Immoral Counseling Ch. 06

After working late several days in a row, Claire was glad to get home early for a change. Her heels clacked along the pavement, and the late afternoon sun blazed on her skin. Her long blonde tresses beamed like gold. She'd gone to get the mail after parking the car, and the short walk there and back had her sweating. Her business attire wasn't helping either. She had on a gray knee-length pencil skirt with black pantyhose, dark red 3-inch heel pumps, and a coral pink low-cut v-neck blouse that accentuated her large, 34G bust. With her free hand she tugged at the neckline of her top to fan her hot, damp breasts. She couldn't wait to get inside, get out of her bra, and pour herself a cocktail. Between work and her dormant sex-life, she was especially tense. She usually didn't have a strong sex drive, but lately, she'd begun to feel pent-up and repressed. In the final years of her marriage, David neglected her while pursuing other women. Even after the divorce, she'd only hooked up twice -- the last time more than eight months ago. She was dying for a good fuck.

Claire click-clacked up the walk to her house and fished in her purse for her keys, shuffling the mail under her arm. As she slid the key in the lock, she heard footsteps behind her and tensed up. A man's shadow fell over her.

"Good afternoon, Claire," he said. His voice was deep and raspy, but not unpleasant.

Claire turned to see her daughter's guidance counselor standing behind her. Despite her confusion, she was relieved to see a friendly face.

"Oh, Andrew, good afternoon. You surprised me; I wasn't expecting you."

"I apologize about that. I wanted to talk to you about Lacy's college admissions and thought it best to meet in person. Is this a bad time?"

"No, not at all. I'm just getting home, but would you like to come inside?"

"Yes, thank you. Excuse me for intruding."

She unlocked the door and waved him inside. As he passed her, she noticed his eyes dart over her body and felt warmth in her cheeks. After directing him to the living room, she took the mail into the kitchen and dropped her purse on the counter. With Lacy volunteering at the food bank, they were alone in the house. She asked if he wanted something to drink and poured two glasses of water. Before taking them into the living room, she regarded her reflection in the refrigerator door and brushed her hair out of her face.

Weaver thanked Claire as she handed him the cold glass of water and took the opportunity to peek at her prominent cleavage, which glistened with a sheen of perspiration. She walked around the coffee table and sat beside him on the couch. They both drank, and a moment of awkward silence passed between them.

"So, what did you want to talk about regarding my daughter's college admissions?"

"Right. I understand that Lacy wants to go to an out-of-state university. She's put in a lot of hard work, and I'm confident that she has the grades to be accepted."

"That's wonderful news."

"It is, but there's a catch. I know she's also trying to qualify for a scholarship to pay for everything, but those scholarships are highly sought-after. The competition is fierce."

"Yes, that's why Lacy's been volunteering and doing community service. In fact, that's where she's at right now."

"I'm afraid it won't be enough. She let her grades slip too far last semester."

Weaver watched Claire's face drop. On the one hand, he felt genuinely bad for her, but on the other, he knew he had her right where he wanted her.

"What do you suggest we do? Are there any other options?"

"Of course, she can apply for smaller scholarships and loans, but taking on debt at her age isn't advisable. If she really has her heart set on that school, I could write to the board directly. I can't guarantee anything, of course, but I have a good reputation and strong connections. I'm certain it would help her secure a full scholarship."

"Really? You would do that for us? I'd be so grateful."

Weaver smiled and placed his hand on her inner thigh just above the knee. Claire felt her breath catch.

"I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure we can work something out."

She froze up, uncertain how to react. In all these years, Weaver had never acted like this before. Still, he'd done so much for Lacy, and Claire didn't want to jeopardize her continued success by insulting him.

"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling his hand slide up her thigh another inch.

"How about dinner Friday night?"

His invitation caught her off-guard. To an extent, she was relieved he didn't want something else, but she worried about his true intentions. She needed to be diplomatic.

"I don't know. I haven't really dated since the divorce, and there's quite an age gap between us."

"It doesn't have to be anything serious. Let me treat you to dinner just this once."

