The morning after she sold her graphics design business for a sum large enough that she could comfortably retire, Francesca Weaver looked at herself naked in the mirror and considered what she wanted to do with herself, and her life. She was forty-two, married but childless, and she and her husband Edward led mostly separate lives. Her looks were undiminished, and though she had never been conventionally beautiful, she knew she was sexually attractive, with high cheekbones and an aquiline, regal profile. In her stocking feet she stood nearly six feet, with long light-brown hair she usually pulled back into a patrician ponytail. Her 34C breasts and her ass might have sagged a little, but only a little, and her exercise regimen kept them in shape.
In her youth Francesca might have been considered a little on the scrawny side, but she was now merely slim. Oh, her youth, she thought. Her wild, lusty youth.
She raised her arms above her head lazily, and admired her smooth, sleek body. After years of shaving and waxing, she had indulged in laser treatments that gave her a form utterly free of body hair: not under her arms, nor on her legs, nor on or around her delectable pussy and ass.
She liked what she saw. And she was determined that many others would see it, and like it, and enjoy it also.
When she was a teenager, and later in college, Francesca had discovered that she had an enormous appetite for sex. It was an appetite that no one boy could satisfy, and though she was a bright and very successful student, she turned into the wild child after the books were closed. In junior high she discovered how much boys loved hand jobs, and then how much more they loved blow jobs. Her virginity was lost at fifteen to a cousin at a church camp. She fucked half the boys in her high school class, and many of her teachers. It was delicious, illicit joy. When there was no cock available to give her eager pussy an orgasm, her fingers did the job, or the fingers or lips of another girl. She was a slut and she loved it. She also loved to show herself, and sunbathed naked whenever she got the chance, especially if there was the possibility that others could watch her.
But then, in the latter half of college, came Edward, and she fell in love.
Edward was smart, ambitious, and good-looking. Their sex life was satisfying if unadventurous. But their relationship was based in the mind and spirit, and a mutual drive for achievement. Both of them knew they could become a power couple, and so they did. After graduation Edward pursued an MBA while Francesca began her design business, and they married. They worked hard, they succeeded, they owned an expensive house and beautiful things. Still ... Francesca began to wonder if it had been worthwhile to sacrifice her carnal ways for the stability of her marriage and the material world.
Edward's business often took him away, and his physical interest in her dropped off to nearly nothing. Francesca wanted to have children, but discovered that she could not. That was the first great blow. The second was when she realized Edward was gay, and though he loved her, his sex life was with men and boys.
So she dedicated herself to her career, and thought about taking lovers on the side. Many men of her own social station were intimidated by her success, however, and others by her height. Still, she had enough sex to get by. But only enough to get by.
Out of the blue had come an offer to buy her business for more than she thought it was worth, a small fortune. And she hesitated only briefly before saying yes.
She bought herself a vacation home in a resort town on the southern coast, on the beach, where many young people gathered, and decided to find her own youth again. Francesca now devoted herself to her own pleasure.
She wanted all the sex she could get. In particular, she wanted young cocks.
Her wardrobe and closets were filled with beautiful clothes, but Francesca found herself wearing little but beachwear, the skimpiest and most revealing she could acquire. She loved to go out wearing nothing but one her colorful, nearly transparent pareos, which she could tie around her in various interesting ways, with a slim gold chain around her hips and sandals on her feet.
On a walk on the beach one day early in her new residency, she came upon a young man who seemed to find her worth watching. He was well-built, sandy-haired, and about five-foot-eight. Francesca found a beach recliner and lay down to watch the waves. Her pareo was tied so that she was bare on one side from above her hip, making it obvious she had nothing on under it, and the breeze blew it up to reveal her nudity further.
The boy took a brief swim, then lay down on the sand near her. His eyes scarcely left her. After a while, she rose and stood over him, crooking a finger. "Follow me," she said, and he did.
She led him behind some trees back from the beach, and fixed him with her eyes. "What's your name?" she asked.
"And how old are you, Jasper?"
Francesca smiled. "You like looking at me, don't you, Jasper?" He seemed a little uncertain of what he should say, but nodded. She drew back her pareo so that she was quite naked in front. "I like looking at you, too. You're a very handsome young man. But you can see more of me than I can of you. It's a little unfair." He looked questioningly at her.
