Birgit is waiting for me when I get in from work. A blonde Swedish beauty, wearing a long black silk robe. She has made me a whiskey and dry ginger, and serves it to me as I sit down in my favourite armchair. Then she takes out a little blue lozenge, places it on her tongue. Looking me in the eyes, challenging, alluring, she advances on me. She climbs deftly up on me, straddling me, grinding her wet pussy against my growing erection, and feeds me the Viagra with her tongue, kissing me long and lovingly, squirming sexily, after I swallow it down. I reach to undo her robe, but the little minx evades me and slips away.

“Not yet,” she breathes. “Not yet, Daddy. Wait and get hard for me while I prepare myself for you.”

She slips into the bathroom, closes the door. I strip naked, then sit in my armchair and sip my drink as the Viagra works its magic. I can hear her singing in the shower, humming to herself as she prepares for another night of fucking. I still marvel that she is my lover. She is beautiful, with a perfect body. She possesses the flexibility of a ballerina and the strength and stamina of an athlete. She is erotically skilled, insatiable, and knows no sexual inhibitions. And she is eighteen.


We met at an arthouse cinema double bill. I noticed the young woman in the queue ahead of me in a vintage velvet dress, struggling to find enough small change to pay for her coffee.

“Let me get this,” I offered. She smiled in thanks — then impishly added a chocolate cake to her order too. We started talking about the film we had seen, the director. I should say that at fifty, a respectable, married, investment banker, I am not in the habit of chatting up young women in cinemas. But there was something so compelling about those icy blue eyes, that gorgeous narrow face, with its habitual sulky pout that could suddenly transform into the most dazzling smile. I was enjoying her company, and it was — I quite admit — flattering being seen with such an enchanting young girl. Her outfit was modest, but still showed off her slender frame and the hint of the curve of breasts and hips. Her hair was in tight bunches that evening, and her clear, youthful, flawless complexion shone against the dark green dress.

We made small talk. Her name was Birgit. She was from Sweden, a fashion student at the start of her course. She was enjoying being in a new city. She thanked me for my suggestions of museums and galleries to visit. Yes, she would like another coffee and cake! “Thank you very much, Mr?”

“Charles. Call me Charles, please, Birgit.”

The next film was due to start. I thanked her for her company, she thanked me for the coffee. I went into the auditorium, sat down. Then as the credits began to roll, I heard the rustle of velvet, smelled her perfumed body spray, and Birgit sat down next to me.

After the film ended, she looked expectantly at me, those blue eyes wide and questioningly.

“Would you like to go somewhere and have a chat about this film too, Birgit?”

She nodded eagerly.

And so we found ourselves at a nice bar and bistro, drinking wine over a late supper and talking about cinema. Again, I was surprised — I really do not do this sort of thing. Yet there I was, a lovely young girl hanging on my every word and gazing deep into my eyes. And then — I felt a teasing, tickling sensation along my shin as she had slipped out of her shoe and was running her toes up my leg beneath my trousers. She looked unblinking into my eyes as she worked me, a provocation, a challenge.

I had never though before of being unfaithful to my beloved wife Jennifer, but this was a temptation too far. I reached my hand under the table, slipped it beneath the hem of that velvet dress, then slid it up her leg. I felt the delicious buzz of nylon over firm flesh, then lace and bare skin —

“Stockings?” I said out loud.

Birgit nodded.

“I like to wear them when I wear Ataşehir Escort vintage. They feel good on my legs, don’t they Charles? I like how they feel. You do too, don’t you?”

I nodded, as we caressed each other beneath the table. I ran my hand over the firm thigh, palm stroking the nylon and fingertips teasing bare flesh, as she rubbed stocking-clad toes up my shin.

“Sometimes, men tell me to keep my stockings on. And I always obey!” she breathed. Men? She was eighteen. How many men had this teasing little minx had? Enough to turn her into a skilled seductress. I was putty in her hands. When she said simply, “Get a hotel!”, I at once took out my phone and booked a room and a taxi to take us there.

In the taxi, she sat demurely, occasionally slipping me a lascivious glance. Once in the hotel room, she flung herself into my arms, kissing me passionately open-mouthed, that nimble tongue I was to come to know intimately entering my mouth for the first time. I kissed her back, teasing her tongue with mine, exploring her mouth gently at first then more voraciously.

“God! Older guys kiss so well!” she gasped when we broke for air.

