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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Misty Gardner sat in her car outside her flat and collected her things. It had been a busy day in the school where she worked as a teaching assistant, and she was looking forward to a nice hot bath. There was only one more thing left to do. Run the gauntlet of old man Hopkins.
She took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing Misty.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and climbed from the car, opening the rear door, and collecting a series of ring binders and various folders that contained her marking for the evening.
She was almost certain that pervy Hopkins would have seen her pull up, but she reasoned that if she was quick, she might just make it to the external staircase that led to her flat, before he could catch her.
She made good progress along the path only to stumble on the first rung and drop her folders. “Shit and damn!” She cursed to herself, as the folders clattered noisily onto the metal staircase, and two of the folders slipped between the metal rungs and dropped out of reach on the other side. She was dead. She knew there was no coming back from this.
She stared with trepidation at the door to Mr Hopkins flat, and heard the heavy bolt being drawn.
“Ah, Misty.” He said brightly, openly devouring her breasts with his eyes like always, the old pervert. “I thought it was you. Is everything ok?”
“Oh, hello Mr Hopkins. Yes, everything’s fine. I’ve just dropped my stuff that’s all. I’m having a clumsy day today.”
“Oh dear. I would love to help, but it’s my back you see. It’s a little stiff today.”
Probably not the only thing that’s stiff, she thought to herself.
She smiled. “it’s ok Mr Hopkins I can get them.” There was only one thing for it. She got down on her hands and knees and crawled beneath the open staircase, retrieved the lost folders, and began slowly backing back out, giving Horrible Hopkins the most perfect view of her jeans clad ass.
She felt two hands on her hips.
“Oh, I’m sorry Misty, I was a little close to you there.”
“I’m fine Mr Hopkins, really.”
Misty shuffled quickly backwards and got to her feet. Did he squeeze her ass then? Did he actually squeeze her ass?
“I’ve taken the liberty of putting your milk outside your door. The milkman always leaves it at the bottom and I know how heavily laden you are when you come home.”
“Thanks Mr Hopkins, that’s very kind of you.” Said a flustered Misty, quickly gathering her things and hurrying up the staircase.
She fumbled in her bag for the key only to feel it slip through her fingers, tumble over the rail, and land at Hopkin’s feet.
“My, you really are clumsy today aren’t you.” He smiled, reaching up to hand her the key. In order to reach it, she was forced to lean over the rail giving Hopkins the worlds greatest view down the front of her blouse, as her E cup tits did their best to bust her bra and drop neatly into his dirty grubby little hands. Tits and ass in one day. Way to go Misty.
Misty was twenty-two years old and had been living in the flat for almost three weeks, ever since her elderly Gran had left it to her in her will. It wasn’t the greatest, with single glazed windows and a badly tiled bathroom, but it was hers. How many other girls her age had their own home? No one that she knew, and she had inherited it fully furnished. None of it was to her taste, but it was comfortable, and she liked it.
Her Gran had warned her about Mr Hopkins and told her some pretty awful stuff. How he was completely sex mad. How women would come and go at all hours, sometimes two or more at a time, and a great many other things. There were even stories of Satanism and witchcraft.
Before she’d moved in, Misty didn’t really believe most of what she’d been told. I mean, how can a guy of eighty possible be that horny? In fact, how can any guy be so sex crazed all of the time? And Satanism? Really!
Working at the school, and moving into the flat, had greatly enhanced her knowledge of Mr Hopkins. Snatched pieces of conversation at the school gates, told her that some of the Mums had had dealings with Hopkins and had even been to his flat for sex. The same and others, had posed in his home for photos for a particular website that he ran.
The women talked freely and openly about these things, and Misty was completely shocked that they would discuss something like this in public.
To say Misty was inexperienced in things sexual, was an understatement. Her breasts had started growing at a very early age, and she had had to put up with the endless groping and name calling, as a result. Things became so bad in her final year at school, that she shunned all male contact, and withdrew into her bubble, keeping whatever sex drive she had, very much to herself.
And so she had remained, completely virginal and innocent.
Her job at the school gave her a steady income, and she had a reasonably wide circle of friends, which had annoyingly begun to dwindle as one by one, they paired off with boys. But she was content.
