An Older Woman Pt 01 02

This is an account of a lesbian affair between a young girl just turned 18, and a middle aged woman. It is more of a love story than just about the sex, and is based on something that happened to me recently. Only the names have been changed (to protect the guilty), and a few of the details of course, and maybe the locations, and... and... (you get the picture?).

Anyway, as with most of my stories, there is quite a lot of 'scene setting' taking place before any real action occurs. For those who want to get 'straight to the action' you could probably skip this first section (Parts 1 & 2) and move straight to Part 3, but I hope you will read it, as I think the final reward should be worth the journey.

NB: The first two parts (covering the first two logical episodes in the story), are both quite brief, and for this reason I have combined them into this one 'chapter'. These only describe preliminary events leading up to the main story, and account for less than a quarter of the entire work. Part 3 (the main story), is well over 8300 words and is (for now) the final episode. However, I may decide to expand this further. Please let me know if you'd like more.

Words: 2554.

....................

An Older Woman:

Part 01 - Lust at First Sight:

I first met Barbara at a wedding reception a couple of months ago. She was a friend of my mam's, and the mother of the bride. Mam had been invited because she and Barbara worked together, and although they weren't exactly best friends, they supported each other closely in what my mam always said was 'a very difficult working environment'. My step-dad was invited as mam's 'significant other' and I was included just because I think they felt they couldn't have my mam and dad there without asking me too.

Barbara was tall, honey blonde and slim. She looked to be in her mid to late 30s; classy and gorgeous, but talking to my mam afterwards I gather she was closer to 45 or 50. However old she was though, it didn't show on her. She had lovely clear, creamy skin that was unspoiled by loads of make-up, the way a lot of older women often go.

Her face was quite round and she had the most beautiful deep blue eyes; 'deep pools of love', I remember thinking, 'that an impressionable young girl like me could easily get lost in', a small button-nose, and her lips were quite thin but also pronounced (pouting slightly, a little like Kirsten Dunst), giving her a slightly puckered appearance, as if she was ready to kiss anyone who came close enough, and I so wished that it could be me. Her hair was beautifully coiffured into one of those lovely round styles, 'obviously styled for the occasion', or so I thought; shaped around the face, cut low at the chin and high around the back to show off her beautiful slender neck.

She wore a sleeveless wrap-around dress, displaying a discrete amount of cleavage, and as she raised her arms I could see the flesh of her body. I think I was staring but she smiled at me. I have to admit I found her exciting. Each time she turned her head the tendons on her neck would pull up into delicious little ridges and sometimes a vein would stand out, and I just wanted to kiss it. I imagined myself sitting on her lap, just the two of us, somewhere quiet, resting my head on her shoulder and having her play with me.

I was besotted.

I was seated in a corner of the dining hall next to my folks, and I felt myself getting tingly and wet down there. I suppose I instinctively began to squeeze my knees together. I looked around to check that no one else could see before putting my hand under the table, and I began touching myself. I must have looked quite flushed because Barbara stopped and asked if I was alright. I said I was fine, but in truth there was only one thing that would have made me feel right just then, and that would be to have her tongue between my legs.

I began thinking, 'If only I could find an opportunity to meet her somewhere away from all these people. If I could just be alone with her, perhaps I might be able to seduce her'. Surely it couldn't be just my imagination that she seemed interested in me too, and if that was true it wouldn't take much to get her to put an arm around me. 'If I could look up into those beautiful eyes and show her that I yearn to be kissed', I thought, 'I feel sure that would do it'.

Telling this story now, you must think me an insatiable little lesbian nymphomaniac. Perhaps I am, but I can't help myself. When I see a sexy looking woman I just want to open up to her, and have her do anything she wants with me.

Anyway, that's as far as it went on that occasion. I spent the whole evening thinking how lovely it would be to just lie in her arms. I began to imagine all sorts of situations that could lead to sex between us; sitting on the sofa together with her arm around me while we watched a lesbian romance movie, playing a game of tennis and sharing a shower afterwards, taking a gentle stroll through the woods with the bright rays of the sun streaming through the trees, making us warm and horny.

