Patricia's Young Studs

"Oh baby!" I cooed. "Fuck!"

His tongue moved downward, feeling for all the world like heaven itself, and he showed considerable young skill by landing right on my clit. Muscle tremors overtook my legs and ass and I shook violently as a quick but ferocious orgasm surprised the hell out of me. I was definitely not in rubber cock world anymore.

Ryan dove in, empowered by my reaction, and gave me the eating out I'd long dreamt of, his mouth seeming to devour me, my entire pussy sucked into his hot mouth, melting into his insides, liquifying and re-forming over and over, until I couldn't even tell what was happening anymore. My mind was gone, gone to that happy place heroin must bring you to, a floating place of pure color and light.

I was so far gone I didn't even realize when his mouth released me. It was as if his cock emerged from his mouth and penetrated me in a seamless hand-off, deep into me, to the depths of my soul.

I could hear Ryan as he started to fuck me, but it was a blurry sound. He was exclaiming something, a vocal lover, and I wish I knew what he was saying. I love it when guys say what they're feeling and Ryan was doing it, but I have no idea what he said. My mind was gone, and the sensation of him filling me with that beautiful cock, over and over, overloaded my poor fifty-year-old brain to the brink of permanent damage. I'd been fucked many times, but there was something about the whole scenario that ripped open the time-space continuum and I was lost to another world.

I felt hands under me, searching for my tits. I wanted to help them find their targets, but my arms were useless, flat on the bed to the sides of me. The hands found my tits and it felt glorious. Squeezing and probing, fingers on nipples, pinching and pulling.

Ryan's big piston never wavered, filling me over and over again, hundreds, maybe thousands of times, his young body ticking over like a smooth running sewing machine. I pictured a needle sewing a perfectly straight seam deep in my gut, with white thread that oozed out of the holes.

My focus shifted to the hands again, sliding off my slippery tits, around my sides, and onto my sweaty back. They slid back to my ass and grabbed onto the flesh at the sides of my hips. Another loud exclamation from Ryan floated into my ears, still an unfocused jumble. A slapping noise started to overtake my mind, and the tingle deep in my gut grew into a searing heat. Ryan's cock seemed to expand inside me, and the heat grew with it, finally flaring up into a flame. The slapping noise rushed through my head and then voices overtook it. I suddenly heard myself, yelling and crying.

"Oh-ho-hooooo!" I cried like a baby. "Fu-hu-huuuuuck! Don't fuckin' Sto-ho-oooop!

It was a pathetic display, but there was no way to stop it short of ending the fucking, and there was no way that was happening. The cries just poured out of me. Ryan was crying too, in a more manly way. It was the most visceral fuck I'd ever experienced, and the fact that Ryan was able to maintain it just blew my mind. Literally. My mind was blown.

When my young stud burst into flames too, with a scream that embarrassed me when I saw my neighbors the next day, my own flame finally extinguished. My insides felt abused, but it was the best kind of abuse, and I've been chasing that feeling ever since.

So. Pretty wild right? Sorry for rambling on, but that's what it all felt like. Fifty-year-old sex just wasn't supposed to be like that, at least that's what I thought when I was like, thirty. I'm not sure if Ryan was really the superman that I remember. Video camera evidence would tell the real story, but I wasn't smart enough to set that up. But that's how I remember it—a nearly endless orgasm that swept me away like never before, like a . . . oh my . . . I already told you. You don't need me rambling on about that boy any more, do you? We did fuck a whole lot more that night, but it was that first fucking he gave me that really showed me what sex could be.

So I guess you figured out by now what my 'system' is to keep my pussy full of young cock. Cheap restaurants where unpretentious youngins work, a camera on the table, and a full-of-shit story that always surprises me when it comes out of my mouth. As full-of-shit as it all is, I've actually gotten pretty good at photography, and my portfolio full of naked boys is pretty eye popping.

These days it all goes a lot smoother. The pick-up is almost always easy. It's pretty funny how easy it is to get a good looking boy naked in front of a camera. I'm guessing girls would be a different story. I know it would have been a difficult thing for me to have done at twenty, but times were different back then. With all the sexting today, and porn everywhere, boys just think this kinda thing is almost normal and they just go with it.

