mature xxx

I grew up in a small coastal town in New England. My dad worked the fishing boats and his boat sank and took him with it when I was 12, leaving mom and I to go on alone. Mom took a job at the only local employer that offered benefits, Brighton Cannery.

She worked long, hard days as I went to school, trying to etch out an existence for us, although meager. Dad didn’t have any insurance, so she struggled to pay the mortgage and utilities and provide food. Brighton Cannery was a family empire, with canneries all along the coast, but this was the original one and John Brighton III, grandson of the founder, ran the empire from this one.

As I grew up, I became aware of myself physically as well as sexually. I was so excited when my breasts began, but hated it when my periods soon followed. I remember standing in front of the bathroom mirror, for what seemed like hours, constantly watching for enlargement in my chest area, feeling and stroking to notice any minute changes. My breasts never really did grow that much, about the size of a large navel orange was the most I ever got and that occurred when I hit 17. Mom worked all the time it seemed, and I pretty much took care of myself. They would even call her back sometimes after she got home, but she needed her job as supervisor, and went without hesitation. (more…)

Chapter One

I had watched the other students in my American Literature class file out of the classroom before walking up to Mrs. Tammy Billings’ desk to await whatever she had asked me to stay after for. I could easily see the latest chapter of the romance novel I was writing sitting in front of her, and I naturally assumed that the coming discussion would have something to do with that. Once she had finished writing down some things in a chart, she placed the chart in one of her desk drawers and then looked up at me.

“Steven, how old are you?” she asked.

“I just turned eighteen last month,” I replied.

“Good,” she said. “Would you be interested in sharing a cup of coffee with me after school? I’d really enjoy discussing your novel with you in a more relaxed environment.”

Wow, I thought to myself. This thirty-seven-year-old brunette beauty with her attractive, shoulder-length hair and deep brown eyes had just asked me to join her for coffee so that we could discuss a romance novel I was writing in which she was the woman I had secretly based the older female character on. My heart was alive with excitement at the possibilities that had just suddenly presented themselves to me. (more…)

My senior year of high school was probably the best of my life, if not the most eventful.

This was the year that I finally came into my own as a person and started really exploring what life had to offer. I was never what one would call a jock, or a nerd, or geek or even popular. I was one of those guys who cruised in that moderate gray area, not really ambitious enough to strive for that ever-elusive and sadly-finite title of “Popular,” nor did find myself labeled with the far more common and unfortunately for most long lasting brand “Loser.” I was just myself.

I played football (not very well, mind you, but I could plow people over with the best of them), I worked as hard on my studies as I guess any average senior does and I was stupid enough to start smoking, but smart enough to avoid the pitfall of serious drug addiction. (more…)

Like most young girls, my fancy has always been that of older men.

I am unsure whether its the experience or just the maturity that makes them more appealing than most guys my age, but I have found that most older men tend to flirt more with the younger girls as well. Out of all I have met though, there has only been one to make me weak with just a simple wink.

Steve had been a family friend since I was seven, and I took up with him quite easily from the very beginning. I stayed with him a lot during my parent’s separation, mainly because it was easier on them: it was cheap (he never charged to look after me) and they knew I would be safe.

As I got older, I started going to Steve for advice on stupid girl stuff that I am sure he knew very little about, but he always seemed to say the right thing. I started visiting more, even after I reached the age I could look after myself.
(more…)

After dropping Tom off at the airport, she spent the rest of the morning sorting out what she was going to wear.

She realised she hadn’t been so excited about going out for years. She had the butterflies in her tummy which she had got as a teenager when she was going out on a first date with someone she had really fancied. As she discarded outfits from her wardrobe deep down she knew she was not going to dress for dinner with a friend but dinner with a date. She was looking for something to make him really fancy her.

She discarded longer skirts because they made her hips look lumpy - I must really lose a few more pounds she thought as she looked at her shorter skirts. Thank goodness my legs are all right, she thought, as she selected a tight short black lycra skirt which Tom had always said made her hips and backside ‘absolutely fantastic’ - certainly he had always been very keen to get her out of it!. (more…)

Valerie Templeton was a beautiful woman. Every time Tommy went to his friend Mike’s house he loved to watch her. The way she moved, the open way she talked, and of course, the wonderful way she smelled as she walked passed him. Mike and Tommy were on the front porch just making plans for the weekend when Mrs. T pulled in the driveway. Mike kept talking about where they would go and who they would meet, but Tommy was no longer listening.

