mature xxx

I used to visit my grandfather Anders regularly when he was an old man and bound to a wheel chair. His brain was still sharp and he entertained me with stories from his life. He was a handsome man, tall and slim. He had done well for himself and lived a luxury life. My grandmother was dead and he had a maid and a private nurse to take care of him.

This Sunday in March -52 his nurse Charlotte wheeled him into the room. She was in her late twenties, good-looking with a full bosom that she wasn’t shy to show. Her nurse uniform wasn’t fully buttoned up but showed a very nice cleavage. And when she bent forward over Anders a good part of her lovely breasts showed. She often leaned over Anders. She had been with my grandfather for a year and seemed to take good care of him. (more…)

Pamela watched the pick-up truck pull into her drive and wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron; her hired hand was here. Her husband had passed away three years ago and she had milked their prize herd all by herself as well tended the farm’s crops. For all her hard work she’d finally managed to make the last payment on the small farm and this year opted to hire a full-time summer employee.

She’d interviewed several young men. Some were obviously looking for an easy summer job, milk a few cows, lift a few hay bales, eat a fine meal and then party time. But that wasn’t what Pamela wanted or needed in her employee. Eventually, she’d settled on one applicant. She watched the young man get out of his truck and pull off his baseball cap. No one would have looked at the gentleman and seen “farmer” nor would they have seen “artist.” What they would have seen was a city boy wanting to experience life, and that was what he’d told her.

Pamela liked the answer. She’d not taught since she married Will and she saw Trent as her way of recapturing something she enjoyed doing, teaching. She didn’t have to be in a classroom. She just enjoyed showing people how to do something new. Her fingers were unknotting her apron when she heard the doorbell ring and she chuckled at her thoughts and how easily she was distracted. (more…)

Since I’d moved into my new house, I’d made reasonably good friends with the neighbours. Beth would often let me go over and use the pool whenever I wanted, because nobody used it anymore, that is, her kids had all grown up and left home. So I would often walk over to their yard and go for a dip, especially when no one was home. They didn’t mind at all. On one occasion, Beth’s sister-in law Sandy, from Ireland, came to stay for 3 months for the summer.

Beth told me that Sandy was gonna stay over and insisted I should still use the pool whenever I wanted. I was a bit hesitant at first, since I didn’t want to intrude. But I felt that since Beth and husband John worked the day, I would be doing them a favor by giving some company to Sandy. I noticed Sandy used the pool quite frequently in these hot summer days, I could hear the constant clang of the gate that fenced the pool. Every clang I heard, I knew someone was using it. Before going for a swim, I was always cautious about the fact that someone else may be using the pool. Since my bedroom had faced the side of the house, I would often peep through top of my blinds and over the fence to see if anyone was in there. If the coast was clear, I would usually go for a swim. (more…)

I was randy as hell one day and made up my mind I was going to get laid that afternoon, one way or another. If I had to drive into to town and pick up someone at a bar, I would. But first, I had decided I would see if I could attract someone locally.

My beach house is rather isolated. It’s the only one for about half a mile in either direction. I know this will change over time. This undiscovered barrier island on the Gulf Coast will eventually be over developed and become like all the rest — an over crowded tourist venue. But for now, it was secluded and peaceful and I loved it. Sure, fishermen would drive by along the beach, or sometimes even set up to surf fish right in front of my place; but not often. Mostly, the beach was deserted, with just a few people walking along the surf every so often.

I had determined I would put my beach blanket just at the foot of the dunes where the wooden walk from my cottage ends. That put me about fifty yards from the water, and I decided I would sunbath and see if I attracted any attention that way. I was willing to take anything that came along that half resembled a good looking man from eighteen to eighty, as long as he could get it up and satisfy me. (more…)

I had only been on the job as superintendent of the apartment building in Miami a couple of weeks. My job consists of maintaining the common areas of the buildings interior and attending to the simple everyday problems with plumbing, electrical and a myriad of other small items in the tenants apartments. Generally speaking, I was a handy man. For 30 odd years I was a highly paid engineer. I got tired of the rat race and chucked it all, my wife included. We never had children and since I gave her everything she didn’t mind too much.

