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by Cristiano Caffieri
Wanda Hayes had been brought up by a single mother. Life was tough and they moved from place to place always hoping that it might improve things but it never did. With little education and no particular skills, she decided the only thing open to her was to marry some rich older man. That opportunity seemed to present itself when they moved into the small town of Scottenville.
It was said the richest man in the area was a stockbroker named Alex Kerry, a 50-year-old bachelor who lived in a large house on the outside of town. Wanda decided that she needed to know him and she dressed up in her shortest skirt and revealing top and climbed into her old clapped out Chevy. She’d decided to go for the, “My car’s broken down just outside your gate and my cell phone’s dead could I please use your telephone?” routine.
Wanda was certainly a dish and she knew it. She had long slender legs, big natural tits and a smile that could charm the birds out of the trees. “How could any 50-year-old bachelor resist?” she thought to herself.
Walking up the long tree lined driveway she practiced her lines and when she reached the door she took a deep breath and rang the bell. The man who answered certainly didn’t look fifty, in fact, he looked awfully fit and youthful in jeans and a T-shirt.
He was reasonably good looking and she couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to remain single. It looked as though she had a tough job ahead but she was up for it. She was quite a good little actress when she put her mind to it and she intended to play it to the hilt.
The house interior was beautiful, there were crystal chandeliers, gorgeous oil paintings, and a Scarlet O’Hara staircase. What more could a girl want?
She was led into the drawing-room, where her feet sank deep into the pile carpets. He showed her the phone and she clumsily picked it up and then dropped it, which meant she had to bend over to retrieve it from the floor. The view of her brief lacey panties as she fumbled for the phone had the desired effect, when she turned around she could see a sizeable bulge in his pants.
“O – I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself,” she said, “I’m Wanda. She demurely extended her hand and he took it in his.
“I’m Biggles,” he smiled.
“Yes – it’s a nickname my friends gave me – I fly a plane you see.”
It appeared she didn’t see, and so he explained that Biggles was a pilot in a series of children’s books.
“I always wanted to be like him,” he said, “I wanted to lead a life of adventure and to travel to mysterious places. “
She pretended to tear up, “I was going to learn to fly once,” she sniffled, “my boyfriend was a pilot, but he disappeared on a training mission over the Pacific.
As she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye he put his arm around her shoulder and said he was sorry for her loss.
“It was a long time ago,” she said, “but it has left me with serious problems.”
She now put the phone back on the cradle and sat down on the nearby sofa. Biggles gave her a hundred percent of his attention, even sat beside her and held her hand.
“It’s hard to get over something like that,” he said, “but life must go on.”
“That’s what my therapist says but it’s not that easy,” she turned to face him directly and gazed into his eyes, “I’ve not been able to have sex since the day he was reported missing, and that was two years ago.”
“What does your therapist say about that?”
“He says I should find someone kind and gentle to have sex with me, he believes it would lift the burden off of my shoulders and then I’d be able to live a normal life again.”
“Sounds like good advice,” he said, moving his hand onto her thigh and stroking it gently.
“I don’t suppose you’d be prepared to help me?” she asked, bowing her head as if she was ashamed of what she was suggesting.
“In what way could I help?” he inquired, the perspiration beginning to form on his forehead.
“I don’t suppose you would be interested in having sex with me,“ she said, with a pathetic look of need on her face.
“If you think it will help – I’m at your service,” he answered hoarsely, hardly able to contain his enthusiasm.
“Thank you,” she said, and moved closer to him, causing his hand to slip further up her leg, and she kissed him gently on the lips.
Biggles was like a man who been marooned on a desert island all of his life. With his free arm, he pulled her against his chest and crushed his lips against hers, while the other hand attempted to work its way past the strip of her panties that concealed her hot wet crack.
Just as the tip of his finger found its mark she abruptly stood up, leaving him panting like a horny dog and proceeded to strip off. As he gazed up at those delicious looking tits and neatly trimmed muff he swallowed hard and then literally ripped off his own clothes, tossing them across the room with a big smile on his face.
When he was completely naked she knelt down, looked up at him and smiled, before plunging his throbbing cock halfway down her throat. She figured she had to give this guy the best sex he’d ever had, so good in fact that he wouldn’t be able to survive without her at his side.
As her long delicate fingers played with his balls, she slid up and down his dick in a steady rhythm. Moaning and groaning he grabbed onto her hair as she brought him nearer and nearer to copulation, and then it happened, his goo oozed into her mouth and he yelled “FUCK,” at the top of his lungs.
When he’d regained his composure he lay her down on the carpet, straddled her body and began to lick her nipples as his dripping knob trailed across her belly. Wanda loved her tits sucked and he did it to perfection. Slowly he moved down her body and placed his face between her firm warm thighs. When he licked the lips of her flower her ass jumped up a couple of inches and when he began to lap his tongue up and down her groove she went ballistic.
“Oh my god, that is so good,” she cried, arching her back so that her cunt was pressed hard against his mouth.
When she came, her body writhed on the carpet like a snake in heat and Biggles had to pin her down so that he could ram his dick into her. She gasped as it went in and his balls slapped against her pussy mound.
Digging her nails into the cheeks of his bum she urged him on and soon their bodies were crashing against each other at a furious pace. He didn’t want to cum quite so soon but she kept urging him on, yelling, “Fuck me, Fuck me, fuck me hard.”
When he blew his load it shot into her like hot molten lava. Neither he or she had ever felt such passion, it was if they were made for each other.
After they’d dressed she sat in one of the big winged backed chairs with a drink, thinking to herself that one day soon she might be mistress of all she surveyed.
“Where do you keep your plane,” she asked, put her glass on the table beside her.
“Oh – it’s on the field at the back of the house,” he said, “would you like to see it?”
She nodded enthusiastically and soon they were standing in the grass looking at a beaten up old Grumman Ag Cat biplane.
“I thought you would have an executive jet of some kind,” she mumbled, a little disappointed at what she saw.
“That would be no good for crop dusting,” he said.
“Yeh – that’s what I do for a living, well for half of the year, during the winter I house sit for Alex while he and the servants go to his place in Bermuda.” THE END