Claire hesitated. He was nearly as old as her father, and in the past, she'd merely humored his flirtations. She did like that he was tall, broad-shouldered, and barrel-chested, but his large, round gut was hardly attractive. His face was handsome in a way, but he definitely looked his age. Still, it had been a long time since she'd gone out with anyone. Perhaps, it wouldn't be so bad to go on one date. After all, it was just dinner.

"And in exchange, you'll write to the board?"

"Yes."

"Alright, but I want to split the bill."

Weaver suppressed a grin.

"Nonsense," he replied, "I'm inviting you."

Over the next several minutes, they made plans for Friday night. Little by little, his hand slid further up her thigh, pushing her skirt with it, but Claire didn't try to stop him. She actually felt excited for their date -- it would be nice to be wined and dined for once. With any luck, she could still hit up the bar afterward and find a guy her type to spend the rest of the night with. She wasn't fond of hooking up, but she needed to get laid.

Once they finished, she took their empty glasses to the kitchen, and Weaver admired the way her skirt hugged her voluptuous bottom. He was pleased that everything had gone according to plan. Now he only had to worry about Friday. When she returned, he stood and allowed her to lead him out.

Two days later, Weaver picked her up at her house at 7 p.m. and drove them to a nice restaurant in midtown. He wore a gray dress shirt and navy slacks. It was too warm for a blazer. When she stepped out of the house, he was stunned. She wore a wine-colored, knee-length, sleeveless dress that hugged her curves and cream-colored stilettos with gold jewelry. The neckline showed off just a hint of cleavage. His reaction pleased her. She almost felt bad that he was just the warm-up act. Almost.

Once they arrived and were seated, she ordered a cocktail and an appetizer. Their table sat near an ornate stone fountain across from grand arched windows that overlooked the city skyline. While Claire sipped her cocktail, Weaver asked her about work.

"We've been working on a client bid proposal," she explained. "Lots of long hours and late nights, but if we secure this contract, it'll be a huge boost in revenue for the company."

"And a hefty bonus for you as well, I would hope."

Claire smiled.

"That's the idea."

"I admire your drive and tenacity. You've done well to balance being a single mother and having a career."

"Maybe, but I worry I've neglected Lacy at times."

"I'm sure she understands. Besides, she's an adult now."

"Well, what about you? I can't imagine dealing with so many students and all their parents."

"It's challenging, but I enjoy my work. I do wish more parents were like you. Lacy got more than just her youthful good looks from you -- she's driven and hard-working. You've raised her well."

"Thank you, that's very kind. Although, I'm not all that 'youthful' anymore. At least, my ex-husband didn't seem to think so."

"David was a fool -- you're the most beautiful woman in this room, and it's not even close. There are women 10 years younger who'd kill to be as gorgeous as you are."

"You don't have to flatter me," Claire replied, feeling heat growing in her cheeks.

"I'm not," he said. From the look in his eyes, she believed him. He made her feel like the only woman in the world -- something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

As they talked, she was surprised to find herself enjoying his company. He was unexpectedly charming and a good listener, too. She found it easy to open up to him. By the time they ordered their entrees, she was on her second drink, feeling relaxed and having a good time. As their conversation meandered between various topics, she found herself smiling and laughing. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun. At some point, she ordered a third cocktail, and after she finished it, Weaver ordered her a fourth. When they'd finished their meal and it was time to leave, she had to lean against him for support. He led her out to the car with a hand firmly around her waist.

As they drove away, Claire became confused. He didn't get on the highway, and a short while later, they pulled into a parking lot several blocks away. She must have fallen asleep -- or blacked out -- because the next thing she knew they were walking through sliding glass doors into a brightly lit lobby. In the elevator, she tried to gather her bearings, but her head was spinning. The doors opened and he led her down the hall to their hotel room.

"Andrew, what are you doing?" she groaned.

"It's alright. We're almost at the room."

"Room?"

"You can't go home like this, so let's just rest here."

After sliding the key card in and opening the door, he dragged her inside. The deluxe room had a small seating area with a couch and coffee table, and there was a pretty nice view of downtown from the windows. As he helped her to the king-size bed, she lost her footing and tumbled onto the mattress face-down. She tried to stand up or at least roll over, but she was weak and dizzy. He leaned over her, and she felt his hands on her breasts and his crotch against her ass.

"Stop, we can't."

"It's fine. There's nothing wrong with enjoying ourselves."

