mature xxx

It was winter, near the beginning of a new semester, and Julie Lindsey loved both cold weather and new semesters. Cold weather meant cuddling, and she loved to cuddle. As a literature professor, she had a fondness not only for cuddling with a man, or occasionally with a woman, she loved curling up with a good book or writing erotic stories on her laptop.

Although she loved cuddling, Julie wasn’t a person who jumped into bed with just anyone. She loved being single since getting out of an unsatisfying marriage when she was in her early forties. From that time, she had explored and indulged her fantasies with both men and women, but was choosy and discreet – not secretive, but discreet.

The other thing she loved was new semesters. It was nice to know that the past semester was over and buried, no more keeping up with each student’s grades and having to decide whether to pass or fail, give an A, B, or C for those folks on the borderline. She especially disliked graduate students coming to her office at the end of a semester, whining about needing a B in the course. She usually told them that she didn’t give grades; students earned them.

Today was the beginning of the third week of the semester, and she was heading to her first class for the day. The air tasted crisp as she sucked it into her lungs, expanding her chest. She grinned, thinking about another faculty member, a religious nut, upbraiding her for doing that very thing, telling her that she was showing off her breasts by doing so.

Julie knew she had nice breasts and in fact felt very comfortable with her body. She had been told that her air of being at ease with herself was one of the things that made her sexually attractive. And she knew she was; she enjoyed the glances, sometimes appreciative, sometimes lustful, from both faculty members and students.

As she walked across campus toward the Liberal Arts building, Julie pictured herself standing in front of the mirror after showering that morning. She had turned around, examining her nude body, front, back, and sides. Looking back at her was an older – she preferred the word mature – woman, a woman who was neither tall nor short, neither skinny nor heavy. She knew she looked good to be in her fifties. Her breasts were not as firm as they had been when she was twenty, but she had been told that there was a sensuousness about them that rivaled or surpassed those of many younger women. The woman looking back at her had graying hair, something she was proud of. She refused to color her hair, thinking that it would be a sign that she was unhappy with who she was.

As Julie entered the building, nodding and smiling at people around her, she realized she needed to pee before going to class. She hurried to her office to lay the book she was carrying on her desk before heading to the restroom, leaving her door open. When she returned, she noticed an envelope lying on the book. Opening it, she found a sheet of paper inside with the words:

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

“George Gordon, more commonly known as Lord Byron.” Julie thought, smiling her herself. Then she began to wonder who had put it there. She thought about looking out the door, but realized that the person was likely long gone. She tried to remember, with no success who she had seen in the hall when she was leaving and entering her office. Dropping the paper into one of her desk drawers, she soon dismissed the question and left for her class, this time locking her door.

It was Monday, and her first class went well. Lots of discussion. At one point, Julie caught herself looking over the class, wondering if one of them had left the note, but quickly dismissed the question and concentrated on her teaching.

The rest of Julie’s week was uneventful and by the next Monday, she had all but put the question of the source of the note to rest. Perhaps just a prank. But then, as she opened her office door in the morning, there was another envelope on the floor. The sheet inside contained the words:

Had I the heavens embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Yeats. She recognized the poem immediately. Very nice to receive such poems, Julie thought, but from whom? Faculty member or student? She dropped the sheet in the drawer with the second one.

The question lingered in her mind during the entire week and when she found no envelope on her office floor the next Monday, she felt both relieved and disappointed – until she arrived back at her car in the evening to find one under her windshield wiper.

The envelope was damp and it had misted briefly that morning, leading Julie to think that it had been left shortly after she had gotten to school. She waited till she got into her car before opening the envelope and reading:

See the chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my lady rideth!
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car Love guideth.
And as she goes, all hearts do duty
Unto her beauty;

Julie recognized the words but couldn’t place the author. Going immediately back into her office, she opened the ladder to reach the upper shelves of the built-in bookcase. The language gave her a clue and in about five minutes, she held a collection of Ben Jonson’s works in which she found her newest poem.

She sat contemplating for a few moments. Was it an admirer? Someone courting her or too shy to approach her? Was it a stalker? The thought set shivers through her, and then she dismissed it. Not a stalker; not with that choice of poems. But who? A student in one of her classes? The new, playful professor who was about her age? She grinned, picturing herself having sex with him, as she intended to one day. As she thought, she slid one of her hands between her legs, inside her panties, playing lightly at first, then faster. The office door was locked, and she felt safe, but knew she would have to muffle her sounds when she came – and she soon did, her body stiffening, arching.

When she had finished cuming, Julie wiped her fingers on a tissue as she looked around her office. She loved it almost as much as she loved her home. The Liberal Arts building was older – new buildings on campus seemed reserved for athletics and hard sciences. The school had offered to remodel her office when they refurbished the rest of the building, but she refused. She loved the high ceiling with a ceiling fan, the oak trim, the built-in oak cabinets with book shelves on top of them reaching to the ceiling. She had settled instead for a ladder to reach the top shelves of the bookcases.

The next Monday, there was an envelope in her faculty mail slot. It had evidently been dropped in the campus mail the Friday before. Another poem:

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, hills and fields,
Woods or steepy mountains yields.

Julie smiled. Christopher Marlowe – one of her favorite authors. The poem kept a smile on her face all day as she bounced lightly from one place to another. She decided she was being courted – willed herself to believe that because she enjoyed the feeling of romance.

