If you read the story "I Put On A Cock" on Literotica (which I highly recommend, if nothing else for background, but also for stroking purposes) I'm Liz, the protagonist of that story. Since asking you to go read it now is a little inconvenient if you're sitting there with something long, hot and fleshy in your hand, or something wet, slippery and pulsing – or even anticipating that - I'll go ahead and fill in some details.
I'm a mature woman. My son is 25 – and you can estimate from there. No exact numbers will be forthcoming. I've just stopped coloring my hair, so a layer of silver is emerging at the roots. The opposite of when I went blonde and let the dark roots grow out, I guess. As for my body, well, I've got everything you'd expect, in larger quantities than I had when I had my son, frankly. My girls are now definitely more than a handful. When my nipples get hard, they really are like headlights – ¾ of an inch long and thicker than a pencil. I have some belly flab and cellulite, and if you grab my waist you'll get a bit of fatty tissue as well. I've gone hairless from the neck down, and I'm happy to say that my pussy looks like it did 26 years ago – before an eight pound stud-to-be came out of it.
My ex was fifteen years younger than I was, and I did everything he asked in bed, thinking that would keep him happy and around. I got good at deep throat. I enjoyed anal although it was nothing special. But I never came while he fucked me – only when I brought myself off. It wasn't until after we divorced and he was out of the picture and I made some tentative efforts to get laid again that I realized it might have had more to do with his lack of size and his lack of stamina than some failing on my part. He was five inches hard, and came quickly. And, of course, since I was raised thinking that anything that didn't work in life was because I was flawed, it never occurred to me that the issue was him.
What started in a seminar on Sex and Relations has since led to some amazing adventures. One member of my small group told me he wrote things on Literotica. After about 30 seconds of nodding, only to cough up that I didn't have a clue about what he was saying, he restated his point.
"I'm a dirty old man with a twisted mind; I've had some real life adventures that are out of the ordinary, and so I write pornographic stories and publish them on www.literotica.com. I've written under a pseudonym and never shared that with anyone before, since I'm not sure how the people who know me would react to my stories. You'll be the first person who actually knows me that knows it."
I didn't think much of it at the time. But some time after the seminar ended, on a rainy Saturday afternoon, I went to read his work. Holy shit! First off, I had to wonder how he could manage to write first person stories from both the male and female viewpoints. But even more telling – his stories almost all turned me on! I knew he wrote to do just that – he called them strokers – but I thought I was immune to that.
Turns out that I was completely wrong. Before I finished the first page of the first one of his I read, my hand was buried down the front of my pants and my fingers were slick with my juices. Eventually I came, with a couple of fingers inside me searching for my g-spot and my thumb rubbing hard and deep on my clit. After letting the waves of pleasure wash over me from head to toe and return to my cunt, I managed to finish the story. And, in case you're wondering, it was a story about a woman who sought out the biggest cocks, and yes, I was caught up imagining being impaled on a hot, thick hard flesh rod and pounded incessantly.
After that revelation, I moved from my couch, not wanting to get it wet, into my bedroom where I had what I needed to deal with moisture. In addition, I had all those "products designed for personal pleasure" that I'd managed to accumulate, use and enjoy. Of course, I then had to get dressed and head out to buy batteries, since nothing was vibrating, wiggling or otherwise responding. All I did was throw on a dress and some sandals. I mean, why bound up the girls for a fifteen-minute errand? And if my nipples did react, well, so fucking what? Let them! And as for panties, well, who was going to know, right?
The guy behind the cash register at the dollar store certainly noticed. His eyes fastened on my tits and stayed there. I felt my nipples get even harder as he stared, and I subtly arched my back. I liked the effect I was having on him! So much so that my cunt got moist again. So he's staring at my nipples, I'm appreciating how it turned me on, and eventually a young woman interceded by actually ringing up my order because he was frozen in place.
"Charley, is there a problem? Oh, my! Damn, dear, did you know your headlights are on?" she asked as she slowly placed each of the four dollar bills of change on my hand, one at a time. Her touch was electric as she did it. She held her hand under mine and stroked the back of my hand while her fingers brushed over my palm as she gave me my change. "I think I know how to resolve that issue for you, if you'd like. Why don't you let me help you?"
I don't know what I was thinking, but soon she led me by the hand to the back of the store. We entered into a small office with a swivel chair and a desk, and she locked the door behind her. She guided me into that chair, spun it to face her, sank to her knees and spread my legs in front of her. I felt like I was watching someone else as this happened.
