They say that life begins at forty. In hindsight, that was possibly true, but
at the time it felt like my life was ending at forty. That was the year that my
marriage broke up. My husband had an affair, which was the final straw after a
slow deterioration.
About a year after our separation I found myself sitting at a party of a
friend's workplace. As these things often are, it was a large buffet in
afunction room. There was a dancefloor with cheesy music playing and a lotof
old men dancing badly to try and impress the young ladies. A disco
lightstraight out of the 70's was shining down upon them.
I looked around at all the other people at the partywhile my friend Liz talked
shop with a colleague. I don't know why I went really; I knew nothing about
their work and only really knew Lizout of everyone there. I was the
archetypical bored old woman whofelt like the party was too young for her.
As I was looking around the room, a young man caught my eye. He was fairly
attractive, in a young fresh-faced way. But he had something about him that
drew my attention. I'm not a believer in love at first sight, but I do believe
that you can tell a lot from someone's body language, both conciously and
subconciously. He was confident, but not overly-so.
At that point I just considered him to be an attractive guy in the throng of
people. I didn't think of doing anything about it. I think it was a
combination of not being used to making the first move, but also used to being
married rather than single. The age gap was probably also a factor. He
couldn't have been more than twenty -- half my age. So many excuses and
rationalisations.
As it happened however, he noticed me looking at him, and walked over. I
couldn't quite believe that he was actually walking towards me, rather than
someone else nearby, so it was a surprise when he sat downin the empty chair
beside me.
"Do I know you?" he asked genially.
"Erm, no, I don't think so," I said, embarassed at having been so obvious in my
attentions. Clearly my years out of the dating game had left me rather rusty.
I wished for the floor to swallow me up.
"Oh, it's just that I saw you looking..." he explained, now also embarassed.
"Yeah sorry, it's just that -- you caught my eye." I instantly regretted saying
it. He didn't seem to mind though. In fact he smiled.
"So do you work here?" he asked, "I don't recall seeing you around."
"No, no -- I just came here with my friend. I work somewhere else, across
town."
"Ah ok. I thought I would remember seeing a pretty face like yours." This
time, it was my turn to smile. He's actually interested I thought to myself,
interested in me! I tried not to show my surprise. Keep cool, I thought to
myself, play it cool.
"I'm Sheila," I told him.
"Jon," he replied. "No 'h'."
"Get that a lot do you -- mis-spelling?"
"Uh-huh -- all the time."
"So, Jon with no 'h', what do you do?"
We continued to chat for a lot of the evening. We were definitely interested in
each other, and the small-talk seemed to be a way of skirting round the issue.
Towards the end of the night, at a point when we were on our own at the table, I
decided to make a move. A very blatant move. Rather embarassing now that I
recall it.
"Say Jon, do you know how to lick pussy?" He was shocked by my forward
approach, but he recovered and nodded. "That's good, because I know how to suck
dick. How would you like to come back to mine?" It sounds so incredibly crude,
but it worked. You can't argue with results. One of the things I've learnt as
I've got older is that often the best route is the most direct route. Better
than inviting him back 'for a coffee', I reckon.
Within half an hour I was in my bedroom with Jon, and we were both tearing our
clothes off. He had a slightly skinny body, but it was so long since I had seen
anyone naked besides my ex-husband that he seemed like an Adonis to me. His
cock seemed to be of average size, not that I really minded. I wondered what my
body seemed like to him. I imagine that a forty year-old is not very physically
appealing to a twenty year-old. My breasts do seem slightly saggier now than at
his age, and I may have gained a little weight but I felt I still had a fine
pussy and ass.
Jon lay on the bed and moved his hands away from his cock, as if to draw
attention to it and get me to suck it. I climbed onto the bed and positioned
myself as if to take him in my mouth while looking at his feet. Instead I
laughed, straddled his head and sat down on his face.
"You'd better lick me first," I told him. I never would have done something
like this with my ex-husband. Possibly it was because I didn't know Jon and so
didn't mind upsetting him, though that's a pretty awful reason; surely your
husband would be the one person you shouldn't be hung up about potentially
upsetting. I think I just felt more confident around him than my ex-husband.
Maybe the age gap worked to my advantage in that respect.Whatever the reason, I
was taking charge.
Jon began licking, but then I felt his arms reach up and push behind my
shoulders, to try and get me to lean down and suck him. His demanding
attitudewas irking me slightly, especially since I wanted to feel like I was in
control,not him. Typical man, I thought to myself.
