I also saw where his wife of thirty-two years had died three years earlier. They would have been visible beneath the center-seamed top of the white hose, which I tugged down to my thighs along with the panties. Of course as a narcissistic and deceitful - I remain so to a degree - teenager, I didn't give a damn about all her sacrifices and had maintained my flippant, shitty attitude. I soaked a hand towel but left it on the plastic tray, returning to the patient. I quickly batted a book off his nightstand. It is intended for mature readers who will not be offended by graphic depictions of sex acts between consenting adults. I raise my skirt to my waist, collapse face first onto the carpeted stairs and plunge my hand into my soaked panties. This new wing was mostly snoozing, elderly women, but there were a few men. Luckily the male partygoers knew I was still underage, or the clothes that kept me from hypothermia and a fertilized ovum may have ended up scattered to the winds.
It includes rough sex, oral sex, rough deepthroat, rough anal sex, ass to mouth, and semen swallowing. I had never seen her so pissed off. Sadly it was not my first blackout. I leaned down to get a closer look at it. Wheeler's lower pajama top was splattered with translucent white fluid, as was his sole hand which rested next to his still-exposed, semi-erect dick, leaning out to the side like a passed out drunk - ironically it was my familiarity with incoherent drunkenness that landed me in my current situation. It landed on the linoleum floor with a thud, and squatted down to retrieve it. His eyes were what I call a 'cold' blue, a very dark shade like that of a clear night sky. He smiled broadly and nodded. Yes I knew its setting and coloring, having masturbated in front of the mirror - a not infrequent habit - with a vegetable du jour or my homemade chair leg dildo. A happier than average girl, I wasn't burying any demons in the substance abuse. I clutched a couple books, as 'reading aloud to him' was our cover story, in case of an interruption. Computer access level security back then wasn't what it is today. I felt cheated, having missed the squirting show that created the archipelago-like pattern in front of me. It should be noted at this time that I was not without interim male companionship. He agreed to only masturbate, at least to completion, in my presence. My precise underwear I don't recall, probably a sedate cotton bikini pair that I didn't expect to be seen by anyone. I had been found passed out, wasted, adjacent to a pool of vomit in a stranger's garage one Wednesday morning. This night instead of moving the tray, I bent down and began to lick up his heated. His then-lukewarm semen was salty and creamy, no different than that of younger men. His cock was so beautiful! Since I didn't act like a spoiled princess when asked to mop up a puddle of piss off the floor, it made the staff believe I possessed some kind of maturity. I also saw where his wife of thirty-two years had died three years earlier. I found this moment as exciting as any where I was on the verge of 'accidentally' flashing or fully exposing my tits unnecessarily - even more so than being naked specifically for sex, since a lack of clothes then was essentially a requirement, an expectation. It would certainly do the job if we had met under much different circumstances. One turned out to be my grandfatherly crush, I imagine it could be called, Mr. Just get him cleaned up and changed.
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