As the semester progressed, Julie found herself thinking more about the identity of her possible suitor, both at home and in her office, fantasizing about one possibility then another. Was it the graduate student with jet black hair whose eyes, she had noticed, frequently settled on her breasts? The graduate assistant who worked for one of her male colleagues? The red headed female librarian whom she knew preferred other women?

Julie’s mind turned to the new assistant coach that the women referred to as “The Hunk?” No, she giggled at the thought, not him. Not with the poems. Anything sent by him would more likely start with “There was a young lady from . . . .”

As she moved through the semester, receiving poems one way or another every Monday: Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Robert Browning, and others, she found herself not only thinking and fantasizing, but masturbating more – every evening in her home and not infrequently in the daytime in her office with the door shut and locked. She grinned one day as she thought that her office tissue expense was going up, wiping her juices from her fingers. Perhaps she would have to begin sucking them instead.

As the end of the semester approached, Julie was no nearer to discovering the identity of her suitor – at least that’s what she preferred to think of the person as. It was not that she hadn’t tired, but that she hadn’t been successful. And then things took a turn.

Monday, three weeks before semester’s end came the deadline for students to hand in term papers. They could either hand them in during class, or give them to her during her office hours.
Since it was the last day, Julie made it a point to be in her office when she wasn’t in class – until she felt the strong desire for a cup of coffee. She left the door open just in case as she headed for the teachers’ lounge. When she arrived, she found that the pot contained only stale lukewarm liquid. Sighing, she turned and headed back to her office, deciding to wait until she got home.

As Julie reached her hall, she noticed someone just turning the corner at the other end and recognized Joe, a student in her first Monday morning class. He must have turned in his term paper, she thought. But as she entered her office, Julie realized that Joe had handed her his term paper two weeks ago – he had been one of the first to do so.

Quickly, Julie scanned her office, looking for an envelope, but saw none. Next, she moved to the term paper folders stacked neatly on a table near her desk. The top paper was the same one that had been there when she left her office, but there was something about the stack. It was not as neat as she had left it – something had been moved. Her hands trembled with the anticipation of possible discovery as she looked through the stack, until she found one folder that was much too thin. Opening it, she read:

I ne’re was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet.
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.

Below the verse, centered on the page were the words, “I Love You.”

Clutching the folder, Julie sat, stunned. Joe was her secret admirer. In one way, it made sense. Joe was both bright and knowledgeable, one of her best students. If she had thought about it, she would have realized that he was one of the few students with the breadth to be familiar with the poems she had received.

But she was still surprised. Joe was a senior who would graduate at the end of the semester, and although he was bold during class discussions, seeming to have good self esteem when it came to academics, he was very shy otherwise. Julie had felt for him when she saw him blush when a female student addressed him after class one day.

As Julie contemplated the situation, she realized that she had to do something. She also wanted to be gentle as he was a good student and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Making up her mind, she picked up the telephone and called the Registrar’s office to find out more about her young, secret admirer.

At five o’clock, Julie left her office and headed for the cafeteria, having found out that Joe fulfilled part of his work-study program there. She went through the serving line, paying at the end, and all the while looking around for Joe. It wasn’t until she was almost finished eating that she finally discovered him in the window where trays and dishes were taken. He was one of the dishwashers.

Julie waited until no one was at the window before taking her tray. As she pushed her tray though the opening, she said, “Hello, Joe,” watching his look of surprise turn to embarrassment.

He nodded and mumbled something and Julie continued. “I need to see you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning in my office, Joe. I checked and you don’t have any classes in the morning.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Joe replied softly, then looked down at the dishes in front of him.

The next morning was warm, and Julie dressed as she usually did on warm, spring days. She wore a half bra that accentuated her cleavage and a blouse that fit snugly. It wasn’t especially designed to be sexy, but on her body, it was. Her skirt wasn’t short, but came about three inches above her knee. No pantyhose – she hated pantyhose, except in the winter when they helped keep her warm.

Panties? Panties were a choice. When she wore longer skirts, she sometimes wore no panties, enjoying the stimulating feel of air on her pussy (she loved the word, “pussy” – loved saying and hearing it.) But with this skirt, she chose to wear panties, because if she sat the wrong way . . . .

Arriving at her office, Julie remembered the poem of the day before. It was not familiar to her and she sat at the computer, typing in the first line. The name, John Clare came up. John Clare. She had something with his stuff in it, somewhere.

After looking on the lower shelves, Julie moved to the higher ones, finally opening the ladder. There, on the very top shelf was the book she was looking for. As she reached for it, she heard a knock on the door and without turning, responded, “Come in.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Joe’s shy voice respond.

As Julie turned to look down at the young man, her hand inadvertently knocked a book off the top shelf. The book hit the built-in cabinet below and bounced onto the floor at the foot of the ladder.

“Will you get that for me, Joe?”

Julie took the book with the John Clare poem off the shelf and waited for Joe to hand her the book from the floor. She had heard him move and knew he was at the bottom of the ladder, but when she looked down, she saw his upturned face and could tell that his were eyes riveted on her legs and panties. The thought flashed through her mind that it was a good thing she had chosen to wear panties. She grinned to herself, thinking about the thrill the young man would have had if she had not.

“Joe?” Julie said softly, not wanting to embarrass him, but she did. Joe’s face turned red as he quickly rose and handed her the book.

“I’m . . . I’m . . .” Joe began to stutter until Julie cut him off.

“That’s all right. Have a seat.”

As Joe moved to a chair, Julie climbed off the ladder, book in hand. She noticed the bulge in the front of his pants, even though he tried to hold his hands in ways to hide it.

