Grandma Celine

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Şub 21, 2021 // By:analsex // No Comment

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A SATURDAY MORNING WITH CELINE

It was 7 AM on a sunny Saturday morning. I woke up, showered quickly, and returned to bed. I looked fondly at the woman sleeping on her stomach: her pink night gown was bunched around her waist, revealing her perfectly rounded meaty buttocks. Her blonde hair was sprinkled liberally with gray, befitting a middle-aged grandma. I gave her a long back, thigh, and buttocks massage. The lady turned her head towards me and asked:

“Darling, do you know what today is?”

I said, “Yes. It’s 11 years we have been together.”

Smiling, she said, “I’m glad you remember, lover. I’ve been very happy all these years.”

I said, “Me too.”

I am Alex Moore, a high school history teacher. Grandma Celine, the woman next to me, got up and went to the bathroom. I got up, put on a robe, and went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I placed the bouquet of flowers I bought in a vase on the coffee table in the living room. I was sipping a second cup of coffee while seated in a couch when Celine appeared dressed in a see-through black baby-doll outfit and black high-heel sandals: her hair was fluffy having been dried a few minutes earlier; she had on wire-rimmed glasses, bright red lipstick, dangling pearl ear rings, and a three-strand pearl necklace on her long, wrinkled, neck.

“Thank you for the flowers; they’re lovely.”

Celine knelt in front of me, pulled my cock out, and began to suck it while fondling my cum-filled balls. She played with my genitals for several minutes. Celine then sat in my lap, and French kissed me while pushing her soft, sagging, boobs in to my chest. My cock became stiffer as I felt Celine’s soft buttocks on my cock and her pendulous boobs on my chest. Gently, Celine grasped my precum-covered cock and snaked it in to her jelly-slickened pussy; she sat in my lap until her vaginal walls expanded fully and gripped my cock. After fucking for a few minutes, she got off of my lap, and led me to the cheery kitchen where she put on a white apron, and cooed:

“I’ll make breakfast for you: scrambled eggs and sausage links; you toast the bread.”

Like on many a Saturday morning, Celine initiated our love making; she knew I loved fucking her in the morning. Celine taught me to make love for several minutes with intermittent coupling; she loved to have my aroused, cum-leaking, cock, deep in her old pussy and reach at least one orgasm; I learned to let my cum trickle in to her pussy during our coupling, long before ejaculating a large load of cum.

Soon Celine bent down in front of the stove to select frying pans, turned her head towards me, and smiled. I saw that she had no panties on her upturned ass and her aroused pussy lips were glistening between her plump buttocks. I rushed to Celine, grasped her hips, and snaked my erect cock in to her pussy; I fucked her for couple of minutes while my cum trickled in to her pussy. Celine slid away to pick four eggs from the refrigerator. When she was beating the eggs and scrambling them, I was able to again couple with her, grasp her sagging boobs, and fuck her for several minutes.

After breakfast, I removed her skimpy clothes, made her lie on the kitchen table, sat in a chair, and licked her wide-open pussy until she had an orgasm:

“Ohhhhhh. Cummmming. Ahhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhh.”

Later, with me standing, I fucked Celine’s well-lubricated pussy while savoring the sight of her jiggling boobs, her wrinkled skin all over her body, and my thick cock going in and out of her pussy hidden in dense, gray, pubic hair. Celine knew that I loved seeing her mature body and face while fucking her tight, juicy, pussy.

CELINE AND JIM

When I was five years old, my dad died in an automobile accident. Celine Dubois Adams came with her husband, Jim Adams, to dad’s memorial service. Jim Adams and his late wife had adopted my orphaned mom in Montreal. I learned Celine was Jim’s new wife; she seemed to be a few years younger than my mom.

Celine consoled me and stayed by my side during the long memorial service, while Jim consoled my older brother. She told me she had a three-year old son, Jacques, from her previous marriage. She took me to a local park, where she let me play on a swing for several minutes. She told me:

“Alex, when I’m sad, I go to a park to swing while humming a song I like.”

Three years after my father died, my mom married a fellow teacher, Julian Lefevre, who was about ten years younger than her. Julian courted my mom ardently until she agreed to marry him. Our family continued to live in a two-floor, four-bedroom, house. I also spent many happy winter and summer holidays at our family cottage with members of Julian’s family.

Julian taught history and coached the junior high school basketball team; he always cared for me. He was born in Canada to parents of French descent; but, he spoke English fluently. With his coaching, I was able to play back up guard on the high school basketball team.

