mature xxx

Hi, my name is Katie Kelly and I’m 18. I know I’m a little young to be telling my life story, but my head is so filled with thoughts lately that I wanted to write them down. At least tell you of some of the adventures I’ve had this summer.

First, let me tell you a little about my family, because they play a big part in the stories I want to tell you. They are true stories about my family, only the names are changed to protect the none too innocent.

OK. I’m the youngest daughter of Kevin and Michelle Kelly an all American couple if there ever was one. Dad met Mom when she was a junior in high school and he was a sophomore in college and have been together ever since. Mom was 20 when she got married, and in the next three years, being catholic had three babies me being the last. There were complications with my pregnancy, so after me the shop was closed. My sister, Julie, is now 20, and my brother Dennis is 19. (more…)

Tom had opened a Pandora’s Box when he finally got Mrs Angela Turnbull to fuck. She had made him realise that young school girls with their tiny bodies and little experience could never lay a finger on a wild mum when it came to inventive ball blowing sex.

He was amazed at the way she kept his prick alive. Using her cunt muscles and her hands on his balls, she would stop him from coming time and time again. She used her body to work him higher and higher until they both reached a situation where they were losing control.

She seemed to know instinctively when he had reached a plateau where his brain was telling him this was torture. Then and then alone she would relax those marvellous muscles. Within seconds they both would be moaning and screaming as their bottled up sexual frustration caused fantastic mind blowing orgasms. He had never experience sex like it. It was as if he was a virgin. Every minute with her was new. He described it in his mind as he revisited their love making in his bed at night, “as a series of first times.” (more…)

The Lady knew more about male psychology than any woman The Lad had ever met. Decades of life experience, along with her exceptionally keen powers of intuition had given her an uncanny understanding of what men really want–even when they didn’t know it themselves! Beyond this, her complete mastery of male anatomy and physiology–thanks to years in professional medical work combined with plenty of recreational “field work” with her numerous lovers–gave her such a level of sexual competence that The Lad often gleefully referred to her as “a penis genius.”

He also admired her confidence, her assertiveness, her habit of declaring precisely what she wanted–and thereby getting it.

Likewise, the Lady was quite satisfied with The Lad. Granted, he was equipped with only average endowments compared with so many of her former boyfriends. She frequently regaled The Lad with lusty stories of her encounters with men whose penises were simply huge next to his own. But he was utterly devoted and obedient to her, and he profoundly agreed with her philosophy about relationships between men and women. She knew with utter certainty that women are, by nature, essentially superior, morally and otherwise, and thus should be the ones in charge. She also knew that men–real men, enlightened men–are actually happiest when they learn to put their own whims and wishes aside in order to serve and satisfy a loving but authoritative female partner. (more…)

The hotel ballroom was filling with over four hundred attendees, as the annual convention of the International Society of Structural Design came to its closing event. For ten days attendees had participated in technical and business sessions, and now they came to the concluding time of their yearly gathering. They came from all over the world to this hotel in Northern Europe, to exchange ideas, to engage in seemingly endless presentations of technical papers, to view innumerable exhibits, participate in society business, and just enjoy each other. It was almost all business, until tonight. This was the time to relax, to have fun, to end on a friendly note and carry away those great memories while looking to what would await them at their next venue a year hence.

They came in numbers, using snatches of numerous languages, though all could manage the English that was the common vehicle of their business. Perhaps a third were spouses of delegates, both male and female, while the delegates themselves were industry professionals or interested observers. In this prestigious group, most of the members were thirty or over, though there were a few younger, and some were much older. All seemed well educated, well dressed, and now smiling, looking to an evening of food, wine, and a bit of fun. (more…)

As I begin this account, let me say that it is all written in English even though many of the events transpired in French, the true language of love.