My third week on the job found me changing the filters in the return portion of the air conditioning system. There are three air returns in the hallway on each floor. Mid-morning found me on the second floor right next to the elevator. An extremely small man in his late sixties engaged me in conversation as he waited for the elevator. He introduced himself as Hal in apartment 214. The elevator came and he let it go without him, explaining he thought his wife was right behind him. (more…)

A few weeks ago I met a very glamorous woman of about 35 at the supermarket where I work as Assistant Manager. She asked me to take down a packet of washing powder from the top shelf, as she could not reach it herself (she was only about 5″2′). As I gave it to her our fingers touched and she looked me in the eyes and slowly licked her lips. I felt heat rising in my groin and after a moment she looked down and saw the swelling in my trousers. She smiled at me, looked at the name badge pinned onto my shirt, and whispered “You should be careful Martin, who you show that to. Some people might be offended.” Then she leaned towards me and brushed her fingers lightly along my erection finishing by gently squeezing the head. I almost came in my pants!

“I can see that you are not offended” I replied to which she said “Oh no, I look upon that as a compliment. I have rather a lot of shopping here, can you help me load it into my car?” (more…)

Oh, God! I just wanted to hide! I wished with all my heart that the Earth would just open up and swallow me. This must be a dream. How could I have ever gotten myself into a situation like this?

Tawdry! Unseemly!

Look at them out there. Four young men dressed in their work jeans and boots leaned on their picks and shovels - Boys, really. They were all in their late teens or early twenties. Each was shirtless on this unexpectedly hot and humid day in early September. The sun gleamed off of their youthful sweaty bodies.

Jerry was the oldest at twenty-four and the other three were standing around him and listening with what appeared to be almost hero worship. I couldn’t hear what was being said as I peered out from between the curtains of my bedroom, but I had a pretty good idea. (more…)

It was summertime and the campus was dead. I was in the English graduate program at the University of *****, and nearly everyone had gone to wherever they go. I was trying to finish my degree as fast as possible because I was 29 years old and I wanted to get on with my life. Don’t get me wrong, I liked being a student, but I didn’t want to be one forever. So, during summer school I was hanging out with three other students—practically the only people left, at least for a couple of weeks.

We were at the apartment of Janet, a 45 year old woman who, having gotten divorced and sent a kid off to another college was getting a master’s degree so she could teach. Sitting on the floor was Katie, a big girl in her mid-twenties. She was taller than I was and built solid—not fat or even heavy, but you didn’t want to mess with her. On one end of the couch was Wendy—super slut. Now these people were my friends—sort of–, so I don’t mean to be unkind, but that’s exactly what she was. She had a gorgeous body—everything in the right place, a pretty face, long light brown hair and no morals whatsoever. It was a rare evening when she didn’t flash her panties at someone—or someones. I think she was a nymphomaniac. She had slept with a lot of guys and every time her name was mentioned—and it got mentioned a lot—all the guys laughed. We called her a “slush puppy”. I don’t know where that term came from, but if ever there was one, she was it. We’re all sitting around after a sharing a couple of pizzas, just shooting the breeze and watching TV in a rather desultory way when Wendy says,”I’m going down to the Loft.”

The Loft was a restaurant and bar where all the graduate students hung out as well as a mix of professors, undergrads, and locals. Really popular place, though in the summer it was pretty quiet.

“Ill go with her,” said Katie—”you wanna come?” (more…)

I stopped the car in the driveway and turned to Tammy. I didn’t want to turn off the car. That would mean the air-conditioning would stop, and that was having a wonderful effect on her pink, little nipples, the ones I’d been slobbering over earlier. She ignored as she looked at herself in the mirror, trying to straighten out her wispy blond hair. I smiled at the thin, cold figure in front of me. She finally returned my stare.

“Well?” she smirked.

“Lip-stick still a little smudged,” I grinned, trying to be helpful.

She rolled her eyes and reached for her purse, opened it and took out some Kleenex and began wiping clean her thin, pale lips. I breathed in deeply, taking in her fresh, soapy smell, remembering how they’d gotten so smudged less than an hour ago, in her parents’ bedroom. She’d been on her back, thighs open wide, writhing back and forth, side to side, a convulsing mass of eighteen year old flesh, as I pounded into her. She put the stained Kleenex away and turned to me, grinning. I smiled back. How different she’d looked when I’d quickly pulled out of her gripping little cunt and pressed myself into her mouth, releasing gush after gush of sticky goo into her surprised mouth. She pretended she hadn’t liked it. Much of it spilled out and onto the pillow. “It’s not your sperm” she’d said, afterwards, “it’s, you know, that I could taste myself on you still.” I shuddered, excited. Wonderful stuff.