CELINE TAKES REFUGE

During the autumn after bahis firmaları I turned 18, I heard that Jim Adams developed a weekend drinking problem and often became abusive by late Saturday afternoons. To help Celine get away for a while, mom invited her to stay at our home as long as she wanted to. Celine stayed in the downstairs bedroom that also served as a computer room. My mom told me that Jim owned a Canadian company that also had operations in Illinois, Michigan, and Ohio; Celine cared for her husband, and was hopeful that after counseling he would get better and be nice to her.

Celine was a beautiful lady: she was about 5’4”, 125 lb; she had dense, wavy, blonde, hair, and a pleasant face with large, gray-blue eyes, and a long neck. Celine inherited the high cheek bones of a Russian grandmother, and the thin and long nose of her French father. Initially, while dealing with her difficult marital situation, she stayed in her room dressed in loose and ill-fitting sweat shirts and pants. After a week or so, she began to jog three times a week in a sweat shirt and running shorts; I noticed she had smooth, well-toned, legs, and thighs.

I did not pay too much attention to a sad woman until a day after Jim came to visit her. I was proof reading a paper I wrote on the computer when Celine walked in followed by Jim. Their minor argument, which began in a restaurant, escalated in to Jim berating her. Fearing that Jim might hit Celine, I got up from my chair and told him to leave the room. For a minute I thought Jim might challenge me, but he left the room glowering at Celine. Mom heard the commotion and talked Jim in to leaving for the hotel with her.

Celine said, “Alex, thank you. I’m very embarrassed you saw us fighting,” and began sobbing. I held Celine in my arms as she sobbed on my shoulder, while pressing her bosom in to my chest. I became aware of the perfume she had on, her long and sexy neck, and her still firm boobs. I tried to lean away from Celine, but she clung to me for several minutes until she stopped sobbing. Still in my arms, Celine lifted her head, looked in to my eyes, and, after planting a quick kiss on my lips, said:

“After you finish your work, can you take me to a park?”

I said, “Sure. I’m done working.”

On the way to the park, Celine confided:

“Julian was like a brother since I was a baby. Actually, he’s a distant cousin. He supported my marriage to Jim, an Englishman; my father was against it. Jim was a loving husband and helped me take care of my son. After his company had two difficult years, he started drinking heavily over weekends, and became verbally abusive.”

Celine had on low-heel shoes and a long-sleeve black dress, so that a long walk in the park was not a good option. I drove to where there was a swing and, after she sat in it, I pushed her by her shoulders to swing back and forth. Celine giggled happily and said:

“You remembered I like swings,” and began to hum to herself.

Standing in front of her, I saw Celine had her head tilted back; on the upswing, her dress ballooned to reveal the top pf her black stockings and black panties.

After we picked up two bottles of water from a café, we went back to my car and sat with the windows open. Celine said:

“It’s nice of a young guy like you to listen to an old woman’s problems.”

I told her, “You’re not old; you’re a good looking woman and a nice person. I’m sorry you are having problems.”

I held Celine’s left hand with her wedding ring on it for couple of minutes and, when she did not pull it from my grasp, I kissed it. After returning home, we found a message that mom and Julian were going to come home late. For dinner, I barbecued hamburgers on Julian’s gas grill and Celine prepared a salad. We shared a bottle of red wine with our dinner. Celine and I were relaxing on the living room sofa when she said softly:

“Be a darling; massage my feet,” and placed them in my lap.

She moaned when I massaged her stocking-covered feet. Later, she turned to rest on her stomach to let me massage the backs of her well-toned leg- and thigh-muscles. Celine moaned in appreciation of my massage. Slowly, I moved my hands to the middle of her thighs and stopped where the stockings ended. After a minute or so, slowly, Celine pulled the hem of her dress up several inches to signal I should move my hands further up; I massaged her upper thighs and the slopes where they met her buttocks.

Seeing her black stockings-covered thighs, garters, and her white, meaty, buttocks gave me a raging hard on that pushed against her right thigh lying in my crotch. Celine lifted her head, turned, and looking in to my eyes cooed:

“Wow! I did that to you! I’m an old woman.”

I blushed and mumbled, “Not old. You’re lovely. Very attractive.”

Celine got up on her knees and quickly French kissed me; I hugged her tightly and kissed her long neck, and then French kissed her for a long time. She moaned with pleasure when I fondled her covered boobs. I wanted to lower kaçak iddaa her dress to kiss her boobs when the phone rang: it was Julian asking to talk to Celine. After a long conversation on the phone, Celine said:

“Julian thinks I can save my marriage. I hope so. I’m also worried about taking care of my son,” and, after a pause, tenderly touched my face, added:

“You’re a great young man. I’m sure you will meet a nice girl. I’m glad I spent an evening with you.”

