Cecile

I found Cecile on Backpage, and she was willing to make an outcall to me. Tall and in her late-thirties, I was charmed and slightly intrigued to find out she was a grandmother (the first of many times I would enjoy this particular enchantment—some might say fetish). Cecile loved to smoke cocaine and taught me many, many things about how to do it, and in general how things were done, specifically here at the intersection of sex work and the drug trade. She lived in Gorham with her “driver,” but that didn’t work out and she moved back to Lewiston with her son. Cecile is tall, slender, and curvy, with long straight raven-black hair, nice ass, and big sausage tits. When I drove to Lewiston to hook up at her new apartment, her son and his GF and baby were sometimes there. One night at my house, when we were both tweaked and I had fallen asleep, Cecile cleaned my bathroom, scoured the whole shower, sink, and toilet, mopped the tile floor and all the rest of it. It was quite generous of her.

Cecile was a very good provider, experienced and playfully perverted, a real pro. This was both good and off-putting. I liked her because she was, frankly, older. I was trying to stay away from younger providers, because the older babes were so satisfying, and God knows they needed the business. Cecile could turn very low rent on me, depending I think on vicissitudes of her down habit, which got worse over the time we hung out. And by older, I mean she was only 25 years younger than me. Good golly, I wonder if I have to think about this more deeply. Could I be missing something?

I remember one evening, during one of our earliest encounters, when Cecile reclined against the footboard, one leg up so I could watch her stroke herself while she skillfully fellated me, and I pulled her tits into the air by the nipples. Cecile assured me she loved just this attention. I climbed up and gently but willfully invaded her mouth full of good-humored smirk, and by now I was growling and barking, in a quiet whisper, like a wolf who didn’t want to wake the puppies. Now, as this scene unfolded, I came to the dawning awareness my neighbors were admiring our wanton display through the translucent sheer gray silk drapes over the sliding glass door. I turned Ceci over onto her knees and devoured her from behind. I didn’t care if they could see. The next day I would cover the window with an antique quilt, that would protect my activities in the bedroom from the prying curiosity of the young people who lived upstairs, for the rest of the time I lived there. We puffed up and munched one another. Sometimes I thought perhaps Cecile’s equipment could be fresher, that it wasn’t so fun to suck her inside out unless we had just stepped out of the shower, which we did regularly. Lucky for us the shower was just through the door from the  bedroom. I smelled Cecile in the floral shampoo and body wash, and the dryer sheet smell in the towels. Good god, I loved my life.

Cecile’s blonde friend

I had begun to travel to Lewiston quite often to hang out with dear Cecile. On one trip, her friend (let’s call her Jeannie) was there too. We all smoked some cocaine, it was a hot summer evening, clothing was loosened, shirts removed. Jeannie was very attractive, in her mid-30’s, with long straight light-brown hair. She was tall, slender and broad-shouldered, with perky B-size tits. She now sat on the floor right in front of me, puffing drug with me and her friend Cecile, and both had their beautiful bared bosoms displayed and free. We sat there, high as shit, eyeing one another with goofy grins.

I was so grateful for this beautiful girl’s attentions, I forgot to climax.

I stretched out my legs, leaned back and slid a hand into the waistband of my pants, made motions to unfasten them, and announced that I really wanted to get my dick sucked. This was, after all, the reason for my visit. Jeannie looked at Cecile, there was some momentary hesitation with glances between the two women, and then Jeannie slid over to oblige. I unzipped and freed my myself through the front of my boxers. I must admit, I don’t remember what Cecile was doing at that point; maybe she just held her big ol’ breasts draped over her crossed forearms and watched. We were all sitting on the floor and Jeannie slid toward me until our hips almost touched, then leaned over and took me in her hand to feed me into her smiling wet lips. My hands reached over to cup her tight breasts, with their tiny, almost transparent pink nipples. Her lips turned to pure massaging suction; I sighed happily.

I was so grateful for this beautiful girl’s attentions, I forgot to climax. Two or three minutes in I stopped her so we could all have another hit, and after that I moved over to mess with Cecile while she messed with her pipe. I sort of climbed over to settle myself behind Cecile, with her back against my chest. I nibbled her neck and reached around to grasp a breast with one hand and stroke her sex with long slippery presses of my index finger, into her wet muffin. Cecile puffed, pressed herself into my caress, and growled.

Jeannie watched this intro, smiled and winked, wriggled back into her tank top, and discreetly left the room so Cecile and I could finish what we were starting just now. I never saw Jeannie again, and a little while later, I stopped seeing Cecile. For now, my fingers were thoroughly exploring Cecile, and with a small change of position, I was able to open my mouth to lay siege to Cecile’s relaxed and tangy sex. Moments later, in full sixty-nine, her busy mouth and encouraging murmurs urged me to a deep, satisfying orgasm, humming my own anthem, with my mouth wide open, lip-locked and tongue flipping over her tart, steaming love canal.

I lost touch with Cecile for almost two years, but I just found her on my Messenger list. There are survivors. I’m glad to have left a good wake.