Prelude to Tea , Cream


A few years ago, I lived in a 19th-century apartment with a court-yard view into another apartment, which was occupied by an approximately 65-year, grey-haired, but very well-kept women. During the first summer I lived there, temperatures rose to almost 40°C, without really cooling down at night. I had been working on a thesis and, subsequently, I spent a considerable amount of time at home, mostly in front of the computer, with my windows open. Partly because I was a lazy bachelor not too keen on washing my clothes all too often, partly because I liked being in the nude, I typically wore nothing, exposing myself (in the beginning, inadvertently) whenever I got up to refill my coffee or look for a particular book or article.

I worked under time pressure and, in order to stay as focused as I could, I relieved myself whenever thoughts began to drift, typically several times a day (I was a 27-year-old student). I had a few porn magazines locked up in my desk, which I looked at when leaning back and stroking my — I have been told — not too unimpressive penis. At some point, probably weeks later, I realised that my neighbour had been watching me, openly staring into my room with binoculars. I had not thought about her much, even though I had noticed that, despite gravity having taken a considerable toll over the years, she did not always wear bras, leaving her tits to dangle rhythmically on her belly, which kind of intrigued me.

Once she saw me recognising her, she first waved at me, then lowering both of her hands to her waist and rhythmically moving them up and down, which I understood to mean her asking me to slow down a little. She subsequently stepped off her balcony, disappeared inside and — lo and behold — knocked on my door about three minutes later. After having peeked through the peephole in my door, where I saw her smiling at me, I opened the door, still being entirely naked and uncovered. With a smile, but silently, she entered my one-room apartment, softly closing the door, letting herself fall into my desk chair (really the only one in the room).

“Come,” she whispered, while taking my (at that point, soft) cock into her trembling hands, looking at it closely, waiting for it react to her touch. It did not disappoint her, expanding quickly to its proudest posture.

So, there I stood in front of my elderly neighbour, naked and horny like hell, hearing her say “I’ve watched you for a while and dreamt about coming here for a long, long time.”

I could see her breasts, which were, again, left free dangling underneath her white and rather flimsy blouse, almost touching her legs. She had closely followed my eyes, indicating that I could unbutton them, if I so desired. I had never intimately touched a woman of her age, and it was an entirely new sensation to have very large, and incredibly sagging tits in my hands — but it made me even hotter on this sweltering summer’s day.

Topless, she stood in front of me, before she leaned over, letting her rather breath-taking tits alanya escort touch my knees, knelt between my legs, looking up straight into my eyes, whispering “come, my boy.”

Before I could really say or do anything, I felt her lips surround my penis, touching its head with her tongue. Sliding down, looking up, she was giving the most sensuous blowjob. I felt the tension building — as did she.

“Don’t worry,” she said, sucking me even more vigorously.

As much as I tried, I couldn’t hold it for much longer, and soon began to jerk and moan uncontrollably. She did not move back but continued and then gratefully accepted the full load in her mouth, smiling at me kindly, almost like a grandmother after having offered a candy to a child.

“Let’s have a smoke,” she said, when letting my penis go.

We were both sitting at the window, (half-)naked, following the smoke disappear into the hot summer air outside (most of the time, though, I was gazing at these breasts, still not knowing what to think of them).

Once the cigarette had been peacefully smoked, she stood up, buttoned herself, and said, “come to my place tomorrow, for a tea.” I nooded. “And cream,” she added smiling, while kissing me on the mouth before shutting the door.

Needless to add, my thesis did not make much progress that day…

The next day, I woke up very excited. I had no idea what to expect during “tea” later on that afternoon. Thinking about my neighbour’s “cream” insinuation, and contrary to normal habits, I made a conscious effort not to masturbate that morning. The first half of the day passed in a usual, uneventful manner. I had a coffee, showered, went to university to talk to my thesis advisor, checked out a couple of books, copied a number of articles that I had to look at a little more closely for the literature survey, bought a baguette with cheese and returned to my one-room apartment at around two-thirty, took another shower, took out fresh clothes (khakis, without any underpants, and a blue shirt), and a pretty good bottle of German Sekt that I had received as a present a while earlier, before heading off to my neighbour’s flat situated directly across the court-yard from my place. During the visit a day earlier, and despite the considerable age difference, she had offered me, in between two puffs of smokes, the informal “tu” — insisting that I call her by her first name, Marie-Therèse.

I knocked on her door, and she opened, with a broad smile on her face and a golden-brown lipstick on her lips. Thanking me for the welcome gift with a gentle kiss, during which she very softly touched my lip with her tongue, she led me into her living room. I could still smell the seductive scent of her expensive perfume (which I’ll always associate with her and this afternoon in particular). On that particular day, she wore a very long, yellow blouse, which covered her legs up to her knees, with an interesting aquamarine necklace, and a risqué décolletage that allowed me to artvin escort see part of her light blue silk bra (one of these miracle push-up bras that manage to create a very tempting, if somewhat wrinkled cleavage). That was an enormous change from her usual “housewife” look; it was somewhere at the borderline between a classy, rich elder lady consciously “à la mode” and a fixture in a run-down red-light établissement. Possibly because of my anticipation, I was very impressed by her fashion sense and, in my unimaginative student outfit, felt a little inadequate.

