floor.
She was caught off balance. A bet – to clear her debt! Mouth suddenly dry, she walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water and gather her thoughts.
She’d seen the way he looked at her and she guessed it was going to involve sex in some way – maybe something kinky? Deliberately, she opened the housecoat as she stood at the sink, exposing her gym costume as an encouragement to him to do – what? He was quite good looking and well-built as far as she could see (a momentary flash of memory reminded her of the powerful-looking bulge in his tracksuit she had spotted last week); if she was going to get screwed and paid for it, she could do worse. Swinging her hips and putting a husky tinge in her voice, she walked back into the room.
“I could be interested – tell me more…”
“OK, but first, tell me your name!”
“it’s Maureen. What do I call you?”
“You can call me – call me Mr Alcock. Yes, that’ll do for the moment. OK, Maureen, here’s the deal. I really want to fuck you (a smile flitted across her face at that and then was gone), and I’m prepared to pay for the privilege – but only if you can make me come within 20 minutes of me getting my cock inside your hot little slit! I don’t doubt that, given the chance, you could bring me off in a couple of minutes – so I’ll set a few conditions to even up the odds. If I can’t last 20 minutes, for every minute less, I’ll pay you £50 – so if I come after 10 minutes fucking, you get £500 and pay off your debt. I’ve had a bit of luck myself recently and I’ve got £1,000 cash here in the bag, so we can settle up on the spot. Of course, if I last the distance and fuck you for a full 20 minutes, you’ll get nothing – except a full pussy! And, if you accept the bet, you’ll have to do exactly what I tell you until we’re done, or the bet’s off. What do you say?”
His boldness took her breath away and for a moment she was lost for words. As she stared at him, absently noting the material straining at the crotch of his trousers, she felt her pussy throb at the thought of feeling a stiff cock again after – how long now? Clinically, she considered the odds: he was young, and randy, and had the hots for her – how long could he last if she used her experience, and a few tricks, to make him come quickly? She might even make a profit! But could she bring herself to do it purely for money? Why not, she thought wryly: it was no worse than being married – and it least it would be an honest transaction, no pretending! He wanted to come, she wanted to be paid – so be it.
“Alright, Mr Alcock,” she said in a low voice, “I’ll take your bet. Now, what are the conditions?”
“Ah, I’ll explain them as we go along, “he chuckled, “but we’ll start with you losing that coat, and the vest as well – we don’t want stains on that, do we? And take off your pants too, while you’re at it, but you can keep the skirt and trainers on. Now Maureen – do you have a vibrator here?”
I certainly do, she thought, and it’s been getting plenty of use these last few months. Silently, she went to the bedroom and fetched the sex toy: a slim metal cylinder about 6” long with a smooth, rounded head. Laying it on the desk, she slipped off the housecoat, followed by the vest and pants, and threw them all into the basket by the ironing board. Suddenly exposed, her nipples tightened; she heard his quick intake of breath. Provocatively, she grinned, raised her arms and did a twirl, making the pleated skirt flare out; the rush of cool air through her neatly trimmed pubic hair and across her bare buttocks made her pussy throb in anticipation. Maybe this would be fun, after all!
“Do you like what you see, Mr Alcock?” she enquired in an innocent tone. “I’m still the same size as I was when I was a schoolgirl! Would you like me to put my hair in bunches and bend over the desk?” Let’s see if he can resist that, she thought! “Would you like to fuck me like that, Mr Alcock – Sir?”
His voice, when he replied, was thick with lust. “Yes, I would, Maureen – you fucking sexy bitch! But not today – I wouldn’t last five minutes, and I don’t want to waste the chance. No, before I fuck you, you’re going to suck me off and swallow my spunk down! That’ll give me a better chance of lasting longer when I do fuck you! But yes, you can put your hair in bunches for me, and then kneel on the floor in front of the chair.”
