Teachings of love

I always liked older women. They know shit, and they fuck better. So when Caroline made her move, I didn't play it cool—I opened right up, cock hard, ready to go. She grabbed me by the belt and pulled me in, already unbuttoning her blouse, tits heavy and free under the fabric. I pushed her back against the kitchen counter, spreading her legs with my thigh. She was wet already, panties soaked, and she let out this low, dirty laugh when I hooked a finger under the waistband and tugged them aside. No games, no bullshit. She wanted cock, and I wanted to give it to her, deep and rough. I unzipped, pulled my dick out, and she wrapped her hand around it, stroking twice before guiding the head straight to her pussy. She was tight, hot, gripping me like she needed it bad. I fucked her there—quick, filthy, her ass slapping against the counter with every thrust, her nails digging into my back. She told me to fuck her harder, called me a good boy, and came with this sharp gasp, clenching down so hard I almost lost it. I pulled out, spun her around, bent her over, and slammed back in from behind, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip. She moaned my name like she meant it, and I came deep inside her, panting against her neck, both of us shaking.