I was 22 when I had my first older woman. Despite having a loving and well proportioned girlfriend my own age. Lillian was well into her fifties when we first met. I'd worked with her in a large office but had only spoken to her a handful of times. A few months after leaving that job I was sitting in a bar when she shuffled in on high heels. I couldn't believe it was the same woman.
The unflattering uniform I used to see her in had clearly been doing nothing for her curves. Now out in public, she was dressed like a woman half her age: caked in makeup, hair piled high, big dangly earrings and heels that made her big protruding arse stick out. Most blatantly of all, though, her tight dress had a very plunging neckline which exposed a full five inches of cleavage. She certainly knew how to attract cocks and mine was soon hardening as I watched her juggs jiggle towards the bar. I'd never seen a woman look more wanton in public. And certainly not one her age.
The place was almost empty so I decided to approach her. As we'd been colleagues, chatting her up was no problem. She was early and waiting for friends so we talked for about ten minutes. She mentioned her recent divorce which seemed like a come-on so I asked if she needed a lift home. She said she needed to go to the bathroom first.
I had actually meant a lift at the end of the evening but I wasn't about to question anything that would delay the chance of getting my cock near such a massive pair of tits. If she wanted cock, she was getting it. I watched her extra large hourglass shape wiggle towards the bathroom.
Once she was out of sight, I came back down to earth and remembered I had a girlfriend. Claire was a fresh-faced blonde beauty of a 20 year-old who wore a 32F bra. I'd travel to visit her each Friday at her university (having graduated from there myself the year before) and we'd spend each wonderful weekend together. Did I really want to risk my two year relationship to try and fuck this older woman? In the end I let my cock decide.
As Claire and I spoke on the phone every night, I composed a text to her, feigning a migraine and saying I'd speak to her tomorrow. While I pondered whether I should even send that text, Lil came into view, shuffling slowly back to where I was sitting.
I hit Send on my phone without taking my eyes off Lil's shimmering udders. They were now jiggling with every step, spilling out of her dress even more than before. Like she'd purposefully adjusted them in the bathroom for my benefit.
"You ready then?" She asked suggestively as she arrived at my table, my eyes level with her cleavage.
"Sure," I said, nonchalantly. Like I didn't want to fuck her there and then.
While I drove her home, she kept adjusting her ill-fitting bra while complaining about her post-menopausal increase in bust size. This matter-of-fact talk was changing my cock from very hard to angrily erect. And her confirmation that she could no longer get pregnant sounded like an invitation to unload in her bareback. Something I was fully intending to do.
Once at hers, I followed her inside without a word, straight upstairs and into her bedroom. She sat back on her bed. I took this as a license to pull down the front of her dress, revealing more and more cleavage, until her tits flopped out completely. They were even bigger than they'd first appeared: long, wide and very floppy. Once I'd unzipped her dress down to her waist and undone the three straining hooks of her bra, her tits hung completely free and I saw that I was dealing with a truly gigantic pair of hangers.
Claire's 32Fs were certainly very large, something often remarked upon, but they weren't on the scale of Lillian's. Unlike Claire's firm, gravity-defying F cups, Lil's were huge, wonderfully low-hanging and stretch-marked. Her bra claimed 42HH but was visibly too small for these boulders of immense tit-weight.
After gazing in wonderment, I pushed her back onto the bed to get on top of her. I scooped up her saggers in my hands. Pushed together, they were like two huge water-balloons, each bigger than my head.