“Well?” she asked, bringing me back to reality. She was waiting for me. “Are we going to stay in your drive-way all night or get to the party?”
(more…)

I came across an ad for Tantra massage in the DFW area. I called and spoke with a wonderful woman named Akasha. She described herself as a 40-year-old who practiced sensual massage techniques in the Tantra method. She would also provide instructions in stress reduction techniques and provide a massage to beat all others. We made an appointment for the following Monday.

Monday came and I drove over to Akasha’s location. I was slightly nervous since her directions sent me to an “Inn Suites” hotel. I parked in front of the room number, knocked on the door, and was greeted by Akasha. She was dressed in a long white Kaftan with her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. We shook hands and kissed lightly on the cheek. Even though the room was a hotel room, Akasha decorated the room with some candles, incense, and Indian statues of elephants. We sat on a couch and discussed why I was there and what she can provide for me. I shared my family experience in Florida and the tension I was under. She reassured me the breathing techniques, along with the massage would help matters. I paid her the fee agreed over the phone, and then got undressed. Akasha proceeded to remove her Kaftan and lower the lights in the room. Akasha’s body was decorated with some nice tattoos over her left breast, along with both of her nipples being pierced with barbells. I admired her body and complimented her on her design. She smiled and walked me over to her massage table, which she arranged to be in the middle of the room. (more…)

Cynthia woke up rubbing her pussy through her soaked panties; she was dreaming again, the same dream she had the past few months. There she was in her bed naked and a youthful looking man was in front of her masturbating the biggest cock she has ever laid eyes on. That dream always made her cum in her sleep and she would wake up with her pussy drenched with her love juices. That morning she was extra horny such that she continued to rub herself after she has awakened. Cynthia lazily kneaded her large breasts through her silk negligee and then ran her fingers down to her dripping cunt and slowly rubbed her wet slit. This went on for several minutes until Cynthia trembled to a pulsating orgasm. After a few minutes after her orgasm Cynthia shrugged it off and then took a bath, she was already running late for her class.

Mrs. Cynthia McKinley is a 40-year-old teacher at an all boys’ private high school where she teaches natural science. She’s been married to a Navy man for 10 years and to whom she has two children. Although Cynthia is of the conservative type and a very faithful wife to her husband, but due to the nature of her husband’s work Cynthia was always at home alone and yearning for her husband’s attention. That’s why she has always those dreams. She was lusting for a man’s touch. (more…)

I am a thirty-year-old teacher at a small town high school. It is a job I’ve had and enjoyed for eight years, coming into it right after college. Recently events occurred that have made it much more enjoyable than I ever dreamed possible. The reason is I have begun sampling the sexual delights of my students.

It started a few months ago when I was doing some paper work in the Principle’s office. The local teacher’s union was preparing a routine quarterly seminar for the region and several of my colleagues and I were busy getting the forms ready. Richie, a senior and the co-captain of the basketball team was helping with the collating.

Somebody started talking about a recent talk show they had seen dealing with the topic of sexual appeal. What is sexy and what is not, etc. etc. One of our macho associates started getting a bit raunchy in regards to certain female body parts.

“Give me a woman with big hooters,” he proclaimed. Everyone laughed.

“Not me,” retorted our Assistant Principle. “I’m a sucker for long, shapely legs.” (more…)

I’m a boy.

Dunno why I am, guess I don’t feel like I’ve crossed that line to man yet. I’m a little insecure, I guess. Sure, I’m a teenager. My balls have dropped long ago. Sure, I’ve fucked girls. I’ve done the stuff that make you a man. My dad paid for hookers for me when I was younger. He wanted me to be a man. I’ve fucked girls my age, too. Usually at parties when we’re drunk. That’s the only time I get the nerve. I’m kinda shy, too.

I’ve felt a girl’s mouth on my dick. I’ve felt how good it feels inside a girl’s wet pussy. I’ve cum up inside some girls. I like the way it feels.

But I get embarrassed when my cock gets hard on the beach, looking at all the topless girls. Sometimes they notice my hard dick and giggle at me. I hate that. I just run back to my room and masturbate. Sometimes three, four times a day. I do into the mirror. I like to watch, you know? (more…)

I had my first real sexual experience many years ago, at the age of 18. I wasn’t a complete virgin – if you count one 20 second fumbled stand-up shag with an equally inexperienced girl in the alley behind the youth club – but like most teenage males of the time most of my sexual encounters involved my right hand and Health and Efficiency magazine.