"So why don't you take off your shorts for me, Jasper? I'd love to see your cock." He realized she was serious, and he nodded again, and pushed his board shorts down to his ankles. "That's a lovely cock, Jasper. Very long and thick. Do you know what I'd really like?
"I want you to play with yourself for me. I'd like you to jack yourself off. For me. Right here. Please."
He looked directly into her blue eyes, and his hand went to his cock. It was already becoming erect, and he started to stroke it. Francesca drew a deep breath as she leaned a hand on one hip, and slowly caressed her own pussy with the other. "No touching right now, Jasper. Just masturbate. I bet you love to play with yourself, don't you, and you do it all the time, looking at porn." He jacked his cock faster, looking intently at her, less than two feet away.
"Stroke it for me, baby. I want to see you cum." She loved hearing the sound of the words as they came from her lips. He moved closer and reached toward her. "No," she said, "not yet, not this time. Just fucking jack your cock for me. Show me how hard you can cum."
Jasper's fingers were a blur as he jacked himself, and he started to breathe quickly and heavily. Then he came. It was a fast, thick, spurt of semen, then another, and then another, landing on Francesca's belly. In a minute he had stopped, and the cum began to drip down her.
Francesca stifled a gasp of pleasure. She reached down with her fingers and scooped it up, and licked her fingers clean. "Mmm," she said. She dabbed the rest away with her pareo.
"Oh, my. I'll have to go home and change now," she said, and quickly turned to walk away. She looked back over her shoulder at Jasper, still with his trunks around his feet.
"By the way, my name is Francesca. I live near here. Please come and visit me, and ... bring your friends."
Later that same day, Francesca was preparing to sunbathe on a lounge next to her small in-deck pool. Her pareo was loosely knotted at her waist, and she was barefoot. A movement caught her eye, and she spotted a boy she did not know peeping over the fence. He was handsome, rather short, tanned and tow-headed. He looked no more than fifteen. "Come here, boy," she called, feigning indignation.
He came around the fence looking worried. She gestured him to come to her, then dropped the pretense of irritation. Francesca smiled down at him with her wide mouth and dark blue eyes. She leaned over and kissed his lips, caressing his neck "Don't worry," she said. "Don't worry about anything. Don't think about anything. I don't even want to know your name.
"Because all I want from you is your sex." She breathed that last word close to his face. She drew her fingers down his bare chest to the top of his shorts, and undid the top string. She pushed them down, and he moved slightly so that she could push them all the way, and she stooped for a second to pull them off over his bare feet. She rose again, pausing to examine his cock, growing stiff and fat despite his anxiety. "My, my, you're quite a grown-up young man. And I'm definitely a grown-up woman. And I want that hard, thick young cock. In my sweet cunt."
The boy was breathing heavily, dry-mouthed, unable to speak, but quite aroused. Francesca pushed him onto the lounge chair. He lay back as her soft fingers massaged his cock, and caressed his balls, then bent over to take the cockhead in her lips. She sucked it lovingly, and ran her tongue down its length. It was already standing up straight from the boy's groin, rising from its pubic thatch. It was about six-and-a-half inches in length, very fat, and tapering toward a circumcised glans. She gently, firmly, lovingly masturbated him. Her face came close to his cock, and her tongue reached out to lick its length. She sighed, taking in its masculine scent. Her lips moved over the head, and she slowly took it in her mouth, kissing and sucking, making sure it was well wetted; and she licked his balls, taking each into her mouth, before returning to suck the length of his manhood.
Then she rose, staring lustfully in his eyes. She untied the loose knot that held her pareo in place, and it fell off as she moved her leg over to straddle him.
Her pussy was already very wet. She watched him stare at the smooth, hairless nakedness of her cunt as she parted her labia and skillfully inserted him into her, and she sank, and he penetrated her deeply.
"Ooohh," she moaned. "Your cock feels so fucking good. So fucking good inside me." Francesca relished the sensation, feeling wonderfully alive, and she rocked, fucking the boy's cock slowly.
