52 Year Old Man Deepthroats 18 Year Old Blond on First Date

Silas had spent the better part of the afternoon making sure the apartment looked right. At fifty-two, divorced two years and finally comfortable in the quiet of his own high-rise, he still felt a pulse of nerves that had nothing to do with work. The living room windows framed the city in gold, the table was set for two, and the steak was resting. Sabine would be here any minute.

He had known her for five years through the same circle of friends, the kind of overlapping social world where a businessman and a friend’s younger acquaintance crossed paths at dinners and holiday parties without ever being alone. She had been a teenager then. He had been polite, distant, and busy. Everything changed after she turned eighteen and started college. The girl he used to nod at across a crowded patio was suddenly a woman who looked him in the eye and stayed in the conversation. Over the last several months the glances had lingered. Texts had gotten longer. Tonight was their first official date.

The doorbell rang. Sabine stood in the hallway in a short black dress that clung to her eighteen-year-old body, blonde hair falling in a thick curtain past her shoulders, lips already parted in a smile that was not shy. College freshman, eighteen, fully adult, and looking at him like she had been waiting.

“Hi, Silas.”

“Come in.”

She stepped past him, close enough that he caught the clean scent of her shampoo. He poured wine. They sat. Conversation came easy at first, then tighter, warmer. She talked about her classes. He talked about a deal he had closed that morning. Underneath every sentence was the thing they had not said yet.

“I’ve thought about this,” Sabine said, swirling her glass, blue eyes on his mouth. “A lot. Since I turned eighteen. Since I realized I could.”

Silas set his fork down. “So have I. I didn’t let myself until you were grown. Then I couldn’t stop.”

She leaned forward, the neckline of her dress dipping. “I used to catch you looking after that. I started looking back. I went home and touched myself thinking about your hands. Your mouth. What you’d sound like if I got on my knees.”

Heat rolled through him. He was already hard under the table. “Sabine.”

“I mean it.” Her voice dropped. “I wanted our first date to be this. I wanted to walk in here and not pretend.”

They finished dinner without tasting much of it. The air between them felt charged, like the moment before a storm. When he stood to clear plates she followed him into the kitchen, close, her hip brushing his. He turned. She was right there, eighteen and eager and looking up at him with her lips already wet.

She rose onto her toes and kissed him.

It started slow and turned filthy fast. Sabine opened her mouth, sucked his tongue, pressed her whole body against his chest. Silas’s hands found her waist, then the small of her back, then the curve of her ass through the thin dress. She made a small hungry sound and ground against the hard line of his cock.

“I want this to feel like porn,” she whispered against his mouth, kissing him again, messier. “First date. Your apartment. I want you to use my throat. I’ve been practicing on toys thinking about you. I want you to hold my hair and fuck my face like you paid for it. I want to gag on you and drool and still beg for more.”

Silas’s control slipped. He kissed her harder, backing her toward the living room, one hand fisted in that blonde hair. She moaned into it, clearly loving the pull.

“You sure?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yes. I’ve wanted this since I turned eighteen. I’m wet already. Feel.”

She grabbed his wrist and guided his hand up under her dress. No panties. Her pussy was slick, swollen, dripping onto his fingers. She whimpered when he rubbed her clit, hips jerking.

“Fuck, Sabine.”

“Please.” She dropped to her knees right there on the living room rug, looking up at him with blown pupils, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. Her hands went to his belt. “Let me see it. I’ve fantasized about this cock for months. I want it in my throat. I want you to treat me like a dirty little slut who showed up to get used. Please, Silas. Use my mouth.”

He unbuckled. She yanked his pants and boxers down together. His cock sprang out, thick, veined, already leaking at the head, the kind of heavy adult cock that made her eyes go wide.

“Oh my god.” She wrapped both hands around it, stroking, staring. “It’s bigger than I pictured. I want all of it. I want you to choke me on it.”

She licked a stripe from base to tip, then sucked the head into her mouth, tongue working the slit. Silas groaned. Her mouth was hot and wet and eager. She bobbed, taking more, drool already shining on her chin.

“That’s it,” he said. “Take it. You wanted a porn scene. You’re going to get one.”

Sabine pulled off with a wet pop, spit connecting her lips to his cock. “Hold my hair. Don’t be gentle. I want you to fuck my throat. I practiced for you. I can take it. Please, Daddy—fuck, I mean—please, Silas. Use me.”

He gathered her blonde hair into a fist. She opened her mouth, tongue out, eyes on his.

Silas pushed in.

Sabine’s throat opened for him with eager, sloppy enthusiasm. She took the first few inches easy, then more, gagging wetly when the head bumped the back of her throat. Instead of pulling off she moaned around him and pushed forward, eyes watering, saliva flooding out around his shaft and dripping onto her tits and the rug. Silas held her hair and fed her his cock in long, deep strokes, watching her eighteen-year-old face go red and wrecked.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled. “On your knees on a first date, throat full of fifty-two-year-old cock. You wanted this. Take it.”