A good friend of mine, Amy, runs a series of language immersion programs for college age students and adults. Some of the programs are tours abroad. Others are at a camp in the mountains that Amy leases during the late summer. Amy called to tell me that if I was available, she had a spot for an assistant French instructor. I chuckled at the request knowing that I would not be lonely. The session would not pay much but Amy offered the usual terms including the special fringe benefits. These fringe benefits were above and beyond the clean air and time away. This promise brought back memories of the last session I had done in Paris with this loving lady and her life partner, Missy, but that is another story. (more…)

Rick Thomas finished cleaning out his locker on the last day of school. He was in no hurry to leave due to the fact he did not have many friends and he did not really have anything to do today. Rick had turned eighteen a few weeks ago and was still a virgin. He did have a lot of stuff planned to help him keep busy and earn money for college. He was going to take a job as a dishwasher that paid under the table and he volunteered to coach the local little league team because loved baseball.

The sound of a woman’s high heels clicking down the hall made Rick look to see who it was. It was Mrs. Mary Hillman the business education teacher, she too was in her last day of school cause she was going to go back to college to earn her masters. Rick would miss her for she was always one of his most favorite people to dream about while he masturbated. She had on her tight purple skirt that buttoned from the bottom hem to the top of the neckline. She kept the top two and the bottom two buttons undone. The skirt accentuated her body perfectly, her thirty six c breast, her long legs and her nice round ass.

“Hi Rick. Why are you still here?” she asked

“Hey Mrs. Hillman. Well I guess I’m a slob.” he said looking down at the full garbage can.

“Well if you are not in any hurry to get out of here, I got some boxes I need to have taken down to the incinerator and some I would like taken down to my car.” she asked

“It would be my pleasure to take care of that for you Mrs. Hillman.” he said (more…)

There I was, standing before the phone at 2 in the morning thinking about calling her. You see, with my job I’m out at all hours of the night and she did ask me to call her sometime when I was out late, so why was I hesitating. I kept thinking about our last few months together in order to conjure up enough courage to make this call.

We’ve been friends for about a year, but the last few months we have been slowly building up our flirtatious actions with each other. Those little pinches on the ass to see each other jump have become longer and longer so they’re now more a caress and squeeze. The hello and goodbye hugs were going from those little hug around the neck to where our whole body now had to touch with these embraces. While sitting around we would catch each other stealing little glances at each other and feeling the tension build day after day. When these moments happen one would think that it’s a great thing and one should only muster up enough courage to ask the other out on a date, the only problem is that both of us were married to other people.
(more…)

John got up from the couch and headed down to the apartment complex laundry room. He wished that they would get washing machines and dryers right in the apartments like management had promised but he had to do what he had to do.

John was in his first year of college and his folks had helped him get this off campus place. He was an accounting major of all things and a bit of a recluse. He wasn’t bad looking. John was 6′ about 180 and had a lean athletic build. For all of that he was still a bit shy with the ladies though.

It was a short 2-minute walk to the facility. He didn’t mind because the complex was well landscaped with lots of trees and rock formations. He went inside and over to the dryers and opened the door to check his things. He felt through the shirts and underwear and his socks. His socks were a still a little wet and he was just about to shut the door and put a couple more quarters in when he saw something weird.

Was that a bra in the dryer with his things? He reached in and pulled it out. It was black and looked very sexy and expensive. John also noticed that it was rather large. He looked at the tag and his eyes bulged out of his head when he saw “48DD” in bold letters. “Wow!” He said to himself. “They must be the size of small melons!”

“Ahem!” Someone cleared his or her throat behind him. (more…)

I’ve developed a real familiarity which Charlie. He was in my class years ago. We stayed friendly. He’s been cutting my lawn for 7 or 8 years now and its no big deal for him to just pop in the house and use the bathroom or raid the fridge for a soda when he’s done doing the lawn. Over the Years I’ve been watching him develop and grow up from a scrawny 10-year-old kid to 6’5” 175lb. Mountain of athletic muscle He’s the blond all-American boy with big broad shoulders. A young Adonis with sky blue eyes and the world on a platter set out before him. With a handsome knockout smile that puts everyone who ever meets him instantly at ease.

He always comes in the house after finishing the lawn to BS or have a snack. After a while he says he has to head out and then I pay him for the job and off he goes… this has been our routine for years. I have always given him a generous tip. I know he’s usually working towards saving for something he wants. When he was 10 it was a bike at 14 a computer, and at 16 a car.

After his High School graduation the summer drifted by and this was going to be one of the last times Charlie would cut my lawn before this 18 year old embarked on his Ivy League freshman adventure. Several prestigious schools courted him. As an academic and a jock he had success written all over him and everyone seemed to know it.

