Teasing Old Donald
Copyright© 2026 by AnnaTartyWife
Chapter 3
Two days after the fun and blowjob in Donald’s study, my phone rang while I was folding laundry in the living room, Mike was sprawled on the couch watching football highlights. The screen showed Donald’s number, and my pussy clenched in anticipation, still sore from the teasing we’d built.
Mike glanced over as he answered. ‘Hello?’ A pause, then Donald’s voice boomed through the speaker. ‘Mike? It’s Donald, your Anna’s granddads old friend again. Listen, Anna did such a bang-up job on those files last time—cleared a ton. I could use her again for some more admin work. I have some final lot of paperwork piling up. Think she’d be free in a couple days?’
Mike sat up, nodding like it was the most innocent request. ‘Sure, Donald! Anna’s got time. She’s great at organising stuff. When do you need her?’
They chatted for ages, Mike clueless as ever, praising my ‘dedication’ to the task. He even joked about how it kept me busy, handing me the phone when Donald asked to confirm details. ‘Thanks, Mike. Anna? That you?’ His tone shifted instantly, dropping to that husky growl that made my nipples tighten.
‘Yeah, hi Donald it’s me,’ I murmured, slipping into the kitchen, one hand already trailing down my stomach. ‘Heard you roped me in again. What’s the real plan, you dirty old perv?’ He laughed low, the sound vibrating through me. ‘Partly files, sure—but mostly, I want that tight body back here as my personal fucktoy. Been jerking off to the thought of your face glazed in my load, those tights soaked. Dress like the slut you are: tiny black leather mini skirt, so short it barely covers your ass crack. Black seamed stockings with a thick red seam running up the back—make ‘em sheer, clipped to suspenders. No panties, let that pussy drip. Three-quarter bra under a white blouse—tits spilling out, nipples poking like bullets. Red high heels with ankle straps, and I’ll provide the finishing touch: a choker with a loop for my chain. Wear a long coat to hide the whore underneath till you get here.’
My breath hitched, thighs squeezing as I pictured it. ‘Fuck, Donald, you want me trussed up like your bondage bitch? Planning to lead me around, spank my ass raw, then ram that cock in every hole?’ He groaned, voice thickening. ‘Damn straight, you cock-teasing tart. I’ll finger you till you squirt in the doorway, make you work while flashing those hanging tits and upskirt views. Then we’ll flip through my mags, get you dripping before I paddle and cane that arse of yours red. Gonna use your tits like handles, fuck you senseless in every position—bent over, on top, against the wall—chain yanking you like my pet. You’ll cum screaming multiple times before I paint your face white again, you filthy married whore.’
Heat flooded my core, clit throbbing. ‘Promise? Mike’s none the wiser—says it’s just ‘admin.’ I’ll be your dripping slut, heels clicking as you own me. Can’t wait for that chain choking my neck while you pound my sloppy hole.’
We hung up with more filth, his parting words a growl: ‘Get that pussy wet thinking about my cane striping your thighs, bitch.’ My hand was down my pants already.
My fucking cunt was soaking as I prepped, Mike was off at a meeting, leaving me the house to transform.
I started with the three-quarter bra—black lace cups that cradled my heavy breasts from below but left the tops exposed, nipples half-peeking over the edge, ready to bounce free. The white blouse buttoned over it, thin enough to hint at the overflow, gaps forming when I moved.
Suspenders snapped into place, garters dangling. I rolled the black seamed stockings up my legs, the thick red seam blazing a trail from my heels to the tops of my thighs, sheer nylon hugging every curve. No panties—as ordered, my shaved pussy lips rubbed bare against the air, already slick.
The tiny black leather mini skirt zipped on, stiff material creaking as it moulded to my hips, the hem slashing mid-thigh, so short any bend would flash my bare ass and the suspenders’ clips. Red high heels next—strappy stilettos with thin leather bands locking around my ankles, forcing my posture arched, arse thrust out. I added the anklet to my left ankle, a delicate silver chain with a tiny heart charm, jingling softly like a slut’s bell.
The long trench coat swallowed it all, belted tight, but underneath, I felt exposed, electric—tits heaving, pussy weeping in anticipation.
Pulling into Donald’s driveway, my heels stabbed the pavement as I stepped out, coat flapping to tease a glimpse of stocking seam.
He flung the door open before I knocked, eyes raking me like a wolf. ‘Get in here, you dressed-up secy bitch!. Let me see if you followed my orders—skirt that short, tits hanging like ripe fruit?’ The door barely clicked shut before his mouth claimed mine—rough, tongues tangling sloppy, his beard scraping my chin. One hand yanked the coat open, shoving inside to grope my overflowing tits through the blouse, fingers twisting nipples till I whimpered into his kiss. The other dove under the leather skirt, finding my bare slit drenched.
‘No panties, just like I ordered—cunt’s flooding my fingers already, you eager little married fuckdoll.’
He plunged two thick digits in, curling hard against my g-spot, thumb grinding my clit. I bucked against his hand, heels scraping the entry tile, coat slipping off my shoulders to puddle. ‘Fuck, Donald—right here in the doorway really!? Oh yes go on then fuck it! Pound my hole with those fingers, make me cum like your greedy slut. Stretch me wide, you dirty old bastard!’ He pumped faster, his free hand mauling a tit, popping buttons to expose the bra’s edge, my breasts spilling as he pinched.
‘That’s it, cream for me now—squirt on my hand while I twist these fat nipples, show me how bad you need my cock.’
Waves built quick, my walls clamping his knuckles, juices squirting down his wrist. ‘That’s number one, bitch—cream on my hand while the neighbours could peek through the glass.’
I shattered, crying out, legs quaking in the strapped heels, my first orgasm ripping through me, soaking his palm as I sagged against him, gasping, ‘God, yes—your fingers own this married pussy already!’
He licked his fingers clean, smirking. ‘Mmm I love the taste of your young, tight cunt, you dripping mess. Now, lest do some work—tease me properly, but keep talking dirty while you file.’
The coat was discarded, I strutted to the study in the obscene outfit: leather skirt riding high with each heel click, red seams flashing, tits jiggling half-out the blouse, anklet tinkling.
Filing started innocent—sorting papers, but I bent deep at the waist, skirt hiking to bare my ass cheeks and the suspenders framing my exposed pussy, lips puffy and glistening. ‘Like this view, Donald? My arse is up, stockings seamed red like the welts you’ll give me. My bare cunt’s winking at you—come smell how wet your orders made me.’ He leaned back, stroking his bulge. ‘Fucking tease—skirt’s a joke, shows your bare cunt winking and dripping. Bend lower, let those heels spread you wide, you cock-hungry bitch. Describe it—tell me how that pussy feels empty without my dick.’
Squatting for drawers, my knees splayed, the leather skirt was bunched at my waist, suspenders taut, pussy on full display as I ‘searched I filthily said,’ ‘Feels like a sloppy hole begging to be filled, Donald—my juices are running down my thighs, staining these red seams.’
I twisted around, and the blouse gaped, my tits nearly tumbling free, nipples scraping lace.
‘These tits are hanging for you—this bra’s useless, just begging to be grabbed and slapped. Imagine yanking the chain while you suck them raw.’ He cursed, palming himself harder. ‘Pose like that, slut—heels locked, anklet shining like you’re marked property. Work’s done for today!; you’re here to get me rock-hard. Keep bending, flash that asshole too—tell me you want my tongue there later.’