My name is Francesca, and I love to fuck.
I had a very successful graphics design business, and I sold it for a sum large enough that I could comfortably retire. The next morning I looked at myself naked in the mirror and considered what I wanted to do with myself, and my life. I was forty-two, married but childless, and my husband Edward and I led separate lives. My looks were undiminished, and though I had never been conventionally beautiful, I knew I was sexually attractive, with high cheekbones and an aquiline, regal profile. In my stocking feet I stand nearly six feet, with long light-brown hair I usually pull back into a patrician ponytail or a chignon. My 34C breasts and my ass have sagged a little, but only a little, and my exercise regimen keeps them in shape.
In my youth I might have been considered a little on the scrawny side, but I was now merely slim. Oh, my youth, I thought. My wild, lusty youth.
I raised my arms above my head lazily, and admired my smooth, sleek body. After years of shaving and waxing, I had indulged in laser treatments that gave me a form utterly free of body hair: not under my arms, nor on my legs, nor on or around my delectable pussy and ass.
I liked what I saw. And I was determined that many others would see it, and like it, and enjoy it also. It was time.
When I was a teenager, and later in college, I had discovered that I had an enormous appetite for sex. It was an appetite that no one boy could satisfy, and though I was a bright and very successful student, I turned into the wild child after the books were closed. In junior high I discovered how much boys loved hand jobs, and then how much more they loved blow jobs. My virginity was lost at fifteen to a cousin at a church camp. I fucked half the boys in my high school class, and many of my teachers. It was delicious, illicit joy. When there was no cock available to give my eager pussy an orgasm, my fingers did the job, or the fingers or lips of another girl. I was a slut and I loved it.
I also loved to show myself, almost more than fucking itself, and I sunbathed naked whenever I got the chance, especially if there was the possibility that others could watch me.
But then, in the latter half of college, came Edward, and I fell in love.
Edward was smart, ambitious, and good-looking. Our sex life was satisfying if unadventurous. But our relationship was based in the mind and spirit, and a mutual drive for achievement. Both of us knew we could become a power couple, and so we did. After graduation Edward pursued an MBA while I began my design business, and we married. We worked hard, we succeeded, we owned an expensive house and beautiful things. Still ... I began to wonder if it had been worthwhile to sacrifice my carnal ways for the stability of marriage and the material world.
Edward's business often took him away, and his physical interest in me dropped off to nearly nothing. I wanted to have children, but discovered that I could not. That was the first great blow. The second was when I realized Edward was gay, and though he loved me, his sex life was with men and boys.
So I dedicated myself to my career, and thought about taking lovers on the side. Many men of my own social station were intimidated by my success, however, and others by my height. Still, I had enough sex to get by. But only enough to get by.
Out of the blue had come an offer to buy my business for more than I thought it was worth, a small fortune. And I hesitated only briefly before saying yes.
I bought myself a vacation home in a resort town on the coast, on the beach, where many young people gathered, and decided to find my own youth again. I now devoted myself to my own pleasure.
I wanted all the sex I could get. In particular, I wanted young cocks, the kind I had enjoyed so very much in my school days.
My wardrobe and closets were filled with beautiful clothes, but I found myself wearing little but beachwear, the skimpiest and most revealing I could acquire. I loved to go out wearing nothing but one of my colorful, nearly transparent pareos, which I could tie around me in various interesting ways, with a slim gold chain around my hips and sandals on my feet.
On a walk on the beach one day early in my new residency, I came upon a young man who seemed to find me worth watching. He was well-built, sandy-haired, and about five-foot-eight. I found a beach recliner and lay down to watch the waves. My pareo was tied so that I was bare on one side from above my hip, making it obvious I had nothing on under it, and the breeze blew it up to reveal my nudity further.
The boy took a brief swim, then lay down on the sand near me. His eyes scarcely left me. After a while, I rose and stood over him, crooking a finger. "Follow me," I said, and he did.
I led him behind some trees back from the beach, and fixed him with my eyes. "What's your name?" I asked.
"And how old are you, Jasper?"