I had just finished a heavy week of exams at school, so I decided to unwind with a relaxing weekend walking in the hills of my native Yorkshire. It was a spur of the moment decision, and after a full day of hiking I found myself in the evening in a tiny village, a sort of one-horse town where the horse had died. There was only one place to stay, an ancient inn. When I asked about a bed for the night, the landlady told me she was sorry but they’d already let out their one room for the night. So I bought a half pint of shandy and slumped at a table trying to work out how the hell I was going to get to the next village, 20 miles away, at that time of night. (more…)

I just turned 18 a few months earlier. I was a virgin and I had never had a girlfriend before. I wanted to have sexual experiences but I didn’t want to do anything stupid like hire a prostitute. I wasn’t bad looking I was just kind of a geek. I was 5′11″, 175 lbs, with black hair and brown eyes. I had just started college and was taking fencing as an elective. I also needed it for my theatre class because we would be putting on Hamlet in December. I was not an athletic person. I never played any sports in high school unless you count theatre as a sport. My muscles were tight after my first week of fencing. I got stiff necks and had trouble moving quickly without hurting. My instructor recommended getting a deep tissue massage to loosen my tight muscles.

I got back to my dorm and looked up massage therapists in the phone book but I didn’t have a car and none of the local therapists were in walking distance. The only other thing to do was to check out the school’s assets. The school’s health center didn’t offer that kind of service but the secretary suggested I talk to a professor who teaches a course in massaging. I went to talk to the instructor but the class was ending and the professor had already left. A few students remained talking in the class afterward. I saw a group of three older women talking, all of which were beautiful, one of which had a body to match her face. They were about 29 or 30. I asked the sexy one about the instructor. (more…)

When I was growing up in south Florida in the ’50s, I lived a privileged life. My family wasn’t really wealthy, but we were more than comfortable. We lived in a large, lovely home on a golf course. We were members of the exclusive country club in our area and traveled in all the right circles. From the time I was sixteen, I had my own car and was a member of the “in” clubs at my high school. I wanted for nothing, nothing that is except an exciting sex life.

I was good looking, best described as “cute”, but I wasn’t the school stud. As a sophomore in high school, I was 5′ 7″ tall and weighed a hulking 135 lbs. It wasn’t until my junior and senior years that I experienced a growth spurt which resulted in my attaining the lofty height of 5′ 10″. Nor was I the school jock. I was athletic, but my size mitigated against football stardom. I did play on the junior varsity team for awhile, but in a scrimmage against the varsity, I made the serious, and almost fatal, mistake of attempting to tackle the varsity fullback who weighed about sixteen tons. At least, that’s what it felt like when he flattened me like a steamroller. After my recovery from unconsciousness, a fractured jaw and several broken teeth, I joined the golf team and had a very successful high school athletic career as an orthopedically sound, if not champion, golfer.

My sex life, like that of most teenagers in the ’50s, was woefully inadequate. I had plenty of dates and my fair share of girlfriends. I even got laid once by one of the girls on the “Easy” list. It was a quick, exciting, wet, sloppy, frantic and not altogether fulfilling experience. The rest of my sexual experiences with members of the feminine gender generally consisted of furtive groping in the back seats of darkened automobiles. I remember many fondled breasts, wet fingers, blue balls and cold showers. Other than that, my sexual satisfaction was provided by “Mother Palm and Her Five Lovely Daughters”. I definitely was not an accomplished lover, that is, until after my experiences with Evelyn! (more…)

I hardly recognised him when I saw him. I had been idly sitting on a bench along the river path about halfway through my daily walk when a guy came strolling along dressed in a business suit, which is unusual along the path where casual clothing is the norm.

It is customary for people to greet each other, even strangers, along the river path so I glanced up and said, “Hi.”

It was he who recognised me first. He returned my greeting and then stopped in his tracks. “Tony?” he asked uncertainly. I looked up at him puzzled that he knew my name, and then I recognised him. “Adrian!” I exclaimed.

It had been twenty years since I had last seen him. Back in those days he had been a bright eyed mischievous looking fellow, friendly and full of fun. Now he was plumper and balding, but he still had that impish look about him.

We shook hands and went into those effusive lines people adopt when they haven’t met for a long time; “After all these years,” “You haven’t changed all that much,” “What have you been doing?” “I’m over here on a business trip,” and so on.

I said, “This calls for a bit of a celebration, let’s go to the Star and Bear and have a drink if you’ve got the time.”