“That’s not fair!” She said it before she could stop herself – but it was true, she thought; he was going to get to come inside her twice, and he would probably take longer the second time. Scowling, she walked quickly back into the bedroom, found a couple of pink hair bands and pulled her blonde hair roughly through to make a bunch over each ear. As she worked, she could hear him undressing in the other room, calling to her as he stripped off, “Who-ever said this was going to be fair? You’re trying to play tricks on me to make me lose the bet by shooting off too soon – we can both play at that game, but remember, I make the rules! While I think of it, if you’ve got a sl**p mask, bring that in with you.”
Rummaging in her bedside drawer, she found the black mask with its elastic strap. Stroking her hair back, she picked up a bright red lipstick and walked slowly back into the living room. He was naked now, sprawled in the rocking chair with his legs wide apart and sporting a sturdy erection that curved up from a forest of thick, black, curly hair in his groin. She stopped in the doorway, staring, transfixed by the sight of it; u*********sly, she licked her lips as she took in the size of the fat, purple bell-end, the taut skin of the thick, meaty shaft and even the blue vein throbbing at its root. Wow!, she thought – I could let him do me a favour anytime – and he’s going to pay me for it! She could feel her pussy moistening as she moved towards him.
He grinned at her reaction, spreading his legs and gently stroking his big cock with his left hand as he pointed to the carpet in front of him with his right. Her knees suddenly weak, she stumbled and knelt between his feet, smoothing the pleated skirt down over her thighs. Now her face was level with the helmet of his fat cock, her lips only inches from it; she breathed gently on it and licked her lips, watching as the shaft throbbed with the bl**d pulsing and stiffening inside and a tiny drop of glistening moisture appeared in the eye. She chuckled quietly – he wouldn’t be able to control himself and she would clean up on the bet. Leaning back on her haunches, she took out the lipstick and carefully applied it to her lips, leaving a sticky coating of thick rouge, and then rubbed the stick on her nipples as well, before putting it on the desk and looking straight into his eyes.
Resting her hands on his quivering thighs, she shook her bunches at him and said in a low voice, “Well, Mr Alcock – are you ready to shoot your load into my hot little mouth – you fucking bastard?”
His voice was hoarse but steady as he replied, “Yes I am, Maureen, you hot little cock-sucking bitch! But before we start, put this mask on – you’ll concentrate a lot better with your eyes closed.” He pulled the mask down over the crown of her head, stretching the elastic over the blonde bunches and setting it snugly over her eyes. Disoriented for a moment, she kept still as she accustomed herself to the situation, hearing him sliding forward on the seat of the rocking chair – and suddenly, the fleshy, rounded tip of his cock was bumping against her slightly parted lips. Instinctively, she gripped the thick shaft with her right hand while she slid her left along his muscular thigh and into the coarse hair in his groin, seeking his bollocks. Teasingly, she kissed the end of his helmet gently, feeling the sticky lipstick smearing and tickling the little slit with the tip of her tongue.
“Christ!” he gasped, his cock twitching in her grasp – and then she felt him clutching her hair bunches in his fists as he thrust his length into her mouth, holding her head still. Taken by surprise, she barely had time to open her mouth wide enough to avoid catching his skin on her teeth as the thick shaft, lubricated by the greasy lipstick, slid deep into her. She spluttered and then began the rhythmic sucking motion, accompanied by lapping her tongue along the underside of his cock which experience told her drove men crazy. She could hear the chair creaking and realised that, as he held her head motionless, he was rocking himself in and out of her mouth! She was still cradling his balls in her left hand and now she brought up her right, displaced by his sudden thrust, to stroke his hairy belly and thighs encouragingly.
The young man was groaning and swearing as he fucked her face. The erotic nature of the situation nearly overwhelmed him: here he was, stark naked, being sucked off by a woman dressed as a schoolgirl, blindfolded – and twice his age! The sight of her kneeling in front of him, red lips wrapped around his throbbing cock, small, slim hands rummaging in his groin, pretty little tits bouncing as he thrust himself into her face, was too much. With a huge groan, he pulled her mouth onto his cock as he erupted, buttocks clenching, feeling the first wad of thick, salty spunk jetting against the back of her throat, and again and again, his face contorting with the exquisite agony of his climax.
