For as long as I can remember, I’ve been obsessed with the female form. Vague recollections of suckling at my mother’s breast. I was five when I first saw a vagina and six when I experienced my first erection. My first sexual experience happened at eight, and I officially lost my virginity a month past my fourteenth birthday to a girl of twelve.

My earliest pieces of art were sketches of the primordial female form. Full breasts, wide hips, and large round buttocks. The Earth Mother. The Venus. These features defined the female form in my mind and established my expectations of female perfection for the entirety of my life.

I love the shape of women. There’s no simpler way to say it.

I left home at the age of seventeen, in the wake of my parents’ separation. I’d been a wild child, and neither of them were keen to force me back home, especially so close to legal adulthood. For several years after, I had a string of brief, unfulfilling relationships, and sexual encounters, but it wasn’t until Brigitte that my sexual life took an unexpected and irrevocable turn.

Brigitte Bauer. With a hard g. Brig-eeta.

I met Brigitte when I was twenty-four. She was my landlady, and the single mother of an eleven-year-old son whom she spoiled rotten. In the six months I lived in Brigitte’s house, I learned little about her early life, other than she immigrated from Germany fifteen years prior and had been married at least once, though I suspected there may have been others. I didn’t know her age, but I guessed her to be in her forties. One thing she did tell me, however, was that since her deflowering at the age of eleven, she’d been with hundreds of sexual partners. She’d lost count over the decades, but she told me later that I fell somewhere between numbers two and three thousand.

At first glance, Brigitte was entirely unassuming. She appeared matronly and rather plain. Not unattractive, but certainly not exceptional. A stout and short woman, well endowed, she had a kind round face, dark eyes and short brown hair. If you passed her on the street you wouldn’t give her a second look. The day I met her, she wore a tan house dress with a high neckline, short sleeves, and a hem that fell below her knees. The antithesis of sensual. There was nothing about her to suggest a woman of extraordinary sexual appetites.

Her first words to me upon entering her house were, “You’re a very good-looking man. Do you know how to use your cock?”

I had sex with her a few minutes later.

Brigitte had a plump body that bore the marks and imperfections of motherhood and age, but she controlled and used it like a precision machine. I had never been with anyone like her before. My previous sexual partners had all been contemporaries, young women of my peer group with little experience and a multitude of neuroses and sexual hang ups. Brigitte was unabashed in her lovemaking and entirely disinhibited. She knew exactly what she wanted from me and, when I hesitated or faltered, she patiently showed me how to provide it to her.

There was never any awkwardness from her. No hesitation or second-guessing. When she told me to fuck her in the ass, it was said casually but firmly, in her strong German accent.

“Put your cock in my ass and fuck me,” she said. Just like that.

Over the course of the next six months, I had sex with Brigitte every day, sometimes two or three times a day. She was insatiable. The term I leaned to describe someone like her was high libido, though perhaps she could better be described as hypersexual. A nymphomaniac. When she wasn’t maintaining her house or spending time with her son, she was engaged in sexual activity, either with me or someone else. If a partner was unavailable in the moment, she masturbated instead.

Brigitte owned a large collection of sex toys and pornographic materials, and put them to constant use. Stacks of magazines and video cassette tapes piled high in her closet. Her appetites were both diverse and extreme. Most nights, after finishing with me, she laid in bed and watched videos while masturbating herself to sleep.

I experimented with Brigitte constantly, no two sessions ever the same. Different positions, different techniques, different scenarios and accessories. Experimentation wasn’t for her benefit, but for mine. I was learning what I liked, testing my limits and boundaries, for Brigitte had none that I ever discovered. She was content to be fucked to orgasm, and never cared about how that was accomplished, though her preferred type of sex was anal. Brigitte’s orgasms came fastest and most powerfully when I fucked her in the ass, so that was what we did most of the time.

I’d never performed anal sex until ten minutes after I met Brigitte that first day. It wasn’t that previous partners had been unwilling, it just never came up. I had a vague notion that it existed, but I’d always associated it with male homosexuality rather than something a woman would enjoy. A kind of sexual taboo that straight men didn’t think about. Brigitte changed that perception. Her enjoyment of anal sex opened me up to a new world of pleasure I hadn’t known existed, and it led me to push the limits of what I’d previously considered appropriate and decent conduct in the bedroom. I became a deviant. A sexual libertine. There was little I wouldn’t try at least once.