Each time I looked at her I just wanted to reach down inside my panties and frigg myself. No... that's not quite true... I wanted her to do it, but sadly that wasn't to be. I went home disappointed; glad that I had met her, but sad because nothing more had come of it.

I couldn't wait for bedtime.

Most nights I wear a flannelette nightie or pyjamas to bed but that night I went naked. I have beautiful smooth, silky sheets and believe me, you don't have to move around much with bedding like that before you start to appreciate your own sensuality. That night I just lay there on my back and closed my eyes, thinking of Barbara. Each time I moved I imagined her hands on me or her body moving against mine. I took my favourite toy to bed, inserted it deep and set it on slow, the tip gyrating inside me as my hands did the work that I would have loved for Barbara to have done for me.

I stroked myself gently all over; my face, my neck, my arms, my shoulders, up and down the sides of my body, stroking and caressing myself, my hips, my thighs; everywhere I could reach, while all the time my toy was wriggling around inside me like the insatiable greedy tongue of my imaginary lover. The fingertips of one hand played with my ultra-sensitive, hard little nipples while the other stroked up the inside of my thigh, caressing all around the juicy wet orifice that was so deliciously filled with my toy, and I began to rub that wonderful stiff little knub that never failed to give me so much pleasure.

I hugged myself, and writhed around, imagining Barbara's lips and her tongue, exploring my naked flesh. I so dearly wished it could have been her fingers playing with me, her tongue inside me, her arms around me, but I had to frigg myself to sleep alone that night, as was so often my lot. Don't get me wrong; I have quite a few girlfriends, and I often have an evening of all-girl fun with one or several of them, but I usually spend the night at home at my parents house, and... well a girl like me has to have some sexual distraction before I can get to sleep properly.

When I awoke the next morning I was still feeling horny. The toy was still nestled deep inside me. The battery was dead of course, but as I turned in my silky smooth bed I could feel it move inside and it began to excite me all over again. I crossed my legs and folded them beneath me, gripping the end of the toy with my heels.

Now I could move it slightly as I played, my hips gyrating while my fingertips did their sensual work all over my body once again, concentrating on my nipples as I teased and excited myself. It was over half an hour before I finally dragged my insatiable body out of bed, having brought myself off to another deliciously exhausting climax... oh what a beautiful way to come awake though.

All of the next few days, I could hardly think of anything else. Each time I saw anyone who looked remotely like Barbara my eyes would follow, hoping it was her, so that I could run up and say 'Hello'. It never was though... just my wishful thinking playing cruel games with me.

Then a few days later, Barbara and her husband Jamie called to visit, out of the blue. I had hardly noticed Jamie at the wedding, and it was to be some considerable time before I would learn precisely why it was that they called that night. Right then though, I didn't really care. I was just thrilled that I had seen Barbara again, even though I tried not to show it. But despite my best efforts at being nonchalant, I know I made a pretty poor job of hiding my excitement. The truth is, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

While they were there, Barbara asked what I was doing at Uni, and I began telling her about my English course. You can imagine how surprised I was when she told me she had done a BA, Honours course herself (the very same course I was now on), and she kindly offered me some help. I was so thrilled. It was just the opportunity that I had been hoping for. Before they left Barbara had invited me for tea at her house the following Tuesday. I almost wet myself with excitement.

An Older Woman: Part 02

First Time Unlucky:

I arrived promptly for my 'meeting' with Barbara on the Tuesday, but nothing much happened. She met me at the door with a kiss on the cheek, telling me that Jamie (her husband) was out at work. Apparently he worked in the city (just over an hour away by train), and he often worked late on a Tuesday. When that happened he usually stayed over until the next day so she wasn't expecting him home. The more she told me, the more anticipative I became.

