I was tall and skinny in high school. A dork, although I didn't know it. I was interested in making good grades and succeeded at that. I had a few dates. Guys that were dorks also and had no girl friend would ask me to a dance or a party when they needed a date. Socially I was a misfit. And I don't think I ever thought about sex. If any boy ever did try anything sexual with me I don't remember it and I definitely would have rejected him. Sex was something bad and dirty. Good girls didn't do it.
I was a late maturer. Some girls became women at thirteen or fourteen. I mean boobs and hips and hair on their pussy. With me it was sixteen or seventeen. And I continued to change through nineteen or twenty. As I think about it, I was built much better at thirty than at twenty. In college things changed a little. Some guys that didn't know me in high school would ask me out and I would go. Mostly, they wanted sex right away and since that wasn't what they'd get from me, they moved on to others. From other girls I heard more about sex and actually learned how to give myself orgasms. But I didn't do it often because I still thought of it as dirty somehow, something that good girls just didn't do.
But I did great at school. Good grades. Great grades. Worked my butt off. Graduated and went to law School. So, at twenty-two I was hired, because of my academic superiority, by a major law firm. Good prospects that have come true. I realized when I bought a car recently that I paid more for it than what I had thought, back in the ‘70's when I started in law, would be a great annual income. Now I'm making multiple times as much.
Anyway, in my first year at the firm, I was in the law library looking up something. Several law firms in the building shared a law library. A guy that was also in the library struck up a conversation. We talked a little and he asked me out. I've never been any good, still am not, at social small talk, the inanities that people say to each other in social situations just to fill the time. And I wasn't with him, either. He was a lot older. I was twenty-two, he was forty-six. He'd been married before. I'm still not sure why they divorced. But he was very nice. And very patient. I'm not sure why he put up with me back then. He claims it was because I was so well built and the sexiest dame he'd ever seen. Which is probably bull but made me feel good.
Well, it took months but he finally won me over. Our first sex was in my bed, in my apartment. He'd been slowly arousing me more and more for a long time and I decided it was probably time. By then I'd just plain become inquisitive about what this thing that so many considered was so great, sex, was all about. Well, he did it right. It was dark and we were both naked. He felt me and kissed me and licked me all over. I think I had two orgasms before he finally pushed his way into me. I'm sure it was obvious to him that it was my first time. To me, it was glorious. Magnificent. The greatest thing that had ever happened to me.
Over the next several weeks I became obsessed with his penis. His cock. The sexiest thing in the world. I kissed it, licked it, sucked on it, gagged on his sperm and then learned to want it and savor it. I sucked him at least as often as he licked me, maybe more. And we fucked and fucked and fucked. I was like someone with a new toy or something, I couldn't get enough. And we married.
We were married for twenty-two years, half my life. I had never, as a single girl, cared much about my appearance but because of him I learned to. I went to a gym, eventually we created a gym in our home. I stayed in great shape. He continued to tell me that I was the most desirable female in the world and it was great for my ego. And maybe he was right. I am well built. Still tall and still slim but now with C cup bras and a tight ass and strong legs.
I learned early on that I was never going to have children. My fault, something to do with my internal plumbing. He claimed that it was fine with him, he was too old to deal with little brats. But I'm sure he felt as I did, happy at times and sorry at other times. We were left to be very selfish, very sexually active. But we have nothing beyond ourselves, no family. We've always had plenty of money, obscene amounts of money. No problems there. We ended up with a beautiful home with lovely grounds.
Maybe a year ago, I realized that someone else was cutting our grass. We originally had oriental people, then later Hispanics. Now here was a really good looking kid, probably high school age. My husband told me that he had learned about this boy and gave him some work. His parents had died when he was young and since there was no other close family he became a ward of the court. He lived in a succession of foster homes. He was now in high school and needed to do things to earn some money. In fact, when he turned eighteen, he would be cast loose with no support. Technically he will be an adult that no longer needs the County to watch over him. My husband even indicated that he was planning on finding a job for the boy, James, or Jim, once he turned eighteen, that it was unfair to just cast them out with no support like that.
Watching him in our yard with his shirt off, I mentioned to my husband that the boy probably had half the girls in high school after him, he was a real hunk. And he was. And is. Big and strong, perhaps six foot two and one hundred ninety or so pounds, very fit, with lots of muscles. A face that's probably more friendly or cute than handsome, dark brown hair, fair complexion. Good athlete.