LOVING MRS. WALTER

The young women I dated were more ambitious than me and moved on to more motivated young men. Amanda Walter was a brown-eyed beauty I met in one of my American History courses. We went out a few times and each time she encouraged me to eat her hairy pussy to at least to one orgasm in her bedroom. In turn, she jacked me off, but would not let me fuck her.

Well before graduation, Amanda began to distance herself from me: Instead of being invited to her bedroom, I was being asked to wait in the living room where I either watched TV alone or visited with her mom, Mrs. Betty Walter. Early on, Mrs. Walter insisted I call her Betty and have a glass of wine with her. In a few weeks, I found out Betty was a kind and straightforward woman, who had been divorced for almost two years. Betty was about 45 years old, 5’2”, 130 lb. She had blonde-gray hair and brown eyes; she was buxom and had wide hips.

I enjoyed visiting with Betty: she confided to me that Amanda, like her father, pursued aggressively anything she wanted; also, her husband made lot of money and had left her for a business-savvy, younger, woman. She had assumed he was happy in their beautiful home she worked hard to create and maintain. In turn, I confided to her that Amanda dumped me.

With Amanda being away with her boyfriend most of the time, Betty was alone at her home and glad to have me around. I helped her with many chores and, before I went home, we visited over a glass of wine most evenings. After a few weeks, I noticed Betty was taking better care of her appearance. One evening, she looked alluring in a navy blue tank top and black shorts; her hair was done in a knot on top of her head. Betty smiled when she saw me staring at her chest and legs longingly, and asked:

“You like my new hair do?”

I replied, “Yes. You look great.”

She then showed her college and wedding pictures in an album. Indeed, she looked beautiful; I said:

“You must have broken many hearts.”

Betty blushed and kissed me on my cheek; I also saw a few tears in her eyes. I kissed her softly on her lips and held her in my arms for several minutes.

Betty mumbled, “Amanda will be home soon. Can you help me in the garden tomorrow evening?”

I agreed and left. Next day, a Friday, evening was warm. I dressed in a tank top, shorts, and sandals. I went to Betty’s home on my bike. Amanda was not home. Betty was in tight, denim, cut offs, and a low-cut, red, sleeve-less, blouse. As she continued to work in the yard, I admired her smooth arms and thighs, and large hips; she also had bright lipstick and smelled of freshly applied perfume. When she was pulling out a dead bush, she slipped; fortunately, I caught her by her waist and we fell to the ground together. Betty said:

“I think I twisted my ankle,” and grasped her right ankle. I said to Betty:

“Your ankle needs to be cooled down right away. Even with me helping you, I don’t see how you can limp all the way back to the porch.”

Betty asked, “Can you carry me?”

I said, “Sure.”

As I carried her to the porch, her right boob pressed in to my ribs, her top two blouse buttons were open revealing much of her sexy cleavage, and her barren thighs were in my right forearm. The net result was that my cock became rigid as it rubbed against Betty’s hip. After I put Betty down in a reclining chair, I applied crushed ice to her ankle and an elastic bandage. After about an hour, Betty said:

“My ankle feels much better. I need to go to the powder room.”

When I carried her in to the powder room, with a mischievous smile, she said:

“I can unzip my own shorts,” and added:

“Let’s have some wine. Stay with me and watch a movie on TV.”

After Betty freshened up, she put on a red silk robe over her underwear; I helped her recline on the living room sofa and handed her a glass of Cabernet wine. After couple of sips of wine, smiling, she beckoned me to snuggle with her as we watched an R-rated movie. For several minutes, Betty rubbed my muscular upper arms. After she rested her head on my shoulder, I kissed up and down her slightly wrinkled neck. Betty moaned and said:

“It has been a long time since I spent an evening cuddling with a man. This old lady thanks you.”

Next, I planted several soft kisses on her upper arm, left cheek, and then a juicy French kiss which Betty returned with eyes closed. I initiated another French kiss that lasted a long time and again Betty returned it. After we watched intently a romantic scene on the TV, I pushed aside kaçak bahis her robe, found the right nipple protruding like a peanut through her red, lacy-bra, and began to suckle it. After a while, Betty whimpered:

“That feels good,” and gently steered my head to her other nipple; I also grasped and fondled her other bra-covered boob.

After Betty slowly maneuvered to sit in my lap, she put her arms around my neck and pulled my head in to her sexy cleavage, and said

“My ankle feels better.”

