You could say I’m a late bloomer. My high school years were marked with rejection after rejection. It seemed like no woman wanted anything to do with me.
Not that I blamed them. I had no confidence, no guts, and not much to offer in the way of sexual experience. After high school, however, I gained some momentum and found myself having any number of exciting sexual experiences, all of which added to my confidence, which added to my experiences.
Despite my awkwardness, during high school, one house always invited me in: the house of my friend Kelsey. She was my first friend in high school, and certainly my best. She and I bonded over our mutual insecurities and her house was as much an emotional haven for me as I was for her.
The welcoming feeling was not just provided by Kelsey, but also by her mother. Her mother . . . an older woman who treated me not as an awkward teenager, but as an exceptionally gifted and artistic kid perhaps wise beyond his years. She didn’t make me feel lesser for not fitting in; she made me proud.
Her name was Terri, and she was unmarried. Kelsey’s father was long out of the picture (if he ever was really in it) and I think she appreciated having a man, however young, around the house. I know I certainly appreciated having my masculine ego inflated with every errand she had me do. I did them willingly, glad to have found a niche, and eager to repay her for allowing me into her home.
Terri and I were always a bit flirty, but of course, she could be only so flirty with a kid of seventeen. Despite the age difference, I couldn’t help but be attracted to her. She carried herself with a grace that only older women have. Her eyes were calm with experience, and her body moved slowly and intriguingly.
In between having my confidence boosted by Terri, I would rather uncomfortably court Kelsey, trying to asuage my loneliness with finding a girlfriend, while ignorantly thinking she was the proper girl for the role. Kelsey and I were obviously better as friends, a realization I had none too soon.
I kept in touch with both Terri and Kelsey all through college, and I actually grew closer to Terri as I helped her cope with the departure from home of her only daughter. I did the best I could from another state, and she admired the effort; I think she admrired that anyone even remembered her. The three of us rarely saw each other, but we were held tightly by the invisible bond that perpetually ties together those who still care about each other, regardless of distance or situation.
Fotunately, I was well over my shallow advances on Kelsey when I was greeted with the astounding news that Kelsey was getting married! With my boyish crush years behind me, I could welcome this news with the selfless jubilation it deserved. This also called for me to return home, and to spend my first significant time with Kelsey and Terri in years.
I arrived home a few days before the wedding and was glad to see that Terri was not distraught over the marriage as I had feared. Kelsey’s fiancee was great. Indeed, that was not the problem, but I feared Terri might see it as the “loss of a daughter”. Instead, she was as elated as all of us. During the furor around the ceremonies, I was able to return to the home that had welcomed me for so many days and nights only a few years before. There I could speak bahis firmaları privately with Terri and get her feelings on the marriage, though I figured I knew what she would say.
The time was mid-afternoon when I finally pulled up to the house. Not much had changed. It still had the comfortable chaos I remembered: boxes, magazines, and international art littered the house rendering it endearingly messy, never dirty. It was the home of an eccentric, a relentless planner who never actually had the time to take action.
I was greeted by Terri’s relaxed yet vital smile at the door. She had clearly just come from work, as she donned a dark gold jacket with matching skirt, patterned blouse, and dark green stockings with no shoes. The last part made me laugh because it was so sexy, and was so sexy because it made me laugh.
She hugged me as always and welcomed me in.
“Look at you,” she said warmly. “I’m glad you could make it. Kelsey’s honored.”
“I’m the one that’s honored,” I responded humbly. “I’m proud to be in a wedding like this. Kelsey deserves it.”
Terri invited me in. We went and sat on the couch. I reluctantly asked her for a glass of water, apologizing even before I did so.
“No you can’t have a glass of water,” she replied sarcastically. “Don’t worry, I can afford it.”
She poured the water for me, though I offered nervously to do it myself. I wasn’t nervous around her, but I always adopted a squirrely humility when I was a guest. Terri never stood for it, and soon I relaxed back into the old habits. It was only a matter of minutes before the conversation was flowing and I was liberally snacking on a bowl of mixed nuts.
“So, are you excited!?!?” I asked with a wry, half-serious enthusiasm.
“Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word slowly. “I mean, it’s her big day. The planning went well, the dress looks beautiful, everything’s great.”
“I was actually a bit nervous you’d be dreading it, like she was abandoning you,” I said.
“Oh she abandoned me years ago,” she laughed.
“Awww don’t think like that. She loves you. You’re her whole world. That will never, EVER change. Trust me.”
“I know, I know,” she exhaled.
Terri always seemed lonely, but in the silence that fell on the room, I suddenly felt the need to say it seriously for the first time in our history.
“I AM lonely,” she replied, as though it were so obvious that I seemed slow to only mention it now. “Well, get up and do something about it,” I urged, though I had no specifics in mind.
“What am I going to do?”
She put her hand on my knee.
“I can’t magically be twenty years younger my dear.”
She stood up purposefully in front of me and gave a stare filled with something I cannot pinpoint, but which was intensely powerful. She walked to the kitchen and began putting away dishes.
And with that, I felt as though Terri and I were at the first fork in our years of closeness. It was not a mental fork, but a visceral physical one, and a charge rushed through my body. I restrained the fury but not the impulse, and walked into the kitchen to find her facing the sink. Her hair was pinned up into a sexy loose bun and her stockings clung smoothly to her legs. Her figure was great and her skirt was just short enough to be “inappropriate” for her age. kaçak iddaa How was this woman so lonely?
I approached her from behind and placed my hands on her hips. She leaned her head back to mine and lifted her hand to caress the side of my face.
