Drinking from a fountain of youth takes on an erotic new meaning when Arianna devours a young lover from the root of his cock upward.

“I fucked a college boy. And he was fabulous. Okay?”

I laughed at Chantel’s outburst, but only because 35 years of friendship lets you do that. I’d been listening to her drama for decades. Boyfriends, breakups, and now an impulsive affair with a startlingly young man.

We were on my sundeck with margaritas. She’d been talking around the matter for half an hour, dropping Joc’s name repeatedly.

“I’d like to hear more about him,” I said dutifully. The day was warm, the drinks pleasantly icy. Chantel is a very attractive late-40s woman. We had both stayed trim and in fine shape over the years. But 45 is still 45.

It was a shock when Chantel told me exactly how old Joc was.

“Twenty!” I yelped, too startled to laugh this time. I felt a sudden wave of envy. I was unmarried as well, dating men my age. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fucked a college kid.

Chantel gave me an embarrassed grin. “I know. Instead of looking for someone in my own peer group, I run out and screw a puppy.”

“Tell me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Chantel started in with her lurid tale of a cougar’s conquest.

Joc worked at a trendy coffeehouse part-time while he was going to the local university. Chantel often stopped there for a cup. She described Joc, a tall, lean hipster with a mop of dark hair, sideburns — sideburns! — and a shy smile.

He was friendly in his demure way, and Chantel had talked to him some and always left a nice tip. So, one night after yet another bad date, she was looking for some friendly company and headed to the coffee place.

“It was late, and I didn’t realize they were closed until I pushed at the door. Joc came up with a broom in hand, opened the lock, and invited me to come inside. He was the only one there, cleaning up.”

She sat with a coffee he’d made her, and they got to talking. Chantel found herself bemoaning her single status and her bad luck in the dating world. Joc wore a snug T-shirt and skinny jeans, and she couldn’t help sneaking peeks at his tight ass as he pulled the shutters over the windows.

Finally, he stood by her chair, shook his head at her tale of woe and said, “A woman as fine as you deserves better.”

It was a corny line, and he looked as nervous as hell having said it. But the words threw a switch in Chantel’s brain, and she reached out and put her hand on his crotch.

“I actually felt him get hard, just spring to full length all at once.”

“No way!” I almost choked on a mouthful of margarita there on the sundeck.

Chantel rolled her eyes. “I know. Brazen. Ridiculous. But there I was cupping this 20-year-old’s cock through his jeans. I actually felt him get hard, just spring to full length all at once. I swear, Arianna, he made my mouth water.”

I sympathized. Chantel had immediately looked up at the surprise on Joc’s face. Sense returned to her, and she was ready to let him go when he moaned and bucked toward her lustfully. She took that as her cue and tugged down his zipper. His cock jumped out into her waiting hand. She gazed at his erection at eye-level, rapt, beholding the glorious vein-lined shaft, the plump, swollen cockhead.

“It felt like velvet wrapped around a steel rod,” she rhapsodized. “He throbbed in my grip — actually throbbed. I saw a milky bead of pre-come start to dribble from his tip.”

“And you… ?” I asked breathlessly.

She grinned shamelessly now. “I leaned forward and licked it up with my tongue.”

I jumped a little in my chair. Joc had jumped, too, his slim, taut body jolting like he’d been hit with electricity. Chantel said he’d tasted divine. After that, she figured there was no turning back. She cradled his balls and closed her lips around his cockhead. Then she slid her mouth further down his straining shaft. She took inch after inch, until she’d buried her nose in his black pubic curls.

With the crown of his cock pulsing in her throat, she gazed up again. Joc looked thunderstruck. He’d probably never gotten a decent deep-throating in his life. Chantel decided it was her duty to remedy that.

She started bobbing her head on his cock. She kept up a professional suction around his staff, cheeks caved in, lips sealed around his lovely girth. His balls stirred in her gentle grip. She heard him moaning again. He began to thrust toward her, driving his cock deeper into her accommodating throat.

I set down my drink and sat on the edge of my chair. “Did you make him come in your mouth?”

Chantel laughed. “Oh, hell yes! His balls went tight, and I felt him twitch against my tongue, then that hot, thick cream was jetting into my mouth. I swallowed like mad. His orgasm seemed to go on forever, his semen coating my tongue and throat. Finally, he staggered back, dazed. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. I thought he might freak out. But you know what happened then?”

“What?” I needed to know.

“He drew me up out of my chair, spread me out on the table, flipped up my dress, knelt on the floor, and — ”

“He ate your pussy!” My heart was hammering; I was so caught up in the story.

Again, Chantel grinned wickedly. “First, he asked for permission. He begged to lick me.”

I tried to remember the last time I’d had that sort of worshipful lover. Chantel vividly depicted Joc’s pussy-eating technique. The young man was enthusiastic, lapping away wildly. She’d reached down and repositioned his head slightly, murmuring a few instructions. Her cunt flowed, and pleasure swept over every centimeter of her flesh. His tongue snaked up inside her. He flicked her clit, then grazed it delicately with his teeth.