Her hands caressed the top of my thighs as she worked them up underneath the hem of the dress and towards my crotch. I noticed that my pussy was wetter than ever; I wondered if she was going to eat me – hell, I was hoping she was going to eat me. I spread my legs wider, and then put them over her shoulders, drawing her into me. Her head disappeared under my dress and then I felt a warm, wet touch outside my outer lips. Her tongue was sampling the less sensitive – but still aware – flesh outside my pussy. I wanted to grab her head and smash it into my crotch, but then again, she had started this. I was hers to command. Suddenly her hands were on my boobs, and she had fastened her fingers around both nipples. When she squeezed and twisted them I couldn't help moaning from the sensations.
"Wait" I said. "Back off and let me take this dress off." She leaned back and I managed to get to my feet long enough to shrug off the dress. I was nervous until I looked down to see her eyes focused on my slit, her mouth open and her tongue sticking out.
"I'm not promising to reciprocate. Just so you know" I said.
"Not necessary at all. Sit back down and spread your legs wide, babe." I sat and once again lifted my thighs onto her shoulders. Her hands once again found my nipples and began an exquisite torture, squeezing and pulling and twisting them. My chest was on fire and I was gushing liquid like a hose. And then she fastened her mouth to my clit and began to massage it with her tongue. I was in heaven! The sensations were wonderful and I tilted my pelvis trying to get more into her mouth. One hand remained on a boob and I felt the other rubbing through the outer lips and working itself into my hole. Then she did something with her fingers and found a place most men never know about...
It happened fast and wondrously – I not only began to come, but for the first time I found myself squirting liquid from somewhere, drenching her face and taking me to another world. I may even have blacked out for a bit due to the intensity of it! When I came to it took a moment to get my bearings. I was naked, on a chair in a back room of my local dollar store, and between my legs, wearing a big, shit-eating grin was someone who I now realized was the store manager. Her face was wet. Her t-shirt was drenched with my come.
"Ready for round two?" she said, looking up from my crotch. "It's pretty clear you've been suffering from a lack of personal attention, and in my book that ain't right."
"Well, that is the most extraordinary customer service ever!" I said. "I'm Liz. I don't think I ever got your name, did I?"
"If you read my name tag you did, but I never introduced myself – I had to get you back here before old numb-nuts at the register got us into trouble for sexually harassing a customer. Out there, there would have been witnesses. Back here, however, it's just us chickens. Well, this chicken and your very wet pussy." She grinned again. "Any way, I'm Shirley. I'm the manager. And I've been looking for someone like you for a while."
"Pleased to meet you, Shirley. But what do you mean, someone like me?" I asked,
"Oh, an older woman who dared to be herself and would appreciate what I have to offer."
"Well, I'm all of that. But like I said, I'm not ready to return the favor right now. I'll certainly consider it, and if it's all the same to you, I think I better get dressed. Look, I loved what you did to me. I could do that all day, every day if I didn't think it was unfair to leave you untouched. And I'm not sure I want to head towards the island of Lesbos. But 'm certainly going to think hard about it, though. Is that okay?"
"Fuck yeah. Take your time deciding. Meantime, I'm more than happy to just repeat our little adventure any time. I get off making women come. I don't need reciprocity; if I get super horny I have fingers and toys of my own. So you can come back and come any time without worrying. But I get your point – you worry about other people, and that might make it less pleasurable for you. Take your time. Think it over. You know where to find me." She got up from the floor, took me in her arms and kissed me deeply with my taste still on her mouth. Not bad, I thought. I just might "return the favor" if the mood is right.
So I left the dollar store an hour after arriving, carrying a heavy bag of batteries and smiling from ear to ear. I was afire and alive with the aftermath of my orgasm. I wasn't altogether telling Shirley the complete truth. It wasn't as if I was lying even if I did make it sound like maybe I had no interest in learning to return the favor. I'd had my share of adventures in the past. Mostly in college – like anyone else. There had been that blonde senior in my freshman year; we spent a long weekend in bed and it wasn't one way. I found that thinking about how I wanted my pussy adored gave me great insight into pleasing her. And of course, she returned the favor. As did I – like I said, it was a full weekend!
When I was a sophomore, there was that Christmas vacation when I stayed at school. And so did a few other women in our dorm. Christmas eve turned into a group sleep over, which, as the wine flowed, became more and more interesting. I won in the biggest nipple category, and tied in the multi-orgasm contents. I used my lips, my tongue and my fingers and brought Christine J, a skinny brunette from Tampa, to a series of orgasms that had her shrieking and the rest of the group cheering. Look – I was away from home, I fancied myself an adult, and followed my impulses. So I wasn't a shy, virginal older woman – I was just reserving my options with a relative stranger.
