Incredible Afternoon Sofa Lovemaking. Many Happy Returns ~ Peter Stone

Well, I have been trying to get Angie to write about the second half of my birthday on 19th March, but she is still on a down as regards the blog (details here), so you’ll have to put up with me and the Word spell and grammar checker!

[For the record, all of our stories are true unless prefixed with FICTION or QUESTION or GUEST POST or the like. We began blogging about our love and our lives in 2013 and if you’d like to know why, then you’ll have to read our About page. This is not a BDSM blog, we cannot emphasise that strongly enough. Neither do we aim our writing at older people. Our blog is all about our lives and lovers from being teenagers right through to present day, so expect to find teenage stories as well as stories we have written about our older love-life. Everyone should find something to interest them. Images are taken from the web and are not of us. We credit images if we know the photographer. If you own one of the images we use please let us know and we’ll remove it or credit you.]

Back in March I wrote about my birthday present, the one you cannot put on the mantle shelf or coffee table! It was the most wonderful fellatio and she had me lie totally passive while she brought me to an amazing, thigh-shaking orgasm. You can read about it here: my birthday blow-job.

After the event she gave me a snowball, saying I might need it later, which meant she was expecting something special in the afternoon. I was knackered and just lay on the bed, watching my darling Angie give my poor, abused penis a final kiss before standing up, totally naked and walking off into the shower room. God her bum is so beautiful the way it moves from side to side as she walks. She worries it is no longer as firm as it once was, but it is gorgeous as far as I am concerned and we can do nothing about age progressing.

So, eventually I struggled to sit up on the edge of the bed, still enjoying that feeling of knowing what had just transpired. My penis had that slight, pleasant ache which follows orgasm, but  was still slightly erect, so the sexual feelings were still emanating from it into the recesses of my mind. It was one of those orgasms which would remain in my memory for life.

Finally I stood and forced the first day of my 69th year to begin.

At lunch we went to a local seafood restaurant on the beach and both enjoyed a warm, spicy prawn and crab salad with a glass or two of Frascati. Delicious. We walked across the beach, along the canal and back around the crescent towards home, getting back about three in the afternoon. Spurs are playing on the Sunday this week so we sat on the settee watching the other scores coming in during the afternoon. Angie went through to the kitchen and returned with tea and a bun each. Then we sat holding hands.

Usually on a weekend we’re wearing lounging clothes – jeans or track suits, but today Angie had on one of her denim skirts and the ubiquitous black leggings. My hand strayed onto her lower thigh and very quickly our interest in the football scores dwindled. I kneeled on the floor beside her and her hand flicked the TV control to off.

I ran my hands up and down the outside of her thighs as I eased myself between her knees, reaching up and finding the top of her leggings. A few pulls and some help from her lifting her bum when required, the tights began to come down revealing her lovely, warm legs. There is something so desirable about snow-white thighs being gradually revealed and I slowly pulled them down, discovering that her panties had descended in sympathy.

Using my hands I stroked her legs as they were peeled out of her leggings, knowing that the object of my desire was lurking at their apex. Angie’s legs are always so warm and my mind flitted back to that special day (Angie’s version) when we gave each other our virginity – not the furious row which broke out afterwards, but the discovering of the heat between her thighs before we made love.

Finally the leggings were at her feet. I lifted each foot, slipped them out one at a time, kissing her toes before putting the tangled material to one side.

Denim skirts are not the easiest to push upwards out of the way so I found the clasp, opened the side and, again with her help, the stiff material found its way to the floor. Now I was faced with the bottom of her cotton shirt concealing her triangle of pubic hair (she only clears it between her legs). I pulled on her legs and she slid herself downwards so that she was right on the edge of the sofa. Her thighs opened and there it was, before my eyes, begging for my attention.

