Chapter 17: Teasing**

Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Teasing**

Seraphine’s loose white shirt had ridden up high during the kissing, the soft fabric stretched tight across the heavy, soft weight of her breasts. The thin material clung to every curve, the dark, stiff points of her nipples clearly outlined and begging to be mouthed.

Her denim shorts sat dangerously low on the thick flare of her hips, the waistband cutting into soft flesh so that the juicy lower curves of her ass spilled over in plump, inviting handfuls every time she so much as breathed.

Everything about her was ripe, soft excess. Plush thighs pressed together and rubbed with every tiny shift, the soft inner skin looking warm and ready to part.

Her waist still dipped in that perfect, fuckable curve before swelling out into the heavy, thick bottom that jiggled when she moved. Her huge breasts swayed with every breath—full, perky, and so soft they would overflow any pair of hands that tried to hold them.

Michael kept his mouth locked on hers, tongue sliding deep while one of her hands shoved under his shirt. Small palms dragged hungrily over the hard planes of his chest, nails scraping just enough to sting.

His own hand dropped lower, cupping her hard through the tight denim, the thick seam pressing right against her clit as he rubbed slow, deliberate circles. She was already soaked, the damp patch spreading under his fingers with every deliberate grind.

Seraphine whimpered into the kiss, the sound small and broken. Her fingers left his chest only long enough to fist in his snow-white hair and yank his head to the side. She bit down on his neck hard, teeth sinking in deep enough to leave another dark, possessive mark.

When his fingers finally hooked the edge of her shorts and panties and dragged them aside, the first direct touch made her whole body jolt hard. She clung to him, forehead pressed tight to his shoulder, a soft, broken whimper spilling out as a sweet, unfamiliar current raced straight up her spine.

Michael eased back just enough to look.

Her pussy was flushed a deep, pretty pink, the outer lips already swollen and glossy with wetness that caught the light.

A neat, sparse patch of soft hair sat above, framing the slick, glistening folds without hiding a single thing. The scent that rose from her was clean and faintly sweet.

"Why are you this sensitive?" he teased.

Seraphine shook her head, still breathing hard. "It’s... it’s been a long time since my first. And my husband never did anything like this."

Michael chuckled once. He kissed her neck several times as she breathed, then started working his way down. Her shirt was pushed higher, exposing the soft, warm plane of her stomach. He pressed open-mouthed kisses there, lingering on the slight give of her skin, tasting the faint salt of her.

"I’m dirty," she whispered, half-embarrassed.

He ignored it and kept going lower. Soft, wet kisses trailed along the insides of her thick thighs. Each one made the plush muscles jump under his lips. When he finally reached the apex he simply breathed against her—a warm, deliberate puff of air over her already soaked folds.

Seraphine’s back arched hard. The full, heavy curves of her breasts pushed upward. The denim shorts still bunched uselessly around one thigh.

Michael gripped those soft thighs, spread them wider until she was fully open for him, and leaned in.

The first long, slow lick dragged from her dripping entrance all the way up to her swollen clit. Her hips jerked hard against his mouth. He tasted her: clean, sweet, already dripping down his chin, and something hungry and deeply satisfied settled in his chest. He smirked against her folds and settled in properly.

At first his tongue was flat and deliberate, mapping every slick fold, collecting the wetness that kept welling up and spilling out of her.

Then he focused on the swollen little bud, sealing his lips around it and sucking in firm, rhythmic pulls. Every time he did, thicker waves of pleasure rolled through her body. He could feel them under his hands.

He alternated between teasing flicks and deeper, greedier sucks, occasionally dipping lower to push his tongue inside her just enough to make her moan brokenly.

The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth working her filled the quiet garden. Her plush thighs trembled harder and harder around his head. When he sealed his lips around her clit again and rubbed the flat of his tongue against it while he sucked hard, Seraphine’s voice cracked.

"Michael—ah—wait, I’m—"

Her back bowed clean off the bench. Soft thighs clamped tight around his head as clear fluid spurted against his mouth and chin in several strong, pulsing waves. He stayed with her through it, licking her through the aftershocks, until her legs finally went slack and she was left twitching, oversensitive, still open and dripping.

