The Older Man

When Taylor arrived at the apartment she looked up and down the hall and dug her water bottle out of my bag. She took a sip and cringed internally as she struggled to screw the cap back on. Was she really this nervous? Yes, she was really this nervous. She reached out to knock, but stopped before her hand hit the door.

There was an envelope taped to the door with the word SLUT written on it in thick black letters. She'd been too caught up in her own anxieties and arousal to notice it before now, and she wondered whether any of the neighbours had seen it. Well, no doubt who it was meant for. She plucked it off the door and slid a finger under the flap, trying to open it smoothly and neatly but, again, was betrayed by her fingers' gentle trembling. She balled her fists to try and get her hands under control, and read the short handwritten note.

The door is unlocked. When you are ready, come in with your eyes down. Do not look up until I tell you that you can. As soon as you have closed the door behind you, fold your clothes neatly on the ground and wait for me on your knees.

It wasn't signed. Her pussy throbbed and the butterflies in her stomach lurched. It's not like she had come over here expecting polite conversation, but meeting someone for the first time naked and kneeling was going to be very intense. They couldn't make a little small talk first? Could she really go through with this? She thought about my vibrator at home; how good it would feel to take this little memory and the fantasies it could provoke and masturbate until she couldn't stand up. That had to be better than letting this strange...

She had opened the door now, was stepping through it. Her head was tilted down and all she could see inside were the grey slate tiles of the entryway floor. She peeled my top up over my head and started to fold it. Was he watching her now? If he wasn't watching her undress, she'd put on her best lingerie for nothing. She thought about whether to take off her bra or her shorts first, hesitated a moment, and reached down to unbutton the cut-off denim shorts. She realised that his instructions about what to wear--a crop top with lots of cleavage, her shortest shorts--now felt even more humiliating becausehe hadn't even seen them, so those instructions weren't even for his benefit but just to show her to the world a little. She thought about the young guys whose heads had turned as she passed. A flash of embarrassment. Because she was sure now that he wasn't watching her, that she could have felt it if he was. Her thoughts felt jumbled, coming to her out of order. She had wanted to be humiliated and now she was alone in a strange man's house, awkward fingers fumbling with the catch on her bra so she could add it to the pile on his floor. That done, she slipped off her thong and dropped to her knees. The phrasemore than triple my ageswam around her head.

The tiles were cold and a little rough, uncomfortable.

She wasn't sure what to do with her arms. She wished he'd give her clearer instructions. She tried palms on my thighs but it didn't feel right. Behind her head? She couldn't sustain that long if he kept her waiting. Behind her back felt good; she thought of her breasts as her best feature and folding her arms behind her pushed them out. Pushed out was good. God, she really wanted him to be attracted to her. She wanted to be the hottest thing he could imagine.

As if there would be any doubt! This had been the whole point of his ad online, the brief DM flirtation that had quickly become a negotiation that led her here. He knew so much about how she liked to be treated, and hated to be treated, and liked how she hated to be treated. And all she knew about him was that he was, on his own account, a fat old sadist who wanted a young woman he could torture, degrade and fuck. He probably hadn't seen a naked 20-year-old in decades and was hardly about to notice if her posture was less than perfect.

Oh God, she could see his shoes. She fought mightily not to raise her head to take in more of him, and was also confused about how long he'd been there, at the edge of her limited field of vision. She hadn't heard him approaching, but also was sure he hadn't just been there the whole time.

She heard him approaching now, though, and watched the shoes get closer. It only took moments for him to cross the space between them but the time was achingly slow for Taylor. She heard the sound of him spitting at her just before she felt the wet weight of it in her hair, running down her forehead towards her right eye.Oh God, I'm naked and this strange man just spat on me before he even said a word to me. She felt some real fear, and a loud part of her brain demanded she tell him they needed to talk before whatever this was about to be. But somewhere else, quieter but deeper, she had a warm, nourishing feeling that this was where she needed to be.

