I am a 57-year-old widow. Six months ago I got a phone call from the son of an old friend, saying he’d be in town for business and asking if he could stop in for a visit. I was more than happy to see him, since I hadn’t done so for 15 years.
Aaron, by now about 25, had turned into a very handsome young man. He insisted on taking me out to dinner, an invitation I gladly accepted. Although I am still very much in shape for my age, I hadn’t been on any type of date since my husband died. Of course this wasn’t actually a date; and yet it was hard for me to remain calm as I thought about what to wear. I tried to dress conservatively, yet attractively. I didn’t want to look slutty, but I wanted to be sexy. And yet I didn’t know why. What on earth could this young man possibly want with me, when he could surely have lots of girls his own age?
Aaron picked me up, and we went to a local restaurant, where we had a nice meal and a few drinks. When he drove me home I invited him in, and we had some wine. We sat and talked like old friends, which it seemed as though we were, despite our obvious age difference.
When the talk got around to my late husband, I got a bit tearful, and Aaron moved to sit beside me and put his arm around me to cheer me up. He told me my husband had been lucky to be married to a beautiful woman like me. I thanked him, but told him that obviously I was an old woman now, and not as attractive as I used to be. Aaron said that was nonsense. He then surprised me by telling me that I had been his fantasy woman when he was young, and that I was still as sexy now as I was then. And then, before I realized it, he was kissing me, his tongue gliding into my mouth.
I gasped when I felt his hand touch my breast, a touch which sent shivers through me. I broke away and told him we shouldn’t be doing that, but he kissed me again, this time guiding my hand to his crotch. I amazed myself by not pulling it away; in fact, I found myself squeezing his bulge.
Meanwhile his fingers were undoing my blouse, and I shuddered again when he pulled my breasts out of my bra. My head was spinning as he bent to suck my nipples, which were extremely hard.
I didn’t resist at all when his hand slid up my leg, under my skirt and over my stocking tops to rub my wet crotch through my panties. I moaned and called his name when he snuck a finger inside the panties and probed at my vagina. He explored me expertly with first one then two fingers, and I cried out. I hadn’t been touched there for years, and it felt so good! He kept at it in a way that made me feel that he was stretching me open, and I couldn’t help responding, moving my hips to the rhythm of his strokes.
When he reached with both hands for the waistband of my panties, I lifted my butt to make it easier for him to tug them down over my hips and off my legs.
He quickly undressed himself then, and I gasped when I saw his nude body, especially his large, throbbing penis. I reached out to touch it, and he groaned as I stroked him, his precome glistening at the tip.
After a moment he pushed me back on the sofa and knelt between my legs. He moved forward to rub his smooth cockhead between my pussy lips, which soon became coated with my juices. I felt him push slowly into me, and I moaned loudly as he eased out slightly, then pushed again, going more deeply. He lowered himself onto me and we kissed passionately as his penis drove further and further into my vagina. He was driving me wild. I had never felt so full, even with my husband. His heavy balls were slapping against my bottom, and he cupped my butt in his hands, pulling me harder onto his thrusting pole.
I felt my vagina spasm as I climaxed, and I screamed loudly as he slammed into me even harder. “Oh yes, I’m going to come inside you!” he exclaimed hoarsely, and he plunged one last time, pulling me hard against him as I felt his penis throb and shoot jet after jet inside me.
Later, when we had caught our breath, I took him up to my bedroom, where he spent the night, making love to me three more times before morning came.
I was sad to see him leave, but he promised to be back next month, and I’m already counting the days.
I wonder what my husband would say?
—R.G., Annapolis, Maryland