A Very Promiscuous and Horny Widow 01
Author's note: thanks, as always, to kenjisato. As with all of my stories, this is British with a very hairy pussy. I seem to like writing about mature women with a high sex drive, so here is another one.
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My name is Patricia--Pat, for short. I'm a 60-year-old, curvy-and-chubby, five-foot-seven-inch tall, mousy blonde with big tits--and a ridiculously hairy cunt. I'm ten years a widow. This is the story of the last decade of extreme horniness, and fucking anything over 18 years old, in trousers, leggings, skirt, etc. I've loved every minute of it, and hopefully, it will leave you wet or hard!
My husband and I had a great marriage. We lived all our married life in Penzance in Cornwall, where we raised three children. Our sex life was great, and we did it in lots of different positions--but never strayed away, and never did it with anyone else. Swinging wasn't the scene in Penzance. But from all my conversations with my female friends, our pleasure lasted a lot longer than all--bar one--of our couple friends.
I think that was partly to do with my hubby having the snip at 30, and me having female issues, which meant I couldn't conceive and would not have to go through menopause--so even as we got older, my sex drive didn't diminish. In fact, the night of my fiftieth birthday, we fucked for three hours in the living room, the kitchen, and our bedroom.
The next day, my husband was killed in a car accident--not his fault; some bastard, still drunk from the night before, hit him head on. The bastard died as well, but that didn't stop me hating him.
I was totally shattered. My children and sister were great, but it took me a year to begin to feel anything like carrying on.
As I did, my sex drive seemed to return. One night, I started to think about and remember our love and lovemaking, and before I knew it, I was touching myself. To my shock, I was wet and my clit was hard. I came quickly. We had often watched each other cum, so playing with myself was nothing unusual.
The next morning, I woke up randy again, and had another cum. Then, I started feeling guilty. I talked about it with Rachel, the one friend whose sex life had stayed as good as ours. She reassured me that it was great that I could feel something again, and to remember my husband. She also ventured that sex with someone else, might also be good just to remind me of how much I enjoyed it with my husband. I thought that was going a bit too far, but I took her advice to start watching and reading porn. That was something we had not done.
It turned out to be a revelation. Just minutes into my first film, one with a woman with a very hairy cunt being fucked by a young man, I had cum from my hand down my knickers. From then on, I watched it naked. I got a large-screen TV installed in my bedroom, and spent hours bringing myself off to films.
I soon wanted more than my fingers. I told Rachel, and she showed me her toys; there were vibrators galore. I was a bit embarrassed, but after trying one she loaned me, I was hooked. She took me to Anne Summers and I brought three different kinds.
What interested me was the porn I was watching. I started out for some reason, watching older chubby women with hairy pussies--like me--with younger men. Then I saw a film with two women and a man, where the two women ended up in a sixty-nine. I found this made me just as wet. As did another programme with an older woman seducing a 19-year-old girl. I realised I must have bisexual tendencies. I had never felt them before, but to be fair, I had never been exposed to sexual scenes with women loving women.
I also worked out what I didn't like. I wasn't massive on anal play, and definitely didn't do BDSM or control. A little light spanking got me juicy, as did a little being dominated and being dominant roleplay. But I was definitely not into submissiveness, with a collar, etc. I was also intrigued about being pissed on; it didn't outright turn me off, put it that way.
At the end of six months, after the first year, I was a permanently wet wreck. I had to go into the toilet at work into to make myself cum at least once a day. I worked part-time as a charity shop manager. My husband had left me very financially secure. I also spent more time than was sensible, checking out every man and woman I saw. I found that whether they were conventionally good looking or 'fit'--I hate that word--didn't seem to matter to me. Women and men who were chubby and fat didn't turn me off, as did women with facial hair or hairy legs. Blokes also didn't have to be 'Brad Pitt', or a walking advert for six-pack heaven. As long as they all had a cunt or a cock, I seemed attracted to them.
I still, though, had not gotten over that hurdle of feeling that having sex with someone else, would betray my husband. I was saying this again to Rachel, in her kitchen over coffee, one morning. I had spent the night fucking myself silly, but had woken up feeling that a bit of something was missing.
"You have to do it," Rachel said, quietly. "It will feel weird the first time, and you will feel a bit guilty, but Ken would not have wanted you to become a nun. He loved fucking you and knew you loved sex."
I sighed, still worried. "I know. If only I could ask him. I do sometimes feel angry at the bugger leaving me to think these things through."
Rachel laughed. "Silly cow! If he was here, you wouldn't have to think about this. You'd have just got out of bed with his cum running down your thighs."
I smiled at the memory. Quite often, Rachel had come round for coffee, not long after Ken had left for work, leaving his load inside me. One day, I absentmindedly let my robe fall open and Rachel whistled.
"Someone had fun this morning!"
I followed her gaze down. There was a streak of cum running down my left thigh. "Oh shit!" I said embarrassed, and pulled my robe shut.
"Don't worry hun! You are not the only one with a messy twat."
Without warning, Rachel pulled down her jogging bottoms and knickers. I had seen her twat before, so knew it was as hairy as mine. I had not, though, seen it ever like this. Her lips were gaping open, covered with a film of white, which was oozing out over her thighs.
"Rachel!" I shouted in shock, and then laughed. "You randy cow!"
"Pot calling the kettle," she laughed back.
We had always had open conversations about sex, so I suppose showing each other our just-fucked pussies, wasn't that strange. Our conversations got even more honest after that. once Once, we sat at her kitchen table, naked from the waist down, watching our respective husband's cum leaking from us.
"Would it help if you did it with someone you knew?"
Rachel's question brought me back to the present. "No!" was my instant, shocked reaction. "It has to be someone I don't know. The anonymity will help."
"Yes, I get that; especially if you are going to keep doing it. I just thought the first time will be so emotional, that someone you know would help you through that side of it."
There was something in Rachel's voice, that made me look into her eyes. They were full of care and sensitivity, and something else--a genuine love and wanting to help.
My mouth fell open with the realisation of what she was saying. We sat in silence for several minutes, staring intently at each other.
