Lindsey was standing at the bar because it was her turn to buy the drinks, she said. And I was thinking: all my life I’ve wanted a girl like this, and there she is. There she is, a tall slender wonder, tight skirt, new white short leather jacket. Long hair down her back. Seemingly totally self-possessed. Even though this is our third meet, I’m still in first-date mode. I’ve spent a couple of hours after booking in to the hotel wandering around the town, looking for a place for us to go before we go to the hotel. And I’ve found a place a few yards away: a building site a few yards away from the main road. I’ve even found a mirror, the only bit of furniture in the whole empty place – a tall one from an old wardrobe. I’ve moved it into place so we can watch ourselves.
Lindsey comes back with the drinks. I tell her I’ve spent the time eyeing up the women in the town, and figured that even the most respectable-looking, when alone at home in bed, will play with themselves to some filthy fantasy. That we’re all deeply sexual creatures. She disagrees. I have performance anxiety. Since our last session was off-the-scale pleasurable, I don’t see, beyond growing another cock, how we can better it. Last time it all came together so perfectly. I’m intimidated by myself.
We chat about our upcoming punts. She says she’s been a bit anxious about my next two: together we’ve enjoyed some very rough, thrilling, no-holds-barred fucking. But she thinks the girls I’m seeing may not like me going so far. I’m touched she’s been thinking about me, but like to think I’m pretty good at tuning in to a girl and what she wants. She says she’s seen me go into the zone and though she loves it, she’s into that & not everyone is. I say that the reason we went so far was because, looking down at her as I face-fucked her really hard as she squatted at the edge of her bed, her face a blur of spit and cum, she looked absolutely beautiful and blissed-out. I’ve very seldom seen anyone look so happy. She smiles, remembering. I think she’s reassured. But I get the point: Lindsey’s exceptionally liberal, and special therefore. Everyone’s not her.
We talk about some reactions to my last review of her, and she says that someone cancelled a booking (I am the beneficiary of that) because – he said - she was too extreme for him. Even though I was there at the time, I know how he feels and tell her so. But, she says, that’s only a part of her. Not even a necessary part. She doesn’t want to be pigeon-holed as The Extreme Girl. She’s much more than that. And if there’s any justification for writing another review of Lindsey, it’s to underline that point. I more than found out how many sides there are to this young woman.
I’m 57, so when I eventually say “come on then”, I know that we’re going, without much interim, to fuck. And in my head is the heights we reached last time. Part of me feels like I should just tiptoe away and pray, or wank. Or both. But.
I guess if you’re young you just have to look at Lindsey and your cock springs up unbidden. I am trying to be young, but actually am middle-aged. And I only took half a pill (note to self). It’s something about leading Lindsey to a sordid square of a building site, knowing what will happen, and trying to be totally focussed. I’m not quite focussed. I’m thinking that yanking on her anal hook while she had stalked a hotel corridor was totally it. Totally it. But that was then. She is totally at ease with sex. I’m 57.
We reach the site. I can do whatever the fuck I want. But I don’t know what I want to do. I want to talk AND stuff her mouth with cock – lick her arse and finger it – fuck her arse – slap her – kiss her – suck her tits – WHATEVER it takes to get back into the zone. I want it gentle and I want it hard.
I want us to get into a rhythm and a hot state, I want to man up. I don’t want this to be a shadow of the previous meet.
I will now hand over to Lindsey. After the meet I sent a that-was-a-bit-of-a-let-down text. Her reply:
“Morning! Are you fucking kidding me? It keeps getting better and better with you. I thought last night was seriously horny and lovely at the same time. I mean, fucking doggy in a dirty outside corner with my face pressed against the filthy wall, knickers around ankles… Looking back at you fully dressed pounding away. Uh, hallo? Wank bank! Haha. Thanks for another great night”
Lindsey’s account is accurate. What it misses out (comedy version) is my attempt to go down on her in the dirty corner, but our preoccupation with the proximity of passers-by meant that Lindsey couldn’t relax enough to cum, me trying to fuck her missionary on the floor but the condom coming off in the dark, my trying to fuck her anally but the same preoccupations putting both of us off.
It did look like it was going to be a failure. At one point Lindsey asked me to spit in her mouth so she could spit it back over my cock. Nice move, but not enough to get me over the edge. That came when I yanked back her top and started to suck on her tits. Lindsey has extremely sensitive nipples, and sucking on them gets a pretty instant response. Lovely to suck on her with my arm round her waist, pulling her close. Knickers round ankles helping a lot. But the key, this time, was asking her to spit on her own tits and rub it in while I sucked on them, then spat on them too to make them glisten and wet. That was fucking nice, and the cock was very hard. I am going to make it! I tell Lindsey to squat down while I wank, and I know I’m on the home run. Very much helped by Lindsey’s open mouth, tongue out, face like the previous session, please spunk! Hearing “O yea baby spunk in my face” would have been a major turn off: seeing it in her stretched open mouth, glistening pushed out tongue and lips, waiting and wanting, said to my balls: go. I went.
Going back to the hotel was a post-porn moment. Lindsey needed a bit of time to clean the spunk off her face, and something in me knew that we’d reached the climax of our meet. Have I mentioned that I’m 57? Funny moment in the hotel: the girl + guy behind the desk, like kids, realising what was going on and leaning back to look through the office doorway, or coming out to look at us in the lobby then rushing back to the office, all excited: it’s a guy with a whore!
We then go into prolonged, and blissful, GFE mode. Maybe a couple of hours together. Yes, there were porn moments. We fucked cowgirl, and there was much face-fucking. Really harsh, head-over-the-side-of-the-bed stuff. But there was also at least a quarter of an hour of me going down on Lindsey, and gently gently making her cum. Just before she came she grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over her face. Her pussy was so wet it dripped. Man. And then, as before, she closed her hand over her pussy. She has lovely, elegant, sophisticated hands.
And there was tons of lovely kissing, and stroking, and cuddling, and lazy intimate chat. And when I say “lovely kissing” I mean this is EXACTLY how you kissed your girlfriend, when you loved her, all those years ago. And how she kissed you. Maybe with your girlfriend you didn’t wrap your legs around her neck to force your cock down her throat, but imagine you DID have that kind of girlfriend, who’d kiss you like a rom-com that made you cry and take your cock down her throat like a porno that made you cum – then you’d have some idea of why, the day after my session with Lindsey, I thought I was seriously going into EAS territory. I mean, the combination of extreme tenderness with extreme er extremity is a bit of a mind-fuck.
But today I realised that that kind of pleasure only exists in the free-space that us punters and particular girls carve out for a few brief hours. It’s fucking bliss but is a charmed space that you destroy if you try to make too real. In the charmed space I adore Lindsey as any man with half a brain, half a cock, would have to do. Outside the charmed space, I work to earn enough to re-enter it and realise that I’ll be 60 soon and that will impose it’s own reality-check. Meantime, I have 3 years of pleasure to look forward to. If you want pleasure, of any kind, hardsports excepted, and to her own amazement, Lindsey will very happily and creatively and whole-heartedly supply it. But you have to be a fluffy cunt.
Result.
Those interested in following the Further Adventures Of Uncle Sweetheart: have arranged with Lindsey and A N Other for a 3some in May, in which we hope to
a) DP Lindsey as she deserves (the other participant supplying plastic cock in the light of US’s pathetic inability to sprout one of his own)
b) to perform same in a public place tbc
Bragging/ apologetic review to follow execution (or not) of same.
