I want to tell you my story about something wonderful that once happened to me before I came to live in this place; call it what it is, an old folks home. I will do my best to stay on course but if I skip around some just be patient with me.
After the phone call I had to sit down. My legs trembled. I felt perspiration on my upper lip. My armpits became wet and I felt a drop slip down my side. Oh my, I thought, Kenneth, after all these years that I should react as I did. I felt myself flush as memories returned.
My most vivid memory; the one I most tried to suppress; the one that mortified me so, muscled its way into my consciousness. Eight years earlier, with a lengthy foreground (perhaps another time), I attempted to seduce the boy-man Kenneth, who was 18 at the time. I fell dismally short as a vamp. It was the last time we were to be together, I was certain then. I knew that I would have to be the initiator due to the difference of so many years in our ages. I was the one who had sexual experience. My dear Kenneth was, I was quite sure, still a virgin. I was 56 then. I was lonely after Jim's death and I longed for intimacy. Against all reason I did so want Kenneth to hold me, caress me and make slow love with me. I wanted to make him into the lover I needed. I had increasingly, teased and titillated him brazenly; even ruthlessly. But when it came to the ultimate act, all pretenses abandoned, I hesitated and vacillated. The moment slipped away. Then he was gone. Kenneth's family moved away across the country.
But I felt so foolish. My resolution had waxed and waned. Finally on the last day he visited at my home I got him into my arms by insisting that he embrace me for a goodbye hug and a kiss. I am 5'9" (maybe less now as the years take their toll) and Kenny had grown so that at 18 he was nearly 6 feet. He was gorgeous as his adolescent body filled out into the flower of manhood. I had fanned the sexual tension between us deliberately; so that only a thin veil of frayed cultural disapproval and a lingering crumb of rejection anxiety remained between us; or so I thought. I was very wet and he was very hard; my panties were soaked and there was no hiding his vigorous erection.
I stepped in close and pressed my body against his. He tried to keep his cock away from contact. "Hold me tight for a bit, please Kenny," I said. "I'm a silly old woman, but I can't help it. I've grown to be so very fond of you. Don't fret about your erection, I don't mind." With shuddering voice I added, "I like it."
He grinned, a silly grin and flushed. Kenneth let his hips relax then and allowed his stiff member to press against my round tummy. My breasts flattened against his hard young chest. My pussy sighed open still further and oozed more anxious lubricant into my panties. I rose up on tiptoe and, taking the hint, he bent his knees a bit so that we brought our sexual organs into contact, only our garments intervening.
"Oh Kenny," I sighed, "this is so nice. You feel so good." I slid my cheek along the line of his jaw. When my lips found his I kissed him; a warm kiss lasting far longer than a maternal or friendship peck would go on and be yet considered proper.
"I'll miss the wonderful relationship we've built," I said. I'll miss the excitement and stimulation of you near me; of you touching me and, you naughty boy, of you wanting to do shameful things with an old lady."
How I summoned the boldness to say that I don't know. But I recall I was astonished to hear the words come out of my mouth. As I said this I brazenly humped myself against his so firm cock. It felt so good. I looked into his eyes as I spoke and shuddered at the pure lust boiling in them. I then leaned in for another warm kiss; a kiss eagerly received. So I invited a raise in the sexual stakes by urging his lips apart with my tongue. He responded with his own tongue and with hands on the move and a thrust of his hips in response to my own grinding. In that moment we left behind what had been a warm increasingly sensual friendship; this was now serious foreplay and a prelude to making love; oh well yes, a prelude to fucking and being fucked.
We stood like that for a while, my face nuzzled against his. His hands continued to roam and slid down to the cheeks of my prominent round ass. He fell into a rhythm hunching his groin against me, legs slightly bent to bring his hard cock against my mons and his large hands holding my cheeks, pushing me firmly against his enflamed penis.
"God, Mrs. B," he gasped when I released his lips, "I've dreamed about doing this with you. You feel so good, so good. I can't help this (a thrust told me which "this" he meant.) I'm sorry but I'm, ahhh, too excited. I want to ... I, oh God I'm going to ... Let me feel your tits and your va ... your pu ... your vu..."