I knew about who worked our yard because I always ended up paying them. And I ended up paying Jim. It got so I would ask him in for a Coke when he was finished and would pay him in cash. I had written him checks at first but he didn't really have a bank account so checks were a problem. He was always nice. Held back a little, I think. Not shy but perhaps cautious.I can't remember the exact words now but I remember once saying something to him about his probably having lots of girlfriends. I think my husband and I had just had sex and it was still on my mind. And I've never been good at small talk so I said something more blunt than I should to the effect that he probably had sex with lots of girls. Again, I can't remember the exact words but he answered something to the effect that none of the girls he knew were anywhere near as sexy as I was.
I think I just smiled and passed it off. But I don't think I ever thought of him exactly the same after that. I always though of him and sex together. I don't think I ever fantasized about sex with him although if my husband was out of town on business and I was left to masturbate myself Jim might have creeped into my mind. But I was very sexually satisfied. I had had sex with only one man and it was terrific. My husband and I had sex often and I loved it. It wasn't as often as in our first years but I figured that was normal.
Then he died. My husband died. At sixty-eight. I woke up in the morning and he didn't. Very traumatic to realize the body next to you is dead and perhaps has been for a while. A really bad couple months. It's not just difficult, it's impossible to get over something like that. After a couple weeks off I went back to work. Began to spend even more time at work. Which was good in some ways. Certainly good financially, which is the one area where I was already well off. I decided that I should sell our house. I don't need, don't really want, a large home like this and all the details of running it.
Three months after my husband died, as I paid Jim and sat with him, both of us having cokes, he brought up the fact that it looked like I was planning on selling the house. So I explained a little and during our conversation I learned that he had graduated from high school and had turned eighteen and was now looking for a job because he was on borrowed time. His last foster family liked him, maybe loved him, and were letting him stay on for a short time but they were no longer receiving any payments from the County for him. He was going to have to move and earn enough to pay rent.
I felt sorry for him and put my arm around him. To this day I'm not sure how it all happened so fast. I definitely was missing the sex of married life. I suspect Jim knew a little more about sex than I expected, was more experienced than I thought. But whatever, we ended up naked on my bed with him fucking me. I mean, I'm forty-four and he's eighteen. It's very close to illegality, child endangerment or whatever. But I really did love it. And so did he. I had never experienced anyone that young. All muscles and a big strong erection. Having his naked body on me was better than anything I'd experienced and his cock totally filled me up. We had no more than finished and he was ready again and so we did it again. Maybe that satisfied us, at least temporarily. Because then he started really appreciating my body, doing everything that's normally done as foreplay. Telling me how sexy I am and what a great body I have and sucking on my nipples and sliding his fingers into me. Which led me to get his cock in my mouth and suck him and suck him. It certainly was the longest I had ever spent making love to a cock. A beautiful, big, erect cock. And his reaction surprised me because he moved around until he could get his mouth to my pussy and as I sucked him, he licked my sticky, smelly pussy and sucked my clit and finally we both came yet again.
Then we just lay there, worn out, used up, looking at each other, holding each other's naked body. Which is when I began to wonder what had I just done? How stupid is this? And as he realized the situation his reaction was not what I expected. He pulled me close and held me and kissed my shoulders and felt my butt and told me how beautiful I was and how this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And we stayed there for hours. All night, really. And had sex again. And eventually again. As much as I had ever had in one evening before.
I wake. I've automatically woken early for years. It's a work habit. And I'm supposed to go to work today. I ‘m not bleary eyed, I know exactly where I am and what happened last night and who's laying next to me. I'm on my side and look at him. He's on his back. We're both naked. At least I am and he must be also. I reach out and my hand touches his stomach. I slide it down a little. His cock is fully erect. I think he's still asleep so perhaps he dreamt something sexy or maybe at eighteen you just always wake up with an erection. Full of hope that you'll be able to use it. As I feel his cock and remembered how great last evening had been, I stroke him slightly and hear a moan. The moan came from me. I'm so hungry for more of him that I can't do anything but satisfy myself. I climb over him, holding his cock, use it to masturbate myself slightly and then lower myself onto it, pushing it up into me, filling me up. Glorious. It's the only way to start a day.