“Sure,” he said, “I’ve finished what I came here to do and I’m just filling in time until my flight.” (more…)

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Her heart pounded in her chest as she listened to the captain make his descent announcements. Enjoy the beautiful state, enjoy the weather, fly Delta Airlines again and remember that this was the friendly captain speaking. Rightio-man. Whatever you say, chief, and who the fuck made you captain? Beth smiled to herself, remembering a comedian who asked that very question in his routine. The woman in her 30s had already packed up her book, crossword puzzle magazine, reading glasses and headphones to her CD player. Jim Morrison was silent for now though she suspected he’d make some repeat performances once she got to wherever he was taking her.

The plane slowed down on the runway, turning into one of those tunnels and the flight attendant was already standing at the front of the plane to give the remaining orders that they were to follow as they filed from the plane into the airport, and generally be whatever other help they were at the end of a flight. Beth wouldn’t need help and she hoped that neither attendant reached out to touch her. She was already shaking, nervous about the meeting ahead of her.

When she’d started the online friendship, she’d had no intention of it going beyond just that: friendship. But it had. In just a few months, the teasing banter turned to flirting, which then turned to virtual heavy petting and later into a full-on cyber relationship. She often found herself shaking her head and wondering just what in the hell she was thinking. What made the situation even stranger is that the guy on the other end of her keyboard attentions was in college. He’d turned 19 just a couple of months after they’d begun talking and he seemed to have no concerns about their huge age difference whatsoever. If anything, Beth worried more than he did, especially after he’d told her that he loved her. That made things a stranger reality to the 30-something college professor even though she’d written about more impossible-seeming situations all the time.
(more…)

David Izumi was my best friend my whole life. He was born and raised in Japan, in the traditional Japanese family lifestyle. His father was the classic military man who got stationed in Japan, fell in love and had a family, only to eventually move back to the United States.

I met David when I was six years old and we have been inseparable ever since. We grew up on the same block together, went to the same school, did everything together. His family was my family and vice versa.

So it was hard when David told me the week before our High School graduation that he was going to go in the military like his Father and he and his mother would be stationed at his Father’s base in Russia. I felt like I was losing my best friend, and my family, and it was not the easiest thing to swallow.

David and I shared a mutual “going away party” (however, I wasn’t leaving for college for another two months). And we both said our mutual emotional goodbyes. We really didn’t say much that day, just let the day past, realizing what the next few days would bring.

The day of David’s departure to boot camp came and went, and life continued circling around the sun. The summer was slow and unnerving, living in a small town you have very little to entertain yourself with, and when your best friend ups and leaves, it’s even more difficult to do the things you like.

I dated girls on and off that summer, yet found more pleasure in just working and keeping busy.

That’s when things got really strange. (more…)

It seemed to 18-year-old Billy Mayfair that he had been on this bus forever already, yet he was not even half way there. It was a long trip from Fresno, California to South Dakota, especially on a bus.

Billy looked out of the window, contemplating how he had ended up on this bus to nowhere. He had been out with several of his friends after high school graduation, looking for some fun. The BMW was just sitting there, keys in the ignition, waiting for someone to drive it away. Billy didn’t want to do it but his friends called him a coward. Well, they didn’t get five miles before the cops caught them.

His mom had been mortified; her son was a criminal. She and the Judge agreed that Billy needed a change of scenery. The Judge gave Bill a choice, go to jail or work for a friend of his mother on her farm in South Dakota for the summer. Even for an eighteen-year-old, that was a ‘no-brainer’.

Jess Morgan, his mom’s best friend had married a man and moved to a farm in central South Dakota. Then she had lost her husband suddenly last year, leaving her with over a hundred acres of farmland and a lot of bills. Still, Jess was not the kind of woman that gave up easily; she was determined to make it on her own.

Billy barely remembered Jess; he had not seen her in years. His mom said he had always called her Aunt Jess because she had treated him so well. He was certain that she would be some dried up old hag, maybe even 40 years old. He was beginning to think that jail might have been a better choice. How was he going to make it through an entire summer in the middle of nowhere? He wasn’t even sure there was running water on her farm. (more…)

Vanessa Perry sipped coffee from her mug as she looked out at the summer sun rising over Philadelphia. The forty-year-old executive sighed deeply as she reflected back on her life. She had grown up the youngest daughter of an extremely wealthy family. She had dreams of growing up, falling in love and getting married, like her four siblings before her. However, as she watched their families evolve before her eyes, it became clear that that was not the life she wanted to lead. So she left her small suburban home, made her way through college (relying on minimal financial assistance along the way) and spent the next fifteen years working her way to the top of one of the most prestigious medical research companies in the country.