His attention was on the white T bird as the driver’s door opened. The sun was in his eyes so he placed his hand over them like a visor and watched as Mrs. T as she stepped out of the car. She wore a powder blue sundress, the straps looked great as they criss-crossed on her tanned shoulders. The skirt of her dress climbed but as it was a calf length dress it did not climb nearly enough in Tommy’s opinion, but he did catch a glimpse of her tanned legs. He noticed that she wore flat sandals with bare feet and her toes were painted a pretty pink, the same colour he had noticed on her long manicured fingernails.

The sun was at her back so she could see the boys more clearly than they could see her, and she could not help but notice the look of desire in Tommy’s face, even from that distance. She waved at them both and called for some help. Tommy raced off the porch to help as Mike just sauntered over slowly to the car. Mrs. T was at the trunk and as she lifted the hood, Tommy was already there, eager to help. (more…)

With the snakish grin of a man completely unburdened by his sins, Kevin Ralston calmly walked out of the seedy Western Pennsylvania motel room that he had just spent the day. A gruff and stony hint of satisfaction shimmered in his heartless blue eyes as he descended the rusty stairs and walked through the late afternoon dusk towards his car, hidden around the corner.

In his wake, Kevin had just left nearly two years worth of pent up anger, seething lust, and aching frustration laying in a soiled heap on the motel’s creaky and cover strewn bed. For the first time since he could remember, Kevin looked up at the sun slowly disappearing beneath the horizon and honestly looked forward to it rising up for the start of a new day.

* * * * *

18 Months earlier…….

The bright, antiseptic feel of the Somerset County Juvenile and Domestic Courtroom seemed to close in on Kevin Ralston as he stood his ground in front of the judge, like a cocky but clueless martyr, waiting for his sentence to be handed down.

The judge’s measured words rained down from the bench with indifferent precision as Kevin and his lawyer stood there listening. Kevin felt his court appointed council tap him on the back reassuringly as the judge’s words registered inside his head. It was almost as if his lawyer was congratulating him for only getting four months inside the Somerset County Juvi-Hall. (more…)

I’m a sixty year old retired widower with completely gray hair, a little paunch and live in a very nice three bedroom house in Wichita, Kansas. I drive the obligatory, for guys of my age, late model Mercury Grand Marquis. Everyone tells me I am a good-looking guy who has aged well.

If I were trying to describe my interests I would only have to mention two. Travel and reading. I got away from buying the Book of the Month selections and now get most of my reading material from the nearby public library.

I was coming out of the library a few months ago and ran smack into a ton of police cars. The two almost blocking the library doors were from the Sheriffs office and I knew one of the deputies very well.

“Hey Jim, what the hell is going on. Did you come over here to get that instructional book on how to be a good cop?”

“Stuff it Gramps.” He replied with a laugh.

“What’s going on with all of this power?” I queried him.

“Aw, we got a report that some gal we are looking for was spotted here.”

“Well, I just came out of the library and only saw a few kids in there. She might have been down one of the rows I didn’t see.”

“Thanks, we’ll take a look see.” (more…)

I love playing The Game with You. Sometimes You pick a man for me to fuck. Other times I have to find a girl for You. It gives You so much pleasure. And Your Pleasure is my whole life.

It is my task to choose a girl today. When I began my search through the shopping mall I was certain I would find just the right one. But now I am getting a little anxious. There have been one or two “possibles”, but I have not yet seen The One. If I fail, You will be angry and You will punish me. While I enjoy Your wrath - the beating is more loving than cruel and it is always followed by long-lasting, sweet, hot, sex - I would much prefer to find a girl for You; to make You happy. At the same time, it cannot be just any girl. For You, my Master, she has to be perfect.

You have no hard and fast rules about my Chosen One’s age; although, the younger she is the better. And You leave the color of her skin, her eyes, and her hair up to me. Otherwise, Your criteria are demanding. She must be short in stature; petite; small-breasted; slim, but not skinny; with a nice, tight butt; and nice, shapely legs with trim ankles. (more…)

I was running late, over two hours late! I pulled open the door to the bar and stepped inside. The place was already busy with business people who were visiting the hotel for various conferences and meetings or for drinks after work. The band was on stage playing some classic rock music and there were people on the dance floor gyrating to the beat. The lights were dim and there was smoke in the air as I made my way toward the bar.

