Chapter 38

Things went a lot smoother between Imelda and Gerald. Imelda followed him meekly, wherever he tugged her wrist, until they were in a bedroom with the door closed and draped across a bed. Gerald kissed, caressed and fondled her and she returned his efforts hungrily. After a while, Gerald’s cock was steely-hard, Imelda’s cunt was a swamp and Gerald surfaced an issue.

“It’s been a long time for me.”

“Me, too.” Imelda husked.

“I might not last. I was going to get a suck...”

“I LOVE to suck!” She was up and parked between his legs before he could even react.

‘Another beautiful one!’ she mused. In fact, it resembled the one she’d sucked earlier that evening, with the exception that it seemed to be a bit thicker. ‘I’m so glad they pushed me to come with them.’ The night had ALREADY exceeded expectation, and it was clearly moving to a new level! She wrapped her lips around his glans and rocked her head, “Mmmmmm!”

Gerald gasped and croaked, “This won’t take long.”

“You’ll be able to...?”

“Yes.” Gerald wasn’t absolutely certain, but he couldn’t see how just a blowjob would be able to shut him down.

Imelda held his eyes and said, “Do what you need to do. I want to taste you. Then I want to do it until we can’t anymore!”

‘That’s pretty clear,’ Gerald mused as her head began to bob. Her big breasts moved on his thighs, never really rising clear of them, but dragging her nipples back and forth a couple of inches as she shifted positions while her mouth rose and fell along his shaft, taking in more and more of it. They were big nipples on big brown areolas.

Everything about Imelda was bigger than his dead wife, and that wasn’t a problem. In fact, it was convenient – it made things apples and oranges and kept him from making comparisons, unfavorable or otherwise. The masked woman was a different experience. She was a simple soul – clearly, he couldn’t expect her to compete with him mentally – but was that a bad thing? Gerald and his dead wife had been much alike, and that caused a certain amount of competition and strife over who was more driven and who was smarter ... and who was in charge. The night his wife died, he lost what turned out to be a pivotal battle – although it hadn’t seemed to be at the time – and he lost the war when that drunk took her life. The post-war reparations had been expensive; he didn’t want to be in competition again.

She was watching him, waiting for something. Divining what it was, he put his hands in her generally raven hair that sported an occasional graying strand and pulled her face into his crotch. Strangely, she relaxed.

Imelda’s big worry about the gringo with the big cock was that he might have no cojones. Not the real ones filling his big ball sack, but the ones that made him a man and a leader. But he got it – he took charge of her head and made demands as a man does. Imelda, satisfied, worked her throat around the big mushroom head of his cock, pleased. Gringos weren’t known for taking the reins; their culture frowned on having the man assert himself for some odd reason. Chuck had been a revelation, and had allowed Imelda to hope ... Men in Imelda’s culture were thoroughly indoctrinated, but that indoctrination tended to create little crowing roosters who were all sound and no substance. They reacted instinctively to challenges, but seemed to have no idea why or how to evaluate such a challenge to see if perhaps there was something behind it that needed to be dealt with. Instead, they tended to apply the same measures to every threat ... and it tended to be all bluster.

Imelda wasn’t having these deep thoughts as she nodded over the gringo’s long cock; she just watched him to see what he would do. He caught her and he thought about it and then he did the right thing – and that was just about perfect, as far as Imelda was concerned. She let him rule her head, but worked to make it unnecessary.

It was as he’d predicted; in only a couple of minutes, his cock took on the firmness of one about to ejaculate. Imelda instinctively applied the measures she had used to extend the potency of her departed husband – clamping down on the base of his erection while slowing her suction – largely because she was enjoying what she was doing and wanted to extend the pleasure for both of them. But when he rose toward completion a few minutes later and she attempted to delay him a second time, he pulled her hand away and palmed the back of her head, announcing, “We have other business.” She whined a bit, but he did not relent; he took her head in his hands and drove her onto him the dozen or so times necessary to bring him to completion. “You wanted to taste me,” he grunted. “Taste me!” Then he poured a flood of man-seed into her mouth, a flood which she sucked avidly. When he was done, she realized that he had done right again, not letting her control things.

Reaching down, he tugged at her thigh. “Come around so I can get at you,” he directed. “Keep me hard.” He didn’t offer to lick her pussy; instead, he drove two fingers into her mature cunt and pressed his thumb to her asshole – not trying to penetrate, just using it as an anchor. His fingers made sloppy noises, stirring her copious lubrication.

‘She’s not complaining,’ Gerald mused. She seemed to prefer that he take charge and run things. It was new, but it wasn’t a problem; in fact, he was enjoying it!

He wasn’t having any problem staying erect, either – the woman was an all-pro cocksucker. ‘I’m going to have to ask her about that,’ he mused, ‘but in the meantime... ‘

“Roll up onto your hands and knees,” he directed. The woman did so without complaint and watched him over her shoulder as he settled himself behind her.

She was big, and doggy-style wasn’t going to present her well, but then it didn’t present a lot of women well. Her pussy was puffy and padded and gaping open awaiting his cock. He nosed it along her slot, riding it up until it found her opening and pressed forward. ‘Just like riding a bicycle,’ he mused.

The gaping, drooling exterior didn’t prepare him for the simmering, clinging interior! She went, “Guh!” as he fed his glans through the opening, then “Siiiiiiiiiiiii!!!” as he pressed himself slowly home. He collected a pair of wide brown hips and began to rock, pumping his length in and out of her clinging tunnel, thinking, ‘Wow! So tight! Who’d have thought?’ ‘Aiy!’ Imelda thought, gasping as his glans hit her in the cervix. ‘He’s a stallion!’ His cock was finding every little nerve ending – and THEN he was bashing her clit! “Uh! Huh! Go! Go! CHINGAR! CHINGAAAAR!!” Orgasm reached out and knocked her for a loop in under twenty seconds!

‘Thank God for the blowjob!’ Gerald mused as Imelda’s steaming cunt rippled and nibbled at his cock, ‘I’d have ejaculated for sure!’ As it was, the feel of her inner lining clutching his cock was incredible! Gerald’s dead wife had been a good deal smaller and more athletic and sometimes a little too aggressive, actually. This one... ‘Evelyn was a sports model,’ he thought, ‘light and fast and high-performance, with a tight suspension. She would hammer you to death and was hard to keep up with.’ He started long-stroking Imelda, snapping his hips to deliver an impact. ‘This one is a luxury model, plush and smooth and heavy-duty. Evelyn could probably have beaten her top end, but I don’t need that anymore – I need endurance and comfort and plenty of power.’ Imelda was grunting and gasping again to the impacts of his pubic mound, her ass cheeks shimmying. ‘This is good stuff!’ He wasn’t the only one to think so by a LOOOOONG shot! Imelda’s ex-husband, Hector, had been thirty-four when her parents bartered her off to him at seventeen, and he already had early ED. Over time, bouts of sex became even harder to accomplish and shorter and the gaps between had gotten longer and longer. The pair of them had really never had much in common, and it had all come to a head when his feelings of inadequacy ran into her responses to the flirting that virtually all Hispanic males tended to engage in. Hector decided – totally without any evidence, because there wasn’t any – that Imelda was cuckolding him, and divorced her. That had been almost four years earlier, and despite the flirting, Imelda hadn’t garnered any serious attention because of her size and relatively plain looks. Between the divorce and Hector’s ED, it had been half a decade since Imelda had enjoyed sex with anything but her fingers.