Misty ran her bath and stepped into the üsküdar escort water. She had always preferred a bath to a shower which was nice as the flat didn’t have one. She slipped a little deeper, feeling the water take her weight, and gave a happy sigh. If old Mr Hopkins could see her now, she giggled to herself. He would think all of his birthdays had come at once.
She washed and dried herself, and ran a hand over her bare pussy, feeling the barest hint of stubble. Not having it, she thought as she reached for the depilatory cream. She hated the thought of hair between her legs and took great pains to ensure it remained silky smooth.
She rubbed the cream into the fat folds of her sex, and along the deep slit to her anus, taking care to reach every surface. She had to admit that it turned her on massively when she did this, and a finger often strayed to her hard-little clit, while a hand massaged her tit, pulling and rubbing the large pink nipples. But not today.
Having rinsed and dried, she stood in her bedroom, naked before the floor mirror. She was always highly critical of her body but could see little to fault. Her breast were large but firm, sitting high on her chest with very little sag. She cupped them in her hands loving the texture and firmness, and the way that her nipples hardened whenever she did this. She ran a hand over her taut stomach and cupped her pussy. She ran hands over her hips, loving the way they flared out into two perfectly formed, muscular thighs.
Catching sight of her bottom in the mirror, she thought it appeared a little too small. She would have liked a bigger one. But hey, who’s complaining. Her hair was naturally blond, almost the colour of straw. A gift from her Swedish Mother, with blue eyes and a wide full mouth.
God, I look innocent. She thought to herself. Never been kissed. Never been touched. I look like what I am. A professional virgin.
There was of course, a solution to that problem, and that solution lay just a few inches under her feet.
Mr Hopkins.
With his bald head and thin spindly limbs. His pinched face and emaciated body.
Misty shivered at the thought. But he was supposed to have a really big willy and know how to use it.
She laughed at herself. Willy! Really! “Mr Hopkins has a cock.” She said to her reflection. “A big fat cock.”
Peter Hopkins was awake early the following morning. As he busied himself with making breakfast he thought about young Misty Gardner. He didn’t really know what to make of her. She was beautiful without a doubt, but didn’t seem to socialise much. She rarely had friends around, and he had never seen her with a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend for that matter.
The last time he had fucked her Grandmother was only two weeks before her death. The old bird knew she was dying, but still wanted cock. He smiled at the memory. She told him that Misty was a virgin, and she hoped that it would be he that fucked her into the real world. He knew that she loved her Granddaughter dearly, but by God she was a dirty fucked up bitch. Just the way he liked them.
He heard footsteps above his head, and knew that Misty was on her way to work. He had originally taken to waiting outside his front door when she left, because looking directly above his head, he could see through the holes in the grating. If she was wearing a skirt, he would more often than not, be treated to a flash of white panty. But these days she tended to wear trousers or jeans, so he figured he’d been rumbled.
Looking out of his dining room window he watched as she made her way to her car. What a fantastic piece of cunt, he thought to himself. But a piece like that wasn’t going to stay cherry for long. He had to press on with his plan.
Peter Hopkins hadn’t been a practicing Satanist for many years, but even when he was, he was only in it for the sex and the drugs. Most of it was rubbish of course, utter crap. But as he rose within the ranks, he had been instructed in various rituals that had been of great benefit to him. Things that only those who attained the very highest rankings got to know about.
The first of these was the knowledge of how to supercharge his libido. Even at eighty years old, his sexual stamina was way in excess of even the most hormonal teenage boy, and his thick, ten-and-a-half-inch erection, remained as stiff and hard as it had ever been. Then of course, was his spunk. It was copious to say the least, being in much greater volume than the average male could ever hope to produce.
The second, was how to fuck any woman he wanted. Once they had tasted his ‘special mixture’ they simply couldn’t say no. And it was this mixture that he was about to prepare and feed, to poor unsuspecting Misty.
Removing his clothes, he took a wooden bowl from the kitchen and placed it on the table. Taking his cock in hand, he closed his eyes and began a slow stroking motion, quickly bringing the long flaccid organ to full erection. He fantasised about Misty while şerifali escort he did this. This was a very important part of the ritual. At the moment of orgasm, he had to be thinking of the woman he wanted to seduce. This wasn’t hard. He pictured her naked, riding his thick cock. Pushing her tits into his face, urging her swollen nipples into his mouth.