I end up watching him as he works, his cut-ff shorts a bit too short with holes in the ass. Charlie’s muscular legs were glistening from the sweat of the days work. I catch my breath as he effortlessly lifts off the grass bag to dump it in the compost pile. Every muscle group perfectly defined beneath his tight t-shirt. I touch myself as he removes his shirt and hangs it from his back pocket. He has the smallest patch of hair leading like a trail down his bellybutton to the waistband of his briefs a mysterious bulge is outlined by his tight holey shorts. (more…)

My parents had prepared a welcome home party for their Marine Sergeant son coming back from a tour of combat duty. It was a food and booze feast attended by various relatives, neighbors and family friends wanting to hear war stories.

As glad as I was to be home among relatives, I had a problem that overshadowed all feelings. I was horny, extremely horny after a year of living in a hostile land, masturbating to keep my sanity.

I made small talk with the guests as I wondered who to call or see to fix my celibate condition. One of the guests, a good friend of the family named Alonso offered me a beer and we stood by the swimming pool, watching the clusters of relatives and friends yapping away or nibbling finger sandwiches.

“Was it pretty rough over there?” he asked.

“A few times,” I answered, “but in between firefights it was very boring. All my free time was spent inside the base and all we did there was read books, play video games or do weights and work out. It was boring, mostly…”

“I bet you haven’t had a piece of ass in a year.” (more…)

They called themselves, for reasons that became apparent, Katherine and Petruccio. She was 43, he 47. They were an educated, sophisticated couple, slightly nervous although that was commonplace with many who came to us. Sitting together on a couch facing us, they made an attractive pair. She crossed and uncrossed her legs two or three times. Good legs. I imagined running my hands up the calves, under the skirt, encountering cool flesh above the stocking tops. I hoped Katherine and Petruccio wouldn’t be a couple who disappeared never to return.

Led by Anna’s gentle questioning, they explained it was a second marriage for both. They claimed their sex life was active and reasonably varied. So why had they sought us out? Petruccio answered, “Well, there are - things we don’t do. But we talk about them and we can’t agree.”

Shrewdly, Anna didn’t instantly enquire what those ‘things’ might be. We had learned to move slowly, building confidence and a certain arms-length familiarity on both sides before getting to the point. Rushing fences had proved unsatisfactory. Closing her notepad, Anna asked them to watch the video. When it finished, I asked if they wished to continue. They said they did and seemed disappointed we were asking them to go away, discuss the video and come back again. In a week’s time? Reluctantly, I thought, they agreed to wait seven days.

“Well,” I asked Anna when we were alone. “What did you make of them?” (more…)

It was the late 70s. I was in college and not old enough to drink legally, but looked old enough so that my ID was rarely checked. I worked as a cook in a steak house and my asshole manager, Newman, stalked into the kitchen after closing time and barked “There is some cunt asking about you in the bar. The only reason I didn’t throw her out is because she is spending money. Go get rid of her and get your ass back here to clean up.”

“Fuck you” I mumbled as I took off my grungy apron and went up to the bar. The “cunt” Newman was bitching about was the most fun person I know: my aunt Rhoda. She had the craziest laugh I ever heard and a throaty voice that was so gravelly it seemed phony. Her laugh was not a chuckle, but a bellow, and she made everyone around her laugh as well.

Rhoda was named for a famous nymph in Greek mythology and she took pride in knowing only part of the legend, that is, that nymphs were so sexual that they scared mortal men. They were so sexually free (not ideal for women of that time) that ancient Greek men figured they were evil at their core. Actually, they were female fairies that embodied that Cyndi Lauper hit, “Girls Just Want To Have Fun.” And my Aunt Rhoda embodied that spirit. She was married, to a huge Cajun that loved to cook and sing and had a mean streak, but on a regular basis she drove up to Kansas City from Port Arthur, Texas to visit her favorite sister and go to cowboy bars on the east side of town to find a cowboy to party with for a day or two. Mom hated Rhoda’s loose morals, but loved her laugh and her company, so she overlooked the sexual dalliances and Rhoda stayed with us when she visited. (more…)