Moving to her desk, Julie removed a folder from a drawer and sat in a chair in front of Joe. Opening the folder, Julie began to read one poem at a time, except for the last one. With each poem, she glanced up and each time say his eyes moving from her cleavage to her lips and back again.

“Would you read the last one, Joe?” Julie handed him the folder.

Joe cleared his throat and in a firm voice, read the verse, but stopped there.

“That’s not everything on the page, Joe.” Julie said when he finished.

“Please . . .” Joe started, then stopped, breathing hard now. “I . . .”

Julie rose, intending to take the folder from Joe’s hands to read the words herself, but as she approached him, her shoe caught and she fell forward. Reflex took over for both herself and Joe, who put his hands up to catch her.

At the same moment, both realized that Joe’s right hand was cupping one of Julie’s breasts while her hand was resting on his upper thigh, almost touching his balls. Both were frozen for a moment – until Julie heard Joe’s voice making a sound somewhere between a grunt and a high pitched whimper. She felt his leg jerk under her hand.

Their eyes met as Julie blurted out: “Did you just . . .”

Her words trailed off because she knew it was a foolish question. His expression of sheer horror told her that Joe had just climaxed.

*

His Beginning

Joe had grown up in a religious, fundamentalist home. His father was a minister and his mother a stay at home wife – except that she had been so busy with “volunteer” church work that she had seldom had time for him, except to embarrass him when he did something she didn’t approve of.

He vividly remembered some of those things – like the time he found a men’s magazine on the side of a road – dirty and wrinkled, but it had pictures of naked women; he remembered his cock getting very stiff when he got home and looked it the pictures in his bedroom, and when he touched his cock, it had shot out creamy stuff. He remembered the wonderful feeling, but he especially remembered his Mom finding the magazine under his mattress and putting it on his breakfast plate one morning. And worse, they had told the entire congregation what had happened, and how fearful they were of his soul being lost. He had wanted to die at that moment, and girls in the church had laughed at him after that.

From that time, Joe had become socially withdrawn. He never got the courage to ask a girl for a date. On a couple of occasions, his parents, fearing that he might be gay, had asked a girl to go out with him and taken them out on a “date,” but that had been even more embarrassing.

Joe was “home schooled,” meaning that his parents didn’t let him go to public school, fearing he would be corrupted. But they had provided no guidance in his studies; had no time for such things, and so Joe did it on his own.

If there was one thing Joe was thankful for, it was books. He discovered the public library and while his parents were doing church work, he frequently sneaked out of the house to go there. He had read voraciously and learned to think on his own. He didn’t buy his parent’s religious “crap” – at least that’s what he thought of it, but he paid lip service, not wanting to be sent away somewhere. He had also realized that he was saddled with a great deal of guilt surrounding his sexual thoughts.

Until Joe discovered the computer at the library when he was sixteen, his knowledge about sex came from memories about the magazine he had found and from the hole he had made in the wall that separated his closet from the bathroom. The hole was near the bathtub faucets and when he was in his closet with the door closed, he could watch his older sister lying naked in the bathtub or showering. He was always fearful when he did so, knowing that if his parents ever discovered the hole . . . .
But in spite of his fear, Joe kept watching, fantasizing and masturbating. In fact, Joe frequently masturbated several times a day. As with many repressed boys, Joe’s sexual fantasies frequently focused on having sex with his mother or sisters, after which, he would feel guilty.

When it came time for college, his parents had taken him to a very conservative religious school where he had attended for two years. In classes, Joe felt competent. His reading had taught him to think for himself and had put him far above many of the other students, and even above some of the instructors who seemed to fear thinking.

Before long, Joe had gotten a reputation for being disruptive in class, meaning he spoke his mind, and by the end of two years, he was banned from many of the instructors’ classes for disagreeing with them. His lack of willingness to parrot back on tests what he was told resulted in some failed classes and he was asked to not return for his junior year.

It was with much begging and pleading that Joe convinced his parents to let him attend the public university. They had refused, however, to pay for most of his expenses and so he continued to live at home and deferred expenses by involvement in the school’s work study program.

All his time in school, Joe never asked a girl out. When he found one he liked, he would find a place to fantasize about her and masturbate. This had worked until the last semester of his senior year. That was when he walked into Dr. Lindsey’s literature class, and everything changed.

The first class period – the first time she entered the class room, he was completely under her spell. Her body, her voice, her intelligence – literally everything about her turned him on. He sat through the entire two and a half hours with a throbbing erection, not getting out of his seat during the break because he knew everyone would see. At the end of the class, he had hurried, books in front of him, to a restroom, where he waited in a stall until everyone left and jacked off, cuming almost immediately, erupting like a volcano, again and again. He always shot out a lot of liquid, but this time there was much more – much more.

That entire week, Joe fantasized about Dr. Lindsey daily and masturbated – sometimes several times a day.

Next Monday had been worse, if that was possible. He watched her legs move, imagining what she would look like without a blouse and skirt, fantasizing being naked with her. He almost came sitting in his chair and had to pull him mind away, pull it back to the material at hand. He began thinking about the class material and making comments, feeling like a loved puppy dog when Dr. Lindsey noticed him and complimented him on his knowledge of literature. No sooner was he out of class than he masturbated again – this time his cock stayed hard and he came twice.

The second week of the semester, Joe decided what he would do. He would give her poetry to tell her how wonderful she was – nothing “dirty,” just love poetry. The next Monday morning, Joe had watched until Dr. Lindsey left her office and had quickly left an envelope on her desk; the first poem. Then he had hurried quickly to class to await his love.

