Time certainly passes exceedingly faster than our perception of actual days and months. Has it in reality been almost a year since I have recounted a new adventure? These fleeting months have been a time of voluminous changes. first-hand exhilaration. and unexpected associations.
Where shall I begin?
Well, I suspect at the beginning would seemingly be the precise point.
Let me take you into my world with a simple recounting of who I am. My name is Layla. I was introduced to the mystery and pleasure of older men in the tender innocent awakening of my sexual consciousness.
If you have read my stories you're well aware of my journey. My initial immersion into the world of passion and pleasure was by the hands of a loving man of a proportionate difference in age. To say that he shaped my yearning would perhaps be an understatement of fact. I was fashioned in the image of his longing and my own yet unfamiliar hunger and desire.
My initial experience with an older man was clearly an awakening. The fact that he was some sixty plus years my senior could have been just a mere coincidence of circumstance. Looking back, I realize he was my educator. You may wonder how I might accustom his attentions as those of a professor, teacher and tutor? Simply, he was all of these things to me and so very much more.
Much like your own experience in tasting a new delicacy, you are immediately convinced of its deliciousness. You know without hesitation the flavor is one you want to delight in over and over. Conversely, it could be an essence you would certainly be unlikely to cultivate or savor. This was not the case for me, the more I distinguished the attentions and pleasures of an older man the more of them I desired.
There is a tenderness in the mind and hands of an older man that escapes the comprehension of younger men. Perhaps it's experience or gratitude. The man who has lived a long life learns to appreciate and relish a woman.
Just a few days ago I received a sweet e-mail from a 76-year-old reader. He told me of his pleasure in reading my tales and how his personal steadfast motto was "the woman always cums first", quite proud of his diligence I have no doubt.
I've often been told, unequivocally agree, that imagination is the secret to a satisfying sexual experience. An older man has had years to cultivate this ability and I suspect has an infinite pool of fantasy to delve into and call to mind at the most applicable moments.
To tell you that I receive a myriad of charming, heartfelt words of appreciation and encouragement from countless older men is at the very least wonderfully reassuring and allows me to recount my experiences with you in the very best of my intention.
My level of confidence in what I have to share with you convinces me that I will, without a single reservation, bring you many moving moments of pleasure. It pleases me that you sense the warmth and desire that I feel and you can allow your imagination to join with my words creating deep desire that will hopefully lead to delightful fulfillment.
This is without question my most treasured time of year. I undeniably love the holidays and all the sweet moments that come with them. The promise of a jolly Santa climbing down a warm chimney fills the minds of every heart.
In the spirit of the season I offer you a story that will certainly bring a smile to your heart and absolutely peek your desire.
The northeastern corner of our country provides quite honestly the picture-perfect winter backdrop to the Christmas season.
The snow falls across the farmlands, beautiful lady winter, in all her magnificence, softly sings a lullaby carried on the wings of snowflakes.
Although her song is sweet and melodic, she sings quietly while covering the ground in a sparkling blanket of white leaving cold and ice as she moves through her dynasty.
In my little town there is a richness of older gentlemen. A shiny candy dish of sweets that are forever tempting me to indulge.
There's a local market that's accessible by a country bus service provided by the town. Many of the older folks no longer drive so it's a much needed and appreciated amenity.
I've often wondered how these elderly gentlemen manage to trudge through the snow with arms full of necessities. I suppose after so many years of responsibility in the last pages of the stories of their lives they are often left alone and have no choice but to care for themselves.
There was a late morning snow storm that left many waiting patiently for the bus to arrive. One particular gentleman whom I'd seen many times was sitting quietly in the bus shelter, shivering noticeably. We'd stood in the checkout line many times and exchanged pleasantries so I knew his name was Martin. How could I not offer him a ride?
I pulled up to the shelter and rolled down the passenger side window.
"Good morning Martin how are you?"
I saw the familiar broad smile and was now convinced that I'd made the right decision.
"Good morning Layla, a hell of a day huh?" The questioning in his words was more a statement.
"How long have you been sitting here?"
"About half an hour, the 10:25 is already almost 30 minutes late. I think the snow has put everyone behind schedule today. I waited for the bus this morning almost 40 minutes before it finally showed up. I wasn't going to come down but I needed a few things so decided to take the chance. I hope it gets here quick, I'm freezing."
It was certainly obvious that he was cold and more than ready to get out of the weather.
"Listen Martin, why don't you let me give you a ride home. I know you live down in Spotswood, it's not that far and I'm headed home anyway so it's on my way."
The truth was I wasn't headed home but it really wasn't out of my way and I couldn't in good conscience not make the offer.
"Jesus, you're a sweet lady Layla. I sure would appreciate you riding me home and getting me out of this cold. I'll accept on one condition; that you come on in and at least let me make you a cup of coffee and let you warm up a little before you head on out again?"
I smiled and shook my head in dissent. The last ting I wanted was a cup of coffee. I wanted to get him home and myself as well.
"Thanks Martin but I don't drink coffee and besides I'm pretty warm here in the car. Come on, just get in and let's be on our way, I'll have you home in fifteen minutes."
Watching him getting to his feet reassured me once more that leaving him there would have been a grave injustice. Martin gathered his packages and held on to the rail so he could get his feet under him. I had no idea just how old of a man he actually was, I knew he was in his seventies. I watched as he barely got to his feet bags in hand trying to get sure footing. Moving slowly, he was breathing deeply from the obvious strain it was taking to get up on his legs.
"These damn old legs aren't what they used to be, I'll be glad to get out of here."
I realized he probably needed a hand to the car so I put it in park and got out. I walked around to him and grabbed his arm to give him a steady hand to hold on to. Martin wasn't a very tall man, however, he was clearly pretty stocky. I had all I could do to hold onto him and make sure he didn't pull us both down into the snow that was now incredibly fast accumulating.
"Hell Layla, I don't want you to fall down!"