As the head of his cock threatened to choke her, she pulled back automatically and twisted her head to free her mouth, gagging on the hot spunk already flowing over her tongue. His jerking cock continued to pump out milky spunk, spurting onto her cheeks, shoulders and tits until the last few drops spilt from his shrinking shaft and he slumped back into the chair, satiated.
She sat still for a moment, clearing her throat, breathing heavily and feeling the hot fluid dripping onto her chest. She waited for his instructions – after all, they hadn’t even started the bet yet, and he would need a few minutes to recover, if the noise he’d made was any guide!
Bringing him off in such a kinky fashion had left her feeling horny; dropping her hands into her lap, she surreptitiously fondled the lips of her pussy, slipping a fingertip inside to rub her swollen clitoris. She urgently needed some relief. Better get things moving, then!
“Needed that, did you, Mr Alcock?” she said softly, reaching up to remove the sl**p mask which had nearly been dislodged by his sudden ejaculation. Seeing her motion he sat up and said quickly, “No – don’t take that off – just slide it back into position. I want you to stay blindfolded until the bet’s finished. And wipe that spunk off your skin – you can swallow it down like I told you to. Then you can put on a little show while I recover.”
She had never been particularly fond of the taste and smell of spunk so she took her time collecting the drops with her fingers and licking them clean, but after a few minutes she had cleared it all up. She could feel that the lipstick was smeared around her mouth – God! She must look a sight, she thought – but it would all be worth it if she came out on top at the end. Unintentionally, she laughed aloud - perhaps that’s how he would fuck her – with her on top!
She heard him chuckling as well as he stood up and moved around behind her. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, Maureen,” he said, “’cause now it’s your turn to have some fun. You’re going to sit in this chair and frig yourself to a climax with your trusty vibrator, while I watch – and by the time you’ve come, we’ll be ready for the main event!” She felt his hands on her shoulders, lifting her up, turning her round and guiding her bottom onto the chair seat. From habit, she rested her trainers on the feet of the chair so that her legs were spread.
He pulled her bottom towards the front of the chair and rolled up the skirt to expose her pubic hair – still blonde, but thin enough now to clearly see the little lips, glistening with moisture in anticipation of having a stiff cock pushed between them. Reaching down, he stroked a finger along her hot slit, making her jump and squirm with the unexpected contact. For a moment, he was tempted to kneel down and lick her out, but he resisted - he was still trembling from his climax and he needed to rest for a few minutes.
He took her right hand in his and put the vibrator in it, then he went to the kitchen, found a beer in the fridge and settled down in the armchair to watch her playing with herself while he figured out his next move.
Meanwhile, Maureen had switched on the vibrator, turned it to her favourite setting and begun stroking the cool, shiny shaft gently in and out of her hot, moist pussy. Her face was flushed; she had never done this in front of anyone else before and she was both embarrassed and thrilled to be compelled to pleasure herself in front of a man – and a complete stranger at that, even if he had already come in her mouth! As she worked the humming toy deeper into herself, gently nudging her clit, she thought about what was to happen next. His stiff cock was twice as thick is this vibrator, and a couple of inches longer; she’d better get herself good and wet, because he was unlikely to be gentle – she knew that now.
She couldn’t help imagining him fucking her – pinning her to the bed perhaps, or even bent over the desk as she had suggested, or perhaps her sitting astride him, feeling the rough hair on his chest tickling her nipples as he grasped her arse and pumped his spunk deep into her…
“Ooooohh!” Caught by surprise, her climax hit her as the muscles in her tight cunt gripped the metal shaft in spasms, her buttocks clenching and lifting off the wooden seat. Frantically, she worked the vibrator in and out, stimulating herself until the last contractions died away and she slumped into the chair, smiling beneath the black mask. The vibrator slipped from her fingers and fell to the carpet, slippery with her juices and the smell of musk.