However, this feeling gave quickly way to an entirely different emotion. To my great surprise, I suddenly saw that there was someone else sitting in Marie-Therèse’s flat, a woman roughly her age, very large in proportions, with hair that was coloured in a dark red that I resembled a good Bordeaux.

“This is Claire,” my neighbour said, “she’s an art professor,” pausing for a while, looking straight into my eyes, before she added “who is currently working on a series of male nudes. She visited me a few times before, and we have both watched you working naked on your computer…”

“… and yourself,” Claire finished the sentence, smiling at me seductively.

“We didn’t know how to subtly ask you,” my neighbour added, “Claire wants to paint you, lying here on the sofa in the sun, masturbating.”

“If you agree, and should you have any interest at all, we could consider to ‘pay’ you in kind,” Claire suggested.

I looked at them somewhat dumbfounded, just to hear my own words, “but you’ll have to do the undressing,” slip off my tongue.

Marie-Therèse and Claire looked at one another, and both came slowly towards me. Marie-Therèse with her mouth slightly open, touched her front teeth provocatively with the tip of her tongue. She watched, as Claire, who looked a little like a modern Venus of Willendorf in a loose, white summer’s dress, stood right in front of me. I saw her immense, white, and flabby arms, while her thick hands loosened one button at a time. She slid her hands from the chest onto my waist to get me out off my shirt. She firmly grabbed my groin with her right hand, before kneeling down in front of me, opening my khakis and, with an expression of playful surprise, taking out my already hardened penis. The khakis simply fell to the wooden floor.

For just a moment, she took my penis in her mouth, as if to kiss it, only to ask me to position myself on the sunlit sofa underneath the window, while she hurried over to take out her canvas, which she had hidden behind the door in the kitchen. At the same time, Marie-Therèse filled — what I though was interesting — three gold-rimmed tea cups with a really good French cognac. Its scent filled the air quickly. After she handed one of them to each of us, Marie-Therèse took an armchair, placed it opposite to me, and made herself comfortable — and I saw, that, underneath her long blouse, she wore a silken bra and otherwise absolutely nothing.

Claire, burdur escort having prepared herself, asked me to ignore her for the time being, to watch her friend while holding on to my penis. “Try to keep it like it is, … but please don’t come right yet,” she added almost in a whisper tone.

While Claire got increasingly involved in her painting, Marie-Therèse slid down a little on her chair and, to my delight, opened her legs, caressing her thighs, her stomach and, after some time, rubbing her clit. She slid her index and middle fingers into her — by now, very evidently moist — pussy and sensuously licked them dry again. She had another sip of cognac but, instead of swallowing it, let it run down her chin, her neck, and onto her blouse.

“Oops,” she mocked, “I guess, I’ll have to get out of this now.”

She stood up, turned around, and undressed herself completely, before presenting herself to me like a 21-year exotic dancer in search of a lap dance. There she was, a naked 65-year old woman, not particularly thin, not particularly beautiful, but sexy, confident, obviously randy — and with immensely long, intriguingly sagging tits that came down all the way to her stomach. Lifting them up, they were, in her hands, as thin as a folded t-shirt, but their length made them “quite something.”

“Don’t move,” Claire intervened a little nervously, looking at me, while Marie-Therèse went over and switched on some French-Arab music to which she started to dance, her own kind of erotic belly dance, making the most of her jumping, flapping, sagging, flying, dancing tits.

I think she had noticed my attraction to them. Without stopping, she danced over towards a cupboard and, out of a drawer, she took a large dildo, which she first took in her mouth, and, after sitting down again in her wing chair across from me, inserted into her pussy.

“Yea, that’s gooood …,” she whispered. Soon thereafter, she started to loose control over herself and, instead of performing, concentrated herself, moaning loudly, on her own sensations. With high-pitched screams, she came, quite intensely and with her whole body shaking widely, her tits falling off to either side of hers.

I had been watching her show with a great deal of excitement, jacking off — with several “emergency” breaks — the entire time. What a show! She went over to her friend, looked at the picture and decided that it was essentially done.

She took her friend by her hand and brought her over to me, pointing at me, saying, “you’re in charge of the spots on the thighs.”

With her thick, heavily beringed fingers, Claire took my almost exploding cock, engulfed it with her lips, licked the head with her tongue, before sucking it with a great deal of talent. Marie-Therèse, from somewhere, had gotten her camera, taking pictures of the scene (“For Claire, to make a picture for my bedroom”). It did not take long until my hips started to jerk. She took my penis out of her mouth, and watched the come fly all over my chest and stomach.

“Beautiful,” she added, going back to her canvas to add a few more minor details. “Afternoon tea and cream, that’s want I’m going to call it,” she said, turning the picture around.

The cups, they suddenly made sense…

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