“Champagne?” She suggested. I called room service as she proceeded to undress me, undoing my tie, taking my jacket off, unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it from my trousers, then kneeling to remove my shoes and socks, staying on her knees and unbuckling my belt and slipping my trousers and shorts down,

I was erect, hungry for her. She smiled at my hard cock — I know I am well-endowed, but she reinforced this with her surprised gasp and cry — “Oh! So big!” She opened her mouth wide, ready to begin to fellate me, when a knock came at the door.

“Room service!”

She jumped up, answered it — I was naked, so had to let her. She thanked the waiter, came back with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket with two glasses.

I opened the bottle and poured our drinks. She seemed to approve of my familiarity with handling expensive drinks. We drank, then kissed some more, with me caressing her body through the lovely old dress, then she broke away and stepped back.

Birgit faced me squarely, reached down and lifted the dress off over her head in one swift movement, flung it aside.

I stared in adoration at the sight of her stripped for action.

Golden skin, utterly flawless and without blemish. A face almost doll-like in its beauty, with tip-tilted nose, thin but expressive lips, high cheekbones. Those eyes even more wickedly exciting now in the bedroom as a lover.

Graceful, slender, yet athletic body. Toned and honed, with a six-pack and a trim waist. She wore no bra, and stood now bare-breasted. Her breasts were glorious. Not as full and heavy as my wife’s 36DD, but still big and shapely, needing no bra to support them, almost perfectly formed with nipples tip-tilted and kept constantly erect by small gold rings through each. This young girl was pierced!

Her legs were long, very long. Standing in her heels she was nearly as tall as my six foot. And the stockings that had felt so good looked sensational, black against her fair skin. Hold-ups, leaving her hips unencumbered by suspenders. All she wore otherwise were a pair of high-cut black lace boy short panties.

She looked at me. A girl child, a goddess. She began to roll a stocking slowly down her leg.

I remembered what she had said before.

“Keep your stockings on, Birgit!” I commanded sharply.

She rolled it back up, looked docilely at me and murmured:

“I obey.” I felt I had passed some secret test. Clearly this knowing little witch wanted her older lover to assert himself

“Come here!”

She sashayed over, slipped into my arms, and whispered in my ear:

“Do with me as you will!”

And so began our first night together.

I kissed her hungrily, then lowered myself down her body. I lightly kissed Acıbadem Escort and tongued those delicious pierced nipples, teasing myself by not feasting on them as I would have loved — not yet! I did later that night — and kissed down that flat, taut, belly till I was on my knees before her. I stroked those stockinged legs, nuzzled at her panty-clad loins, then slowly drew the shorts off. She stepped out of them, stood akimbo with thighs parted. Looked down at me expectantly.

“Yeah, baby, show me what you can do!” she challenged.

I stared at her blonde-haired pussy. She waited.

“Somehow, I thought you’d be…” I said.

“Shaven? I will be next time. For you, Charles, Always!”

Next time? This was going to be interesting.

I brought my mouth to her pussy, inhaling her scent, opening and exploring, tasting her arousal. I tongued deep inside her, moved to her clitoris, began to torment her until she was groaning, moaning, crying out:

“Ja! Ja!”

I drove her to orgasm after orgasm, until she begged me to stop:

“Too much baby! Wow, you know how to work a girl!”

I was flattered. As I rose up from my knees, she smiled expectantly at me.

“Get on your knees, Birgit!” I commanded. She eagerly obeyed, her mouth opening wide and her tongue teasing the bulbous head of my cock, then sucking it between her lips and going to work.

Birgit naked on her knees, your cock in her mouth, her eyes on yours as she works you so expertly, is an experience no man could ever forget. Making the same little moans of pleasure as she guzzled my cock as when she enjoyed that chocolate cake earlier. A supremely gifted and expert cocksucker, able to drive me wild in ways no girlfriend off my youth or even my loving wife had ever been able to. I spurted my spunk deep into her teenage throat and she drank it down greedily.

And then we fucked.

Oh God, did we fuck! I led her to the bed and she stretched herself out invitingly, a blonde vision of sex in seamed black stockings and stiletto heels. Then I joined her and kissed my way up from her ankles, the back of her legs, up to her pert arse and up her spine, nuzzling her neck, then as she rolled over and into my arms I kissed her again on the mouth, and we tasted ourselves on each other’s tongues.

I moved down to caress and fondle and suckle on those luscious, firm, full breasts. It was heaven. The flesh was so soft and yielding yet also firm and resilient, the pierced nipples hard — and oh so sensitive. She sighed and moaned in pleasure as I kissed and licked and suckled her until they were both slick with my saliva. I nibbled and grazed at those nipples, making Birgit cry out, becoming more and more aroused. I climbed on top of her, ready to make love. My cock was hard again for this Scandinavian sex goddess.