His hand moved faster, flashing up and down his cock, groaning loudly as the crisis approached. He aimed the head of his cock into the bowl and a moment later, a steady stream of spunk began running into the bowl. It was thin and weak, the consistency of piss, but this was how it started. As his orgasm reached a crescendo, a white-hot surge of sperm spattered heavily against the side of the bowl, followed by another, and another.
Peter was bent almost double, as still more heavy jets of spunk erupted from the spasming organ, coating the sides and bottom of the bowl.
Having milked the last of his sperm into the container, he took another glass which contained a mixture of plants and herbs which he’d distilled into a clear watery solution and added it to the bowl. He stirred the mixture thoroughly.
Now came the hard part. The incantation was long and difficult, with each word, phrase, and inflection, needing to be precise and accurate. But Peter was a master at this. He sat naked over the bowl with eyes closed and recited the whole thing from memory. Never pausing or hesitating, the strange words and syllables rolled off his tongue, and when he had finished, he opened his eyes and smiled.
The large bubble in the middle of the mixture told him it had worked. Now for stage two.
Retrieving Misty’s milk from the bottom of the staircase, he unscrewed the cap, and poured the milk into the bowl, mixing it with the thick viscous liquid already there. Satisfied, he poured it back into the plastic container and replaced the cap.
He knew from personal experience that the mixture tasted foul, but Misty would taste whatever she expected to taste. If she expected to taste milk she would taste milk. As long as she didn’t give it to anyone else he was safe.
It was a tried and tested formula that had worked on countless women, and it would work on Misty too. This was her third dose in as many days and he was expecting to see some significant results.
He placed the contaminated milk outside Misty’s door and waited for her to return.
Misty arrived home at her usual time and was fully prepared for another awkward encounter with Mr Hopkins. But he wasn’t there. She let herself into her flat and collected the milk that was sitting outside her door.
She was so pleased that she had kept her Gran’s milkman, as she drank loads of the stuff and it saved her a constant journey to the store. She took a long drink now, straight from the container, and sighed with pleasure. Why did it seem to taste so much better from the Milkman than it did from the store? She had taken some into work today and shared it with her colleagues in the staffroom, who promptly tipped it away as being off. Weirdos. It tasted just fine to Misty.
She ran herself a bath, and while she bathed she thought of Mr Hopkins in the flat below, and how when she had first moved in he tried to peer up her skirt from beneath the grating, the old lecher. She idly wondered what he would do if he got a flash of bare pussy. She giggled to herself. He would either croak it there and then, or a couple of days later from beating himself off.
She gently caressed her tits as she thought of the look on his face and noticed that her nipples had sprung suddenly erect. “Hi boys.” She said to them. “You’re frisky today.” She felt a shiver of excitement pass through her as she caressed them some more.
I can’t believe I’m getting turned on thinking about pervy Hopkins she thought to herself. But what would the old lecher think if he saw me do this, she thought to herself as she lifted her hips clear of the water and ran a long finger down the length of her slit. She put one leg on to the carpet and opened her legs wider eagerly rubbing her erect clit. “Or this.” she moaned, as she pushed the tip of her finger into her tight hole.
“Want to fuck it Mr Hopkins.” She gasped rubbing harder. “Want to stick your big fat cock into my virgin hole? Want to pump your spunk into me while you suck my tits?”
Misty orgasmed soon after, lying in the bath, her head full of Mr Hopkins and the things he would do to her.
I can’t believe I did that. Thought Misty the following morning. I actually got off thinking about an eighty-year-old man.
She gathered her things and headed for the door, already a little late for school, when she suddenly paused. What have I forgotten? My knickers! She almost panicked but then realised that she didn’t need them today. Mr Hopkins would probably prefer it if she didn’t wear them.
She stepped out of her front door onto the grating wearing the shortest half decent skirt that she possessed and felt the sting of disappointment when she realised he wasn’t there. Why am I even bothered? She thought as she made her way to the car.