Joe was under no illusions. He had read enough to realize that part of his infatuation with the older woman had something to do with his sexual fantasies of his mother. But there was something more – something about her, no, many things about her. She could have told him to do anything, and he would gladly have done it – anything.

It was with disappointment that Joe contemplated the nearing end of the semester. The final class day would like be the end of his time with the wonderfully sensuous woman, and besides, he had little idea what he would do after graduation. He might look for a job or perhaps a place as a graduate assistant and go to graduate school, but either way, he was doing to lose something important – Dr. Lindsey.

The third to the last week, Joe had decided to make his boldest move. He could not talk to his goddess – yes, that was the closest thing he could come to – but he wanted to tell her outright of his love for her. And so, following the verse, he had written three words to convey his entire heart, soul, and mind. “I Love You.” After writing the note, he had barely touched his penis, and had cum.

Then, the hammer fell, so to speak. Dr. Lindsey had seen him in the cafeteria and told him to be in her office the next morning.

He had arrived at her office at the designated time and entered at her invitation. What he saw was totally unexpected – his love on a the top step of a ladder, bending over slightly to reach a book. He could see halfway up her thigh. And then, unbelievably, he was invited to look all the way up her skirt – or so it seemed. When he bent to pick up the book, he could look up and see her panties – white. His breath caught and he couldn’t get up. He could feel his cock throbbing and had to will it to not erupt at that moment.

Than she had been sitting across from him and he could see her cleavage. He fantasized about kissing first one, then the other, going back and forth until . . . . Her voice interrupted his thoughts as she began to read the poetry. Her voice saying the words was magical, electrifying, sexual. Then she handed him the folder, telling him to read the last poem, which he did. But he was too embarrassed to read the last three words, fearing she would laugh at him, humiliate him.

The next thing he knew, her breast was in his hand and her hand was on his thigh, only a few inches from his throbbing cock. And that was all it took.

Joe felt the jolt beginning in his cock and flashing up through his entire body. Then, he looked into Dr. Lindsey’s eyes, and for the second time in his life, wanted most of all to just die.

*

Their Beginning

Stepping back quickly, Julie’s eyes moved to Joe’s lap and the growing wet spot. She was amazed not only by the obvious quantity of sperm, but mostly by the ease with which he had cum. She knew immediately that he was horribly embarrassed. She remembered a boy when she was a teenager who had cum when she first touched his cock, and his embarrassment. He had taken her home immediately and had never spoken to her after that. And this was worse. She had not even touched Joe’s cock.

Joe started to rise, croaking hoarsely, “I’ve gotta go!”

“Not like that, Joe.” Julie’s voice was kind as she put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down gently. “You don’t want to leave here like that.”

Joe looked into her eyes and heard her say, “It’s all right, Joe.” And she smiled at him.

Joe sat again and Julie handed him a box of tissues from her desk. As she did so, she remembered that this was the box she had used to wipe her own juices from her fingers after masturbating to her fantasies with the poems Joe had left.

Joe stared at the box until Julie’s voice broke the silence again. “Unzip your pants and wipe yourself off. It won’t bother me; I’ve seen cocks before. But if you wish, I can turn around.”

Joe shook his head and unzipped his pants. There was something erotic, exciting about his love seeing his cock, seeing him with cum from his cock. He wanted her to see it, wanted to show it to her.

Julie watched with some interest as Joe opened his fly, revealing loads of gooey cum.

“Take your pants and under shorts off and wipe yourself.” She directed him, watching as took off his shoes, then pushed his pants down over his legs and off, following with his under shorts. He was still rigid and Julie knew it would take nothing more than a touch, or perhaps words to have him cuming again. She watched as he wiped with a handful of tissues, then again with another. She moved the wastebasket in front of him as he continued until all the cum was soaked up and wiped away.

Julie watched, fascinated and not a little aroused. It was a great turn-on to realize that she had made a man climax with merely touching his trouser covered leg.

“May I touch it?” Julie was shocked as she realized that it was her voice.

Joe nodded silently, not believing this was happening, and as Julie grasped his cock in her hand and stroked it once, twice, he came again, this time covering her hand and the front of his shirt.

Julie thought about tasting Joe’s cum, knowing certainly that he was a virgin and would not have any kind of STD, but decided against it. She knew she had already gone too far. Joe’s first climax had been accidental, but after that she had touched him, an ethical breach between a teacher and student. She wiped cum from her hand and from Joe’s shirt as she apologized.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I was completely out of line. I should not have touched you.”

“No. No.” Joe blurted out. “I liked it. Thank you. I’ve never had my dick touched by a woman before.”

Julie wasn’t surprised, but heard herself saying, “Never?”

“I’ve never even had a date.” Joe blushed as he confessed, looking down at the floor.

“Why not?” Julie asked. “You’re good looking and intelligent. Girls would be happy to go out with you. Have you ever asked?”

“No Ma’am.” Joe looked embarrassed.

Taking a water bottle out of her desk drawer, along with a hair dryer, Julie instructed Joe. “Use the water to get the cum out of your pants and then dry them. And let’s talk.”

As Joe sat nude from the waist down, working on his clothes, they talked, mostly Julie asking questions and Joe telling her about his childhood. He didn’t tell her about watching his sister or his sexual fantasies about his mom, but she guessed and kept it to herself.

After Joe and dressed and left, Julie thought about the incident. It had been very erotic and it became even more so as it played through her mind again. Since she had no classes that day, she closed her door and pleasured herself – cuming twice using a vibrator she kept in her locked desk drawer.

