In high school, I was one of the premier jocks in our school. I dated the cheerleaders, popular girls, and even the less popular girls in other clicks. I was, by most standards, large. At 6'6", 225 lbs (then, not now), and thank you god, blessed to be hung like a horse, I have filled lots of tight pussies. An athlete of state honors level for football, basketball, and even baseball, college scholarships abounded. I accepted a full ride to a Div I college for football as a quarterback.
College during the early 70's only expanded my sexual appetite. Free love, college stud, girls flocked to our team. Parties, sex, more parties, and always more sex. Habit forming to say the least. Graduation came, I got tryouts with the pros, but an appendectomy 3-weeks before camp slowed my opportunities. I got my walking papers. Oh well, always graduate school. So I went to the University Southern California. More girls, beach living, and more and more sex.
I started my career, found a mate that I could not live without, and got married. This change only slowed down my access to new females in my home town. I traveled extensively with my work, so I met new women 40-50 weeks a year in some state or another.
As I grew older, my body did its' natural stuff. The mid section grew slightly larger, softer, the muscle tone I had from years of athletics grew less defined. My body was aging. The mind remained young, the thoughts of sex grew bolder, the desires seemed to grow more intense.
Luckily for me, my life had been full of sexual adventures. Yes, I was married, I had the family, I was an honorarium college professor, and in mid-life, quit teaching to become a business owner. But I had always, always, had tendencies to be the prowler. Hungry for sex, females were always available. I conquered many coeds, co-workers, and female friends. Hell, I had screwed half the neighborhood wives over the past 10-years. Working from home gave me access to plenty of women near our home. And coaching my kids in all kinds of sports, I met many more moms through practice times. Being available during the day was the best scenario ever!
And believe it or not, my sex life with the spouse has slowed. She had less interest as we got into our 50's. This only made me more aware of opportunities to satisfy my monster. Was I addicted? Hell yes! But the monster must be fed. So I started using the personals in cities where I had projects. And boy have I been successful.
I am doing to do a 2-year project in one of the northern, Midwestern states. I bought a townhome in the community, established residency, and travel at minimum, every couple of weeks to complete the requirements for building my new project. I stay for a couple of weeks at a time, and fly home for a long weekend during the life of the project. I need to be in the new community for my project as it kicked off. So, I jumped on the personals page, entered the zip code, and within minutes, had a list of eligible women that may have an interest in a single guy in their community.
I entered my profile, gave my new residency as my home, single of course, stated a conservative but handsome income, and let it take a life on its' own. I stressed the spontaneity requirements for world wide travel, dinners on the spur of the moment, and more. I was fair, looking for ladies in my age range. But tall, the ladies should be tall. For several weeks, I got updates on available women, even a couple of contacts from my profile. I sent emails, and made arrangement to get coffee, have dinner, or go to the movies several times with the various women. Nothing forced, but per usual, I bedded a couple of them over the first couple of months of my project.
And then came Lynnette.
Out of the blue, I had a tickle from a younger female. I had to do a double take of this young lady. Her profile indicated she was 25 years old. The age of my oldest daughter. Divorced, with kids. Seeking a mature man, stable, able to carry on a conversation. I read between the lines. Seeking a mature man that wants a young, kept woman for your pleasures. Treat me nice, I will fuck your brains out. Help me cover expenses, I will fuck your brains out. Granddad with liberties, I will fuck your brains out. While I love kids to death, I did not want the relationship with the kids. I looked at her picture. Tall, lithe, pretty, I had to pursue this new opportunity. I figured the score. No young, pretty lady would really settle for an older, wiser, poor old guy.
I sent an email through the personals service, adding my contact information. It was several days, but we started trading emails. I got introduced to her, gave her more information on me. We traded messenger names, and then started late evening discussions via the messenger. I began to look forward to our conversations. She was level headed, fairly bright, but I learned quickly that the ex had been somewhat abusive, always out of work, and of course, not paying his alimony as ordered by the courts. She struggled to make ends meet, but was getting by. Family was not much help. Now, there it was. What can you do mister? Can you help me? I will fuck your brains out!
After about 10-emails over several days, we scheduled our first in person meeting. Coffee and breakfast on a Saturday morning. Her work, my work conflicted otherwise. It was a perfect morning, a cool morning for July, but sunny, a light breeze. We had traded pictures, so it was easy to attract her attention when she arrived. On the patio, I saw her approach, waving to get her attention. And boy did she get mine. Dressed in a pair of short shorts, a tight, sky blue tube type top, hair up, sun glasses resting on her head, and raised sandals, she drew attention. More than one head turned to watch her walk through the interior tables to the patio. At 6' tall, she was all leg. Lithe, her D-cup breasts stretched the tube top pleasantly. And her smile lit up my world.
I stood, pulled back her chair, and reached to take her hand as she approached. She stood close, smiling softly. Without expectation, she leaned to me, kissing my cheek, hesitating perfectly for me to kiss her, and caress her shoulder in response. She pulled back, grinned sheepishly, and moved to sit down. I assisted, pushing her chair back to the table, moving to sit in my place to her left. Damn she was good! I swear, my cock chubbed. Its' little mind was already pushing through her soft, moist lips into her velvety, warm, wet cunt.
The waiter came quickly, bringing our coffee. We ordered. Small talk, me mostly listening to her husky voice, watching her lips form the words, her eyes twinkle as she watched me in return. Sparks flew. She knew! I knew! Our dance was taking place, but we both anticipated the drive to my place, the morning spent sharing our bodies. My cock grew even harder. I watched as she slowly, deliberately, crossed her legs, the shorts riding high, her tanned, muscular thighs quivering slightly. Her tongue touched the corner of her mouth as she watched my gaze, from her lips down her body. I reached to touch her thigh, stroking softly, my nails leaving a trail of fire as I moved up her thigh toward her hip. My fingertips dipped just slightly under her shorts, slid down the side. Moving toward her knee, I trailed my nails softly along her taut skin again. Her breathing hesitated slightly.