Midnight Snack I

The sex had been fantastic, the hot shower afterward refreshing and soothing to muscles Bill admittedly hadn’t used so vigorously in ages. He felt surprisingly alert considering his age and the efforts he’d put forth tonight. He’d half expected to pass out after that last round and sleep the sleep of the sexually sated male. But he hadn’t, and she’d offered him use of her shower if she could go first.

He’d laughed in response and watched her wander off, admiring the view she afforded. She did not have the toned body of a youth, any more than he did, but she was lithe with supple curves, had a damned fine ass, and legs that any man, at any age, would die to have wrapped around him. She was elegant and sexy, confident, and all woman.

She was also wide awake. He’d half expected to come out of the bathroom and find her sound asleep under the covers, but she wasn’t asleep, and she wasn’t in bed. He found her in the kitchen, bent at the waist and rummaging through the refrigeration unit, the hem of her little white satin robe riding up and giving him just a glimpse of the bottom curves of her cheeks, revealing just enough…

No underwear. She was trying to kill him.

He couldn’t help himself. He just stood there and stared, watched her retrieve a number of items out of unit and put them on the counter, just within arm’s reach. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a towel atop her head, giving him a full view of her back and neck, letting him see the play of her body’s motions beneath the satin. There was something mesmerizing about it, making him to long to place his hands on her and…

She righted herself and closed the door on the unit then turned to her finds on the counter. He watched her reach for a loaf of bread.

Sandwiches. She was going to make sandwiches.

He didn’t know what to make of her, of the situation. He didn’t do one-night stands all that often and those he’d done … well, he’d been invited to go once things were completed. Did this mean she wanted…?

The thought that she might, made him happy in more ways than one, but it raised an even more important question: Could he even get it up again?

She was beautiful and inspiring and he definitely wanted to frak her some more, but his recovery time was unknown, even to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a marathon bout of sex but he was pretty sure it’d been at least a decade, and self-pleasure sessions weren’t an accurate measure when a partner was involved. Then there was the fact he was an old man.

As he stood there, watching her going about such a mundane task with that effortless grace that only some women seemed to possess, he came face to face with the truth behind the saying that youth was wasted on the young.

If he had half the energy he’d had when he was twenty and half the stamina he had when he was forty, he’d be set to put a permanent smile on her face. And that was something he found himself wanting to do.

Quietly closing the distance to her, he stepped up behind her, placed a hand on her hip and held her gently as he boldly pressed his hips against the luscious curve of her ass. His cock stirred at the contact and he smiled when she wiggled against him in welcome.

Yes, his death was definitely on her agenda he decided when she turned her head, looked knowingly back over her shoulder at him. A smile curled the corner of her mouth, and her gaze was already warmed with desire.

Sliding his hand around and down, he caressed the gentle mound of her lower belly, one of her own body’s concessions to age. He eyed another, the delicate wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and murmured his thanks for use of her shower.

She hummed softly in response, went back to making the sandwiches while he waited, observed, enjoyed the feel of her against him, the fact she hadn’t shoved him away.

She felt good. He felt good. He…

His hand drifted lower, cupped her through the rapidly heating satin. She stilled, trembled and he watched her eyes fall shut. He kissed the back of her neck, whispering “Who are you?” as she set aside the condiment knife and bread, and placed her hands on the counter and rocked into his touch.

She didn’t answer the question, just gave herself over to the sensuality thickening the air around them. He followed her example, leaning his brow against her temple as she rubbed herself into his palm.
When she turned eventually, his fingers found the tie on her robe, loosed it then gently parted the fabric, moving it to frame her breasts. He looked down her body to the juncture of her thighs and smiled. He gently plucked at the springing curls, murmured, “You’re a redhead.”

Her answering “mmm-hmm” dissolved into a moan when he slipped a finger into her folds and rubbed lightly at her clit.

Her head fell back and the towel containing her hair fell away. He watched desire skitter across her face, taking in the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks, the same ones that peppered her chest and shoulders.

Bowing, he kissed the rise of a breast, sucked gently. Her hands delved into his hair and he came up when she drew him, lips melding with hers in a kiss so slow Bill thought time might have come to a halt. The languid smack of lips, the leisurely unfurling of her tongue into his mouth had him wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him. The easy molding of her body to his had his head spinning.

Whoever she was, she wanted him. And that was enough.

In a move that could have been desperately foolish, he picked her up and took her to her bed. She shrugged out of her robe while he shed his boxers and tanks. She opened her legs to him without a hint of shyness and he made himself at home between them, sliding his cock into her pussy on a slow, long, smooth stroke that filled him with pride as it took her breath and had her grasping at his arms with desperate fingers.

Her gaze flickered with something akin to wonder, cementing his earlier observation that her regular lover hadn’t been properly frakking her.

He could remedy that.

Eyes holding hers, he braced her hips with his hands, holding her in place as he withdrew then slid back into her heated channel. He took his time, as grateful for the desensitization from their earlier efforts as much as the renewal of his erection. It let him frak her with the deliberate intent of making her come undone while he held onto as much control as possible. It let him watch how he affected her, let him see the upward spiral of her desire, the quickening of her need to the point of virtual madness.

Frak, he loved that, had missed seeing a woman respond to him, having one want him enough to let him do exactly what he was doing right now. The give and take was exquisite and he was glad to have it back in his life, for however long it lasted.

Concentrated solely on giving her his cock again and again, Bill lifted his hips on each ending, making her gasp and clench around him. When she lifted her legs, he braced his hands against the backs of her thighs, rose up on his knees and pushed harder, eyes never leaving hers.

He probed her, reached as deep as he could, grunting with the efforts and when he ground against her before each retreat.

Under him, she undulated, grew frantic. Her hands grasped her tits and squeezed them, then reached for the covers and yanked at them, then closed around his wrists until her nails bit into his skin.

She didn’t say a word, though. Just took him, let him take her, and when she shattered it was with a wordless cry, one that unleashed something in him.

He yanked her legs around him, leaned over her and frakked her for all he was worth, frakked her through her orgasm into another, riding it hard until his own surged up from his balls in a blinding, white-hot sensation that had him roaring and pumping his seed into her.

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