Having reached the age of fifty-five and grown invisible to young women, I find myself reminiscing more and more about my former sex life. It was a good one. The list of women I had intercourse with numbers thirty-six, unless I've forgotten one or two. As I created the list, I realized that more than a third of those were "one-night stands." Seven of those relationships were just bad mistakes, "thinking with the wrong head," and quickly remedied. Seven others, however, were among the most spectacular of my life. This is one of them.
I was taught to treat people kindly, no matter how they looked. Man, did that upbringing pay off! When I was in graduate school, I lived in a large graduate dorm. I became friends with a young woman who we'll call Jeanne to protect her real name. She had a pretty face, luxurious chestnut hair, a warm personality, and a good sense of humor. Unfortunately, she was overweight to the point of obesity.
One day, as we walked to our respective classes, she confided to me that she had a secret desire for serious S&M, the kind involving not just tying up but whipping. The idea intrigued me because I had never tried anything like she described, but her saddlebag hips, large chin, sagging breasts, and a belly that looked six months pregnant discouraged satisfying her fantasy. I kept my mouth shut.
When I returned to school from Christmas break, Jeanne did not. I learned from a mutual friend that she had had financial difficulties and had to drop out. I didn't really give her much thought for the next six months. Then, one day in late June, Jeanne telephoned out of the blue and asked if I'd be on campus for the Fourth of July weekend. I told her I would. She asked me to be in my room Saturday morning. I figured we'd go out to lunch and that would be that. I figured wrong.
At ten o'clock, I heard a knock on my door. When I opened it, a shadow of the former Jeanne stood there. This Jeanne was a fox. She looked like her old image but in the Fun House skinny mirror. I stood staring in shock so long that she said, "How about asking me in?" As soon as she entered, she pressed a package into my hand. "It's around your birthday, right?" she asked. "I got you a little present."
I thought 'The hell with the package. You're the present I want." Instead, I thanked her and told her how fantastic she looked. She glowed as she informed me that she had made up for her boring job as a clerk by remaking herself. She ate right, jogged five miles at a clip, and went to the gym three nights a week. She had lost an astonishing fifty pounds in six months. As she described the process of her transformation, I looked her up and down several times. She wore black three-inch heels, which increased her height to about five-foot ten, skin-tight jeans, and a black unitard under a white half blouse that tied up just under her breasts.
'Why don't you open your present?" Jeanne suggested.
When I did, I found a black leather belt. The reason for her visit became suddenly crystal clear. I was wearing a tee shirt and tennis shorts with nothing underneath, and the bulge in my pants was almost instantaneous. Jeanne looked down at my crotch and smiled. Then she looked straight into my eyes.
"So, you like my new body, huh?"
"Absolutely."
"Do you want to take it for a ride?"
"Absolutely," I said again.
Jeanne shyly put her arms around my waist and offered her mouth for a kiss.
"Ah, no," I said, sternly, as I stepped back. "You have to earn a kiss from me." I dragged my desk chair to the far end of the room and sat on it. In my free hand, I held the belt, dragging it on the floor. "Take off your clothes!" For a moment, Jeanne looked surprised. Then her delight spread across her face as she realized she was about to get the rough treatment that was her fantasy. "Slowly!" I added.
Jeanne did an extended strip tease, untying her blouse and slowly shrugging out of it, then unsnapping her jeans button, drawing down the zipper one tooth at a time. She peeled out of the jeans with much grinding of her hips as she fought out of their tightness. She kicked off her heels to get the jeans all the way down but stepped back into them immediately. This left her in the one-piece black Danskin. It was very clear that she wore nothing underneath it. She did a slow pirouette and when she was halfway around looked over her shoulder at me like Betty Grable in that pin-up photo. I fought to keep my hand off my achingly confined cock. The saddlebags had not only disappeared from her thighs, but taut muscles were now in evidence. Her calves and ankles were extremely shapely, and the high heels made her even more beautiful. Her ass was high and tight. The smallness of her back was accentuated by the size of her breasts. They had been perhaps 40DD and pendulous when she was fat, but now they were a breathtaking 36D. They hardly sagged in her one-piece. As she turned, I could see her nipples straining against the black material, standing out a good third of an inch in her excitement.
"Keep going," I directed, hoarsely.
Jeanne reached for the snaps under her crotch. She let the flaps hang for a moment, then began peeling the unitard upward. I was delighted to note aloud that she had virtually no stretch marks on her hips or breasts. She told me about the miracle of cocoa butter. Her pussy hair looked nearly black and was carefully trimmed so that her cunt lips were prominent. She tossed aside her last piece of clothing and stood before me, breathing rapidly, in just her black heels.
"Can I have the kiss now?" she asked, coquettishly.
I told her yes. She came forward, leaned down, so that her breasts swung toward me, and put her lips on mine. I grabbed her long, brown hair roughly and adjusted her face until I had it where I wanted it. She gasped as I kissed her hard and long. She parted her lips, moaned into my mouth as I explored it with my tongue, and then began purring deep in her throat. I played with her nipples and felt them harden and crinkle. As soon as I broke the kiss, she went down to her knees in front of me and put her hands on my pants. She started to wrestle them off, working against the resistance of the chair. I let her tug and grunt until she had me naked from the waist down. She threw the shorts on the floor and wrapped her lips around my stone-hard cock, which was pointing the way to heaven. I fought to silence the sounds of satisfaction I wanted to make. She was a spirited and inventive cocksucker, and she knew just how to treat it. Her powerful and deep sucking alternated with playful, circling licks. She turned wide, brown eyes up toward my face to judge the effect she was having. Meantime, one of her hands---which had long nails painted pure white---stole up to lightly scratch and fondle my balls.