She clamped her thighs around his skull, her hips bucking. He grunted and snuffled between her legs, desperate to please her. With the taste of his come still in her mouth, she writhed through a magnificent climax. She seized a handful of that mop-top hair and ground herself against his mouth, her body lit with bliss.

When she managed to push up onto her elbows, she was surprised to see Joc kicking off his jeans. She was even more surprised to see him fully erect again. Ah, youthful vitality.

Again, he went into solicitous mode, beseeching, “Please, can I fuck you? I want to be inside you so bad!”

His body was drum-tight, Chantel said. Not an ounce of fat. His belly button was as firm as a nickel set atop a model’s taut abs. His cock twitched expectantly.

“You let him, didn’t you?” I said. “You let him fuck you.”

“Goddamn right! I lifted my knees and planted my feet on the edge of that table, and I told him to stick his lovely rod into me.”

“Her cunt flowed, and pleasure swept over every centimeter of her flesh.”

Joc had done exactly that. He reached for his discarded jeans to snag a condom from the pocket. He kept his eyes locked on her as he rolled the rubber down his shaft. Then he set his palms on her knees and slid himself into the hole he’d so recently been feasting on. Chantel gasped. He was as hard as mahogany. That same tasty cockhead swelled up like a plum all over again and pushed deep into her. She lay stretched across the table, among the smells of varnish and coffee grounds. Her head rocked back and forth. She groped for the edges of the table.

The 20-year-old plowed into her. The fleshy smacks of his body against hers filled the empty café. The tabletop shook underneath her. She heard the wooden legs creak. His fingers went white where they grasped her knees. She watched his beautiful, sleek body in motion, the piston-thrust of his hips, the hair spilling over his callow features. His teeth were bared, his eyes rolling back.

He fucked her with a boundless energy, not saving up anything. His balls spanked her, and she writhed and cried out. Her climax this time shook her to her bones, a blazing pleasure that washed through her, taking away every negative thought and experience. She felt alive and refreshed, the object of a passionate man’s fiery desires.

When Joc came, it was like an affirmation: Yes, yes, you are beautiful and worthy! You deserve this! You deserve absolute pleasure!

Chantel picked up her margarita glass and shrugged. I slumped back in my seat, stunned. And all I could think was: I have got to get me some of that.

Problem was: I didn’t know how to go about it. I wasn’t sure there was a specific way to find a yummy, young male eager to worship at the altar of my pussy.

I wasn’t tuned into youth culture, didn’t know any millennials particularly well. I went to some clubs, the gym, but the idea of bagging myself a youthful lover felt foolish after a few days.

Where did I retreat to? The library. Because I’d grown up with printed books and still loved the feel of turning pages.

I sat at a table, losing myself in a thick tome and the library’s hush.

“Scusa… uh, you will look, please?”

Startled, I looked up. Standing there holding an open book toward me was a raven-haired, athletically built man with a cautious but dazzling smile and smoldering, dark eyes.

I got lost a moment in those eyes, then said, “What?”

He pointed to his book, to a picture. It was of a statue, something historical. In a heavy accent he said, “Juventas.”

“Come again?” He appeared excited.

“Goddess…” he said, struggling for a word. “Youth. Goddess of youth. Juventas. You, lady. You!”

Then I saw what he was getting at, and yes, I did look like the regal Roman female statue. That this sweet piece would actually approach me to point out the similarities encouraged me. Hopefully, he had something more in mind.

“How old are you?” I asked. The librarian was looking over, getting ready to shush us.

He blinked, then said, “Venti. 20.”

“That’s a good number.” Impulsively, with my heart beating fast, I seized his muscular forearm and pulled him toward the exit. He came along willingly. I figured if he didn’t want to be dragged off by older lascivious women, he should know enough not to call them goddesses of youth.

His English was rather broken, but as I drove him to my place, I picked up his name — Giovani — and the fact that he had come from Italy to study at a university. He was all grins as I took him up to my bedroom.

I was more than 20 years older than him, and while that excited me, it was also a potential source of great nervousness. I had to make sure he actually wanted the goods I had to offer.

At the foot of my luxurious bed, I peeled off my clothing. I watched his eyes go big. Relentless exercise had kept me slender and nimble. His gaze traveled my bare body. I felt vulnerable and flushed, waiting.

Finally, he said, “Bellissima. Beautiful lady.” He started to tug at his shirt, then paused. “May I become naked, too, please?”

His beseeching tone raised gooseflesh on me. My pussy dampened. “Yes, Giovani. Show me your body.”

He eagerly complied. I caught my breath as he flung away his clothes. He was a taut specimen, seething with youthful vigor. His muscles were lean, hard, and prominent. His olive-tinged skin was smooth and lay tight over his bones. His cock stood up fiercely hard, his juicy balls hanging beneath.

“Please. You let me lick now, yes?”

My knees went weak, but I beckoned him toward me and watched with wonder as he knelt on the rug and set his mouth against my wet, shaved cleft. His strong shoulders pressed apart my thighs. I steadied myself by winding my fingers into his lush hair. His tongue raked my folds, sending hot bursts of bliss up through my body. He stabbed deeper, moaning as he did so. I felt that hum in me, and I ground against his mouth.

