"Age is not a barrier…Many a good tune is played on old fiddles"
I can still remember the first time I found out what it was to be a man. I guess I was about eighteen at the time and living in a rented room somewhere in the city. My landlady, who I had always referred to as Mrs. McLaren, had been kind enough to take me in at a reasonable rent when she found out that I was struggling through university. That was eighteen months ago.
My studies had kept me from pursuing the pleasures of female flesh so I was still a virgin even though I had reached my majority. The only 'loving' I had known since I was old enough to get an erection was by wanking and that seemed pleasurable enough to get me by up until now.
It was a Saturday and the big exams had come and gone leaving me with nothing to do except wait for the Monday morning plane to take me home for the end of semester break. I had bought myself the latest copy of a popular 'girly' magazine and was now settled on my bed, dressed only in my jocks, with the magazine open to the centerfold. The girl was posed presenting her buttocks at the camera, her legs spread and her face turned to pout from the page. Two huge tits were pointed down at the bed and her cunt gaped out at me inviting me in. In my imagination I joined her on the rumpled bed, dreaming of how that sweet, wet cunt would taste if I could only get my mouth onto it. It didn't take long for my right hand to find the huge erection that burst from my jocks and I began slowly wanking as I dreamed of wild sex with the Goddess in that picture.
I don't know why Mrs. McLaren came into my room. I suppose she assumed I was out for the day, being as it was Saturday and the exams were over. My landlady liked mothering me and often would come to tidy my room, change the sheets and do a general makeover while I was out. I didn't hear the door open anyway, as my dream-fuck was reaching crescendo, as was the rhythm of my hand on my cock. I had raised my ass off the bed a bit and was flogging my hard cock furiously unaware that Mrs. McLaren stood just in the door watching me.
Mrs. McLaren was in her forties, probably the wrong side of forty-five, if truth be known but she still had a trim body and her face had that mature prettiness you often see in women of latter years who have looked after themselves. She smiled and cocked her head as she watched my hand blur like a con-rod on a piston and she listened to my panting and grunting as I searched for the hot white fountain of love.
Who knows how long she watched, but I first became aware of her when her soft voice interrupted my dream.
"Don't waste it, Roger. I can think of much better uses for it."
Fuck me! I nearly blew my wad right there and then! My fist stopped on the bottom of the down-stroke and my cock stuck out from my fist like an angry red python as my wide eyes looked at my landlady propped against the door.
Her eyes were on my deep purple knob and the smile on her face split a little to let the tip of her pink tongue peek out for a lick that told of her desire.
"Wouldn't you rather a real woman looked after that monster of yours?" She spoke in a hoarse voice that in later years I would recognize as a woman in full arousal. Her thin cotton blouse displayed twin nipples erect and probing from the tops of her wonderful ample breasts. I smiled and nodded, still holding my pose – I guess I was frozen in that instant of time. She began to walk over to me and my eyes dropped to her slim legs. Her thighs moved beneath her knee-length summer skirt and I felt a new rush of blood to my already enormous organ. I had never seen up a woman's dress before and my imagination was going off on a riot.
Mesmerized, I watched her smoothly crossing the short distance between the door and my bed. It seemed like a country mile and everything was in slow motion, but she reached me and gently took my cock from my fist, wrapping her long, slender fingers around that throbbing tool.
"It is so big." She murmured as she began slowly massaging it, rubbing it up and down.
I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed to make room for her. She took the implied invitation. As she sat down next to me her skirt rode up revealing a nice bit of thigh as she turned smiling to face me. I let my eyes travel her calves, past her knees and along her thighs to the point where her skirt began, a soft, brightly patterned curtain hiding her treasures from view. She cupped my balls with her free hand while wanking me slowly with the other, then leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.
"Tell me what you would like to see, Roger. What would you like to touch and play with?"
I gulped…really! Like the characters in a cartoon when they are overwhelmed by events around them.
"I…I…mmmmm…I mean…"
"Have you ever touched a girl before, Roger? I mean, the secret parts of a girl?"
"N..n..no, Mrs. McLaren. N…n…never."
"Hmmmmm…Call me Phyllis, Roger. I think it is time you were 'broken in' don't you?"
"Y…y…yes, Mrs. Mcl ...Phyllis, ma'am." I stammered like a baby and my body began to tremble as if I was very cold.
"Well then…." Phyllis smiled wickedly. Releasing my balls she took hold of my hand and placed it onto her thigh. "You'll never know if you never go." She was not to know that she had just misquoted the jingle line of an advertisement that would appear on TV about twenty five years later.
I rubbed around a little feeling how smooth her leg was despite the fact that she was close to thirty years older than me. She was tickling the end of my cock with her thumb and now reached forward to kiss me again on the mouth, this time seeking with her tongue between my lips. I surrendered to her and felt that hot wet tongue go into my mouth where it began questing eagerly. My hand on her thigh seemed to take on a life of its own as it wandered around the soft pillar of her leg. I explored the inner valley of her thighs until my questing fingers reached a pair of very sheer, silky panties that were hot and damp between her legs.
"Oooooh, yes, Roger. I want your fingers in my pussy." She breathed, speaking into my open mouth.
