Chapter 1: Irene

I was tired. I’d been working all day, rewiring an old workshop down the road.

I sat out on the porch with a beer, contemplating what to do about dinner. Then I saw the hippie woman walking towards me through the back yard.

They were camping on my land up on the ridge. I’d said it was ok, so long as they don’t leave any garbage or toilet paper behind. They can even swim in the pond up there. My land is 80 acres, 1 wide and 80 long, starting from the main road and stretching up through the hills. It was a huge single property once, but had been subdivided into these strips each with a building plot and a bit of meadow at the bottom. I had a couple of acres of good farmland, and a small meadow and a pond up on the ridge where they were parked. The other 70 acres was almost inaccessible thick mountainous forest higher up. I made a living as an independent electrician.

Anyway, I remembered her name was Irene. She was the older one, her hair a mixture of black and grey. Thin and wiry, with a somewhat gaunt face.

“Evening Gil!” she called out as she approached. She was carrying a heavy bag in one hand. “I’ve got some home cooked bread and stew. Would you like to share it with me?”

“Homemade bread?” I asked. “That sounds good.”

“It is!” she laughed, “I saw you coming home in your service van, I thought you must need some real food.”

She was a decade older than me, and married, so this wasn’t that kind of flirtation I thought. Besides, I wasn’t one of them. I was a country redneck republican gun owner.

Well we ate together and got to talking. I’d been living alone for a while and talking was nice.

There were three of them traveling together. I’d assumed the younger woman was the daughter of the older couple, but Irene told me otherwise.

“Olivia was my best student; I was teaching yoga ... we became good friends. She moved into our spare room. I could see she was really into my old man, and he had a lot of lust for her too. Something had to give; either I had to throw my friend out, or they’d cheat on me. I mean, you know what she looks like, how long could a man keep his hands off of a girl like that when she’s oozing desire at him?”

The girl, Olivia, was why I’d said they could stay. Not that I’d thought I could have her, or even wanted her [other than sexually]. But when she’d smiled at me in that way of hers, I just melted inside. She had something special about her, a generosity of spirit. The girl just radiated love, even I couldn’t deny it. She also had huge breasts and a sexy curvy waist, long frizzled hair, and friendly eyes.

Irene continued;

“So I told them both to go ahead and do it. I went out for a few hours and when I came home I knew they had. We’ve been living together since then; I give them their space and Olivia does the same so Max and me can have some fun.”

“So actually, you’re here so that they can have some alone time?” I asked.

“You got it. They’re up in the bus fucking like rabbits.” She said.

That Max, he was old. How weird that beautiful young Olivia should want a guy like that. She could have any man she wanted. And she was young, a teenager for sure.

The older woman and I sat in the dark, thinking about sex. Then she gathered up her things and went back up the track through the fields towards the bus where her man and girlfriend were waiting.

They’d got the bus up there along a fire road that cut through several adjacent properties, there was a steep footpath from the pond down to my house.

She came back a couple of times a week. It took a while before we started doing it together.

I’d been alone for nearly a year. My wife had left me to live in the city; she said the farm was too remote, isolated, there was no one to talk to.

Maybe she was right. I was happily spending evenings with Irene, who I had pretty much nothing in common with.

“Can I have a kiss goodnight?” she asked me as she stood to go.

“Sure.” I said, and got up in front of her without a second thought.

In the darkness of the spring night, I couldn’t see the grey in her hair, or the creases around her eyes. But I could feel the warm strength in her slim body, the soft wetness of her lips, the small lumps of her breasts against my chest as her hands held me tight for five long seconds.

Her mouth broke free, but her hands stayed on my back. Mine stayed on hers, too. Her boney hips pressed against me and I realized she must be able to feel my cock against her thigh, because it was suddenly stiff and hot.

“Maybe I should stay a little longer.” She suggested.

“Maybe.” I said, and kissed her again.

I knew it wasn’t a good idea. She was wrong for me in just about every way; she was a left wing city woman in a relationship with someone else, she was too old for me, but she wanted it, and I wanted it.

We stood on the porch for a while, exploring our feelings and each other’s mouths. What did age matter? Or cultural background, or political belief? She was a woman and I was a man, I had a hard cock and she had a soft damp vagina that wanted it. I pulled her into the house, and through to the bedroom. We stood apart as we undressed ourselves.

The bedside light was on, I could see her quite clearly. Her skin was blemished, but she had great muscle tone. She was very lean. She had long smooth legs and thick curly pubic hair. She smiled at me shyly, as if unsure whether her body was attractive.

“You’re beautiful.” I told her, and her face rewarded me.

I’d intended to start dating again only after the divorce was final.

I’m no lady killer. I’d only been with two women, one high school sweetheart and then my wife, Denise. Mainly because I was timid with women, lacking confidence. And because my wife was enough woman for me. Had been I should say, because she’d left me.

Irene sat on the edge of my bed and I stood in front of her. I took her face in my hands and kissed her as she took my hot hard penis in her cool soft hands. It was good to feel that human contact again, the acceptance, the desire. She tickled my balls and bent down to take me in her mouth.

That felt very good; Denise had only rarely done that. My cock quivered in Irene’s experienced mouth and I ran my fingers through her long wavy hair as she stroked me with her lips. I had to pull it away from her because I was going to lose control.

She got onto the middle of the bed and I climbed above her, we kissed and fondled. Her breasts were fairly small, soft and sensitive. I sucked her nipples and she stroked my head.