The young man had been watching with interest as she squirmed and wriggled her way through her orgasm. She was a hot little bitch, alright, even if she would never see fifty again; he would have to be careful if wasn’t to lose the bet badly. But while she had been frigging herself, he had been looking around the room and he’d had an idea, inspired by a porn film he’d once seen; he’d give her something to think about while they screwed which would stop her using her tricks on him…
Catching her breath, Maureen opened her eyes – and remembered she was still wearing the mask. I guess he’ll make me keep it on while he fucks me, she thought, and was surprised to find she didn’t mind the idea. This was turning out to be a very unusual day… She could hear him moving around the flat, and she called out, “OK Mr Alcock, you’ve seen the warm up – now, what about the main event as you called it – or are you going to welsh on the bet?”
“No Maureen, we’ll go ahead just like I said; I’m just getting things ready. Now, I’ve cleared the ironing board away, so you take off your skirt and lie on the carpet in the middle of the room, flat on your back, with the soles of your feet on the floor and your legs well apart. You can keep your trainers on – you might need a good grip!”
Puzzled, she slid the blue skirt down to the floor, feeling the wet stains against her calves as she did so, and stepped out of it. He led her to the middle of the room and helped her to lie down and stretch out. The carpet tickled her back and between her bum cheeks. Carefully, she placed her feet as he had told her to do, and laid her arms by her sides. It came to her that this was just like the position she adopted at the gym when she did the “bridge” exercises – the kinky bastard was going to make her pretend she was being fucked in the gym – in public! The deliciously naughty thought made her shiver and her pussy began to juice up. “Get on with it, you kinky sod!” she demanded; even if she would only allow him to fuck her for a few minutes, she knew it wouldn’t take long for her to come if she pretended that she was being watched taking a stranger’s spunk by half a dozen horny men.
“Nearly ready” he replied, kneeling next to her. “Now, you have to do exactly as I tell you if you want to carry on with the bet – understood?”
“OK, OK”, she snapped, “Tell me what to do and let’s cut to the chase!”
“Right, Maureen – lift your arse up like you do at the gym – nice and high – and then put your hands together on the floor underneath!” Smirking at having guessed his plan, she moved smoothly into the position, bracing herself with her pussy pushed high and her feet firmly planted. She knew she could hold this for several minutes if she had to; her strong thighs and calves were well conditioned. If he wanted to ride her like this, she’d milk his spunk out of him in no time!
Suddenly, she felt him pulling her wrists together, lifting them and winding some sort of cable around them, tying them together under her. “Keep your arse up high, Maureen,” he told her, “I’m putting the hot iron under your bum to keep you well arched while I fuck the living daylights out of you! Put your hands around its handle and hold it in place – you can push it away, but if you do, you’ll have lost the bet!”
Desperately, she pushed her backside as high as it would go, forcing the soles of her shoes hard into the carpet to gain purchase. It was true! He had pushed the handle of the little iron into her bound hands; its flat end rested on the carpet and the sharp, hot point would be just below her swaying buttocks, right under the little brown rosebud of her arse! She could feel the heat from the metal rising, scorching her cheeks and making the sweat start, dripping onto the hotplate and sizzling. It wasn’t switched on of course; she could feel the plug against her wrist, but it would still be very hot – hot enough to brand her!
She heard him winding something clockwork – the kitchen timer! Then he was between her legs, leaning over her, pressing her shoulders down to the floor with his hands as he eased his big purple knob between the glistening wet lips of her cunt – and thrust in. To a background of steady ticking, she heard him whisper in her ear, “Your time starts now, Maureen – do you think you’re up to it? Make me come inside you!”