All her corporate success had come at a significant cost to her personal life, however. She had been in a couple relationships, to be sure, but they never amounted to anything of substance, more due to her absorbing herself in her work. Now that she actually had some free time to focus on them, she was beginning to feel those sexual urges that she should have been feeling a long time ago. But the singles scene was absolutely dead; most of the men she met were either way out of shape (working out had been the only leisure activity she allowed herself, and only because the building she worked in had a company gym); wrapped up in their own careers, as she had been; or had any other of a number of issues that were common in men her age. (more…)

“I don’t think I’ll be able to attend tonight’s committee meeting. My damn husband is out of town again and I can’t find a babysitter.”

I was standing behind two attractive women in the grocery store’s express check-out.

“Amy, you have to come. You’ve done all the work to date and we need the project to remain on track.”

“I know . . . I know. I’ll make a few more calls and see if I can find a sitter.”

My name is Chris. I’m a college sophomore and I’m home for a five week Christmas vacation. My dad has already bugged me about finding some part-time work. ‘No son of mine is going to lie around the house for five weeks. Get a job!’

I actually agreed with Dad, but who is going to hire someone for five weeks?

As I exited the grocery store, I saw the mother who needed the babysitter. She was packing her bags in the back of her SUV.

I approached her and started, “Excuse me. I’m Chris. I’m a college student and I’m home on vacation. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m looking for work and heard you say you needed a babysitter.”

I kept a respectable distance, but the woman was looking at me suspiciously, as I continued, “You can call Bob Lewis at the Parks and Recreation Department as a quick reference. I lifeguard at the pool during the summer. Also, Sergeant Jim Parks at the Police Department is a neighbor.”

“Anyway,” I stuttered, “if you want a babysitter, give me a call.” I wrote out my name and cell number, handed her the slip of paper and headed home. (more…)

“Buy me a drink sailor?”

Blearily I swiveled my head towards the sound and tried to focus my eyes to see who was addressing me.

The barmaid who stood by the table finally came into focus. She was short, perhaps 5′2,” blond, and what I’d once heard described as “healthy” by a good old boy from Texas. She was what would now be called a BBW, not overly fat, but pleasingly plump and pretty to boot with sky blue eyes.

I looked down to the table and viewing the small pile of coins and bills, allowed I had enough money for another beer and a drink for her, so I nodded my head.

She picked up my empty glass and walked off to the bar to refill it and pick up her drink (juice and?). While I waited for her to return I looked around and found myself to be alone except for the bartender and the barmaid. Glancing towards the clock I finally determined that it was almost closing time which meant that after this drink it was time to head back to the ship.

Hell of a note! Friday night. I’ve got liberty until Monday morning and payday isn’t until Tuesday. (more…)

Sitting at the Basket Ball game watching the men go back and forth. I catch my eye on one man, tall, dark and very handsome. I seen the bulge in his shorts and can only imagine what he would feel like inside me. I let my mind wonder so that I don’t even see the game anymore. I imagine you standing over me, watching the sweat glisten on your skin. Mmmmm, my body starts to get all tingly and I feel myself starting to sweat at the thought of you near me.

Too scared to approach you, I sit and wait for you to walk by. I watch every move that you make and want you even more. I start to run my hands along my inner part of my thighs, up into my short skirt. I let my fingers slide threw my panties to feel my clit hard and my panties soaked. Slowly I let my finger slide into my pussy, touching, playing. I let my fingers glide in and out of my pussy, moving my hips slowly to the rhythm. Trying to stay quiet so that no one can see what I was doing. (more…)

When Frank died, I made one of those over-hasty decisions that people often make when in a state of bereavement.

If I might offer a piece of advice, wait until at least a year after the death of a loved one before you make any drastic moves.

Frank and I had always planned to sell our suburban house and move permanently into our beach house when he retired. Six months after his death I did just that – sold the suburban house and went to live in the beach house. It was a mistake.

In leaving the suburbs, I also left old friends and relatives. Of course, we said those things that people do say as they part – “We shall see each other.” “I’ll be coming up to town quite often.” “We’ll keep in touch,” and things like that. But when you are three hundred and fifty kilometres apart, it is not as easy as you think its going to be.

Frank was sixty when he died and I was fifty-four. I was, and am, in excellent health, and went for a run and swim everyday. That side of living in the beach house is fine, but it is people you miss. (more…)