He slurped and grunted loudly. His hands closed around the spheres of my ass, pulling, urging me to ride his face harder. I bucked and thrashed on the 20-year-old’s mouth, impaling myself on his agile tongue, holding tightly to his full head of hair.

When I came, it was a wild convulsion of ecstasy. The pleasure grabbed hold of each part of my body, shaking, shuddering. I smeared my excitement shamelessly on his upturned face.

I staggered back and sat on the end of the bed. Giovani still knelt, the bottom half of his handsome face glistening. He grinned. “Bene, yes? Okay, beautiful lady?”

This lovely man had begged to eat my pussy. Now he wanted to know if he had done good. A joy beyond erotic rapture touched my being. I hadn’t wanted for lovers these past few years, but none of my suitors had been so eager to please. None saw sex as so vital, so sensational, so new.

“Very good, Giovani. Stand up now.”

I took hold of his cock, caressing the impressive length. He let out tiny groans as I fondled him. I gave him a few preliminary jerks to get his pre-come going. Then, like Chantel had done with her boy toy, I licked up the little milky droplet. She was right; it tasted divine.

Hungrily, I wrapped my lips around his cockhead. I slathered my tongue over that round, smooth knob, making him wriggle all over. Then I sucked him in, sliding the circle of my lips down his stiff staff. I had to pause three-quarters of the way until my throat could take the rest of him.

I sensed all the vitality of his perfect body as I worked him with my mouth. His hands fell to my shoulders, and he gave an experimental thrust or two. I tugged on his hips, encouraging him to fuck my face harder. He did, soon bucking away, firm thighs flexing, his balls slapping against my chin. I’d had thoughts of priming his pump with my mouth. But now I wanted to drink his come.

I didn’t have to wait long. I sucked him hard, cinching my lips tightly, racing my tongue up and down his throbbing shaft. He cried out words I didn’t recognize. His whole body was trembling. Then his thick cream erupted. Jet after jet exploded across my tongue and down my throat.

The experience left me dizzy. I savored his manly flavor as I fell back on the bed. Eventually, I looked up and saw to my surprise that Giovani was climbing after me, his gleaming cock already rising again.

“I fuck you now, okay? Please?”

I moved further up onto my expansive bed before reaching over to my nightstand for a condom. Handing one to him, I opened my thighs in invitation. In no time, his dick was sheathed in rubber, and I crooked my finger at him.

“Yes, baby. Fuck me now.”

He leapt up onto me, a springy lithe weight. With a single stroke, he slid his cock into me. I rocked underneath him, feet kicking up toward the ceiling. He gasped as he buried himself inside me. I put my hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face toward mine. We kissed, and I tasted myself on his lips. After, he grinned that radiant grin and started pounding me.

Pleasure rolled through me, reeling outward from the point of penetration. Not to overstate matters, but this Italian lad had a big cock. I gazed up into his face, watching the raw elation play over his fine features. He looked like he didn’t quite believe this was happening to him. Maybe I was the first American woman he’d approached. The idea made me giddy. I started to laugh, but the sound turned into a cry of passion as another climax overtook me.

Giovani was really ramming me now. His body undulated, every muscle group bunching and releasing with smooth precision. This was a male in optimal condition, in his sexiest prime. Erotic electricity crackled in a cloud around him. I squirmed beneath him, digging fingers into his broad shoulders, wrapping my legs around his trim waist.

I’d come a little too quickly for him to join me. That was fine. I gave him a grin of my own and suddenly rolled him onto his back. He made a surprised guffaw as I settled myself comfortably atop his rigid staff, thighs squeezing his sides.

I looked down on him, on his stunning beauty. There was nothing apologetic about this. He wasn’t settling for having sex with an older woman. He wanted me. That desire was naked on his face. His dark eyes pleaded, and I started riding him ferociously, taking his sizeable cock deep inside me — even deeper than before — and feeling the pulsing length of him there.

“I started riding him ferociously, taking his sizeable cock deep inside me.&rdquo

He reached up for my breasts, cupping and squeezing, then tugging hard on my nipples. New pleasures flared in me. I was still raging with desire. I rode him harder, planting a palm in the middle of his chest, giving each downward plunge of my hips a little wiggle. His face twisted. He bit his lip. Then he was shouting Italian words again.

I felt like I was soaring above him, a bird, a goddess, filling his sky. This kid thrashing under me was absolutely alive. His limbs flung across the bed. Fingers raked my sheets.

He was shouting now: “Juventas! Juventas!”

I remembered that was the Roman goddess of youth, the statue in the picture he’d showed me. Yes, I was her. She was me. And we both rode that fine Italian stud until a vast, validating climax blazed from my core. At the same time, his cock sent bursts of cream into me. All of it told me what I’d so desperately wanted to hear.

The best parts of youth still belonged to me, and always would. I was fully rejuvenated by my sweet, young lover.

Check out the Full Gallery