For the next two weeks, Julie and Joe saw each other in class and on campus. They spoke briefly in passing and neither mentioned the incident in Julie’s office. After each meeting, Joe would find a place to masturbate, and masturbate again sometime during the day or night, fantasizing about Julie.

As for Julie, the end of the semester was very rushed and she had no time to masturbate in her office. She did, however, find time at home in the evenings to fantasize and relieve herself.
She wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but realized that there was something about Joe, something sexual – then it hit her.

She was a teacher, and a damn good one. And Joe was in dire need of being taught. He had learned a lot from books, but there was much more he needed to learn. Should she? She wondered, going first one way then the other.

By the day before graduation, Julie had made up her mind. She found Joe at graduation rehearsal and waited until it was finished. Approaching him casually, she asked.

“What are you going to do to celebrate graduation, Joe?”

“Uh . . nothing, I guess.” He was clearly embarrassed to be standing in front of her.

“I thought about having a private party at my house on Friday night after graduation. Why don’t you come over to celebrate?”

“A private party?” Joe looked both excited and apprehensive. “I don’t know.”

“Yes.” Julie responded firmly. “Yes. You will be there. About 8:00?”

With that, she turned and left.

Friday

Julie attended Joe’s graduation as part of the faculty, walking down the isle in her academic gown, and then watching Joe walk across the stage. Once across, he was no longer a student and there would be no ethical breach involved that night. And she had definite plans for the night.

Once home following graduation exercises, Julie began preparations for Joe’s arrival later that evening. She took a nice shower, followed by a soak in her spa. As it neared time, she chose for this special evening a dress, or more properly a gown that was almost floor length, and slit on one side from the hem up almost to her hip. The front of the gown dipped at the top to reveal half her breasts and most of her cleavage.

When she was ready, she waited for the doorbell, which rang exactly on time.

“Am I . . . .” Joe started to ask but stopped in mid sentence, his eyes fixed on Julie’s breasts.

“Are you what, Dear?” Julie asked, but Joe continued to stare.

“I’m glad you like them, Joe, but I’m up here.” Julie said gently and Joe looked into her eyes, embarrassed.

“Uh . . am I the first one?”

“You’re the only one.” Julie informed him, watching his expression. “Come in and sit down.”

Joe followed her into the living room, not sure what was about to happen but all for it, whatever it was. He sat where she motioned.

Julie left the room and returned momentarily with two wine glasses. She handed him one and sat across from him, crossing her legs, letting the split reveal the side of one leg, all the way up. She grinned as she watched Joe take a large gulp of his wine, his eyes moving from her let to her breasts and back again.

“What are you going to do this summer?” Julie asked.

“I don’t know.” Joe responded, feeling the sudden glow of his first ever glass of wine and trying hard to focus his eyes on her face.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.” Julie said, looking over the rim of her glass. “But first, are you sure you realize the difference between our ages? You know I am well over twice your age.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Cut the Ma’am crap, Joe. And if you call me Dr. Lindsey tonight, you can leave. My name is Julie.”

“Yes, Ma . . . . yes, uh . . . uh . . Julie.”

“All right.” Julie took another sip of her wine. “I have a place in Cloudcroft, New Mexico and I’m going to spend the summer there. If you want to come there with me, I will be your teacher for the summer.”

Joe almost chocked on his wine. “My teacher?”

“Yes, Joe. I will be your teacher and teach you anything you wish.”

Joe took another large gulp, emptying the glass, mustering up enough courage to ask timidly, “Sex?”

“Sex, Joe.” Julie laughed at Joe’s expression. “I will teach you everything you need to know to please both a woman and yourself.”

Joe was silent, his mouth literally hanging open, a look of almost shock in his eyes, until Julie spoke again. “What do you think?”

“Are you serious?” Joe gasped, unbelieving.

“Yes.” Julie laughed. “I will teach your sex teacher for the summer.”

“We will have sex?” Joe asked, almost unable to breathe.

Julie laughed again. “We will have sex, yes. That’s part of pleasing a woman, but that’s not all there is to it. I will teach you about women and how to be more confident around us.”

“Yes!” Joe gasped out. “Yes! Yes! When do we start?”

Julie rose, took the wine glass from Joe’s hand, bent over and kissed him on the lips.

“We start now.” She replied. “And we will leave for Cloudcroft day after tomorrow.”
Julie smiled warmly at Joe. She knew he was nervous. But he’d be all right. He had a good soul, a caring soul. His choices of poetry had shown her this. It was time to move forward with the lessons, and she was, perhaps, more eager than he to get to them.

Julie reached over and took Joe’s hand, leading him up the stairs to her bedroom. The door was open, and, as they entered, Joe drew in a deep, sharp breath. The room was beautiful. Not cloying. Not chintzy. It looked rather Eastern in design and decoration. The colors were soothing and subtle.

Julie walked towards the open double doors to the bathroom, pulling Joe behind her. With the doors open, the view of the huge bathtub was unrestricted.

“Let’s bathe first.” Joe watched as Julie walked to the edge of the tub, squatted, and turned on the hot and cold faucets.

“Okay.” Joe stared at her, waiting for her next move. He did not have long to wait.

Julie turned to Joe, approached him, and placed her arms, loosely, around his neck. She stepped closer to him and imposed her body onto his.

When Julie placed her cheek on his chest, Joe closed his eyes and sighed. It felt so good. Her body, slight yet round, next to his own. Her heart beating near his.