She felt the warmth of the afternoon sunlight on her back as she leaned forward to caress his arms and his chest, covered with a sprinkling of hair, and played with his nipples. It was so thrilling to be doing this in the open air, where her fence gave scant protection from any eyes that might be watching them. Her heart exulted in the possibility that she could be seen, wantonly screwing a boy young enough to be her son, indulging her wicked lust.
The boy was moving underneath her, thrusting his hips, breathing heavily. This was his first sexual experience, and his excitement built quickly. Francesca saw this, and masturbated her clit to increase her own arousal. "Mmm," she said, "I'll bet you're getting close." He nodded.
Francesca moved faster, and so did the boy. Sweat trickled down between her breasts. The boy suddenly looked directly at her, his eyes widening, as he started to ejaculate. His cock shot a powerful blast of semen deep in her vagina, and then another. Francesca felt it, and it triggered her own orgasm. She uttered a guttural moan, and quivered as she gave herself over to the heavenly sensation inside her body.
When her breathing quieted, she leaned down to kiss the boy's mouth, and his cock slipped out of her. The cum ran out of her pussy and down her inner thigh, and she slowly stepped away.
"Thank you, my young lover," she said. "What's your name?"
"It was so nice to make love with you, Kevin. You can go now, but come back whenever you like." She stepped to her pool and went in to wash herself.
As the days went on, Francesca amused herself by taking walks through the resort town, occasionally wearing a bikini top in addition to her sarong, but often with nothing but the pareo tied so that her breasts and pussy were at least technically covered—unless she moved a bit, or a breeze blew. She attracted a great deal of attention, and some muttered complaints from women, but none from men. She was struck by the large number of teenagers there, either partying in groups or vacationing with parents. Francesca always gave them a smile, both boys and girls, and got to know many of them. They began to visit her at her home, and she made sure to give loving instruction in the ways of carnality.
There was Philip, who came with his girlfriend Jen, both of them college students. Philip was a tall, strongly built boy, with brown skin and thick, wavy dark hair. Francesca found him very attractive, but at the moment he seemed to be bound to Jen. She, in contrast, appeared to be a lively free spirit, and she liked to show herself. She was a petite brunette of about five-foot-two, with short hair and a neatly trimmed brown pubic patch that she readily displayed when Francesca invited the couple to disrobe along with her on her deck. Jen lounged along the railing that faced the beach, casting her eyes out in hopes that passersby were watching her. Francesca found her a woman after her own heart.
It took little coaxing to get Philip and Jen to make love while Francesca looked on, and she especially enjoyed seeing Philip's buttocks clenching and unclenching as he thrust inside Jen's pussy.
Then there were Nicholas and Evan, both still in high school, a gay couple who were still discovering how to relate sexually with each other. Francesca loved their beautiful young male bodies, and after plying them with wine she got them to strip naked for her so she could at least stroke their fine forms. They both had nice cocks, and Francesca was happy to assist them in carefully shaving off all their pubic hair. Nicholas also decided to shave his armpits and what little hair he had on his chest, but he left his budding moustache. Francesca thought they looked adorable, and in the end she induced them to stand over her while she licked and sucked them alternately. She glanced above her to see them embracing and kissing sweetly, as she played with their cocks and rubbed them against each other, caressing their balls, until first Nicholas shot off, and then Evan, leaving Francesca delighted as her mouth and face were covered with the combined flow of their cum. She licked as much off as she could, as the boys looked into each other's eyes and kissed again.
It was inevitable that some in her new neighborhood would begin to take notice of how Francesca was conducting herself and raise objections. One afternoon she answered the door to find Diane, who introduced herself as a part-time reporter for the local paper. Francesca invited her in and offered her a glass of wine.
Diane was middle-aged, blonde, and quite attractive, with hair that fell to just above her shoulders. She was about five-foot six and wore a wedding ring; slim, with a comfortably padded ass, wearing a button-front sleeveless blouse and shorts. They sat in the living room, the French doors of which were opened onto the deck.
"I hope you don't take offense at my questions," Diane said, "but as a wife and mother and a concerned citizen, I think they're fair."
"Oh, they are," Francesca told her. "And I hope you aren't offended by my honesty. I like enjoying my body and wearing as little as possible, as you no doubt know. I enjoy young people, especially young men, and I love taking pleasure with them."
"So does that mean you..."
"Yes, it does, and I intend to go on doing it."