To be honest she couldn’t hold a candle to Denise, yet Irene was incredibly sexy; the way she touched me, the small sounds of pleasure she made, her soft eyes, even her age.

I kissed her mouth again, then kissed my way down. Past her small tanned breasts, over her flat narrow belly, through the forest of black and grey curls, her long muscular legs opened for me, opened wide with easy poised welcome, and I went down on her.

I had quite a bit of practice at that; I liked it and I was good at it. I licked and sucked on her, in no hurry for it to end. I held her admirably tight ass in my hands as she came, moaning softly as she held my head in her hands.

I pulled away to take a breath and look at her.

High cheekbones, a large aquiline nose, the grey in her hair, the kindness in her eyes.

Why was she here in my bed? For a laugh? Maybe she pitied me, alone since my wife had walked out. Maybe she just liked me.

She pulled me upwards, making her desire clear without words. I rolled over and pulled open my bedside drawer, where I’d optimistically put some condoms a few months earlier.

“Don’t.” she said as she saw what I was up to. “I like it natural. Don’t worry, just go with it. I’m too old to get pregnant.”

“You don’t look it.” I said in all honesty.

“You’re a smooth talking young man! I’m forty-five sweetheart. So unless that’s a problem, come here.”

I was 24; but it wasn’t a problem. So I got between her inviting thighs, rubbed it up and down her a couple of times, then slipped it into her.

She shuddered and arched her back, grabbing my ass to pull me the rest of the way in. She sighed in contentment.

“That’s so good!” she whispered.

I was on the edge; I hadn’t prepared myself, I was far too horny. The warm smooth sensation of her, the smell, her kisses, her fingers on my ass and her powerful vagina squeezing my neglected dick was more than I could handle.

21 years; nearly twice my age. I tried to use that to ease my lust, but instead it turned me on even more.

I came, helplessly and uncontrollably. I squirted my young spunk into her healthy old body, and she held me tenderly as I shuddered and ejaculated,

“Shit.” I moaned in defeat.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, “That was nice.”

“I didn’t want to come yet.” I admitted.

“Roll over, baby.” She said. “Can you do it again? Maybe in a little while?”

“Probably. I don’t know.” I said.

“Well we’ll just have to find out.” She said brightly. “It’s ok either way, you already made my night.”

What a kind, generous woman, I thought. I’d failed completely, I knew she must be disappointed, yet she was still nice to me.

We kissed and fondled some more; I always wanted to be like that after sex, but my wife would jump out of bed and take a shower after I came in her. Neither of us was often satisfied. Denise would be mad at me for coming, she didn’t understand, or didn’t care, that I couldn’t control it.

Irene seemed to take it as a compliment; I suppose it was. It was her beauty that overcame me, her sexy smile when I was inside her.

Now her fingers traced over my body, her mouth gently teased mine, we were both a little bit sweaty and she stayed anyway. I caressed her face and neck, the light was still on and I marveled at her beauty.

Irene slide down, sucked my sticky cock, and I felt the power return; after a minute, I was as hard as ever, but my balls were empty. It was a wonderful feeling, to have the tension in my cock, yet to be relaxed at the same time. I looked into her eyes as her mouth slid up and down my hard young rod; and I realized that she was educating me. She knew more about my sexuality than I did.

She lifted her face, and smiled happily. “Ready for more?” she asked rhetorically.

I got back in position, and slid it home again. She was slimy inside, but it didn’t matter. She gripped me tight with her arms, legs, and vagina as I got to work.

I was invincible, indestructible, superman ... I could fuck like I always dreamed, fuck and fuck without coming!

She came though; the mature woman below me came four times I think. It was fantastic, by far the best sex I’d ever known.

I was 24 years old and I’d never known sex could be that good. Not that I’d known much of it before that. One girlfriend in high school, and when that ended I couldn’t seem to get anyone to go out with me. Then the woman I married and our tepid couplings.

I’d never met a woman like Irene. No woman who would wait, patiently loving me to a second hardon. No one who came four times.

Her gaze never wavered; she looked at me as she came, she gripped my ass and cried in unashamed passion, I was an ignorant boy to her, a novice in the arms of an expert.

“Yes!” she insisted, “Like that! Oh yes!”

After an eternity of mad sweaty passion, feeling a power that I’d never even imagined was possible, I held her strong thin body tightly as I came a second time.

We lay side by side in sweaty contented silence for a few minutes.

“That was good.” She declared, and got up to take a shower.

She left, heading back across the field and up the stony track to their bus.

I lay in my lonely bed, wondering what the hell had just happened to me. I was emptied out, and it was wonderful.

What was really different was knowing that I could be good in bed. Irene had given me that. And I loved for it.

It occurred to me that my life would have been different if I’d met a woman like her early in my life, to teach me about sex before getting together with a woman my own age.

I slept deeply, with the peace of the well fucked.

The next morning I set up my telescope in the living room so I could look through the patio doors at the high meadow. I couldn’t see the bus, it was behind some trees. But I could see Irene and Olivia in their leotards practicing their yoga in the dawn light.

They moved in slow harmony, the exercises graceful and sexy. At one point they sat face to face and stretched with each other, leaning and twisting together almost like lovers. I saw Max watching them too; he was an amiable guy, but I couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to get himself two women as hot as Irene and Olivia. He was old and bald, very short, and had a grey beard. He usually wore some kind of tacky white robe like a priest or an Arab. A nice enough guy, but a total weirdo.