Doris was never what one would describe as a "Blonde Bimbo" but she was accepted by her friends and acquaintances as being a person who enjoyed life and willing to try anything at least once. Now she lived in a comfortable senior citizen community with loads of friends and neighbors who were of her generation and tried to make each day interesting and less boring.
She was a member of the writer's club that met every other Wednesday at one of the Recreation Centers and was hoping to be published before the year was out. She had written a full length Romantic novel about a young girl's adventures in "The Big Apple". Her problem was that she had a lot of difficulty in writing the more seductive segments because it was hard for her to describe the body parts of both the males and females without feeling a bit of guilty shame like she had done something wrong. It wasn't that she was a religious type or a frigid woman who avoided sex at all costs. In fact, in her younger days, Doris was a bit of a slut looking for "Mister Goodbar" in romantic places. She had experienced almost every position and kinky sex act known to science and knew some tricks that she could have patented if she knew the process.
Her spouse of some forty years had recently passed peacefully in the middle of the night reading a terribly boring book written by some Russian poet. She had tried to interest him in her writing now and then and all she got in response was a studied, "Well done, dear!" and a return to his television program. She certainly didn't read any of the spicier sections to him for fear he would criticize and she was far too fragile in her comfort zone to withstand negativity.
It was a good thing they had selected a smaller house because she didn't have that much to clean and the outside was easy to do because her sly husband had exchanged most of the planted sod and bushes for river rocks that didn't need mowing or trimming.
Each morning she would strike out for the postal boxes which were about two kilometers away and stretched her legs on the tennis courts to keep her muscle tone in excellent condition for a sixty year old woman. She also swam every other day in the community pool at a time when there were few others to bother her with unwanted discussion of things that didn't concern her in the least.
The organizer of the writing club was an elderly retired man who had written reams of content with very little financial success or notoriety of any kind. His name was Harry and he seldom said anything unless he truly meant it. That was a big switch from her spouse of many decades who could discuss almost any subject from either side without pausing for breath. He had been reviewing her novel's middle section and asked her to stay after the discussion group for a quick review.
"Doris, I like what you have done with this novel and it seems like your characters are progressing quite well."
She looked across at Harry sitting with a copy of her novel on his lap. He looked so serious that she half-expected him to tell her it was all crap and she needed to start over again.
"That's a relief, Harry, I was afraid I was making the female lead too much of a tease by not giving the hero what he so obviously wanted quite badly."
Harry laughed and pushed his glasses back with one finger looking at her with full attention. She really liked it when he did that because it meant he was listening to her and not on some sort of ego-trip of one-sided conversation.
"I don't see that as a problem but I get the definite sense that she is conflicted about the relationship and afraid of doing anything to spoil it. In her mind, that could be spreading her knees and giving him full access to her female favors. It might be more interesting to readers if she came to some sort of compromise about giving him satisfaction without going all the way".
When Harry talked like that, the attractive blonde mature woman found that she started to get the old familiar tingle down below right under her mound and her nipples seemed to rise as if by magnetic attraction. The signal of her arousal was in her eyes and Harry never missed a trick when it came to that set of circumstances.
The room was one of those ones with a blind on the side window and a lock on the door and Harry slowly walked over to the door and drew the blind and locked the door with a single motion.
Doris watched him do that with an awakening sense of anticipation and she quickly pointed out her paragraph that read,
"She was unable to fight the torment in her weak flesh. Her brain told her it was not a wise thing to do, but her heart told her it was time to let her hair down and take her panties off for her lover's reward."
Harry nodded his head in complete agreement with the words,
"She should follow her heart and bend over for her lover's pleasure. He deserves it after undressing her with his eyes time after time with passionate desire. In fact, she should reach out and feel the need in his rampant cock waiting for her compliance."
He stood above her and took her hand in his and placed it right on his bulging crotch. She had not doubts about his ardor or his need. The club leader released it from its confines and guided her hands to the pulsating shaft.
Doris moved from the shaft down to his hanging sacs and cradled them gently in her fingers. She could tell they were full to the brim and he was in dire need of letting off the pressure before very long. The pre-cum was already starting to leak out of the tip and when she moved her other hand back underneath, she could feel his quivering back hole opening and closing in hope of burying his rod inside her long-denied female slit. Doris was a bit nervous because she hadn't shaved recently and she hoped Harry would not be dissuaded by her full bush hidden under her pink silk panties. She realized that was no problem at all when he dropped to his knees and buried his face and lips between her legs and licked her hungry slit with frenzied abandon. It was so spontaneous that she went into an immediate orgasm lubricating her completely without need for artificial goo.