She felt the head of his dick against her lips and opened her mouth. She would have kissed it, felt a strong desire to worship this cock and shower it with affection but he had already pushed deep into her throat, his hand holding the back of her head. She knew how to relax her throat but hadn't in time and couldn't help thrashing and pushing at his thick thighs with her hands. She'd have looked up, too, breaking that rule, but his grip made that impossible. He was thrusting in and out and the moment of panic subsided; she could do this, wanted to do this, was made for it. He wasn't gentle and she didn't want him to be. She did her best to relax as her nose pressed against his big, soft belly. He held her there breathlessly a few moments and then started to fuck her face again. Her hips moved subtly against the empty air, wishing for something to grind against, and she wanted to touch herself but knew she mustn't do that without permission.

She put her hands, which had relaxed against his thighs, behind her back again and focused on the cock in her throat. It was big enough for her to choke up and he chuckled a little when she gagged. She thought again about how degrading this was, this stranger who she hadn't even laid eyes on mercilessly fucking her throat, both of them focused on his pleasure and ignoring her discomfort, her wet cunt.

He didn't take especially long and he didn't warn her before he came; she felt the warmth in her throat and felt a spark of sadness that she didn't get to taste it. Well, a few drops on her tongue as he drew his softening cock out.

The hand on the back of her head curled so he was holding her hair tightly, and used that grip to lift her head up. She saw him for the first time as he stuffed his cock back inside his pants with his free hand. His profile had read:Looking for a beautiful young girl who'd get off on the humiliation of being used and abused by an ugly old man you'd be ashamed to let anyone know you'd thought twice about. He was as he'd described himself, big and round and more than old enough to be her father. But, gazing up at him from her knees she felt a kind of adoration and, along with the shame, the unexpected thought:He's beautiful.

His strong hand in her hair pushed her head down towards his feet. "Kiss my shoes," he said, the first words he'd spoken to her. "Do it properly." She pressed her open lips against the old, unpolished leather and traced it with her tongue. From there, she moved her mouth over the surface of each shoe, trying to cover them completely. His feet smelled and she was caught between trying to ignore it and liking how disgusting it was. When she'd kissed all over the tops and sides of his shoes, he put a hand against the wall for support and lifted his foot from the ground to expose the sole. She hesitated a moment because she could see traces of dirt in the grip and realised she'd be licking, what, whatever disgusting things he'd walked over in the street. But what else was she here for except to let this man humiliate her for his pleasure? Her cunt pulsed with desire and she slid her tongue along the grooves in the bottom of his shoe.

As she did this he said, "The reason I fucked your throat first is that I want to take longer when I fuck your ass later, so that it's uncomfortable for you for longer."

She said the only thing she could think of, "Thank you sir." She thought she heard him laugh a little. It turned her on immensely to think of him laughing at her.

"But that was pathetic. If you want to be my cocksucker, you're going to have to get much better at sucking cock." She was already humiliated, but this made her cheeks burn, as much with anger as embarrassment. She was proud of her cocksucking skills and hadn't had any complaints from the much hotter guys she'd blown in the past. She fought the urge to argue with him and--swallowing a small, gritty patch of mud her tongue had dislodged from the sole of his shoe--said, "I'm sorry sir." Her cunt betrayed her with a heavy throb at this fresh indignity.

"I don't want to hear you speak anymore. Take my shoes off." She flinched at being silenced so casually. He let her unlace the shoes and again lifted them in turn so she could take them off his feet. The smell was much stronger now and she almost flinched away. "And my socks." As tenderly as she could, she slipped them off and, unsure what to do, lay them on the floor. Did they smell this bad naturally or had he cultivated the stink somehow to humiliate her? "Stand up."

As she did, he bent down, and then quickly stood up beside her. They were face to face for the first time and he held his socks in his hand. "Open your mouth," he said, and she felt a sinking feeling as she realised what was happening. She felt her forehead wrinkle and knew he could see how much she hated it. He bundled the socks up and pushed them into her mouth. Together they were big and thick, pushing out her cheeks and stretching her jaws; they'd have made an uncomfortable gag if they were clean. But the smell now was, of course, inescapable. She let out an unhappy moan.

"Groan all you want, you stupid bitch," he said, and slapped her face. "A hot young thing like you could have any guy you want, a pretty boy who'd treat you nicely." Another slap. "But you're here with me instead." Each sentence ended with another slap, stinging and disorienting. "With a mean old man whose dick gets hard when he hurts you. And a mouthful of my dirty socks. And it's only gonna get worse for you from here."