Since I was a teenager I've always loved older women, most likely because I lost my cherry to a 50yo dirty blonde when I was 19. It was the best experience I could have had and it set me up for life, sexually. I was away from home for the first time, on work-placement as an apprentice, working in Plymouth naval dockyard. She was my landlady and was divorced, on her own in a biggish house and earning a bit of money by renting out a room.
She told me at the outset that she was fussy and only accepted lodgers she took a liking to - I subsequently realised that had been a hint, but was very green in those days about women! I was her only paying guest that summer and she enjoyed making a fuss of me and mothering me with nice food, and doing all my laundry. She took an interest in me, put me at ease effortlessly and loved chatting as she was lonely, but I was so hopeless I didn't realise she was flirting. I'd never chatted to a woman like her before, she was very touchy feely and would often put her hand on my arm to emphasise a point in conversation.
Within a few days of being there I realised I fancied her and would look forward to seeing her and checking out what she was wearing. Being a warm summer she'd invariably be in a dress or a thin top and skirt. She was nicely curved, not fat, and she always wore white high heels. I'd love hearing the sound of her heels on the solid wood floors. I soon realised I had a thing for legs and feet as hers were gorgeous. The contrast between her lightly tanned legs and the white heels was one thing, but I loved what they did for the shape of her legs and spotted how different her legs looked when she was bare-footed sometimes. Mostly though she'd wear her heels and torment me. I knew she'd spotted me looking at her legs and feet, but I couldn't help myself. I loved her dainty toe cleavage, and she also wore a fine gold chain around her right ankle which I found a massive turn-on.
For the first month I was there I usually returned home for weekends. She'd tell me on Monday evenings when I returned that the house had been empty and she persuaded me to stay the next weekend and that she'd show me the sights of Plymouth. That Friday I got back to hers after work, later than usual as we were in the middle of a huge summer storm and I was soaked to the skin by the time I got in. I shivered & dripped onto the hall carpet looking like a drowned rat and she fussed around me, getting towels and urging me to get in a hot shower and let her have my wet clothes to wash.
After showering I came down to her big kitchen and handed her the wet clothes. She bent down to load the washing machine and I started to get hard at the sight of her full bottom. She straightened up and turned to face me quicker than I'd expected and I noticed that she'd spotted the lump in the front of my jeans. Apparently I blushed deep red with embarrassment - she subsequently told me I had and that it turned her on, and that in that instant she decided to have me.
But at the time I was a bit flustered and sat down in the sofa she had in her kitchen to try and hide my erection. She fussed about getting tea and cake organised but I think we both realised something had happened between us. Although I was very naive I was very sexually aware and used to fantasise about her while wanking, trying desperately not to stain her bedlinen.
She brought over the tea things and placed them on the low table in front of the sofa. She bent forward and gave me a eyeful of cleavage and the view of her lovely lacy white bra cups. Oh god, it turns me on remembering it all these years later, and I recall feeling quite hot & bothered at the time. She came and sat next to me and poured the tea and fussed over me, checking I was warm and telling me I mustn't catch a summer chill. She pressed herself against me and rubbed her hand up and down my back and against my thigh, as if to keep the chill at bay.
It was raining even harder outside, the sky was black and the thunderclaps started getting really loud. It was very atmospheric, but nice and cosy in her kitchen, I could smell her perfume as she snuggled up to me. I remember wondering whether this was leading anywhere when suddenly there was a flash of lightening and a deafening thunderclap directly over the house. We both jumped and she grabbed hold of me, I instinctively put my arm around her .... and then the lights flickered and failed.
She begged me to hold her, said she hated thunder storms and got scared by them. She drew me into a tight clinch and offered her mouth. It was a defining moment for me, I'd never had a full-on snog before, but somehow male instinct took over and our hands were all over each other. She asked me if I'd had a girl before and groaned when I said no, then snogged me even harder. She told me she'd never popped a young man's cherry before but said she badly wanted to.
She grabbed my hand and said we needed to go upstairs and get more comfortable. Oh fuck, that night and for the whole weekend she taught me so much. She told me I was a quick learner but god, she was so horny, it was a job to keep up with her. I was working the whole summer in Plymouth and we spent every night together in her bed. She was amazing, this was the late-70's and there was nowhere near as much sexual information freely available as there is today, so she was the perfect teacher for me.
She told me she really got off on the age difference and that she was old enough to be my mum. I remember her telling me how she'd found spunk stains on my sheets when she stripped my bed the first weekend I'd returned home. She said she'd played with herself there and then on my bed and decided she was going to have me before the summer was out.
I owe her a lot and writing this now it saddens me to think she's probably not alive today. We carried on seeing each other for a year or so but after that it was too difficult to keep in contact. Looking back to that time with what I now know, I realise she was a dirty slut who couldn't get enough cock. She had a huge appetite for sex and taught me how to be really filthy with a woman.
More than anything she gave me a taste for older women, I've enjoyed them a lot and now I'm in my early 50's I love women in their 60s and even 70's. I regularly play with a very dirty 65yo and in the past couple of years have played with a married couple in their late 60's and a woman of 72. All of them have incredible appetites for sex, much of it very filthy indeed. I don't see anything odd about it, age is just a number and I've come to realise there are a lot of very sexy seniors around, who have few inhibitions and a desire to get what they want in the bedroom. |