Claire wanted to push him off, but she didn't have the strength. He fumbled with the zipper at the back of her dress then pulled her straps down, exposing her lace bra. As he released her heavy tits from their enclosure, she felt his lips on her neck and trembled. Her pendulous breasts were full and round, complimented by dark pink nipples and large areolas. Weaver's hands returned to her boobs, and she felt her nipples hardening against her will. He massaged her soft globes with firm hands, thumb and forefinger tweaking her nipples until she was panting and moaning. The old man could've continued like this forever, but he reluctantly released her breasts and continued down her body.

Lifting the hem of her dress onto her waist, he eased her dark red lace thong down her thighs to expose her charms. Her puffy pussy was dark with unwanted arousal, and her pink inner lips glistened with intimate dew. A well-manicured patch of curly blonde hairs sat on top her mound, and a few thin hairs trailed down over her vulva. He caressed her soft, round bottom, delighting in the feel of her pliant flesh under his fingers. Spreading her thick cheeks, he admired the crinkled dimple at the center of her humid crevice and the sparse, light hairs surrounding it before bringing his tongue to her tight brown star. No one had ever rimmed her before, and she feebly tried to push his head away, shuddering at the strange, unwelcome sensation. Instead, he trailed his tongue down over her perineum and tasted her creamy cunt. She was salty and sweet, and as he sucked her drooping lips, he was rewarded by the sound of her sensuous moans.

For the next several minutes, he gorged himself on her ass and pussy, feasting on her from clit to pucker and back again. He swirled his tongue around her virgin rosebud and stabbed it into her cunt hole to lap up her honey, making her whine and squirm. Claire was overcome with pleasure. Her ex-husband had rarely gone down on her, and when he did, it wasn't anywhere near this good. When the old man lapped at her anus, the sensation of his tongue on her delicate, inexperienced bud was electric. She puckered involuntarily, and he made sure to lavish her little star with affection. Sitting back, he mashed the pad of his thumb against her swollen, pouting brownie, and she arched her back and moaned. Her reaction pleased him, and he thought to himself how similar she was to her daughter before bringing his mouth back to her eager holes.

When Weaver finished, she was panting and sweating, and her entire crotch gleamed with saliva and pussy juice, which drooled down her thick thighs. Leaving her slumped over the side of the bed, he stood and undressed. Then he knelt and finished stripping her. As she felt him slip her dress off, she thought that it might not be so bad to just go along with it. Despite his weight and age, he certainly knew his way around a woman's body. Just this once, she thought, it'd be nice to get laid. She was surprised when he easily picked her up and lifted her onto the bed, naked except for her heels and jewelry.

Rolling onto her back, she shielded her eyes with her forearm. Her head was still spinning, and she felt weak, her thoughts muddled. The bed shifted under her, and she felt his knees straddle her chest. When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring down the barrel of his tumescent prick. She'd expected his dick to be wrinkly and withered, but there was nothing old or ugly about it. His huge, hard cock looked beautiful to her. Not only that, it was easily the biggest she'd ever seen. His length and girth were intimidating, and she worried about her ability to take him in. While she admired his magnificent member, he raised her head by her hair and brushed the tip across her painted lips, smearing them with precum.

"Don't be difficult, Claire. We've already come this far."

Resigning herself, she parted her lips, and his cock slipped inside. She was too drunk to put much effort in, so he simply fucked her hot, wet mouth like a pussy. As he pumped his prick between her moist lips, he could feel her tongue wriggling lazily along his sensitive underside. In her inebriated state, she was slobbering all over his dick, drool wetting her cheeks and running down her chin. To her surprise, her pussy was growing wetter and wetter from the rough use of her vulnerable mouth. For the next several minutes, the gluck-gluck sound of his bulb hitting the back of her throat resounded across the room. With a fist clenched in her hair, he pulled her head up to meet his thrusts, careful not to go too deep for fear of making her vomit. Her cheeks were flushed, and tears ran from the corners of her eyes. He thought about face-fucking her until he came but decided instead to move further down. When his glistening cock came free of her plush lips, the shaft was stained red from her lipstick.