“Ow!” His sharp thrust had pressed her hips down and the searing, sharp metal point had, just for a moment, slid between her cheeks. The pain made her jerk up, pressing her groin hard against his, forcing his thick cock deep into her, stretching her tight slit. She was sweating profusely now, and hearing him chuckle as he settled into riding her made her suddenly very angry. “You fucking bastard!” she snarled, as her fury gave her the strength to hold her hips up, even with the extra weight of his body as he fucked her vigorously, “You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since you first saw me at the gym. You won’t last five minutes inside me! I’ll squeeze you dry!”
He didn’t answer, concentrating on ramming his cock into her. The angle of her body allowed him to penetrate deep inside, squeezing his thick shaft, and the pressure of her pushing her groin up at him, rubbing his dangling bollocks, added to the stimulation. He had to be careful not to shoot his load too soon, careful not to look at her blindfolded face, strained and sweating as she swore under her breath with the effort of keeping her arse up high.
Why? Because, in the porn film that he had remembered, it had been a school teacher in her fifties who had been taken to the school gym, stripped, blindfolded and gagged, tied down arched over a hot boiler pipe and fucked by her sixth-form pupils! He’d thought it was the horniest thing he’d ever seen – and now he was doing it to a woman he’d only ever seen before at the gym! Neither of them had ever had a workout like this before, but he guessed he was enjoying it more than she was…
“Ow! OW! Fuck!” As the point of the heated metal prodded her backside again, Maureen tried to concentrate on two things: keeping her hips pushed high, and the ticking of the timer. She had lost all hope of being able to make him come with any special tricks; her position prevented her from doing anything but help him to fuck her as deep as possible, and her only hope now was that the sheer pleasure of fucking her straining body would bring him off. He was certainly giving it all he’d got! But she was determined to see it through: her pride wouldn’t let her move the iron away! She was fit and she would prove it, to him and to herself. Thank God she’d been using the small iron, though…
Suddenly, he did something she never expected – he leaned down and kissed her, pressing hard against her lipsticked mouth and pushing his tongue in between her lips. As he did so, his weight shifted, easing the pressure on her straining thighs and calves, changing the angle of his cock to rub against her clit. His thrusts quickened; somewhere in her memory, she recalled a vulgar description of this action as the ‘vinegar strokes’, when a man was about to come and couldn’t hold back. She gurgled in her throat as his tongue twined with hers: she was going to win!
And then, to her despair, the timer alarm rang – as he pulled his mouth away from hers to bellow in ecstasy, thrusting hard into her, spurting his hot spunk deep inside her. With great presence of mind, she yanked the iron away from under her, feeling the hot metal rolling away and stopping just beyond her sweating flank as the flex pulled at her wrists – and she collapsed on the floor, his cock still jerking and pumping the hot fluid into her. She came then, quivering as the last few strokes of his plunging cock stretched her tight lips and hit the spot, her cunt spasms squeezing the last drops of cum into her as they sprawled on the floor, spent.
As he gathered his wits and heaved himself up from on top of her, he realised she was weeping. Gently withdrawing from her, he unwound the iron flex from around her wrists and set the thing away. Then he slipped the sl**p mask from her face and kissed her gently on the forehead. He sat back on his haunches as she sat up gingerly, wiping the tears from her eyes and looking at him glumly. “That was the best fuck I have ever had,” he told her, smiling. “Yeah,” she replied, “but all I’ve got out of it is a full pussy – and a burnt bum!”
“Actually, “he replied, “I do have a confession to make. When I set the timer, I only set it for ten minutes, not twenty – so you have won half the bet – ten times £50! I’ll give you the money now, then you give it to me, I’ll give you a receipt and your account’s clear! Will that help you to cheer up?”
“You are a bastard aren’t you? And I’ll bet your name’s not Alcock, either! Where did you get the idea for that horrible trick?”
“Let’s get ourselves another beer, I’ll put some ointment on your backside and we can get dressed – then I’ll tell you while we sort out the money! And perhaps we can arrange another workout, now that we know each other better…”