It is very difficult for me to write about my cravings and sexual urges because I am a fairly normal young woman of almost thirty with no history of odd behavior. In fact, I have never taken any drugs. Well, at least I can say "almost" never because the incident with the weed laced brownies I assure everyone was NOT my fault.
When I was University, I was considered attractive enough to be pursued by both students and teachers alike. I hasten to add that I allowed several of them to catch up because I am not the virginal type at all. I tended to be a bit picky about which one I slept with so I didn't think I was particularly slutty. I knew other girls in the classes who were a lot more piggish than me and they didn't seem to get into much trouble for it.
Whilst engaged in my studies, I became particularly interested in acting on the stage and managed to garner a few coveted roles in some of the classic play productions performed by the student thespians. I absolutely hated the role of Wendy in "Peter Pan" and remember with disgust wearing the silly little girl panties under my nightshirt which I was supposed to flash the audience with on a periodic basis to keep them on their toes. Well, at least the horny males. It was sheer feminine exploitation but I could see the director's problem with keeping interest for the duration of the dreary thing.
Then, I landed the role of the aging film star who failed to understand she was losing her feminine allure as her wrinkles stacked up and her breasts started to no longer defy gravity. It was one of my favorite roles and I think it was without a doubt my best performance. The hardest part of the whole thing was the amount of time I had to invest in getting my figure and my face ready for the role of a woman almost forty years my senior. We used some customized body stockings to change my curves into drooping flesh and unsightly bulges where most females wanted a slender lean look. My facial make-up was formulated to add crow's feet to the corners of my eyes and to give wrinkles at the end of my mouth making me appear to be a much older woman who no longer had either facial or shapely appeal to attract male interest. It was important to the production and made my character stand out on strictly her spoken words and personality.
We had almost finished the run when the director, a dashing figure of a man called Reginald something came to me in the dressing room and asked me point-blank if he might be able to fuck me standing up and looking into the dressing room mirror wearing all of my body changing and face changing costuming. I was a bit shocked because it seemed so strange for a man of his attractive physique and handsome looks to want to screw a mature female like my aging character. I thought that it might be more appropriate if I took him home and stripped down so he could mount me as the young and nubile female I knew I was.
For some reason, I agreed to submit to his passion and found my character looking into his eyes as he shoved his impressive cock up my tight twenty-something channel with a frenzy usually reserved for a more appealing young lady. I had to ask myself what he could possible see in an aging film star with wrinkles from her forehead to her knees. Still, I was quite satisfied with his enthusiasm and it was truly a memorable orgasm that shook me so hard that I had to collapse into the chair and hoped I would recover fast enough to take the stage for the final act. When I was back in my normal student attire and showing off my youthful curves, he seemed to have not the slightest bit of interest in me and for some time afterward, I was admittedly disconsolate.
After a disastrous four year relationship with a live-in partner who seemed fixated on exercising my rear door entry, I decided it was time to move on and find a sexual partner who appreciated me for who I really was and not just some unnatural hole to stretch open in the dark.
It was really accidental how I discovered my taste for my ridiculous "Granny" fetish while I was still in my mid-twenties. I had been ruminating endlessly about my incident of being humped so satisfactorily from the rear in my "Granny costume and make-up" because it was without a doubt the most elegant orgasm I had ever experienced, when an idea popped into my desperate mind like a snake in the Garden of Eden.
I was still talented at applying the stage make-up and I had lots of my mum's clothes that I was slow to get rid of after she passed with the cancer thing. It took a bit of time, but I finally managed to create a plain and wrinkled old lady with swollen body stockings and wide comfortable hips. I hate to brag but the effect was astonishing. I had changed a fairly attractive twenty year old into a sixtyish "Granny" with a skill I could look at with pride and yet try to keep hidden.
In recent weeks, I had been experiencing the usual discomfort riding the commuter train with the chaos of young lads and even some older ones taking secretive liberties with my backside as I rode the tube into the city and we were all pressed together like some mixed salad of male and female flesh rubbing and bouncing with distracting vibrations along the bumpy track of the commuter rail line. In all honesty, I was probably overly submissive and accommodating in the midst of such hideous circumstances because I didn't want to hurt male pride and acted like I was totally unaware of their groping fingers and sweaty palms. Besides, I was not getting much action either at work or at the local pub which catered to couples rather than single males or females and sometimes the indignity being groped by random strangers was more than offset by the resulting tingle of pulsating excitement in my female privates.
It seemed to me that this would be the ideal locale to test the aging process equipment and see if the male libidos were less aggressive to a woman of mature years with full-complement of wrinkles and added rolls of padded flesh to cover her bones. I even wore a silly hat with a wide brim just to discourage horny perverts from getting too close.
When I stood next to the sweet young things lined up like sheep for the shearing on the platform, I felt the familiar butterflies in my tummy like I always had before each performance on the stage. I knew that might eventually translate into movement down lower between my padded legs and I was not entirely unhappy with the thought.
The mass of humanity on the platform including myself shuffled forward like mindless zombies to board the already crowded compartments and I soon found myself sandwiched in between a pair of studiously disinterested young men who seemed a bit disappointed to wind up with an "old Granny" instead of a fresh young office worker to play with on the way to work.