Peter Hopkins watched from his living room window as Misty made her way down the path. A skirt today, he grinned. He made a mental note to make himself available for when she returned home.
When Misty returned home, she saw Hopkins fussing about beneath the staircase. Here goes nothing, she thought climbing from the car. She felt a surge of excitement as she contemplated what she was about to do.
“Hi Misty” Called Peter Hopkins, as he saw her approach. “No bra today. It must be really hot in that school of yours.”
Misty looked down at her breasts straining against the thin fabric of her blouse. She had almost forgotten that she had removed it in the car before leaving the school.
“Oh, err Yeah I guess,” She stammered. “It was rather warm.” Her nipples had sprung annoyingly erect and were visibly pushing out the sheer material.
Peter Hopkins touched the thick bar of flesh that was rapidly growing in his trousers. He traced its length with his fingers, before adjusting it upright where the thick swollen knob threatened to push through the waistband of his pants.
Misty stared at the solid length of cock while he did this, and she felt her mouth run dry. She quickly climbed the steps knowing that he was directly below her, with a clear view of her bared pussy. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she again fumbled with the keys, dropping them onto the metal grating. This time they landed close to her feet. Now for my encore, she thought to herself.
Bending at the knees she spread her legs, lowering herself to collect her keys. Now she knew he could see everything. Rising quickly, she inserted the key in the lock and entered the flat, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Peter Hopkins was beside himself. Not only had he had a close up of her huge tits, but he had caught sight of the deep split between her legs as she stood on the grating. That would have been enough, but then she squatted down, parting her knees, showing him every surface of her bald shaven twat. The fat rolled lips had parted of their own volition and hung almost slackly, only a few inches above the cold metal grating. He could see the tightly clenched star of her anus and knew that she was certainly a virgin in at least one of her holes.
And then she was gone.
Peter grinned to himself. He now knew that he had her. She would now agree to whatever he suggested. He could knock on her door right now and fuck her brains out and she would be convinced that it was all her idea. But no. He wanted to play a little with her first.
Misty leaned against her door breathing hard. My God, she thought, I can’t believe I actually did that. Misty what the fuck’s wrong with you? She put her head in her hands and rubbed her face vigorously. Gran would be so ashamed. She pulled her bra and panties from her bag and hurriedly put them on, then remembering her milk on the step, she went to fetch it. “I need to chill.” She whispered to herself.
But Misty couldn’t chill. She was tense. Wound up. She paced the floor, trying to make sense of what had happened earlier. Leaving her knickers off and removing her bra had seemed like the most natural thing to do. Showing him her tits and pussy had pleased him and that had made her feel happy and excited, and yet when she was alone she became Misty again. Normal, quiet, dependable Misty.
Why did she find it so important to please him? Why was his approval so important to her? She couldn’t answer those questions, but she knew that what she had done so far was just the start, and she felt an almost unbearable desire to take things a step further.
After her usual bath, Misty slipped into her white terry bathrobe, and opened her door, carefully putting it on the latch. Barefoot, she tiptoed down the staircase, and stood before Peter Hopkins front door.
Misty looked quickly left and right, realising with relief that she couldn’t be seen from either the road or the surrounding houses. From where she stood in the almost total darkness, she was completely hidden. She pulled the belt loose from around her waist and, with a deep breath, let the gown fall to the floor.
Misty stood there completely naked. She could feel the warm summer breeze gently caressing her skin, as she cupped her full breasts teasing her large nipples into full erection.
She knew that if anyone came up the path now, there would be nowhere for her to hide, but that only added to her excitement. She ran a delicate finger across Hopkin’s doorbell button, feeling the slight resistance as she pushed against it. If she pushed a little more she knew that it would ring and then what? Would he pull her into his flat, throw her down and fuck her? Or would he seize one of her tits and suck hard on the nipple while he finger fucked to orgasm? Or would he merely send her away?
Misty mashed her tits hard against his door and moved sensuously against it, rubbing herself against the rough, flaky paintwork as she gently rubbed her throbbing clit. If the door opened now she would fall through it, but she didn’t think she could stop rubbing herself. This was the only way to get free, to stop these crazy irresistible urges that surged through her body.
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