He was transported; the intensity manifest in the way he babbled almost incoherently and humped against me with increasing ardor. I was at once stunned by the intensity of his lust and by my own level of arousal. But a shiver of fright came suddenly to the surface; provoked by the frenzy I had unleashed. Then it struck me suddenly; a ruinous rational thought; I was going to fuck this sweet man-boy and send him home smelling of sex; redolent with the unmistakable odor of female rut and his semen. In my mind a shrill voice broke into my consciousness. "Shame," it cried, "You old cow. He's young enough to be your grandson." The thought impacted me like a last desperate lifeline tossed by my conscience. Pure reaction caused me to grab the proffered line.
I pulled away from his embrace and fought for composure. My heart sank as I saw a mixture of emotions, stunned surprise, lust, anger, and longing cross his face as I summarily interrupted his climb to release. My pussy sent frissons of delight though my groin. My carnal persona struggled to break out of the fetters of social propriety that had been suddenly thrown up by my "proper lady" persona. It flashed foul curses through my brain. "Goddamn you, you stupid old woman," it raged. "Get back over there and FUCK that boy! You need it; didn't you feel that beautiful cock straining in his pants? You DID that! You! Not some teeny bopper twat. When the old brood mare is in heat do you think she cares how old the stallion is? He doesn't care. He'll put his cock in your pussy as quick as you let him know it's ready and available."
Still I could not make myself move back into his embrace. I did so need an orgasm. I needed to be embraced and loved, I needed him. I needed to cry.
"Quickly, darling," I heard myself saying with quivering voice, "take it out of your pants before you mess in them. Take it out and relieve yourself. Do it, please Kenneth." Even as I urged him I could feel a trickle of coital fluid that had begun to meander down my thigh. I too was near orgasm.
I flushed at the wretched look of dismay now on his face. He looked so frustrated and chagrined. But there was no hope for it. The frottage I had initiated brought him to a frenzy of lust that demanded an orgasm. He flushed with embarrassment but unzipped his pants and pulled his lovely cock out already stroking it as he did. I had not previously seen it although I had felt of it through his clothing. Now it fascinated and thrilled me. A small orgasm flitted through me and my breath caught. I clutched my groin. I did not think in my post-menopausal state that my pussy could or would produce the quantity of coital lubricants that now seeped out of my panties and wet my thighs.
He left off stroking long enough to spread his arms and thrust his hips forward so his penis became my complete focus. Then he grabbed himself and heatedly said, "You see that Mrs. B., you could have had that! I know you want me as bad as I want you. You've enticed me and now you stopped."
His hand pumped more rapidly now as he watched me. Intimacy bred candor. Breathing heavily he said, "I've always loved your tits Mrs. B., I've always loved your ass; your smell. I've always loved the way you feel, your hands, your cheeks, your body when you mothered and smothered me. I love your laugh, your face, your lips, your belly, your legs; your pretty feet. I want so bad to see it, feel it, taste your pussy and put this in you," said with a shake of his hard cock.
"I'm sorry Kenneth, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have led you on. I let my feelings overcome my judgment. Here," I said then, "Look at me and don't hate me, please." With that I lifted my dress and wiggled out of my panties. The odor of my sex rose and permeated the room. I stood and lifted the hem of my dress to my hips and displayed my sopping sex ready and anxious.
He groaned and increased the vigor of his masturbation.
"Yes, he gasped, "Oh, it's beautiful, your pussy, your cunt; so wet, so open. Oh, and that's your clit isn't it? Ah, Mrs. B., we could have just done it. My cock doesn't know how old you are. Your pussy doesn't know how young I am. We could've given each other so much pleasure; so much joy."
As he spoke tears welled in my eyes but still I was able to see that fluid had oozed out the glans of his cock and it now lubricated his furious jacking. I moaned, "I'm so sorry darling. I want you too, so much. You light a fire in me. It feels as though it is going to burn me up. I just don't know what happened. I just had an overwhelming attack of conscience; stupid scruples; stupid, stupid, stupid."
He moaned. His enflamed cock jerked and twitched and then he spurted, once, twice, three times in long parabola that diminished with each ejaculation. When he came so vigorously a spasm passed through my vagina and I too came; so fiercely that my knees nearly buckled. It had been a very long time since I felt an orgasm that intense.
.... There is more of this story ...