Eagerly, I pushed my face in to Betty’s ample cleavage and kissed it many times. Later, as I kissed Betty’s cleavage, I reached behind her back, and unhooked her bra; her unconfined, long, sagging, boobs spilled half way to her belly. As she looked eagerly at my face, I lifted each boob, kissed it, and suckled it. After several minutes, Betty cooed:

“You’re driving me crazy. I’m glad you like my sagging boobs.”

At that moment, the phone rang. As Betty talked on the phone, she pulled my head on to her right boob. Later, she said:

“Amanda’s coming home late,” and added:

“We can have left over roast beef or we can order pizza.”

I whispered, “I would rather eat you,” and helped a blushing Betty up the stairs to her bedroom.

Her heavy boobs swayed sexily as she climbed the stairs. In the bedroom, Betty cooed when I grasped her boobs from behind and gently pinched her nipples. As soon as Betty sat in an upholstered chair, I slid to the carpeted floor, opened her legs wide, and pushed my head in to her spread panties-covered crotch. As I kissed her thighs and crotch, I inhaled her sex aromas mixed with her perfume; Betty whimpered and ran her fingers over my bald head. With Betty’s help, I slid her damp panties past her wide hips to her ankles; I saw Betty had light-growth of straight, gray, pubic hair, surrounding her aroused pussy.

Betty opened her legs more and pushed at the back of my balding head to urge me to eat her pussy. Holding on to my head, she cooed and moaned happily as I licked her slickened pussy labia and clit:

“Baby, that’s great. Greaaaaat. Liiick. Ahhhhh. Aaaaaahhh.”

Betty had her orgasm sooner than I expected. After resting for a while, she went to the attached bathroom and returned in a sheer red robe. She helped me remove my shorts and underwear; I grasped her swaying boobs and Betty grasped my throbbing cock. Looking in to my eyes, Betty said:

“Get on the bed. I want to ride you slowly. It has been a while since such a big cock went in to my pussy.”

I said, “Take off the bra; they look sexy just swaying.”

Betty blushed as she took her time to push my leaking cock head deep in her love channel; after she sat on me, she sighed with a mixture of relief and satisfaction. Her pussy fit snugly around my cock that was continuously releasing streams of my semen-filled cum. I let my cock remain still as I fondled her sagging breasts with large nipples and kissed her wrinkled neck. While remaining coupled, I helped Betty roll on to her back and felt my cock deep in the grasp of Betty’s love channel. Soon, my climax began in my groin and it rolled through my spasming cock as gobs of cum spilled on to her womb.

“Ahhhhhh. Fuckkkkkk. Ohhhhhhhh.”

I rested on my hands and knees with my chest on Betty’s flattened boobs. My cock remained erect and I began to fuck Betty’s cum saturated pussy with abandon. When I heard someone downstairs, I paused and had my cock buried deep in Betty’s pussy; Betty whispered:

“We should stop. It’s Amanda. I don’t want her to know you’re here. Go in to the bathroom. There’s a robe in the closet; put it on and wait,” and nudged me off of her.

Betty wiped off my over flowing cum off of her crotch, sprayed her perfume on her crotch, put on a robe, and left to meet Amanda.

I waited in Betty’s dimly-lit, large, bathroom: In a closet, behind a stack of towels, I found a man’s robe, a variety of dildos, and skimpy lingerie. I barely heard Amanda and Betty talking and giggling. After about 30 minutes, Betty came in to the bathroom, slid to the floor in front of me, grasped my softened cock in her small, wrinkled, hand, and cooed:

“Amanda’s gone. She wants me to take her shopping tomorrow,” and, staring at my cock, added:

“This guy needs help,” and began to suck my cock.

I watched in awe as Betty sucked and slurped on my cock; I was turned on watching her wrinkled, lipstick-coated, lips around my growing tool. Licking her lips, Betty stood up and turned towards the bedroom. She squealed in surprise when I grasped her by her waist from behind, lifted her robe, and began to hump her from behind.

Giggling, Betty asked, “What are you doing? It’s lodged in my buttocks.”

I whispered, “Let’s do it doggy-style.”

As soon as Betty bent forward on the vanity, I guided my hard cock in to her still slick-pussy and began to fuck it in long strokes. As Betty watched my passion-crazed face in the mirror, I saw her sagging boobs jiggling in unison with my powerful trusts. I ran my hands on Betty’s narrow waist and her wide hips. As I felt my climax beginning, I grasped Betty’s boobs, and thrust my cock back and forth rapidly until it spewed gobs of my cum inside Betty’s pussy:

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