Following a number of requests, this story is about an older woman in her late sixties. I am very grateful to Amorone and Sparktj who gave me some good feedback on an early draft of this story. Having published a few stories about younger mature women, this one takes me back to the area where I first published. I've published a few stories recently and they take a fair bit of time to write, redraft and edit so I intend to take a break from writing to devote time to other things. For those who appreciate my work, I promise you I will be back. I think that a few of the stories I've written, including this one, have the potential for a sequel or I could write an entirely new story. Which project I choose to tackle next will depend on the feedback I get from my readers so if you have a preference regarding what story I write next, please get in touch. As usual, I enjoy hearing from people who enjoy my work and I will always reply asap.
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My parents called me Elizabeth, which was quite a popular name in 1950 due to the young princess who was soon to be Queen. In those post-war years, life wasn't easy but the whole country had a renewed sense of purpose and pride, having triumphed against the Nazis in WWII. We grew up with a strong sense of morals but also a sense that life was for living and to be honest, life was pretty good in many respects. Kids today have far more but I still wouldn't give up my childhood for theirs. Growing up, I fooled around a bit with boys, like any young girl does, but I was always careful not to let things go too far.
I lost my virginity when I was 17 years old to a young man I was engaged to, called Malcolm. I thought I'd virtually saved myself for 'Mr Right' as a good girl should as we were at least engaged but the sex we had was crushingly disappointing. Looking back, I realise he was largely inept in bed and his rather small penis didn't help but at the time I simply thought it was a sign to tell me that we weren't meant to be together. Returning his engagement ring was the hardest thing I'd ever done because I genuinely feared I wouldn't find anyone else. Fortunately, life has a way of working out for the best.
It was a couple of years after that when I finally met the real 'Mr Right' and I fell deeply in love. George was 27 years old when we married and I was just 19 and it was the start of a wonderful adventure. He became my best friend and my lover and this time I'd found a real lover. George was considerate in bed and was able to make me very wet before entering me with his lovely 7 inch penis that filled me up perfectly. We never did have any children but we did enjoy a very active and fulfilling sex life together and that was important to me as I discovered with George that I really enjoyed sex. I can honestly say that I never had even the slightest inclination to cheat on him because he was all the man I could ever want.
Tragically, my beloved George passed away when he was just 66 years old, which really isn't that old by today's standards. The last 10 years have been very lonely for me and I miss him every day. There were certainly times when I felt that fate had cheated me of part of my life. Not only did I find myself widowed at just 58 years old but George had been impotent due to poor health for 5 years before that so here I am, a 68 year old woman who hadn't been enjoyed by a man for 15 years and at such an old age, I had no realistic chance of it ever happening again. As far as I could see, my sex life was over and the fact that it ended when I was relatively young was just one of those things in life.
To try to keep myself occupied and alert as I grew older, I joined a few local groups like a choir, a dance class and I even started to play the ukulele with an over sixties group that was fun. The idea of sex didn't feature at all in my life anymore, partly because it seemed impossible as most men around my age would probably be largely incapable and partly because I couldn't imagine giving myself to anyone but George. But for that one caveat, my life was actually quite good and I'd learned to cope quite well on my own with just my pet King Charles Spaniel, Max, for company. Things changed one fateful night in May.
I was walking Max as usual at about 10.30pm before going to bed. I usually always took the same route but on this particular evening I'd seen a group of teenagers drinking cans of lager in the distance so decided to take a detour to avoid them. I knew all of the streets around my home very well indeed so the fact that the streetlights were out didn't particularly bother me, especially as my detour was taking me through a very quiet housing estate. I was just approaching my friend Diane's house, who I knew from the choir, and noticed an unfamiliar car in her driveway. Diane was widowed a few years ago and I was just wondering if she'd perhaps bought a new vehicle when the front door opened. I was going to call across to say good evening but then a man I'd never seen before came out, closely followed by Diane who was in her dressing gown. This unexpected scene made me stop in my tracks and instead of making myself known, I decided to remain in the shadows. Diane is a couple of years older than me and the man looked to be about fifty so I naturally assumed she'd had some domestic emergency and had to call out a tradesman. Clearly that wasn't the case when I saw them kiss goodbye and it wasn't just a friendly kiss, it was quite a passionate kiss!
As I arrived home I wasn't sure what to make of what I'd seen. The way they'd parted and the fact she was just in her dressing gown suggested a very intimate relationship but she'd never mentioned being in a relationship with a man and even if she was, the man I'd seen was considerably younger. She was 70 for goodness sake!
The next day I bumped into Diane at the shops and decided to do a bit of fishing.
'Hello Diane, how are you today?' I asked cheerfully.
'Oh, the same old aches and pains I'm afraid but I mustn't grumble,' she replied.
'There was a fascinating documentary on last night about a NASA probe visiting Jupiter; did you see it?' I asked.
'No, I missed that I'm afraid. What time was it on?'
'About ten,' I replied casually.
'A bit late for me I'm afraid,' she lied. 'I was feeling really tired last night so I was asleep by then.'
'I'm sure it will be repeated some time and I imagine you could find it on the i-player,' I suggested and after a little more idle chat we parted with me left even more curious about what was going on.
I saw no obvious reason why she should lie about what had happened and it struck me that even if she was in bed at that time, she certainly wasn't sleeping! For the next couple of weeks I made a point of walking past Diane's house at about the same time to see if I saw that man visiting her again but every night, everything appeared to be just as I would have expected. I was on the point of giving up when almost two weeks since I'd first seen this strange man at Diane's house, I spotted his car there again. I concealed myself in the shadows and waited. Sure enough, at just gone 10.30pm, the door opened and the same young man stepped out and once again, Diane was just wearing her dressing gown. They kissed again before parting and this time I noticed him squeezing her bum as they kissed. She clearly didn't object to the experience and held his head as their tongues explored each other.
Lying in bed that night I felt a strange mixture of shock and jealousy. There was now no doubt in my mind that Diane was having a sexual relationship with this mystery man but he was young enough to be her son and what about her poor departed husband? How could she do such a thing after just a few short years? As uncomfortable as it made me feel, I was also jealous that this woman, who was even older than me, apparently had an active sex life when I hadn't enjoyed such pleasures since I was 53! My mind turned to George as I lay there and for the first time in many, many years, my fingers started to stroke my long abandoned vagina. My clitoris immediately responded to my touch and I could feel myself getting wetter as I remembered the times when George's fingers would expertly prepare me for him to make love to me.
'Oh George, I miss you,' I sighed as I pushed a finger into my tight hole and to my surprise, I felt a small orgasm ripple through my long dormant body. Having found at least some small crumb of release, I slept peacefully that night with dreams of the sexual joy I'd had with George mingling with images of the sexual satisfaction Diane had undoubtedly received that night. The next morning I awoke knowing that I had to satisfy my curiosity so just after lunch I went to call on Diane on the pretext of checking in which key we had decided to do our latest song in the choir. The old lady who answered the door was every inch the woman I knew so well and it seemed impossible to reconcile her with the image I'd seen the previous evening. After a great deal of small talk while we sipped our tea, I decided to take the bull by the horns.
'I see the council still haven't got around to fixing the streetlamps in your street,' I commented as casually as I could.
'No, it's been weeks now with no sign of any workmen but with money so tight, I doubt the council see this quiet little street as a priority,' she replied.
'I walk Max along here every night and even with no lighting in the street, it's amazing the sort of things you can see,' I said, giving her a few moments to consider the implications of what I'd said.
'Really!' she eventually responded. 'What sort of things have you seen?'
'Well,' I grinned, 'last night for instance I noticed that you had a visitor.'