I ordered a 7 and 7 and noticed her on the dance floor. She looked stunning in a red dress that clung to every curve of her 5′11″ body. Her large full breasts were also visibly without restraint as she moved they were bouncing seductively. Every time she twirled the dress flared out and you could see the tops of her stockings and could tell she was wearing a white garter belt. She was wearing a pair of stockings that had the seam running up the back of them. She was also wearing a pair of red 5″ high-heeled shoes that laced up her muscular calves. Her brunette hair was swirling around as she danced, she was the best looking woman in the place and she was attracting attention from all the men in the bar.

My being late put me visibly way behind in the game.

My wife Jane and I play this little game we call “Catch and Release.” We both go into a bar separately and work the crowd as if we were single and looking to “hook-up.” Generally we are there at the same time and enter separately but today I got held up at work and she had a two hour plus head start and she was making damn good use of the time. (more…)

My name is John, Jenny and I had been married for 25 years. I am 45 years old and she is 43years old at present and this story happened only 12 months ago.

We live alone in a quiet, very respectable suburb, our two daughters have grown and now live away from home.

There are only two houses in our lane, ours and the house next door to us where Jason our single computer geek neighbor lives. The three of us all get on well together and he is in our home for BBQ’S every other weekend.

He is a shy type but quite a wealthy man from a successful computer business.

We always would have a few drinks together and sometimes we would have a little too much. One evening he told me after having had a few that at 35 years old he had never had a woman in bed in fact he was a virgin.

But I found out much later that on many occasions since he moved in beside us he would make love to his pillows in bed at night fantasizing that it was my wife Jenny underneath him. (more…)

Returning to camp from a trip to the town on a Saturday evening late. I took a short cut through back lanes and came across this big black Austin Princess car with its front wheels in a ditch. The driver slumped over the driving wheel and out for the count.

Oh! I knew the car well, for I used to drive this particular car and the new driver was Sergeant Murphy; the bastard who had dropped me in the shit for taking a gallon of petrol. He envied me driving the general’s car and I had fallen straight into his hands. I had been reduced to Corporal and taken of the VIP’s drivers list because of this bastard.

I looked in the back and lo and behold was the second on my hate list, the General’s wife. She was a right stuck up bitch, who ordered her staff around as though she was the general. She was muttering away to herself and was as drunk as a skunk.

“Why have we stopped? I want to get to bed,” she slurred.

I could barely see her features within the car for there was only a quarter moon and high trees edged the lane. I did see the way she was lying, splay legged on the back seat of the car though. Her evening gown hem way up her thighs exposing the bare skin above her stockings.

I wonder if she knew she was exposing so much flesh. I got in the back with her, closed the door and just placed my hand on her plump cunt. The bitch was wet, not the piss wet, but a sticky slimy wet. (more…)

Women generally live longer than men, but that is not always true. “The Sunshine Boys”—as we had called ourselves in a joking manner—was composed of four men, all over the age of 65 and all of whom had lost their wives in the past ten years or so, most from things like breast cancer, leukemia, etc. Living in the same neighborhood in northern New Jersey, we all had known each other for many years, but we became much closer when we learned that we had that one thing in common.

I was a retired journalist, Warren was a retired advertising man, Jeff had owned an auto parts business, and Bill had been in government.

We met to play cards and have a couple of drinks about once a week, but we soon found that just living in the old neighborhood was itself a downer. “And the last thing I want to do is move to Florida,” Jeff said. “People go there to die.”

“The real estate market is sky high right now,” Warren said, “We should all sell and get the hell out of New Jersey. Move to someplace where none of us has ever been before. Have a little fun before we die.”
(more…)

My summer was off to a great start. I had just landed a new job in the computer field in an up and coming company. My prospects had never looks so good. I would be going to Germany in the next few months to live, perhaps for the several years.

I hadn’t really spoken any German for a couple of years, not since I had been there in the Air Force, so my comprehension was less than desirable. So I pitched to my new employer that a refresher course would be an asset for them as well as myself.

With that agreed upon the company located a qualified tutor for an intensive one to one crash course.

I drove to the address given to me. It turned out to be a nice suburban area with nice homes with pools etc. I pulled into the driveway and hopped out of my car and headed up to the house via the flagstone walk.

Ringing the doorbell I waited for the tutor. I scanned the trim hedges and flowerbeds everything was pristine, but not sterile. It was sort of an English garden type laid down with an eye to detail. Very pretty!

The door swung open and I was greeted by a stunning vision. (more…)

“You probably think I’m too old for you.”