"When I'm ready," I told him, and brusquely pushed his hands away. Then I
remembered the array of scarves that I had, hanging on a peg next to the bed. I
leaned over and grabbed one. I roughly tied it round Jon's right wrist and tied
it to the nearby bedpost such that he could barely move it. Then I did the same
to the left wrist.
"Now," I said, realising that he was now actually under my control, "If you want
me to lick you, you're gonna have to make me come first." I wiggled my pelvis
on top of him to emphasise my point and then sat still as his tongue lapped at
my clitoris.
Jon did as he was told, and gave me an orgasm. It was not earth-shattering, but
it felt... liberating. True to my word, I leaned forward and took his cock in
my mouth. I slid forward on to it, taking in as much as I could.
"Oh god, that's so deep," I heard Jon say. As he spoke I felt his hotbreath on
my still-sensitive clitoris which was positioned right in front of his face. I
caused him to moan and groan as I gave him the best head I had given in a long,
long time. I gloried in the pleasure I was able to give him,and I found myself
thinking about how I had twenty years more experience in sucking dickthan the
sort of girl that Jon was probably used to being with.
When I felt that he was getting close to his climax, I ground my pussy slowly
into his face and he came into my mouth in long spurts. I duly swallowed it
all, which pleased Jon greatly.
"That was amazing," he babbled as I climbed off him, "You are so good at blow
jobs, and this kinky stuff too," -- he tugged at his restraints -- "wow!"
I turned to look at him. His excited praise was nice, but it bugged me a bit.
I decided to go the whole kinky hog, as it were, and fetched two scarves with
which I gagged and blindfolded him. I sat there beside the bed, wondering what
it must feel like for him, deprived of movement, sight and speech. I wondered
if it enhanced the smell of sex in the room, and whether it scared him a little
bit, or excited him. Did he worry that I wouldn't release him, or that I might
start hurting him. I never asked him that night.
I waited about ten minutes, while I thought about these things, before beginning
to play with Jon's limp cock, taking it my hand and playing with the foreskin,
then stroking it a little, then grasping it. The general aim was to make him
hard, but I wasn't in a major hurry. After all, it wasn't like he was going
anywhere.
Slowly, his prick began to respond. When it was semi-erect I deepthroated it
until it became too large to stay all in my mouth. Then I went hunting round my
bedside drawers for a condom. I was sure I had got some, but it had been over a
year since I had needed them.
I found one and adeptly put it on his dick. Jon seemed to stir in anticipation.
I straddled him and guided his sheathed cock into my waiting vagina. I gasped
as I slid down onto him. I felt really tight and as if his cock was going to
split me open. I don't know whether it was imagined or real though, as the fact
that I hadn't had sex for a whilewas weighing heavy on my mind, and I had been
considering whether I would be tighter or not.
As I waited for my body to adjust to Jon being inside me, I realised that I
wasn't yet ready for the orgasm that I desired. I slipped my finger down to my
crotch and began softly stroking my clitoris. The only times I had ever
really masturbated before was in front of my ex-husband so that he could watch,
or like I was doing it now -- to give me a bit of a 'boost' during sex. I
smiled at the realisation that Jon had no idea I was playing with myself. I was
careful to avoid letting my finger touch his dick and make him aware of what I
was doing.
Once I became a bit more turned on, I began to ride up and down Jon's dick. Any
self-concious thoughts I might have had about me wobbling away on top of him
were evaporated by Jon being blindfolded. I watched Jon's head tilt back in
pleasure as I slid up and down on him, and revelled in the control I had over
the situation. I alternated between fast and slow, to try and find what best
suited my mood. I soon came in a noisy shaking orgasm, my thighs quivering as I
came.
"Finish yourself off," I announced to him, and sure enough his legs shifted
position behind me and he began thrusting into me. It was a bit too much for me
on my sensitive clitoris, but I managed to endure it long enough for Jon to come
inside me, moaning through his gag. I climbed off and freed Jon so that he
could clean himself up. He did so, peeling off the condom and tying a knot in
it before finding the bin for it. He then redressed, and got up ready to leave.
"Tell me one thing," Jon said as I showed him to the door. "Did you pick me
because of my age?"
"No," I told him, "Age is only an issue if you want it to be. " With that, he
left.
If you like this story (or any of my stories), send me an e-mail: somewriter2000
at yahoo.co.uk