Joe’s arms went around her waist. He wanted to squeeze her to him - keep her here forever. But he restrained himself. He was excited and confused. He knew she felt the hard cock against her body, as he was so aware of it himself. Yet, he also felt strangely sweet.

Julie pulled back from Joe. She lifted her chin upward to stare him in the eyes.

“Joe, are you ready to learn now?”

Joe’s response was to nod his head affirmatively.

“We have so much to go over - there’s so much to learn. But we have time. We’ll go slow.”

With that, Julie backed away, turned, and stepped near the tub before turning to face Joe again.

“Tell me, Joe. Have you fantasized about seeing me naked?”

Joe shuffled, looked down at the carpet, then back up again.

“Yessssss. Many times.” His gaze did not leave Julie’s face.

“Sometimes, Joe, women like to undress for their men. Sometimes, they like to be undressed. And sometimes,” she gave him a wicked grin, “we like to keep our clothes on and watch our men get naked!” She chuckled as her eyes danced with mischief.

Joe caught his breath. He didn’t know what was more exciting - the look on her face and in her eyes, or the acts implied by her words.

“What’s your fancy, Joe? Would you like to undress me, or would you like for me to undress for you? You don’t have to answer right away. Think about it before you respond.” And with that, she turned to add bubble bath under the running water, tested the temperature, and shortly after turned off the taps. When she returned her gaze to Joe’s, he responded.

“I’d like both, please. I’d like to undo your dress and slide it off, but then I’d like you to take the rest off. For me.”

Julie moved in front of Joe, leaned up on her toes, and gave him a quick kiss. Then, turning her back to him, she walked through the doorway and into the bedroom. He followed her and stopped about two feet behind where she’d halted. When Julie felt that he was near, she bent her head forward, inviting him to unzip the dress.

Joe couldn’t resist stepping closer and bending his own head down to lightly brush his lips against the now exposed neck. Julie shuddered inside at the touch.

Joe’s trembling fingers found the zipper’s pull and he began to slowly move his hand downward, the loosening zipper revealing more and more flesh as he did so. The curve of her back, the jutting of her shoulder blades, the scent wafting from her warm skin, all served to further incite Joe’s feelings. He saw the band of her bra, a shiny rose pink color. And, as the zipper pull reached its most downward position, he saw a similarly colored thin strip of fabric just below her waist.

Julie stepped forward one step, presumably to allow him to remove the dress. Joe reached up to the shoulders of the dress, grasped one in each hand, and carefully and slowly pulled them down from her shoulders and onto her upper arms. He stopped momentarily. Perhaps he’d made a mistake. Perhaps he was too close to her to enjoy the experience of the dress sliding down.

As if divining his thoughts, Julie stepped forward, easily escaping his slight grasp on the dress. She gauged her distance to about six feet in front of Joe, reached in front of herself to grasp the top of her dress, and lazily dragged it down her body. When she had the top of the dress at about waist height, Julie bent over forward, accentuating her behind as the dress slipped down over it and she allowed it to drop to the floor.

Joe gasped. There she was, his love, bent over with her shapely legs and rounded ass before his eyes. A thin wisp of material nestled between her cheeks - the thong panties in the same color as the bra. Her arms moved. Joe wondered what she was doing, and then he saw her hair fall down. She’d taken it down from its usual place atop her head. A second later she stood, and her hair came flying up and then down as she became erect. Again, Joe gasped. The hair was long, almost waist-length, thick, shiny, and speckled with grey here and there.

Julie turned slowly around. Joe simply stared. The thin diamond-shaped fabric of the thong did little to conceal the neatly-trimmed patch of pubic hair. The bra barely contained the ample breasts. Julie reached up between her breasts to undo the bra’s fastener. She undid the plastic clasp, but held the two pieces of the clasp in her fingers for a few seconds before she pulled her arms back and slipped the bra straps down and off her shoulders and allowed it to drop to the floor.

Joe stopped breathing. Only for a moment, to be sure. But he did stop with that first full view of her breasts. When breath came back, he withheld no longer. He rushed the few steps forward, went down on his knees, grabbed her around the upper part of her legs, and nestled his right cheek into her belly. His cock throbbed strangely, throbbed with desire and satisfaction. This was a new sensation for Joe.

Julie did not protest. Her hands went to Joe’s head and her palms lightly caressed his hair. She allowed him to remain in this position for a full minute or two before she tugged his ears, urging him to look up at her. Joe didn’t want to move. He could have stayed here forever. But her insistence finally made him raise his eyes upward to hers.

Julie smiled at him and nodded her head toward the bed. Apparently, the bath full of hot water and bubbles was for naught. Julie knew full well that both of them were squeaky clean, a simple matter of preparation for seeing one another. She’d thought the bath would be a venue for teaching Joe some things about pleasuring a woman. But the bath could wait, and those lessons with it. There was time.

Julie stopped Joe’s forward movement just at the edge of the bed. While looking him in the eyes, her hands went to the fly of his trousers. She undid the fastener and began to slowly tug at the zipper. When she’d completed this task, she pulled the shirt up and out of the pants. As if completing some sacred ritual, she slowly unbuttoned the shirt, beginning with the bottom button.

As Julie finally reached and undid the top button, Joe was beside himself. When she read his eyes, she quickly moved her hands down to the waistband of his underpants and wormed them down into them far enough to enfold his cock. Her eyes never left his. Joe had never felt, had never imagined, anything like the connection he now felt. His orgasm had already begun when Julie’s warm hands reached his cock. But now, with her eyes on his, those palms encircling his hardness, he felt like cuming forever. And he pumped her hands full, gently rocking forward and back while steadying his stance by holding onto the nearby bed’s headboard.