Or maybe it's me. I always feel funny saying I'm 'good looking' or 'sexy' but I guess I am. I told you about the fitness stuff I do, the zumba and the yoga. There's been other stuff through the years and I've held up well. My tits are real and the boys like that. They're pretty big too. A lot of them tell me my ass is nice. I keep things under control in the cupcake department and I'm just the right weight for my five-foot-five inch height. The next day after Ryan I cleaned up my 'bodyscaping.' My puss is shaved now, which feels so unbelievable I can't even begin to tell you. I keep it super smooth, and when a boy puts his hand on it it's just the best feeling. I wish they'd just rub the outside of it sometimes—I bet I could cum from just that.

I figured out my wardrobe, so I look sexy and in control right from the start. The nipple thing that I was so freaked out about with Ryan turns out to be key, so I've got a nice collection of sexy bras that let those puppies show, and some super thin shirts that fit just right. I love shopping for all that stuff—makes me so horny.

The basic procedure's the same as it was that first time, it's just polished now, and I don't have panic attacks anymore. You know what though? I wonder if it was all that panic and crazy adrenaline that lifted that first experience to such a mind-blowingly high place. Or maybe it was just Ryan. He did say it was gonna be 'epic,' didn't he?

Last night is a good example of how smoothly it goes now. Cheap restaurant. Awesome boy. Tall dark and handsome, like Gregory Peck in those first movies he did. Eyebrows to die for. I just wanted to lick his face and suck an eyebrow into my mouth right there in the restaurant. Weird, huh?

I give him my card (yup, I had cards made. What a hoot, right?) and he shows up at my house. The spare bedroom's a full-fledged studio now, with a backdrop behind the bed and even more cool lights and stuff. Don't ask me what I've spent on this obsession, but I'll be damned if it's not worth every penny. Well, I'll probably be damned for fucking eighteen year-old boys, but you can't win 'em all.

So eyebrow boy comes over to the house (Cody for those keeping score. What a cute name), he's naked on the bed in front of the lights, and I'm taking photos. Did you notice that? I call 'em photos now. Pretty artsy, huh?

The transition from 'I want to take your picture' to 'I want you to fuck me' is always different, but when they're hard with their cock in their hand and I circle in with the camera so close they can smell my spicy perfume and look right down my shirt it's usually all over but the fucking.

Cody fucked real nice. He was super hard, like granite hard, and barely went soft at all between orgasms. I'm assuming he had two or three, he sure seemed to. I know I did, but I don't always have a bunch of 'em. Some of the boys are just plain inexperienced, but that's fun too. I get to be the wise old sex teacher, and by the time they leave, the enthusiasm of those inexperienced ones is pretty awesome. Some of 'em I have to push out the door.

I got to lick those eyebrows by the way, and it made me cum. I was sitting up, with my arms behind me and my elbows locked. Cody was fucking me from a crouched position, almost like he was sitting Indian style. It was sexy as hell. Anyway, he bent down to suck in a tit while he was fucking me—super flexible these young guys—and I almost came when he rolled my nipple between his teeth. I was able to free up an arm and I pulled his mouth to mine, both of us moaning and grunting into each others mouths. It was super hot. He broke off the kiss as he was about to cum and I pulled his face to me and sucked an eyebrow into my grunting mouth just as we both came, one of those simultaneous orgasms that knock your socks off.

Cody's pictures went in the portfolio albums. Yup, there are real live prints in real high-class albums, lining a long shelf in my bedroom. I put a book together for each boy, which may sound creepy but—well, whatever. So what if it's creepy. They're nice boys and I treat 'em good. There's nothing illegal and everybody goes home with a smile. The prints make me happy, and I look at them now and then. I'd give anything to be a fly on the wall when my nieces and nephews or whoever find them after I die. What a hoot that'd be.

So, this fiftieth year of mine turned out to be not so bad after all. The whole aging thing still sucks, but I've figured out how to forget about it. I turn fifty-one next week, and I haven't even thought about it too much, which is good. I think I'll celebrate alone, out at a cheap restaurant, if you get my drift.

And writing this story for you all made me remember something I need to do—it's time to build another shelf in my bedroom.

Bye now!