Her vulva is as cute today as it was all those years ago when we were teenage lovers. The skin between her thighs, on her outer labia and lower abdomen is as perfect as it ever was. Her outer lips were slightly convex to each side with that wondrous slit down their centre. Protruding, as it always did, was her right crinkled inner labial lip. I leaned forward and moistened it, drawing a sigh from her. Again and again I ran my tongue from the point where it stuck out at the bottom along its full length, only an inch or so. Again and again, so gently. I leaned back to look regularly and noticed the filling out of its filigree appearance and seeing that it now had company on the other side. More moistening and longer, slightly firmer caresses, beginning to force my tongue between them. Now both were becoming engorged and they separated. I could see the moisture from my tongue covering them with a shiny film, but at their base there was now a glint of more liquid arousal finding its way from her secret tunnel to the outside world. The tang of her labia was changing its complexity as I collected her lubrication and began to spread it deeper into her cleft while listening to her girly speak as she enjoyed my tender cunnilingus.

At next glance her whole vulva was open to me and I could see that delightful fold of skin, the delicate hood which covers Williamina, our name for her clitoris. My tongue played across it, so now running the length of her valley and over the silky skin of her prepuce. I could feel its contents getting harder and protruding more from its refuge within her body, not just the little tip, but the concealed shaft, which makes a raised lump as it strives to become stiff. If I pinch it with my fingers I can feel it extending into her body. So mysterious to have your erection on the inside and its sensitivity wondrous, too.

Angie has always come easily and I could tell from her little whimpers that she was already extremely aroused. Now was the time to increase the speed of my licks, but keeping them the full length of her opening. Ten or twelve like that then I used my fingers to stretch up her hood and my licks were now finishing directly upon that tiny, shiny nub which gave her so much pleasure. I began to tongue the mini-buttresses harder as I closed in upon it at the top of each caress.

Now I just needed to be persistent. Never changing the motion, neither shortening the length nor speed. Listening to the tiny sexual cries each time her clit was stroked, I knew I had everything right. Suddenly she was breathing more raggedly, began to whimper throughout each stroke, her bum started to rise off the sofa and push towards me. There was a desperate cry of “Coming” and pow!

I slowed my strokes to a standstill and pressed my mouth against her tenderly as I sensed her contractions. Her clit was rising and falling, her vulva was pushing outwards and I could feel her thighs shaking against my cheeks. My mouth and chin moist with her intimate flow of lubrication. I loved the strong tang of her vaginal excretions at orgasm. Such a wonderful taste, like an aphrodisiac. Her cries ceased as the orgasm began, but the silence only lasted two or three seconds when it was broken by a scream of joy, the delay being caused by her holding her breath and then taking a massive gasp of air.

It is so satisfying giving the woman you love an orgasm and this was indubitably a really good one, continuing for a good fifteen seconds before she collapsed back into the seat, I climbed up alongside her and we kissed and kissed and kissed.

Her hand came up to my cheek, stroking it, caressing my neck, running her fingers through what is left of my hair. The kiss ended.

“Peter Stone, I so love you,” she said and kissed me again.

What a wonderful feeling to have the girl of your dreams holding you tight and kissing you warmly, tenderly and lovingly.

An inviting bulgeWe cuddled for ten minutes or so then she stopped kissing and lifted my sweatshirt over my head, her hands running over my torso and flanks, rubbing me as hard as she could for a minute before those delicate, curious fingers fell to my trousers and began to strip me, leaving me in boxers and socks.

I knew it wouldn’t stay like that because Angie has always hated – absolutely, definitely hated – undressed or partially undressed men in socks. She fell to her knees, lifted each foot and removed them.

Staying between my legs she began to kiss my knees then my thighs, pushing me back onto the sofa. Her hands ran up the insides of my boxers – what a wonderful sensation that is – before forcing me through the fly opening and thrilling me with more fellatio.

God I was hard and I remembered I hadn’t taken a tablet. Could I get two orgasms in a single day without sildenafil? I dismissed the thought because thinking about erectile dysfunction can actually make it occur. I knew she’d be able to take me all of the way orally without Viagra, but I wanted to come inside her so intended to stop her before coming. It was during vaginal intercourse the ED sometimes happened, though I could never understand why.