I paused to consider. The fact was: he was too old for me. He was more than twice my age. I had dated men a little older than me, but I usually stuck with men under thirty. There was also the fact that Aaron was the Santa Claus at the mall where I manage a department store, and while he looked decidedly different, and more attractive, when he was out of his costume, I still couldn’t bring myself to go on a date with Santa.

“A little yes. I mean, you could be my dad.”

The instant I said it, I knew I had hurt his feelings. He laughed, a sad kind of resigned laugh, but I knew he got my point. “I’m not, though, am I?” His voice was low and husky. Something in my stomach flipped, and the thought crossed my mind that his voice probably sounded like that when he woke up in the morning.

“No, you’re not. But you know, I just can’t imagine dating Santa.”

“Well, that’s that then. I’ll just admire you from afar,” he said and offered another unconvincing laugh. I watched as he put his beard and hat back on and began to walk away. He was an attractive man, who easily could have passed for forty instead of over fifty; he was in great shape, made me laugh everyday when we took our evening break together, and had a great way with the kids at the mall. I enjoyed flirting with him in a casual way, but, still, he wasn’t my type, so I dismissed the idea and went back to working on my merchandising plan. (more…)

This is a story of what happened to me my first Christmas away from home. I had just turned 19 and had just started courses at the local community college that fall. We didn’t have a lot of money in my family and my parents were already working hard to make ends meet, so in order to stretch out my funds, I got a job working at a supermarket bagging and carrying out groceries. I didn’t mind; my parents were already sacrificing and this was my way of pulling my weight, doing my bit. The plus side was I could afford a better car. I’d swapped my ‘57 Bel-Air for a souped-up ‘69 Chevelle SS, so this made me happy.

This was the only thing that made me happy, however. I missed those days back in high school, where I was the big football hero. I missed Tracy, a hot little cheerleader who loved to express her hero worship by giving me long, slow, loving blowjobs in the front seat of my ‘57 Chevy. Tracy was a cocksucking fiend, and I missed making it with her Saturday nights.

There was no shortage of beautiful young things strutting around the community college campus in their short skirts or tight jeans, walking in pairs to class with their chests way up high and firm. But for some reason the girls seemed repelled by me, and I wasn’t getting any skirt action. (more…)

It had been a long, bumpy flight, I hadn’t slept, and I was feeling skeevy around the edges. Needed something to hone that edge off, so I stopped at an old friend’s up in Laurel Canyon before going to my hotel and picked up a few joints. Decent stuff, but I wished I’d brought my tin from New York – unfortunately, not with airport security these days.

Anyway, I checked into my room up at the Four Seasons– the quietest place when I’m in town on business. It was about 9 in the evening, midnight east coast time, and I had meetings tomorrow. Just enough time to light up a bone and kill a few brain cells on the balcony before drifting into slumberland.

Which is what I was doing when the door to the balcony of the room next door popped open and a young girl rushed out. I palmed the joint and looked innocent while she sniffed the air. Looked to be late teens, long brown hair down to her waist, wearing a Good Charlotte T-shirt and jammy shorts. Looked pissed, like someone was having fun and she wasn’t. Cute, with big eyes behind clear round glasses, even if they were narrowed at the moment.

“Do you smell that?” she asked.

“Smell what?” I answered. Just some guy her dad’s age catching the air. (more…)

He stands before me in the kitchen. I know what he wants. He is tall, much taller than me. Broad shouldered, muscled, defined and solid. He fills his navy suit well. A large man. Thick black hair, flecked with grey, and a full beard. He is in his mid 40s. He has come home from the office early, knowing that I would be here. I know what he wants; I long for what he wants. And as he takes my hand and leads me up the stairs, I shiver in excited anticipation of the love we will be making. I am 20 years old, and much smaller than him. When I met him, I was inexperienced. But not now, oh no, not after the months of loving that he has taken me through. Not now.

He sits on the bed, smiles at me, and loosens his tie. I stand in front of him. He grasps me to him, pulling me in between his massive thighs, and we kiss. His mouth is searching, forceful, penetrating. He runs his hands down my back to my buttocks, pulls me against him. His hand slips round my hip to my groin, and he slips it between my legs, stroking and touching at me. The feeling is almost too much, and I whimper into his mouth as he feels me. His hands open my legs, and I throw back my head, gasping at the pleasure as he strokes my thighs. I want him badly! (more…)