The book was covered in dust when she saw it in a bin at her favorite used book store. It's the place where Nadine, a naughty minded sixty something widow, looks for old trashy romance novels, the paperback kind. She is quite good looking still, the years having added only a few extra pounds. Enough for "extra padding" in the right places but not enough to be chubby. Otherwise the years have taken little away from her feminine charms. Her C-cup breasts sag just a little but are still firm, smooth, and nicely round. Her hazel eyes still have a sparkle. Her light brown hair, liberally streaked with grey, is curly and coiffed just above her shoulders. The few wrinkles she has are from the burdens of a long life and they go away when she is happy in life and smiles, as her husband used to say.
She blows the dust off the old book. The title intrigues her, "The Magic Storybook". It is a professionally bound book but all the stories in it are hand written and each in a different hand. There is no title page or publisher information and the inside cover has the odd inscription, "Written here once, lived a thousand times". She notices that the last twenty pages or so are blank.
She glances at the first story. It is about a steamy romance and is quite explicitly told. The kind of story she likes. Other stories seemed of the same type. It is so unusual, and priced at just ten dollars, that she decides to buy it.
When she gets home she prepares some tea and sits down on the sofa in the den to examine her new purchase. The first story is about a young man and older woman pursuing their lustful desires for each other. Reading it makes her feel wet and horny and, soon, she needs to take matters into her own hands, to play along and become part of the story. She unfastens her slacks and slides her hand under her panty top. Her bush is moist already. She teases her clit. Her excitement rises. Her nipples get firm. She imagines herself enjoying the passions of that young lover in place of the heroine, her fingers standing in for his erection. She continues following along with the story until her hips convulse in the blissful release she craves as the story reaches it's climax. Having enjoyed her afternoon delight it seems to her she had spent her money well. "That was kind of a magical story, I guess. I'll have to read another story at bedtime," she contentedly thinks to herself.
Before bedtime she pours her usual glass of wine then picks up her new storybook and goes upstairs to her bedroom. She sets the glass and book on the nightstand then gets undressed. She puts on her nightgown. It's a polyester pull over about knee length. She wears polyester instead of cotton because she likes the smooth sexy feel on her skin when she imagines a lover's hand caressing her through it. That helps put her in the mood for the sexy stories she likes to read. She turns on the lamp by the bed, turns out the room lights, folds back the covers and gets in bed. The next story in the book is titled, "Maven Of The College Grill," by Molly Doyle. She begins reading.
It's about an attractive, fit, 50 year old divorcee, Polly Smith, who works at a restaurant next to a large college. Most of the employees are college students. Every Fall there is a new crew of students working there, or as she calls them, fresh meat. This year she has her eyes on a tall, muscular young man, Jackson, who seems shy and awkward in interacting with the other students. He is especially handsome. A real nerdy hunk who probably doesn't have a girlfriend. One who can be taught right. On this day she and Jackson will both be working until closing time. This is the chance she's been waiting for.
Nadine stops reading and takes a sip of wine. So far, she likes it. She continues reading.
Polly wore a particularly tight blouse to work that day. One that fits close to her body under her breasts in a way that shows their fullness. She had seen Jackson ogling her from time to time and she wants to give him something good to see. She chooses a just above the knee skirt to go with it. It is not a tight skirt but fits snuggly at the waist in a way that accentuates her round hips. She flirts with him, in her way, during the shift. "Oh my, have your muscles gotten even bigger?" Things like that. She often did that and he usually just shrugged it off with a casual, "Thanks." After all, she's twice his age and probably not what he's interested in. She hopes to change that tonight.
All evening long she admires him, her hopes and excitement building. She did see him checking out her bust line and how the buttons on her blouse were straining to hold the girls in. She even spied him checking out her backside once. As closing time neared Polly asks Jackson to do her a favor and help with some of the closing chores because it's been so busy she has gotten behind and she would have to stay late all alone. "I don't like being here late by myself. It's my job so I have to get it done. It frightens me. You wouldn't want that, would you? I'll feel so much safer with a big strong man like you here. Be a dear and help me."
"Sure, Polly," he said, "I don't mind."
"You're such a sweetheart! Thanks, honey." she coos.
Closing up doesn't take too long after everyone else had left. Polly wasn't really that far behind as that was just an excuse to be alone with him. Jackson does the minor cleanup and restocking chores while Tracy does the end of the day book keeping and business tasks.
"I'm all done Mrs. Smith," he calls out.
"Did you make sure all the dirty linen is in the bin for when the laundry truck comes in the morning?"
"OK, I'll get that," he calls back.
"Good. When you're done come on in the office."
"OK, I will."
She turns off the office lights so only a small desk lamp is lighting the room. Then she takes off her blouse and her bra and sets them on the desk. She stands beside the desk waiting for Jackson.
He is speaking as he comes through the door. "OK, everything is d..." He stops and stares at her exposed breasts. They look even better than he had imagined.
Nadine stops reading. This is getting really good. Her pussy is getting moist and her nipples are nice and firm. She takes another sip of wine. She picks up the book again, gently rubbing the inside of her thigh with her free hand as she reads.
"What's the matter, honey? Don't you like them?" Polly asks demurely. Of course he does.