“I don’t want you twenty years younger,” I whispered. “I want you like you are.”
I began getting hard, and reached down to touch her gorgeous smooth thighs. At the moment I felt the soft nylon at my fingertips, she pulled away.
“You don’t understand,” she said, seeming to fight off despair. “I haven’t . . . “
I knew what she was going to say. She hadn’t been with anyone for years.
“I don’t care,” I implored. “Just lay back. I’ll be gentle,” I said with a wink. We walked to the dining room where she had a large wooden table and began passionately kissing. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her, and it was clear I was going to be the aggressor. I placed her on the table and took her jacket off, and we continued kissing. I moved downward slowly, kissing her neck and chest. Finally, I hiked up her skirt and saw the thigh-highs I was longing for. I ran my hand over them, feeling every soft stitch on my skin. Above them were black panties with a lace trim, a panty choice that suggested she was hoping I might see these today.
I kissed her inner thigh and took her panties off. I began kissing around her labia and thigh, gently licking and responding to her every shiver.
“Oh my god,” she moaned with a laugh. “I missed this.”
I began eating her pussy slowly, tonguing the hole and teasing the clit. I knew she didn’t need much motiviation to release her years of pent-up sexuality, so I quickly began fervently licking her clit. My tongue moved forcefully over it, making sure to caress it with every motion. She was building steam and I was becoming excited to be the one to make her cum after so many years.
“Oh god, don’t stop,” she demanded, as her demeanor quickly became more forceful.
“”Are you gonna cum?” I asked, only to hear her say it aloud.
“Oh god,” she moaned again. “Oh shit, ohhh . . . “
I kept the same steady pace, allowing it to build. Slowly yet steadily she built towards her climax, and as she neared, I became more and more turned on.
“Here it is!” she yelled and she began to shake furiously as she came. “I’m cumming!”
I kept licking and didn’t stop until the orgasm had passed and it began to tickle instead of pleasure. She laid there silently for a minute, looking to the side with her hand on her head. I knew she needed a respite, so I did not speak up. She would when she was ready.
“Thank you,” she said gleefully and leaned up to kiss me. Her kiss was blissful, sloppy in the way one kisses when they simply don’t worry how they look.
“You’re welcome,” I humbly snickered. “My pleasure.”
She kissed me deeply once again and took my shirt off. Quickly she unfastened my belt and dropped my pants, pulling my underwear down just after. She reached down and grabbed my erection, rubbing it gently as she kissed me once more. Without speaking, she leaned back down, laying on the table, and pushed me inside of her.
Her pussy was still tight, and it felt and moved as though it was welcoming me home. It squeezed tightly around my cock, and as she moved back and forth, it didn’t kaçak bahis so much slide over me as jerk me off. I picked up her legs and placed her feet on my shoulders. I kissed the stocking-covered legs frequently as I began pounding faster. I grunted and began sweating, and knew I had to hold back. I couldn’t cum this soon after she waited so long!
“Is it still good?” she asked.
“So fucking good. Soooo . . . fucking . . . good.”
“Come on baby,” she said breathily. “Ah fuck,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I want to be on top.”
She said this with great authority, and I was in no mood to argue. I pulled out and sat on one of the large wooden chairs accompanying the table. She hiked her skirt up more and straddled me. I popped in with ease and she quickly began riding me steadily. I grabbed her ass so she bounced up and down, and with this she began building again. “Oh shit,” she said as I started. “Oh shit,” once more but more forcefully.
I knew she was getting close and I wanted her to cum again before I did, but as she got tighter, my urge built more and more.
“Cum baby. Come on. Fuck it,” I said, motivating here.
She rode harder and I pounded harder. She reached back and began tickling my balls with her right hand while her left held the back of the chair. I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. Loudly and wildly she came again, squeezing my cock to the brink in the process. This time, I could not let her bask.
“I’m gonna cum,” I grunted. “I’m close.”
She moaned at this as I kept stroking inside her and I knew it was okay.
“I’m close. Here it is.”
And with her still tickling my balls, I unloaded them into her. A brief second after my first shot, she moaned loudly again and began to squeeze: not a full orgasm, but enough to make me cum harder than I had anticipated. She kept riding and I kept cumming, until I was spent and unable to move my hips as forcefully as before. She draped herself over me and we laid there, her hands on the back of the chair, mine on her hips. We were sweaty and panting, our faces smiling and our muscles melting. I can’t say how long we stayed like this.
Eventually, she threw her head back, her hair now wild, and greeted me with a grin. “Well!” she said, still with a knowing glance. “I needed that.” Her comments were wry with understatement and I knew that the sex had relaxed her body, but kept her mind perfectly sharp. It was just as sexy as the moments before.
“Me too!” I said almost argumentatively. “It’s certainly always welcome, I’ll say that.”
She climbed off and I saw droplets of my cum fall out of her, while her juices coated my still hard cock. I couldn’t help but stare at her ass , bordered by the skirt and thigh-highs, as she sauntered to the bathroom.
I laid there, glad to be the one who put the bounce in her step. She moved like someone ten years younger now. I considered going after her again.
“No,” I thought. “This was exactly how it was supposed to be.”
She came back with her skirt pulled down and her hair redone. I was buttoning my jeans when she kissed me one last time. I kissed back, and the kiss took on a life of its own. When we separated, I put on my shirt and said I should be going. She ran her hand through her hair and smiled.
“Okay. I guess I’ll see you at the wedding?”
“Yeah. It was fun.”
“Boy was it! Don’t worry. No one needs to know. Go find a lucky girl.”
“Hopefully,” I said.
Once again, she made me believe I could.