She gagged again, a filthy wet sound, and still she stayed down, swallowing around him, throat convulsing. Drool ran in strings. Her mascara started to smear. She looked up at him through it, blue eyes glassy with lust, and hummed like she was starving.

He pulled back enough for her to gasp, spit hanging off her chin, then shoved in again, using her mouth, fucking her face in earnest. The wet gluck-gluck of her throat filled the living room. Sabine’s hands gripped his thighs, not to push away but to pull him deeper. She was drooling freely now, making a mess, tits heaving in the black dress, nipples hard enough to show.

“That’s my good girl. Throat’s so fucking tight. You like being used like this?”

She tried to nod with his cock buried in her. The motion made her gag harder. More spit. She pulled off, coughing, a thick rope of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his cock, then dove right back on, sucking sloppy and loud, one hand pumping what she couldn’t swallow yet.

Silas’s hips snapped. He held her blonde head and used her, the head of his cock punching into her throat over and over. She took it, gagging, choking, drooling, moaning like she was getting off on the humiliation and the stretch. Her other hand was between her own legs, two fingers pumping her soaked pussy while he fucked her face.

“You’re going to make me cum too fast,” he warned.

She pulled off again, panting, chin shiny. “Don’t. Not yet. I want you to fuck me first. Then I want you to cum down my throat. I want to swallow every drop. Please, Silas. Bend me over. I need your cock in my cunt.”

He hauled her up, kissed her filthy mouth, tasting himself on her tongue. Then he spun her, shoved her over the arm of the couch, and yanked the dress up over her ass. Her pussy was glistening, pink, dripping down her inner thighs. He lined up and slammed in to the hilt in one stroke.

Sabine screamed into the cushion, a raw, grateful sound. She was soaked and tight, clenching around him like she had been empty for years. Silas gripped her hips and pounded her from behind, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the apartment. Her blonde hair spilled over the couch. He gathered it again, pulling her head back so she had to arch.

“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck me like you own me. First date and you’re already ruining my pussy. God, you’re so deep. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He hammered her, balls slapping her clit, watching his thick cock disappear into her eighteen-year-old cunt over and over. She was dripping, making a wet spot on the leather. He reached around and rubbed her clit. She came almost immediately, shaking, squirting around his shaft, crying out his name.

Silas pulled out, flipped her onto her back on the couch, hooked her knees over his shoulders, and drove back in. Missionary, deep, relentless. He could see her face now, wrecked and beautiful, blonde hair a mess, lips swollen from sucking him, eyes rolling as he bottomed out.

“Look at me,” he ordered. “You’re going to take this cock until I decide to feed you my cum again.”

“Yes. Yes. Use me. Fill my throat. I want to taste you. I want you to cum in my mouth like the porn I watched thinking about you. Please, Silas, I’m your slut tonight. Your first-date throat. Don’t waste it in my pussy. I want to swallow.”

He fucked her through another orgasm, her walls fluttering, her nails in his shoulders. When he felt his own climax building he pulled out, stood over her, and dragged her by the hair back to her knees on the rug.

Sabine opened her mouth instantly, tongue out, eyes up, the picture of eager submission.

“Give it to me. Use my throat. Cum down it. I’ll swallow everything.”

He shoved back into her mouth and fucked her face with short, brutal strokes, holding her blonde head, using her throat like a tight wet hole. She gagged, drooled, took it, one hand on his ass pulling him deeper. His balls tightened.

“Swallow,” he growled, and came.

Thick ropes of cum pumped down her throat. Sabine swallowed greedily, throat working, some spilling out the corners of her mouth anyway. He kept her there, pulsing, feeding her every spurt until he was empty. She kept sucking, gentle now, milking the last drops, then pulled off with a filthy wet sound.

Cum and spit coated her lips and chin. She looked up at him, eighteen, wrecked, glowing, and licked him clean with long, satisfied strokes of her tongue, chasing every smear off his softening cock, his balls, even the mess on her own chin. She smiled, dazed and proud.

Silas sank onto the couch. Sabine climbed into his lap, still in the rumpled dress, and kissed him long and tender, slow now, tasting of him. He tasted himself on her tongue and didn’t care. His hands stroked her back, her hair.

She curled against his chest, cheek over his heart, blonde hair tickling his skin. His arm stayed around her.

“When can I come back?” she murmured, already sleepy-smug. “Second date. I want more of that. I want you to wreck my throat again.”

Silas kissed the top of her head. “This weekend. I’ll cook. You wear something easy to ruin.”

She made a happy sound and pressed closer, both of them still catching their breath, already planning it.