“Don’t be so boring, Charles — save that for your wife!” she admonished. No fan of the missionary position, Birgit. She rolled over on top of me, grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. She kissed me hard, then raised herself up, thighs parted, and brought herself down slowly onto my erect cock. Then she began to fuck me, hard, mercilessly, exhaustingly. I kept my hands above my head until the sight of those wonderful breasts bouncing and wet with my spit and her sweat was too much and I reached up to grasp them hard. She contorted her face in ecstasy and fucked me harder, faster, rolling her hips and taking me to heights of pleasure I had never imagined. I came inside her, calling out her name, just as she reached her orgasm. She slumped down on top of me, spent for the moment.

We finished the champagne, then, fuelled by alcohol and lust, I told her, “You, young lady, are going to get fucked again!” She squealed in delight and scampered back to bed. This time she let me position her on all fours. She looked back over her shoulder at me.

“You’re going to do me in the İstanbul Escort ass?” she asked. I had never been a fan of anal sex before, but right then I realised I wanted nothing more than to drive my cock hard up this young girl’s arse and fuck her till she screamed. Something about her brought out my most perverse and shameful desires.

“Do it!” She begged. “Please — do it to me, Daddy!”

That did it. I thrust deep into her, hearing her cry out, seized her hips, and fucked her hard and savagely. The harder I did it, the more she liked it, crying out:

“Yes, Daddy! Oh, Daddy, yes!”


That was our first night together. Since then, we have been meeting regularly for dates or marathon sex sessions. I have a flat in town that I inherited and which I use as a pied a terre for when I work late. It has become the place where we go to fuck. I know that Birgit takes other lovers — she likes to tease and make me jealous with the graphic details of the boys (and sometimes girls) she hooks up with on nights out clubbing. She even talks about an older lesbian lover and teases me that she’d like to fuck her and me together some time. But she keeps coming back to me. I never expected to be a “sugar daddy” but that is what I am. I suppose. I buy her presents, take her out, treat her. And in return — well…

I wonder what she will be wearing for me tonight. She looks exquisite in the La Perla lingerie I bought her. Or the black PVC. Even that Alice in Wonderland costume with the white stockings turned me on.

“Ready?” She asks, and emerges from the bathroom. Her hair is in pigtails. She is wearing spike-heeled knee boots in black leather, and a black fishnet bodystocking, a catsuit that covers her completely except for the open crotch. She is completely shaven for me. She stands akimbo, those ice blue eyes fixed on mine.

“Show me you love me, Daddy!” she coos. I rise from my chair, approach her, and take her in my arms. We share a long, loving kiss, as I caress her superb body, loving the feel of her skin beneath the fishnets. She gasps as I tease and pinch the nipples with their rings, she sighs as I sink down to my knees, my hands squeezing her arse cheeks.

I know by now exactly how to excite and tease her, how to bring her to climax again and again with my tongue. Her screams of orgasm are music to my ears.

“God, Charles, you are so good with your tongue,” she sighs when I finally show mercy and let her recover. “But then — so am I!”

She helps me to my feet, and slinkily sinks to her own knees. She fondles my rigid cock.

“Mmmm, you’re so big and hard for me, Daddy!” she purrs, then I feel again that expert tongue, those luscious lips, that engulfing mouth.

I am lost in oral sex heaven when I hear the flat door being unlocked. I see it open, and my wife Jennifer walk in.

She takes in the scene.

“What is going on here?” she demands.

It is surely obvious what is going on, darling. Your husband is having his cock sucked by a gorgeous Swedish teenager in fetishwear. I don’t say that, of course. What can I say? “Wait, darling, I can explain!” That would be such a cliché.

Birgit is calmer than I. She stands up, faces Jennifer. Fixes her with that provocative gaze. Walks slowly up to her. “What are you doing, Birgit?” I think. This is surely making things worse. Then she says softly to her:

“Jenny, darling, wait — I can explain!” and begins to caress her, tonguing her ear, undressing her. I start to realise as she strips Jennifer of her dress until she is wearing only a black lace basque and black stockings and leads her to the bed. I realise exactly who Birgit’s lesbian lover is. As under her spell as I am, Jennifer surrenders to her kisses and caresses.

“I want to fuck both of you tonight,” she says. Jennifer, lying beneath her, nods submissively, her breath coming faster as Birgit fingers her.

Birgit beckons to me. “Daddy!” The Scandinavian sex goddess commands.

I join them both on the bed and they reach for me – as their luscious bodies enfold me and their mouths begin to tease me, knowing both their sexual appetites I am very glad I took that little blue pill earlier…

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