I had tied my hair in bunches and I was wearing a pair of tight elasticated jeans and a tight top that just showed the dark of my nipples. As we were talking I kept pushing my shoulders back and my chest out to catch her attention, and I feel sure I sensed her looking a few times, but if she did it was very discreet. Barbara was wearing a tight red dress that hugged her figure bewitchingly and showed the occasional tantalising glimpse of cleavage, but no bare underarm this time.

I had borrowed some of my mam's perfume - Anais Anais by Casharel - in the hope that she would think me a bit more sophisticated, but from the way things went it was clear that my plan wasn't working too well. I had perched myself on the edge of the sofa, expectantly hoping that she would sit beside me, but she took a separate chair away from me; that was so disappointing.

We sat and talked for a while and she asked how I was enjoying the course. I said it was good but I was finding it hard going in places. She asked what I thought she could do to help me. I said I would be grateful for any advice or guidance she could offer, as she had done the course before me.

"Well, it was quite a few years ago..." she laughed, "but I shouldn't think the principles have changed much since then."

I showed her some of my work and she came to sit beside me. My pulse quickened and I began to think 'this is it', but she didn't do anything. She said she thought my work was quite good (she said very good, but I'm sure she was just being polite). A few times I looked up into her eyes and gave her an inviting smile. I even tried an alluring pout and fluttered my eyelids, but she didn't pick up on any of it. I quickly came to the reluctant conclusion that seducing an older woman wasn't going to be that easy after all.

After about an hour of trying to look 'available' and apparently failing miserably, I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. To look at me now, she would have to look at my pert little boobies, but she even avoided that. She just asked if I was tired. I said I'd had a few late nights. She said maybe I should go home and get some sleep. That was so upsetting. I'd hoped at the very least she would take me upstairs 'for a lie down' (naive of me I suppose).

I must have looked so sad as I gathered my books to leave. She looked sympathetic and asked if I was alright. I said I was - I could hardly tell her that the only reason I'd come there in the first place was that I wanted her to fuck me, could I. As we got to the door I asked if I could visit again. "Of course you can my love..." she told me with a smile and I felt myself smile back weakly, "but maybe next time you should get some sleep the night before?" she added with a laugh.

I felt she was mocking me. I was deflated. Even so, I scribbled my phone number on the corner of a blank piece of paper and tore it out of my book, asking her to call me if she had some free time again. I remember thinking at the time 'That's wishful thinking'.

On the doorstep I turned to say goodbye, and as she reached down to give me a platonic peck on the cheek, I turned my head at the last moment and wangled an 'accidental' kiss on the lips instead. She looked a bit sheepish but she took it, and I demonstrated my feigned embarrassment with "Oh, I'm sorry," and one of my well-practiced 'coy' smiles.

Looking back, I wondered if perhaps she was as nervous about the whole thing as I had been? After all, she was a married woman (and happily married as far as I was aware) and I had no reason, other than a few longful thoughts, arising from what could have been easily misinterpreted glances, to believe that she might be attracted to me.

Sad and dejected, I walked home; dawdled more like. I remember thinking 'I've blown it. I've ruined my chance'. I was close to tears, wondering what it was that I could have done wrong, 'but at least she has my phone number now', I thought hopefully, 'so I'll just have to see what happens. I'll just sit it out and wait to see if I get invited again'.

That night I frigged myself to sleep again, but this time it wasn't a happy, hopeful, imaginative interlude. It was the deflated actions of a sad, lonely child, desperately trying to console herself in her hopeless, loveless world. That was thoroughly stupid of course. If anyone in the world had reason to feel unloved, it should never have been me. I could so easily have gone to see my best friend and 'nearly' live-in lover Jane, or any of our other girlfriends for that matter.

Jane would have surely been only too happy to fuck me until I was gasping for air, but I wasn't thinking about Jane. It wasn't Jane that I wanted; not at that particular moment anyway. What I wanted was a certain elegant middle-aged woman who I had become infatuated with; who I thought I was in love with.

... To be continued ...