I smiled. "You like looking at me, don't you, Jasper?" He seemed a little uncertain of what he should say, but nodded. I drew back my pareo so that I was quite naked in front. I played with my nipples as he watched. "I like looking at you, too. You're a very handsome young man. But you can see more of me than I can of you. It's a little unfair." He looked questioningly at me.
"So why don't you take off your shorts for me, Jasper? I'd love to see your cock." He realized I was serious, and he nodded again, and pushed his board shorts down to his ankles. "That's a lovely cock, Jasper. Very long and thick. Do you know what I'd really like?
"I want you to play with yourself for me. I'd like you to jack yourself off. For me. Right here. Please."
He looked directly into my blue eyes, and his hand went to his cock. It was already becoming erect, and he started to stroke it. I drew a deep breath as I leaned a hand on one hip, and slowly caressed my own pussy with the other. "No touching me right now, Jasper. Just masturbate. I bet you love to play with yourself, don't you, and you do it all the time, looking at porn." He jacked his cock faster, looking intently at me, less than two feet away.
"Stroke it for me, baby. I want to see you cum." I loved hearing the sound of the words as they came from my lips. He moved closer and reached toward me. "No," I said, "not yet, not this time. Just fucking jack your cock for me. Show me how hard you can cum."
Jasper's fingers were a blur as he jacked himself, and he started to breathe quickly and heavily. Then he came. It was a fast, thick, spurt of semen, then another, and then another, landing on my belly. In a minute he had stopped, and the cum began to drip down me.
I stifled a gasp of pleasure. I reached down with my fingers and scooped it up, and licked my fingers clean. "Mmm," I said. I dabbed the rest away with my pareo.
"Oh, my. I'll have to go home and change now," I said, and quickly turned to walk away. I looked back over my shoulder at Jasper, still with his trunks around his feet.
"By the way, my name is Francesca. I live in that house over there. Please come and visit me, and ... bring your friends."
Later that same day, I was preparing to sunbathe on a lounge next to my small in-deck pool. My pareo was loosely knotted at my waist, and I was barefoot. A movement caught my eye, and I spotted a boy I did not know peeping over the fence. He was handsome, rather short, tanned and tow-headed. He looked no more than fifteen. "Come here, boy," I called, feigning indignation.
He came around the fence looking worried. I gestured him to come to me, then dropped the pretense of irritation. I smiled down at him with my wide mouth and dark blue eyes. I leaned over and kissed his lips, caressing his neck. "Don't worry," I said. "Don't worry about anything. Don't think about anything. I don't even want to know your name right now.
"All I want from you ... is your sex." I breathed that last word close to his face. I kissed his lips, then his neck, as I drew my fingers down his bare chest to the top of his shorts, and undid the top string. I pushed them down, and he moved slightly so that I could push them all the way, and I stooped for a second to pull them off over his bare feet. I rose again, pausing to examine his cock, growing stiff and fat despite his anxiety. What a beauty it was! I took its tip in my mouth and stroked it gently. "My, my, you're quite a grown-up young man. I'm definitely a grown-up woman. And I want that hard, thick young cock. In my sweet cunt."
The boy was breathing heavily, dry-mouthed, unable to speak, but quite aroused, as shown by his steel-hard erection. I pushed him onto the lounge chair. He lay back as my soft fingers massaged his cock, and caressed his balls, then bent over to kiss the cockhead. I sucked it lovingly, and ran my tongue down the shaft. It was already standing up straight from the boy's groin, rising from its pubic thatch. It was about six-and-a-half inches in length, very fat, and tapering toward a circumcised glans. I gently, firmly, lovingly masturbated him. My face came close to his cock, and I rubbed it on my face. I sighed, taking in its masculine scent. My lips moved over the head, and I slowly took it in my mouth again, kissing and sucking, making sure it was well wetted; and I licked his balls, taking each into my mouth, before returning to suck the beautiful pole of his manhood.
Then I rose, staring lustfully in his eyes. I untied the loose knot that held my pareo in place, and it fell off as I moved my leg over to straddle him.
.... There is more of this story ...