The Nice Lady

by Tony Tiger

Copyright© 2018 by Tony Tiger

Erotica Sex Story: It doesn't take beauty to be forever appreciated and remembered.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   Tear Jerker   Prostitution   .

She was a just pleasantly plump, not unattractive, middle aged woman with a nice smile and a pussy that would welcome you if you were polite and had treated her well in the past.

That niceness had gotten her a husband years ago and had driven him away as well, although not because she wasn’t nice to him. It was the abovementioned predilection of her pussy. He all-too-soon discovered that it wasn’t any special charm he possessed that separated her knees. Older men and teenage neighbor boys were enjoying her pleasures long before he met her and even after her marriage. She was too nice to deny them what they had been accustomed to. Rather than appreciating her generous nature, he got very selfish and soon lost access to her bountiful pleasures.

Not by any design of hers, she was barren. It was good since she was not well equipped to be a responsible mother. The closest she could get to that role was as an untrained, but far from unpracticed, purveyor of sexual experience to all ages.

I met her the day after my eighteenth birthday. At that time, she was exactly twice my age since we shared the same month and day. A good male friend knew that I’d never been privy to a female body’s goodness so took me to see “The Nice Lady”, as all referred to her.

Leaving me in her small apartment living room, they disappeared into her bedroom. Noises that I was unfamiliar with emanated through the door and, when they ceased, my friend, already dressed, exited followed by the naked Lady. He bid her goodbye and she turned to me. I was so anxious I hasn’t the slightest erection. She gave me her sweet smile and, as if she read my mind, said, “I know this is your first time. Relax, I’ve been the first many times and will guide you.”

Damn, I wish she hadn’t reminded me of how experienced my first vagina would be. But then my common sense took over. After all, she’d just been fucked a few feet away from me by my friend. Get over it and get on with it.

Soon I was in the throes of delight, feeling like I was the only man who mattered to her. An all-too-quick hour later I had ejaculated twice in her pussy and once in her mouth. As I left I nodded to the older man who had entered and was waiting in the outer room. And I didn’t forget to leave a twenty-dollar love offering in the little jar by the sink. My friend had explained that she never charged for her favors, or even kept any track of who gave or how much was given, but they were important to keep her body and cunt together.

It was three days later before I had a donation saved up and could get on her schedule. She seemed truly glad to see me and asked sincerely how I’d been doing. I honestly told her I was missing her and she seemed flattered. The next hour was filled with old and new experiences. When I was finally spent, I asked if I could stay a while. She had no more “visitors” until a while later so we talked. She commented, “Men usually leave right after they finish. I like to visit too.”

I picked up on her loneliness and she was delighted when I asked her many questions about herself. She’d long ago learned how to flatter her visitors by doing that but, few reciprocated. I learned that she had gone to a “special school” about as far as the eighth grade and worked for a while in a sheltered workshop where she met her husband. As I quizzed her, it was clear that she had little guile, answering even my most intimate questions without any reservation or embarrassment.

Out of curiosity, more than anything, I asked her how many visitors she’d had on my “first time” day. To my surprise, she brought out a little appointment book where she had carefully noted the first names and last initial of each one that day. She matter-of-factly reported that, including my friend, I was number five and that there had been two more after me. That was a busy day, she remarked.

“And how many today?” I pursued.

“Only two so far, plus you. I’m expecting one more to stay over tonight.”

“Do you count that as one day or two?” I inquired, wanting to see how she figured things.

“It’s when they sex me that counts, so it might be on both days if they do it in the morning. They usually do.”

When I was leaving that evening she said, “Don’t leave a love offering. You have already given me more than I have given you.” I nodded and did anyway.

I learned that the “price” for staying overnight was bringing dinner. She couldn’t cook. So I started doing that half the time. She had three regular overnighters and she really enjoyed the company even though they often just watched television together when they weren’t fucking. Real conversation like mine was non-existent.

As I spent some time with her I quickly discovered how badly she needed a mentor. Her diet was awful, her clothing minimal and worn out, her health care neglected, and her money management non-existent. We worked away on these after work and on weekends. I got her to save some time on Saturday to do errands. I had a car which gave her new access to needed goods and services.

Time revealed that although her school smarts, other than a very good memory, weren’t up to par, her people skills were exceptional. Because she could remember each of her visitors, she knew what they liked and didn’t. Together with her caring nature, she skillfully made each feel like he was her only lover. Even when I heard her with the one just before me and saw him leave her bedroom, I still got that special feeling when we were naked together a few moments later.

She saw visitors six days a week but kept Sunday to herself, walking to a neighborhood church for services but being ignored by the other parishioners. I invited myself to those Lord’s day afternoons as a “friend”, not a “visitor”. She was quite pleased and had only her best and freshly washed threadbare dress on when I arrived. She had no underwear anyway. It would be inconvenient during her weekdays. There was a small self-serve laundromat nearby where she washed mostly bed linens and towels which kept the bed much less messy.

That first Sunday I brought a pizza and salad and she gobbled it. No one had been there the previous night. She started to take me to the bedroom, figuring that was what men always wanted after eating. I surprised her and said we were going shopping.

Two dresses, a pair of jeans, and two blouses later, plus assorted underwear, filled the packages we carried to her apartment. By the way, although sparsely furnished, it was always neat and clean, one of the life skills she had been well taught.

Now she absolutely insisted on thanking me the only way she knew how. Carefully doffing the new dress she had worn home, then the panties, and needing help with the bra hooks, she pulled me to the bed and lay back, knees up and separated.

Her pussy was the longest I had even seen in pictures. Not at all like those little bald holes you sometimes see. Framed by rounded outer labia that were probably four inches long from where they started near her buns until they tapered out at her belly, were similarly lengthy inner ones protruding like flower petals. There was little hair except on the outer edges. The usual pubic triangle as very sparse. Perhaps rubbed off by all the friction, I suspected.

She was usually wet with semen from a recent visitor but this time I knew it was from joy. I bent down and, for the first time, kissed it. She was startled. No one had done that before. I said, “Lie back and enjoy.” She shook and moaned with the first orgasm I had ever observed her have.

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