These days I find myself attracted mostly to young women, ten, twenty or even thirty years younger than myself and have been lucky to have had several relationships with them.
However, there was a period between eighteen and thirty or so when older women excited me very much. Women ten or twenty years older and even well-groomed and maintained women in their fifties and early sixties conjured up delicious fantasies of fucking with them.
I want to tell you of one incident when my fantasies of screwing with an older woman came true. Mrs A - Daphne - was her name but I'll keep her real surname a secret, for obvious reasons.
I had come to her house to do some plumbing work. It was mid-morning and she greeted me at the door. I had been there before to do other work and since getting her call, my mind had been constructing elaborate erotic fantasies of seducing her - or of her seducing me. She was about ten years older - about forty, with an incredibly long single brown plait that hung to her mid-thighs.I wondered what it would be like undone.
Although she said I could come in wearing my work boots, I took them off before going in, conscious that my cock was starting to twitch nicely in my shorts. That felt good and my heart was beating fast.
She led me into the kitchen and as she moved ahead of me I studied her bottom moving underneath the one piece ankle length dress she wore. I pictured it naked, each voluptuous cheek being cupped and squeezed in my hand.
She pointed to the kitchen sink and the dripping tap and I opened my tool bag to take out the tools necessary to fix the problem.
Standing next to me, she placed her hand gently on my shoulder as she peered in to watch what I was doing.
Ordinarily, I prefer to be left alone to do my work, but I had designs on this woman and if she initiated some moves of her own, then all to the good. It showed me that there may have been a small degree of attraction on her part, but it also meant that getting into her panties may be a lot easier than I'd imagined.
So, when she began caressing my neck, I almost dropped the wrench but recovered enough to begin to enjoy her distractions.
The job done, she moved back to let me stand, and I couldn't help but notice the depth of her exposed cleavage and the size of her nipples as they jutted against the material. Now I knew how much she was aroused. And how I wanted to lick them.
She picked up the electric kettle, filled it and, expecting me to linger to have a coffee, switched it on and busied herself spooning instant coffee into two mugs.
Then, as she was quite short - about 5 feet tall, she dragged a stool over to kneel on so she could reach the top shelf of the cabinet in order to take down a cake tin. I watched, in between putting my tools back into the bag, as she did this and noticed how, with her fingers, she pulled the part of her dress that had become wedged into the cleft of her bottom. Wasn't she wearing panties, I thought? Was that space between her legs so moist that it clung to her dress in that way? And I didn't realise at the time, how much that single action was to feature in my fantasies in the years to come as one of the strongest images of that time with her. I wanted to poke it back in, enabling me to brush her wet pussy with my fingers, letting her know how much I appreciated that unguarded moment with me in her presence.
She ushered me to a chair at the kitchen table where I sat waiting for the coffee and watched her bottom slightly jiggling as she cut a generous slab of rich dark brown fruitcake for me.
Still, her nipples showed and I was sure she knew I could see how prominent they were, as she made the several trips back and forth ferrying, first the cake on a plate, and then the steaming coffee. This woman was showing off her body to me but doing so in such natural and necessary movements.
So, I began a small show of my own. I spread my thighs as I sat, and watched as her eyes traveled south from my eyes to my crotch. I knew my cock was semi-hard and laying crosswise under my shorts. I was fully aware she was taking in the sight of the thick shaft straining and bulging through the material, wanting to be freed from the constraints of my shorts.
Sipping my coffee, I allowed the thumb of one hand to hook into the waistband and the other fingers to drum on my concealed log. I felt sure she got my message because she licked her lips as she watched, almost mesmerised by the promise concealed there.
"Yes darling," I thought. "It's all yours - if you want it. And I know you want it," I smiled, a wickedly innocent smile. She smiled back.
So, we sat, chatting. I was throwing out subtle and not so subtle double entendres, and we seemed to be enjoying ourselves. Meanwhile, I was plotting a way to advance the situation.
My chance came when she took the empty cup and plate away and stood at the sink to rinse them. I rose and moved to stand behind her, looking out her kitchen window at the street and the neighbours' houses, very close nearby.
"Don't you worry about your neighbours knowing you are having a man in your house for such a long time?" I asked.
"No, not at all. I don't care about them. They can think what they want. Do you want to go?" she answered.
"No, well I'm certainly not in a hurry to go. I do have a job later in the day. So, if you want some company, I can stay awhile," I replied.
"Good!" she said, and smiled.
I decided to throw caution to the wind and I pressed my bulging hardon into the cleft of her bottom and she immediately pushed back, unleashing small moans of delight from the both of us.
