This story is about a love affair between a 65-year-old woman and 18-year-old man, consensual and romantic, with scenes of public sex, creampie eating and lesbian encounters. Enjoy.
*****
Suzie Curry could not sleep.
She'd just returned from Dennis's house, where she'd made love to him in ways she could have never imagined, ways she couldn't have dreamed about.
But it had happened, real and surreal all at once.
She hadn't showered when she got home and now lay in bed, alone, thinking of Dennis's cum, thick and plentiful, that had filled her pussy, covered her mouth. She could still taste him, smell him. She ran a finger under her blanket and into her hirsute crotch, playing. And thinking of him.
The reality hit her: She was 65 years old. Dennis was 18. And they'd fucked.
The dear boy was grandson of one of her best friends, who had come over to hook up her new computer to the Internet. He'd gone under her desk to do so, and as she sat, took photos and videos of her legs and feet and crotch on his cell phone.
She realized it and did nothing, fearing she'd shame him deeply. But when she discovered he'd made off with a pair of her soiled, stinky panties, she made a decision that she would either regret or live happily with.
The latter won out: She'd gone to his house, caught him masturbating with her panties and had her way with him. It was a happy, loving, keenly sexual encounter and over far too quickly.
As was their relationship, she knew it, as she knew it had to be. Carrying on with a man, a boy, really, a boy some 47 years younger than she, two generations worth of years, could not happen more than once.
But as she fingered her pussy, it happening again was all she could think of.
And likewise for Dennis. He lay in bed, at home, looking at the footage and shots he'd taken at her house and later as they fucked in his house. He stroked himself faster and harder, his mind a blur; how could he possibly be falling in love with a woman his grandmother's age? He had no idea how, he just knew he was.
He slowed his stroking, keyed up his phone. And texted her, hoping she'd be awake.
"Mrs. Curry...you there?"
The chirp startled her, the phone by her bed glowing in the dark. She picked it up, hopefully, with fingers still wet from her pussy, smelling of them. She smiled.
"Yes, I am, Dennis...here...awake...thinking..."
"Me, too," he wrote back.
"Did you go out with friends?"
"Yes."
"Did you meet...anyone interesting?"
She dreaded the answer and hoped for it, that he'd met someone, that their tryst was beautiful but fleeting.
"No one quite like you, pretty lady!"
She snuck a finger back into her pussy, moaning, Dennis slowly stroked his cock, typing with one hand.
"Mrs. Curry? Is everything OK?"
She waited, unsure. But then continued.
"Very much OK, young man...thanks to you..."
They texted back and forth, two young souls flirting. She asked him to call. He said it wouldn't be safe; his parents' room was next to his and he didn't want them to hear.
His parents, she thought. A reminder of how incredibly young this boy was.
"I was thinking...tomorrow, this weekend, the county fair in Ryeville. You know of it?"
She did. Her late husband took her there often, a place of warm memories.
"Yes, of course...why do you ask?" she texted.
He wasn't thinking...he couldn't be...she thought to herself.
"Would you like to go? Me and you? Tomorrow? A...a date?"
She laughed out loud, blushing, thankful he wasn't there.
"A date? Seriously? To the fair? But it's at least 100 miles away isn't it?"
"Yes...who knows, maybe we can stay over."
That settled in, underscoring the seriousness of what seemed to be a developing relationship. A sleepover with a teenage boy. Long, romantic hours in bed. She couldn't, she knew she couldn't. She typed.
"Uh..." She started, unsure of what to type next and watching in disbelief as her fingers continued with "Sure! Why not! A date!"
Dennis yelped with delight, squelching it immediately, nervous fingers tapping at his phone, both hands now, the one abandoning his aching prick for the moment.
"So happy you accepted Mrs...uh, I feel weird calling you that...should I not?"
She thought. She thought how perfectly respectful it was to be called that, their difference in ages the key reason. She liked the sound of it. She liked how it did make her feel older, emphasizing their age difference which seemed the sexiest thing of all.
"No, that's good, sexy, you calling me that...is that all right, young man?"
"Of course, Mrs. Curry!" he wrote back, feeling his cock throb anew at the thought of keeping up the ruse. "It's kind of sexy, I agree."
"Young man," she wrote impishly, "are you...touching yourself at the moment?"
He was, having returned one hand to his cock, now freezing in place.
