Skinny girl seduces fat old man and he fucks her sweet pussy

Title: “A Delicious Taste of Forbidden Fruit”

The saying goes that age is just a number, but for Marla, it wasn’t just a number – it was a thrilling ticket to escapades she had only dreamed of. At 18, the lithe young woman had an insatiable appetite for forbidden fruit. And the fruit she craved most was something deliciously mature.

Marla hungered for elder men, those with a salt-and-pepper dusting on their chins and a twinkle in their eye that spoke of wisdom, experience, and most of all, unbridled lust. She had managed to keep this dirty little secret since she turned 18, carefully choosing her prey at the local seniors’ center.

Her latest conquest was none other than Mr. Whitson, a portly 72-year-old with a hearty laugh and a penis that had seen better days. But Marla had a plan to bring that sucker back to life. She sauntered into the center, her tight yoga pants and crop top leaving little to the imagination. Mr. Whitson nearly choked on his coffee when he saw her, his eyes following the skyscraper of her toned legs.

“Mr. Whitson, so glad to see you,” Marla purred, slithering into the seat next to him. His eyes roamed over her like a man in a candy shop, unsure where to begin. “I was hoping we could spend some time together… just the two of us.”

Mr. Whitson swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a buoy. “I…I’d be delighted, young lady. But I…I’m married, you know.”

Marla simply smiled, a wicked curve to her lips. “MoralLesson” she whispered wickedly. “What happens in private stays private.” With that, she drained her coffee and headed for the door, casting a look over her shoulder that promised all sorts of shenanigans.

that evening, Marla found herself in Mr. Whitson’s living room, its only occupants being she and the mix of excitement, terror, and lust in the old man’s eyes. He sat ramrod straight on the couch, his hands trembling as he fumbled for the remote control.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, his voice cracking. Marla simply shook her head, slowly crossing the room towards him. She climbed onto the couch, straddling his lap, her legs on either side of him. “Now, now, Mr. Whitson,” she cooed, leaning in close, her lips brushing his ear. “We both know why you invited me here.”

She could feel him stirring beneath her, a tent forming in hisrelations. She began to grind against him, a slow, sensual rhythm that had him groaning. “My my, you’re quite the a man, aren’t you?” she teased, licking the shell of his ear. “I bet you’ve got quite the teenager waiting for us.”

With a confidence that belied her inexperience, Marla began to unbuckle his belt, her deft fingers fumbling with the clasp. Finally, she tugged it free, tossing it aside. She reached for his zipper, tugging it down ever so slowly. “Don’t get too excited now,” she whispered, slipping her hand inside his boxers. “We’ve got all night.”

Marla wrapped her hand around his shaft, her fingers barely meeting as she began to stroke him. He was hot and hard in her hand, a surprising show of virility for a man his age. She pumped him slowly, her thumb swirling around the tip, spreading the bead of precum that had gathered there.

“You like that, Mr. Whitson?” she purred, her breasts pressing against his chest. “I bet you’ve never had a virgin touch you like this before.”

She continued to stroke him, her hand moving faster as she felt him grow even harder in her grasp. She could feel him twitching, his breathing becoming more ragged. “That’s it, Mr. Whitson,” she encouraged, her voice low and seductive. “Just let go. Let me make you feel good.”

With a strangled groan, Mr. Whitson came, his release shooting across Marla’s hand and splattering onto his shirt. She pumped him through it, her hand moving slower as he began to soften. Finally, she released him, bringing her hand to her mouth. She looked into Mr. Whitson’s eyes as she licked her fingers clean, savoring the salty, slightly bitter taste of his cum.

“Mmm, delicious,” she purred, licking her lips. “I can’t wait to have more.”

Mr. Whitson looked at her in awe, his chest heaving. “I…I don’t know what to say,” he stammered, his face a brilliant shade of red. “That was…incredible.”

Marla simply smiled, a satisfied smirk. “Oh, Mr. Whitson,” she said wickedly. “We’re just getting started.”