Weaver cradled her breasts in both hands and lowered himself down until his turgid erection rested between them. While squeezing them firmly together, he started stroking his pole in the warm, damp valley of her cleavage. Claire looked down and watched his cock head pop out from between her big, soft globes in a lustful, drunken daze. Above her, her daughter's 52-year-old guidance counselor grunted and moaned as he humped her chest, using her supple bosom as little more than a living fleshlight. She'd done this for her ex-husband on occasion throughout their marriage, but it always felt demeaning and uncomfortable for her. It still felt that way now, but something about it was fueling her desire and lust. It helped that he'd already worked her up and that his cock was massive. The way it throbbed and pulsed like a living thing made her weak. While he fucked her huge, pillowy globes, her gooey pussy drooled thick, white secretions over her perineum and between her cheeks. After enjoying her tits for several minutes more, he decided it was time to proceed to the main dish.

Sliding down her torso, he stopped to kiss her taut nipples, then traced his tongue over the swell of her sweaty breast. Claire's sensuous lips parted, and she sighed in pleasure as he planted a trail of kisses down her soft, flat tummy, trembling at the sensation of his tongue dipping into the furrow of her navel. When he arrived at length at the mound of her pubis, he planted a passionate kiss over her patch of lush, golden curls before running his tongue broadly down her swollen clit, eliciting a shuddering gasp from the pretty blonde. While lapping at her tender button, the old man gently peeled her pink, pouting labia open, and Claire whimpered, her head lolling back, as a thick finger slid slickly into her creamy opening.

As he moved his finger in her syrupy channel, his lips clamped over her engorged clitoris, sucking her gently but insistently. Claire's breath left her with a shudder as her body stiffened and squirmed under his ministrations. Weaver's skilled fingers quickly found the rough bump on the roof of her vagina, and he felt her walls clench around his digits involuntarily. Her luscious hips undulated, and her stomach tightened as he massaged her clit and g-spot with his mouth and fingers. His unhurried manipulation of her sex was relentless, and as the pleasure welled within her core, her pink tongue licked her painted lips in lustful delirium. The spongy bump of tissue on her upper wall swelled with excitement, growing firm and bloated by the unceasing efforts of his prodigious fingers, while thick gouts of white oil seeped profusely from her red, swollen cleft. When she started eagerly pushing her pelvis against him, he knew it was time.

Sitting up and extricating his fingers from her weeping hole, Weaver lifted her legs and eased in between her thighs. As he rubbed his cock head between her drenched lips, Claire whined, her hips rising off the bed in yearning. Her swollen, pink labia were slathered in clear, viscous honey that poured from her twitching orifice, frothing and bubbling around her opening. He pressed the tip to her yawning hole and stuffed the first half of his 8-inch cock into her sex-starved cunt, causing her to gasp and squirm. The pain and pleasure of being pried open by his girthy post after so long was overwhelming. As she felt him move within her, stretching her tight channel, she realized belatedly that he wasn't wearing a condom, but that thought was just as quickly wiped from her mind as he stabbed forward again. Another couple inches sunk into her, and she arched her back and moaned. Her pussy was already hurting from his thickness, and there was still more to go.

He backed out a few inches and watched her writhe. Her hair was splayed out over the pillows like a halo, and she grasped the headboard with one arm while biting down on the fingers of the other. Despite her reluctance, she was so wet he was practically swimming in her juices. She was at her most beautiful like this, he thought. He thrust forward again, penetrating her to the very core with a messy squelch. She jerked like she'd been shocked and then fell back on the bed, panting heavily. His crown was pressed flush against her cervix, and her walls needfully clenched around his shaft.

Looming over her small frame, Weaver felt an intoxicating sense of conquest. He raised her legs, placing her ankles on his shoulders, and started long-stroking her sodden cunt at a steady pace, letting her adjust to his size. Claire mewled around her fingers, pleasure shimmering up through her from her stretched canal. She'd never felt anything like this before -- his cock reached deeper and stretched her more than any other. This was what she was missing, what she was craving. This cock-stuffed feeling, washing away all other thought and sensation, focusing all of her being in her vagina. As her resistance crumbled, he fucked her harder and faster, pounding her pussy into submission. Her hungry cunt pulsed sweetly around him, rejoicing from the carnal ecstasy -- long-denied -- building and building inside her.