When he finally lifted his head, he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned at the dazed, glassy look on her face. Eyes half-rolled. Lips parted and wet. Cheeks burning. The shiny mess of her all over his chin.

Seeing her like that lit a fire in him he couldn’t put out, not out here in front of her husband’s grave.

"Let’s go inside," he said, voice rough.

Seraphine nodded and tried to stand, but her thighs still shook too badly to support her.

Michael sighed, then hooked an arm under her body and lifted her onto his shoulder in one smooth motion. She gasped, the full weight of her body shifting against him as he carried her through the quiet house and into his room.

The moment her back hit the mattress her legs fell open, almost on instinct. The ruined shorts and panties still tangled around one ankle. The loose shirt rucked high under the heavy curve of her breasts, leaving everything below on full display.

Michael looked down at her. Flushed. Soaking wet. Completely open and ready. He wanted nothing more than to pounce and spend the rest of the night buried deep in this soft hundred-year-old milf until neither of them could think.

He took a step closer and felt the sharp pull of restraint.

A few days ago he had decided not to fuck any of his women too quickly. Maximum Emotion Points came from the wanting, not the taking. If he stopped here—edged her and left her aching, the amount of Growth Points he could farm later would be enormous.

He climbed onto the bed, leaned down, and pressed one last slow kiss to her still-sensitive pussy before lifting his head.

"We should stop for tonight."

Seraphine’s glassy eyes locked on him. The dazed softness sharpened into something darker even as her face stayed pink.

"What is the meaning of this?" Her voice was low. "Do you take me for some kind of joke?"

"No." Michael shook his head. "I just don’t think it’s the right time."

For a second her gaze dropped to her own body—the soft yet flat stomach, the heavy breasts still rising and falling hard, the glistening mess between her thighs. Something insecure flickered across her face.

Then her eyes moved lower, to the huge, obvious outline straining against Michael’s joggers. A slow smirk replaced the uncertainty.

’So you’re teasing this old lady, are you?’

She sat up, swung her legs off the bed, and walked over to him on still-shaky steps.

Rising onto her toes, she kissed him deeply, tongue sliding against his so she could taste herself on him. Two of his hands immediately found the curve of her ass, fingers sinking deep into the warm, plush flesh and squeezing hard.

Her own hand slid from his neck down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, and finally cupped the thick, heavy shape of his cock through the fabric. She stroked once, slow and deliberate, feeling it twitch hard and hot against her palm. Michael’s breath left him in a low groan.

Seraphine pulled back just enough to speak against his lips. "You’re right. Let’s do this another day."

She turned and walked toward the door. The juicy cheeks of her ass shifted and jiggled softly with every step, the soft flesh bouncing just enough to keep his eyes locked on her until she disappeared into the hallway.

Michael stood alone in the room, hand still pressed against the aching length of his cock, and let out a long, frustrated breath.

"Was that the right choice?"

Outside the door, Seraphine leaned against the wall, one hand pressed hard over her racing heart.

’What did I just do?’

Her face burned hotter.

’Was I really about to have sex with him?’

She glanced down. Her pussy was still soaked, the folds swollen and shiny. The inner thighs glistened with the clear evidence of how hard she had come on his tongue. Almost without thinking she slipped two fingers between her legs, touched the oversensitive, slick flesh, and immediately bit her lip against a small, needy whimper.

Although she hated how he had told her to leave at the good moment, she couldn’t deny that what he had done had felt way too good.

She pulled her fingers away, breathing through her nose, and tried to fix her shirt. It still clung to the curves of her breasts, the dark points of her nipples stiff and obvious through the thin fabric. She took a step toward the stairs and almost had to catch the wall again as her legs trembled.

Upstairs, Michael sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed himself through the joggers once, then forced his hand away. His cock stayed thick and heavy against his thigh, leaking a dark, wet spot into the cloth. The system in his head stayed quiet, but he could almost feel the points stacking from how badly they both wanted the rest.

He thought of her on the bench—how her hips had jerked hard against his mouth on that first long, slow lick, how her soft thighs had clamped tight around his head, how she had squirted against his tongue and chin in strong, uncontrolled pulses. He thought of her on the mattress, legs open, still dripping and twitching, waiting for him to shove his cock deep into that soaked pussy—and clicked his tongue.

’Fucking Hell!’