What happened next made Joe’s knees buckle. When he had finally delivered all of his load, Julie removed her hands from his pants and brought them to her breasts. She slowly rubbed her cum-drenched palms all over her breasts. They were shiny and wet and inviting.

Julie sat down quickly on the edge of the bed and tugged Joe down onto his knees in front of her.

“Lick me clean,” she invited, half-questioningly, half-demandingly.

Joe’s hands swiftly reached for her sticky breasts and his lips went hungrily to the right one. He attempted to engulf the entire breast in his mouth. Julie gently pulled back his head, shaking hers in a sideways motion. She murmured the word “nipple” and directed his head back to her breast hoping that the one-word instruction would be enough to get him to focus on the sensitive part of her breast.

Joe’s lips went around Julie’s right nipple and he sucked lightly, tasting, not for the first time, his own cum. “Harder” was the next word Joe heard Julie utter. He sucked harder, and suddenly an unbidden image came to his mind - his mother. Had he suckled her as an infant? He didn’t know, but the image was there anyway. Just as quickly, it faded and he focused again on Julie.

“Here. Let me show you.” And Julie lightly pushed Joe from her and grasped the collar of his shirt, pulling it down his arms and back and tossing it to the floor, wrong-side-out. In a swift move, Julie exchanged places with Joe - her on her knees on the floor and Joe seated on the edge of the bed. She reached up with both hands and took his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. She rubbed his stiff nipples, pinching them with increasing pressure, gauging his eyes and facial expressions to determine his reaction.

Out of Joe’s slightly parted lips came a moan. Evidently, Julie had hit upon something he enjoyed. She continued massaging his right nipple with her fingers but moved her mouth to his left. She took it between her teeth and lightly grazed it. Joe’s arms clamped tightly around Julie’s shoulders. She then sucked on the left nipple, fastening tightly on it and moving her lips quickly. The smacking noises she made heightened Joe’s pleasure and he moaned even more loudly than before. He’d started to move his torso forward and back, feeling himself becoming aroused again.

Julie switched positions of her mouth and fingers, moving her eager lips and tongue to the right nipple now. She began to pinch the left nipple with more fervor than before. Joe responded in the manner she’d hoped. He suddenly lifted her off the floor and tossed her onto her back on the bed. He shifted his body to her side and eagerly encircled her right nipple with his mouth. He sucked hard and noisily, smacking and licking and driving Julie wild. His right hand manipulated her left nipple, pinching and pulling. Her body rocked in anticipation.

Finally, eager to move along, Julie took Joe’s head in her hands and moved it down toward her navel. He kissed and licked his way south, heading to the rosy-pink panties. When he finally reached the edge, he slid his tongue between her warm skin and the fabric. It was Julie’s turn to gasp. She wanted him in her, but was enjoying the buildup as well.

Joe hooked his fingers into the panties and pulled them down, Julie’s legs bending at the knees to shorten the arc of removal. Joe rose to his knees, savoring this position to view his love’s most private parts. He stared at her shaved lips. Smooth, inviting. Wet with anticipation. Joe needed no lesson for his next move. He had dreamed of it often. He leaned over and began gently kissing her mound, allowing his lips and tongue to travel in circles as his hands rested on her hips. Julie’s legs parted, outer thighs bent down to the sheets, knees slightly crooked.

Joe again came to his knees, and he smiled at what he continued to look at - the neatly trimmed little V-shape patch of hair on her mons veneris and the slick vulva below. Moisture glistened between her legs, accentuated by the light from the bedside lamps. Julie reached for his hands, directing them between her legs.

Joe needed little encouragement and his hands quickly reached her inner thighs to pull them wider and provide an even better view. Julie smiled up at him, a smile that seemed an invitation. Joe brought his face to her pussy, insinuated his tongue, and took a long swipe between her lips. Julie shivered, no, shuddered. Joe liked the feeling of making her shudder and ran his tongue slowly along her slit again.

He looked up at her. Her eyes were closed. But when she realized he was looking at her, she opened her eyes and spoke.

“What would you like to do to me now, Joe?” A pause. “Do it.”

When his gaze again rested between her thighs, Joe’s thumbs moved to her outer lips and he used them to manipulate the flesh, pulling her open then releasing her, repeating this and watching in fascination as she became wetter and wetter.

Moments before, Julie had started rocking quite noticeably. She watched Joe’s face as he intently watched her pussy. He seemed mesmerized by it. Mostly, though, she wanted his face buried in it. Then, oh, then to feel his hard cock shoved up it. Yes.

“Joe.”

Joe reluctantly lifted his gaze from her pussy to her face.

“Yes?”

Julie’s lips parted, her eyes wide.

“Eat me. Lick me ’til I scream.”

This was all the invitation Joe needed. He maneuvered his body between her legs and bent forward. Finding the position too near the bottom edge of the bed, he wrapped his arms around the back of her thighs and moved her up until her head almost touched the padded headboard. He then settled back down to begin this task he so relished.

Parting her lips with the palms of his hands, Joe leaned down to breathe in her odor. He became heady with the scent and his cock pounded, still half-trapped in his pants and underwear. Joe firmly planted his face in Julie’s pussy and moved it sideways, then up and down. Julie’s wriggling increased and her sighs grew more pronounced.

