Then her hands were on me and there was no place she missed, working from my head to my feet, rolling me over to do my backside and then straightening me around again. Her touch went across my chest, into my loins. She roamed the crack of my buttocks, along the base of my gonads, out on the shaft of my penis, over every dip and bulge of the head itself, even winking into the eye at the tip.
“I'm coming,” I exclaimed.
“You keep threatening,” she chided, “but I don't see any action yet. What's keeping you?”
“Well, it would be nice if you were engaged, so to speak. Come on, child, make contact.”
“Please be still. I'm the boss lady.”
As though she were mounting a horse, she threw one leg over mine, sitting hard on my knees so that I winced as they tried to bend backwards. My cock was about where the horn would be on a Western saddle, but she didn't grip it right away. Perhaps if we broke into a gallop she'd find it necessary to support herself.
She began to inch forward, sort of like a limbo dancer approaching the low bar, working steadily, keeping her balance. But when she reached my bar, she began to lift herself until her bottom was clear of my thighs and she was hovering over my stallion, sighting on it like an aerial gunner.
This kid was full of surprises. She kept on coming toward my head, clearing my begging prick by an inch, letting it brush against her left thigh only once, but it was a fiery trail that remained behind, if I read the look in her eyes correctly. She went clear over my loins and sat down again, this time on my belly, which was a softer place to rest than my knees.
“Very cute,” I complained, “but what's it get you-or me?”
“Be still. The boss is at work.”
She reached behind her bottom and found my penis, gripping it like a bat and pulling the skin along the shaft in dangerous fashion. I told her so, but she only laughed. These kids are loaded with confidence today.
“Which hole do you want?” she asked, like a bartender wanting to know if my old-fashioned was going to have a red cherry or a green one.
“You're the boss,” I reminded her. “I wouldn't want to butt in.”
“Butt in? Is that a play on words, a clue? You prefer the rosebud to dining at the Y, huh?” She giggled for the one thousandth time. “I aim to oblige, Daddy.”
“Come on, make up your mind. Am I the daddy or are you the boss?” I snapped, impatient with her playing around by now. “The old man is tiring of the sport.”
“My, you are an old man to tire of this sport.” She leaned far down to kiss me on the mouth and I bit her lips. She leaped back, running into my penis, rubbing her lips. “All right, hang on, partner. It's roundup time.”
She gave me a good ride, backing up until she was up on her knees again, taking aim and then coming down on my cock. She made the decision for the back door, allowing my head to come up against her tender hole, that rear place where the stuff that came out wasn't nearly as much fun as the things that could be put inside.
She sat firmly and my head wiggled its way inside like a living thing with its own brain and nervous system, finding its own way among her little pink folds until it hit the high road to adventure without any real directions from me. She was making a gurgling sound and we laughed together, old buddies, enjoying the most of one another.
“Mr. C, you're all right for a senior citizen.”
“Thank you, Miss P. For a kid, you know how to handle yourself pretty well.”
She was coming down harder, enclosing my shaft in a moist, dark wall that hugged tightly, as though there were muscles with thousands of tiny hands growing from them, hands that pulled me ever deeper, into her backside, my knob forging ahead through the ripe waste of her pretty body. It was one of the rare times in my life I'd gone the Greek route and I snapped off a mental salute to the men of Athens. No wonder they had once ruled the civilized world.
This was an experience I would never forget and, for the remainder of my life, I would pay special homage to the passing beauty who might possess a superior posterior. As for Trudy herself, no matter how our affair would end, she had already earned my eternal gratitude. True, I had been up the rectum with other young ladies, but none had owned a bottom to top hers. It was more than its firm cheeks, its saucy shape, its snug little rosebud. It was the way in which it was used, as is the case with any sex organ. No instrument is any better than the individual who plays it. Talent is all.
Grunting lightly with each thrust, she continued to come down on me and my hips were trying to lift from the carpet to meet her drives. It wasn't necessary for, with those little hands doing their job, I was soon pulled all the way inside and it felt as though my distended dong must be all the way into her belly, navigating her alimentary canal like a Columbus of the bedroom set. I wouldn't have been at all surprised to have heard her cough and choke with the emergence of my staff from her mouth.
“Lordy,” she was gasping, looking down into my face as though from Olympus, “a Tiny Tim you're not. I'll go this route as often as not, but you've taken me farther than anybody else who entered my back door.”
I smiled, a little smug, perhaps. “There's a bit more, if you're able.”
“I'm able.”
It was a fact. With a final bit of special straining, we were able to get me another millimeter inside and then my balls were flattened against her bottom. I was, finally, all the way home and snug in my bed, ready to enjoy a warm bit of play under the covers.
Trudy wiggled her bottom from one side to the other and I felt the muscles grab my shaft and pull it with her, working the skin. Not much of that sort of thing would be needed before it would be all over. She knew this, and I could tell from her breathing and the change in her pupils that she was on the very brink of orgasm.
Sweat was beading on her forehead, running along her nose and then dripping from its tip to my face. I didn't mind. It was like a separate orgasm, a preview of the main event that was to follow in seconds.
“Don't just lay there,” she barked, surprising me, breaking the spell I'd slipped into. “Do me. This is a two-way street, I hope.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Stand by for a head-on collision.”
I looked down my front to see the top of her pussy undulating against my lower belly, the lips stretched wide so that it was like looking into an open wound. Nobody had ever convinced me that a woman's box was a pretty thing, but it couldn't be matched for interest and drama. I suppose a diamond in the rough isn't considered beautiful either, but it tends to hold one's attention all the same.
I reached for her center, managing to get a couple of fingers inside the very top of the lips, the remainder of her vagina being buried between our bodies as she worked on our rather complicated union. I thrust as well as I could and it seemed to be adequate. Trudy almost fell from me as she swooned, her eyes rolling up into her head for a few seconds. Her body rocked forward, bending my cock badly as she lowered her head almost to my face.
“Stay aboard,” I barked. “Steady as she goes or we'll sink with all hands.”
“Aye, sir,” she barked right back in a London accent. “Steady as she goes, but I'm finding the weather a bit heavy topside, sir. Makes handling the ship a mite difficult.”
“Not much farther to a safe port,” I replied.
We sailed on, she flexing her legs so that she rode up and down over the waves, up and down, up and down, up and down until there simply wasn't any time left.
“Thar she blows!” I called.
“Sail ho!” she cried right back.
Digging her fingers into my shoulders, Trudy held on, riding out the storm, taking the battering rams of passion that I was throwing at her. My sperm was beginning to surge, rocketing the length of my tube and into her bottom, filling her rectal cavity and shooting beyond until I truly believe some must have fought its way into her stomach.