Writer's Note: This is a story for adults over eighteen years of age about adults over eighteen years of age. While the story line is true, the dialog has been compressed for the sake of time and space. Safe sex was not an issue in the early seventies but should be a concern for everyone today.
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When I was young, I used to think that my ability to meet women was just pure, dumb luck. I wasn't a lady's man, I sure wasn't a Romeo, and I certainly wasn't rich, handsome, or suave. However, I was able to meet some extraordinary women who were more than happy to teach a young man about the facts of life. Most were older women; some were married, some divorced, and some were widowed. Most of them were attractive, shapely, and fit; a few may not have been award winners, but they were all shapely, fit, and had all original equipment.
Why older women? Well, I lost my cherry to my best friend's step-mother, a former nurse, who was twice my age. After that I was completely hooked on older women even though I didn't hesitate to spread my pollen among the willing young co-eds in my high school class; they seemed to like the skills I had learned from older, more experienced women
There are many other reasons I choose older women over the younger ones. Older women weren't interested in going steady, getting married, or having children; I had things to do in my life and I did not want to get married or have kids. Older women are past their fertile years so you don't have to worry about using birth control or "that time of the month." About the only drama, you have to deal with older women is occasionally you may have to listen to a married woman tell you about how her husband had done her wrong to justify why she is going to screw your eyes out. When an older woman invites a younger man to her home, you can bet she wants to get laid.
Of course, my luck with women could have just been a sign of the times. The sixties and seventies were times of change. Flower children, burning bras, free love were all the rage and older women who had spent their younger lives as housewives and mothers wanted to break loose and try some of those really fun things they were reading in women's magazines. In Cosmopolitan magazine, Helen Gurley Brown was telling modern women it was okay to give blowjobs, have orgasms, and experiment with their bi-side. I remember taking my date, a fifty-six-year-old widow, to the movie at a nice theater in Tampa. The theater was packed with ordinary couples and singles eating popcorn while watching Linda Lovelace deep throat a large cock.
Whatever the reason for my luck with women, I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I accepted my fate and had a ready smile and a very southern, "Howdy, Ma'am, I hope you are having a wonderful day," ready for every attractive, older woman who passed my way. Cora was one of those women. She was a widow and a retired teacher, but she was much more than that. She was an energetic, bubbly, attractive woman in her late fifties who could light up a room with her smile; she also had a glint in her eyes that suggested she might be open to an adventure with the right man.
I first met Cora at the high school where I was about to begin my teaching career; I was just twenty-four. I was heading to the cafeteria for a special luncheon to welcome teachers back to school and to recognize recently retired teachers. Going up the steps ahead of me was a tall, slender woman in a fitted, navy, blue dress that hugged her curves like a glove and slit in the back to allow for a longer gait; the slit also gave me the opportunity to see more of her shapely, stocking encased legs. I was immediately mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the undulations of the round cheeks of her beautiful, girdle encased bottom. I judged her to be about five-feet-seven, a hundred and fifteen pounds; probably a size six.
When we reached the top, she turned to see who was behind her. She smiled when she saw me divert my eyes from her behind to her pretty smile.
"Good morning. I haven't seen you before; you must be one of the new teachers."
I extended my hand, "Yes Ma'am, I'm Will; this is my first year teaching."
"My goodness, teachers are either getting younger or I'm getting older," she said.
I quickly replied, "It has to be that we are getting younger because you cannot be getting older as pretty as you are."
She smiled, patted my back, and thanked me; we began looking for a place to sit in the already crowded cafeteria.
"Looks like we got here a bit late," I said as I looked around for some open seats. "There's a table if you would care to join me."
"I would love to have lunch with a handsome young man that tells such outrageous lies," she stated with a coy smile.
As we were served by the cafeteria workers several teachers stopped by to chat with Cora. She and I talked about a myriad of topics; we found out that I would be teaching the same History courses that she had taught and in the same room where she had taught. Two other interesting pieces of information came out: one, I was single and unattached and two, Cora was widowed and unattached. Given the probably thirty years difference in our ages, we both seemed to delight in knowing that information.
One of the assistant principals stopped by to greet Cora; as he left, he looked at me and said with a big smile, "If you are ever invited to try one of Cora's pies, jump at the opportunity."
Cora seemed aggravated by the comment and shot him one of those dagger looks then said to me, "I have been baking pies for the county fair and the school bake sale for years; I'm well known for my pies."
"Then I'll have to make sure I get one the next time you bake; I love pie."
"Apples are in season now, how about if I bake an apple pie and you stop by tomorrow morning for a slice of pie and a cup of coffee with me?"
I'm certain I must have grinned from to ear at her invitation, "Cora, your pretty smile is more than enough to tempt me to stop by and have coffee with you, but a slice of your homemade apple pie would certainly be an added treat."
"My goodness, an old woman doesn't get many compliments like that from young men. I appreciate it more than you know, but be careful, they could get you into trouble."
"You are far from being an old woman; so don't let me hear that again," I scolded.
Cora patted my hand and thanked me again for the compliment. I have always loved older women; a mature, fully ripened woman at the peak of her beauty is a sight to behold. Her full, rounded form adds a new dimension to the term, beautiful.
I left school about four o'clock to rush over to the Madison's house to mow their lawn; hopefully, I could get the job done before Mr. Madison got home. Kate, Mrs. Madison, loved a to playing around when Mr. Madison wasn't home and I was in a playful mood thinking about having "pie" with foxy Cora the next morning. As luck would have it, I didn't get finished in time. I was loading up my mower and other tools Mr. Madison walked around checking out my work and drinking a beer.
