[Having enjoyed the aggressive attentions of her step-daughter's boyfriend, Miranda accompanies her husband and step-daughters to the airport for a flight to Mexico. There, she catches the eye of another, even more attentive, man.]
We arrived at the airport, checked our luggage, and went straight to the gate. We found a row of empty padded seats; my husband disappeared behind his newspaper while the girls went window shopping at the retail stores down the corridor. I sat and pretended to read a novel, the thrill of Jake still jangling on my nerves. Here I was, a married woman and respectable step-parent, 35 years old and to all appearances a modest, upstanding member of my community. So when I caught the handsome older man seated across from me staring at my breasts in their halter top, my slim waist and long bare legs, why did I shift my weight slightly, uncross my legs, and slowly open my thighs to offer him a glimpse of my pantied mound? Our eyes locked briefly, then his gaze returned to my pussy, a wolfish smile playing about his lips. I spread a little wider and enjoyed his attentions.
Why? I guess I have always enjoyed older men, enjoyed the pleasure they take from looking at my body. When I was quite young I had a long physical relationship with a man twice my age. He ran a day camp I had attended for years, and my last summer as a camper we found ourselves briefly alone in the basement of an old church assembling a box lunch for a field trip to the zoo. I didn't know much about sexual attraction then, only that he often looked at me when it wasn't exactly necessary, his eyes lingering on my developing breasts, my hard flat belly, and the rounded swell of my ass in my khaki shorts. I liked him looking at me, and made sure I was never out of his sight for long.
That morning we worked side my side, slathering peanut butter on white bread and stacking the finished sandwiches on a sheet of paper towel. First our hands touched, then our shoulders, then his big strong hands were on me, on my waist and hip and ass, gentle, probing, a slow progression that I could have stopped at any time, no harm, no foul
But I didn't stop him. His arm encircled me, his other hand closing over my hard young breast. I looked up into his eyes and he smiled: I was all his, and he knew it.
The next spring he hired me as a counselor, and I visited him at his home for training. I never did learn much about being a counselor, but over the next few months he taught me a great deal about how to be a woman. He taught me how to kiss, to nibble his lips, nuzzle his neck, and then open my mouth wide to accept his thick wet tongue. He taught me how to offer my breasts to his hands and mouth, how to stand so that he had free access to my hips and ass and thighs. I learned how to tease his penis to attention with my fingertips, how to take his cock in my small warm mouth and swirl my tongue on it until it was almost too swollen to suck. In return, he kissed and licked me, spreading me on his desk and pushing tongue and fingers deeper and deeper into my pussy, stretching me, making me a suitable receptacle. In time, he mounted me - slowly, gently, and showed me how to submit to the second most important physical surrender a woman can commit for her man.
All the while he was teaching me about my own body - its pleasure centers, its functions, and its appeal to men - and how his masculine strength completed it. Was he teaching me something new, or simply confirming something I already instinctively understood - that my body was for male pleasure and, if I learned to offer it with skill and passion, I was fulfilling my truest calling as a woman? Frankly, I didn't care. I belonged to him, and whether kneeling between his thighs to offer him my mouth, or bent over the arm of his sofa while he slowly, powerfully used every corner of my tight hot cunt, I felt a joy that was far more than merely physical. In those moments, he would whisper to me, telling me I was his best girl, his little slut, his dirty fuck toy - and I could hear in his voice a fierce pleasure and pride that, by themselves, were all the reward I'd ever need.