Oh, boy, her lips are so tender and expressive during oral sex. I relaxed and let her take control. One hand caressing my testes, feeling and holding them, firmly then gently then hardly touching them, allowing her fingernails to run across them. The other hand holding the bottom of my shaft tightly. Really tightly. Squeezing hard, adding and releasing the pressure rhythmically. Meanwhile her mouth was swirling around my glans, moving up and down as her tongue flicked over the widest expanse, curled over the top, pushed roughly against my fraenulum and caressed around my corona forcefully. The wonderful sensation of the build to orgasm was beginning so I gripped her head to stop her motions.

Deep brown eyes looked up at me, smiling, telling me she loved me. God, I couldn’t stand being in her mouth any longer and pulled her face away. She tightened her grip and I finally escaped with a slurping noise causing her to laugh as she sat back in her kneeling position.

“Right, Stone. Your birthday. How do you want me?” she laughed as she spoke, knowing we both love fun and humour in our lovemaking – well not always, but often.

How did I want her? Her hand still gripped Zebedee tightly. So good. Did I want her missionary? Doggie? Cowgirl?

I pulled on her shoulder to move her back onto the sofa. Placed several cushions to one end and laid her down, climbed aboard and eased myself between thighs which were to die for. I wanted her vanilla. I wanted long, slow, vanilla. My shaft eased its way into her roasting hot body as I watched her eyes close and a delightful smile cross her lips.

“Lovely,” she whispered at what I knew was an amazing feeling for her, my entry.

Her hands came around me, holding my back tightly with me inside that marvellous vagina, stopping any motion to withdraw. I knew she loved to hold that feeling awhile before our lovemaking began.

I felt her squeezing me inside her, enjoying being occupied for maybe a minute, perhaps more, then her hands eased their grip on my back letting me know I could now move once more.

My motions began. Phenomenal sensations ran through my body as my penis slid outwards and inwards, then completely out, thrusting back into her, enjoying that short, but never-endingly beautiful journey along the most exciting and fabulous tunnel with which we are ever provided. Fully into her depths. Oh, the heat, the tightness, the slickness, the beauty of knowing where I was. Knowing how lucky I was to be experiencing something so magnificent.

As I moved, as I rocked back and forth, as I thrust and slid and thrilled to my body’s reactions to its intimate connection, I could hear her whispered words of love, of joy, of excitement. I was feeling the warm caress of her inner thighs lifted to hug my hips, in total synchronisation with my motions. I kissed her neck, hearing her pleasure. Kissing during lovemakingHer hands caressed me, stroked my back, my neck, my face, pulling my head into position for her lips to contact mine, still tainted with my own flavour, reminding me of our commitment to each other’s pleasure.

How long we made love I can’t say. It wasn’t one of our marathon events and I guess at twenty minutes or so. The sofa’s springing was different to the bed. It seemed to move with us which added a sensuousness to our experience and I clearly remember Zebedee suddenly changing his nature.

My penis, during lovemaking, was usually just a glowing shaft of pure feeling, but there is always that moment when it morphs from something which could remain consistently lovely for hours into a needful sensation that must be satisfied, not in five minutes, not in one minute but right now!

“Ready?” I whispered.

“Always,” her lovely response.

I changed nothing. Not the speed. Not the depth. Nothing. The climactic feeling was hovering just there, just beneath the point of no return.

“I love you,” she said softly, and that was the trigger.

Now my shaft was full of heat and desire, my body totally taken over with the need to ejaculate. I felt it rising. The beautiful ‘rush’ was upon me. My mind sent its signal to my prostate and I fired off my love, trying to fill her, trying to bruise her cervix with its power, trying to make me and her into a single entity. So amazing. The most incredible feeling in the world.

I felt her hands on my hips, holding me tight against her as she moved beneath me, rubbing her clit on my pubic bone. My orgasm finished and maybe ten seconds later a tiny cry from Ang and I felt her vagina squeezing me with her own orgasmic contractions.

Wow! What a birthday fuck. Stunning.

“Shit,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“No fucking tissues!”

Peter Stone, 17th April 2016