Joe raised his head and glanced at Julie’s face, awaiting any further instructions should she have them. The word slowly was all she said. So, Joe began to lap at her skin - thighs, inner thighs, mound, lips, pussy opening, and, finally, her hardened clit. Again, Joe’s thumbs rested along the upper part of her slit and he gently pulled her skin, revealing the stiff little nub. At first, Joe was too eager as he made contact with the super-sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue and Julie’s yelp made him ease up. More gently there, she said. Lighter. He followed her directions and lightened the pressure. As her excitement grew even stronger, her body rocked up and down, pressing more firmly into his tongue.

“Be still. Hold your tongue out. Flat and hard.”

Joe wasn’t sure what his role was, but he tried to follow the directions. Shortly, he understood. Julie began masturbating herself on his stiff tongue. She grabbed the sides of his head and ground her hips into him, circling and humping. Her movements were slow at the beginning, but speeded up as she reached her climax. When her body started to roll side to side and her moans came long and low, Joe’s instinct took over. He started licking her again, from bottom to top, holding her as still as he could, but her shaking made it near impossible.

Julie loved Joe trying to hold her still. It made her squirm even more. His tongue, lapping at her again, extended her shuddering orgasm and, as she shuddered, she emitted a low scream. When she was finally still, Joe slid his body upward and moved his face near her own.

Julie smiled at his glistening mouth, nose, and cheeks. He wore her pussy juice all over his face, forehead included. She wanted to lick him off, and rolled him over on his back and began doing just that. She licked her taste off of his cheeks and lips and finally thrust her tongue between his lips. Joe placed his arms around Julie’s waist and pulled her over onto him, delving his own tongue deeper into her mouth. The kiss did not, however, last long.

Julie sat up and moved to the end of the bed. She pulled the hem of Joe’s trousers and he lifted his legs. She tugged until the knees were around his ankles and then he, in haste, sat up and jerked the legs of his pants over his feet and threw them to the side. Julie pushed him down and slid her face to his hard cock. She hesitated, couldn’t decide whether to suck him or ride him.

Her answer was in Joe’s hands as he grabbed her by the shoulders when her mouth neared the tip of his cock. She glanced up just as he tightened his grip on her and turned her over. He positioned her with the top of her head touching the headboard. His knees straddled her and his left hand came up to hold the top of the headboard. Simultaneously, Julie’s left hand and Joe’s right one went to his cock to guide it into her wet hole. As he slid into her, they both moaned in pleasure.

At first, Joe’s thrusts were too quick and shallow. A few seconds of this and Julie’s hands went to the back of his waist.

“Slow down. Not so fast.”

As she said this, the pressure from her hands increased and she held his body nearer to hers in an attempt to slow his timing. Joe’s moans lessened, but only long enough for him to understand her words.

“Thrust hard. And slow. Like a hammer. Like you’re spring-loaded. Bam. In hard. Hold it for a second. Then slide out slowly. Bam. Then in again. Like a piston.”

Joe tried to find the rhythm she wanted. His right hand reached to clasp the headboard, now grasping it with both hands to increase his leverage. Julie’s legs went up and around Joe’s shoulders, raising her body to accept his thrusts more readily. Joe lowered his head, right cheek down, to the pillow under Julie’s head. His grip on the headboard increased as his thrusting grew more powerful. But he wanted to see her, watch her as he plunged into her, so he raised back up again.

Julie’s body was lifted with each slow, powerful thrust. Joe pounded her in an unhurried manner, just like she liked it. It felt like being impaled. Her head rammed into the padded board above her each time he entered her. After a minute or two, her body began twisting and rolling back and forth, side to side, as she responded to the pleasure that Joe gave her. The backs of her calves on his shoulders held most of her body up off the bed, and her pitching side to side matched her moans and sighs. Her arms flailed on the bed’s surface, at times beating the mattress, at times coming to her forehead or breasts.

Joe was trying to keep it up - the pattern she wanted. But he was closer to cuming every second. He watched her face, watched her as she twisted and listened to her grunt. And he was amazed, amazed that he, Joe, was doing this to her. He didn’t want to stop. But nature would have its way, too. When he knew he could no longer hold back, he involuntarily increased his speed. Julie, aware now that his time was near, met him thrust for thrust, pounding her pelvis against him as he was his against her.

When Joe began to fill her pussy with his cum, Julie worked her hand between their legs, his left and her right, and cupped his balls, squeezing them as he emptied himself.

Joe’s moans had turned to grunts and gasps. Julie’s own sounds had stopped as she watched this man, listened to this man, as he experienced this marvelous thing. His face was contorted, but not in an unattractive way. He worked, worked for release. And as he filled her, Julie massaged his balls and listened as his grunts change to sighs and then to heavy breathing.

Joe held himself deep inside Julie for near a minute after his orgasm subsided. He then released the headboard and guided his hands to her ankles back behind his head. He brought her legs around and placed them down on the bed as he lowered his upper body onto hers.
Once there, they both slowly returned to their normal breathing patterns, Joe’s right arm beneath Julie’s head and Julie’s arms both around Joe’s waist. He felt warm, happy, content. Had there ever been a time when he was so comfortable? Ever? Julie smiled at the ceiling. Smiled at herself. Smiled at the world. Smiled at the thought of spending time with this young man.

As the cum slowly dribbled out of Julie and onto the sheets, they were both brought out of their reveries. Joe’s head came up and he looked at Julie. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Think that water’s still hot?” She inclined her head to the bathroom.

“Dunno. But we can always add some more.”

And with that, the couple vacated the bed and headed to the venue of lesson two.

Today featured older lady takes a new sex student gallery