Perhaps most extraordinarily, Brigitte was wholly without judgment or shame. She never made others feel bad about their desires, and she never hid who she was from either her son or her friends, though she was circumspect with the former and had very few of the latter. She didn’t consider herself a homewrecker, but she’d been with several men in the neighborhood, most of them married or in relationships, and although she tried to be discreet, word eventually got out and she was quickly shunned by the aggrieved wives and girlfriends and their friends and neighbors.

Brigitte preferred sex with men and never slept with just a woman alone, but she occasionally arranged threesomes with other women, and wasn’t opposed to having sex with them in those instances. For her, it was entirely transactional and more for a change of pace. Something to add spice to the bedroom. To titillate and encourage her male partners.

More than anything, however, Brigitte loved having multiple male partners. I almost never participated in those group sessions because she preferred to fuck me alone in her house, but, on one occasion, she invited me to a foursome with other men. Brigitte enjoyed being penetrated by two and three cocks at a time, taking them in her ass and pussy while she sucked off multiple others. It wasn’t something she did often, perhaps once a month, but she always looked forward to it when she did, and it was the only time I ever saw her satiated, if even for just a day or two.

Brigitte was kind and caring and accommodating and I enjoyed my time with her, however brief it was. I eventually developed feelings for her that I interpreted as love, but those feelings were never reciprocated. Brigitte enjoyed my company and the sexual pleasure I provided, but I never experienced intimacy with her outside of the bedroom. We didn’t kiss or hold hands or cuddle on the couch to watch TV. There were no pet names. Outside of the bedroom, I was a tenant and a friend and nothing more. If her son were home and she felt in the mood, she would say, “Come upstairs to my bedroom now”. If he were at school, she would simply say, “Take out your cock and fuck my ass.”

In the bedroom, things were entirely different. She was affectionate and loving, even passionate. We often spent time during and after sex lying next to one another, talking and stroking and kissing, holding each other. Those were the most cherished moments for me, and where I learned the most about sex and how to please a woman. We talked almost exclusively about sex, and here Brigitte was an expert. A master of sex and sexuality.

One night, two months after I’d moved in, we had a conversation in bed that changed my life.

“You have such a beautiful cock, do you know that?” she asked while stroking me. “You should be fucking more girls, but you never bring anyone home with you. How come?”

“Why would I need anyone else? I have you.”

She laughed and the corners of her eyes crinkled. Her strong, motherly hand moved expertly, gently, lovingly. She suckled the glans and licked the frenulum while she worked her hands over my shaft. She worshiped cocks and treated them reverently, like holy objects. To her, cocks were sacred. She enjoyed giving pleasure and always watched my face, studying my expression. She wanted to know what I was thinking. How I felt about what she was doing. Her attentiveness to my needs and desires made her lovemaking all the more enjoyable and satisfying. Fulfilling in the most wonderful ways.

“These are the best years of your life. You should be out fucking as many girls as you can. When I was your age, I tried to fuck a different man every day.”

“It’s not that easy for a guy.”

Her manipulation of my cock was so thoroughly pleasing that I had trouble maintaining a cogent thought, let alone holding a conversation.

“That’s not true. Not for you. You’re good looking, you have a nice cock, and you know how to use it. If you’re not having sex with girls, it’s because you’re not trying.”

She was right. I wasn’t trying.

Brigitte jerked me off until I ejaculated into her mouth. That was her rule. Always in her ass or her mouth, never in her pussy or on her sheets. She didn’t want to get pregnant again, and she hated changing the sheets before it was time. If I asked, or she felt especially randy, she’d let me cum on her anywhere I wanted, but it meant I was doing laundry afterwards, which made the shower a good place to fuck.

“Mm, you taste so good,” she said afterwards. “I love drinking your cum. I always wish you had more for me.”

It was little things like that. Simple statements that drove me wild and filled me with lust for her. I brushed back her hair and caressed her face. I’d learned from her that every woman looks beautiful with your cock in her mouth, and, to me, Brigitte looked like Aphrodite.