Author; Ace, Storyace

title;  Sexy at sixty and the boy who said yes. 10,700 words

Codes; m/F

Summery; She was a special woman, with the experience to know just what she wanted and the moves to get it. A boy 1/4 of her age.

S end any and all comments to; storyace@hotmail.com

Sexy at sixty and the boy who said yes.

I can describe myself in one word; Fabulous. I like it better with an exclamation mark; FABULOUS!

I've always been this way, for a long long time.

More? Well, I'm tall and curvaceous, with a slender waist, generous bottom, and big breasts. Long slender legs, with fine little feet and hands.

And I've just turned sixty. What do you think of that? Well, you wouldn't know it to look at me. Most people put me at around 20 years younger.

 I confess; I've had a little tuck here and there. My hair might look the same as it did when I was young [deep red], but I need a little help from the beauty parlor now.

But my breasts are all natural! Hardly anyone believes it, but it's true. I did have them lifted, but there's nothing artificial about them.

Now that I'm writing my memoirs, you bet that there's going to be a lot to tell. So many men, so many stories...

But what I want to tell you about is the affair I had with a boy. A sixteen year old boy!

We knew each other fairly well. His mother was a friend of mine from when he was just two. I used to run into him from time to time as he grew up, and yes, he knew my age, more or less.

So that hot summer night, as I sat in a chair on the veranda of a mutual friend's house, and he slipped in behind the chair, and he put his young hands on my naked shoulders... oh, I went all funny in my belly and I felt damp between the thighs!

I admit I'd been flirting with him. Well, I flirt with everybody, I always have. It's fun. Some women feel threatened by me, but these days I refuse to compromise. If your boyfriend or husband flirts with a 60 year old woman, it's just harmless fun.

Well, usually.

We'd talked a little after dinner. I stood very close to him, so I could feel his energy.  He'd changed; he wasn't hesitant and awkward anymore, but confident and sexy. I looked into his eyes, so clear and yet not quite innocent, and he looked right back. As usual, I was sexy; a long tight slinky dress held me tight, like I wished he would. I usually dress that way; I love attention, flirting, and showing off my figure.

When I was young and sexy, I dressed and acted pretty much the same way. I didn't go for schoolboys though.

I talked to a man I knew well, closer to my age. We'd had sex a few times over the years. He was the kind of man I used to date; good looking, rich, and foolish.

I went out onto the dimly lit veranda and sat down. I knew someone would come out to keep me company, but I was surprised that it was Jeremy.

"Are you in town for a while?" he asked, stepping behind my chair and setting his hands on my shoulders.

Seduction is what I do, it's been my hobby for 40 years. I've had sex with countless men, literally. But when those adolescent hands found my naked shoulders in the near darkness, I felt the same excitement as I did when I was 20 years old, letting myself be seduced by some man I'd just met.

"I don't know yet." I told him.

He began to massage me gently, his strong hands squeezing my old muscles with a sensitivity that was impressive for his age. It was pretty outrageous, really; so audacious! And at his age, too. I could tell he wasn't a virgin. What a shame, I thought; I love doing virgins, and it had been a few years since I'd had one.

Sixteen.

Sixty.

God, I'm getting turned on all over again just thinking about it!

 "So Jeremy, do you have a girlfriend?" I asked him.

"Not at the moment." He said, squeezing me deliciously.

"MMM, that feels nice. I heard you have a motorcycle."

"Just to get to school and work."

"I love motorcycles. Maybe you could take me for a ride."

"For sure."

Joanne came out and stared wide eyed at the two of us. Jeremy didn't seem to flinch, he just kept rubbing my shoulders. He didn't care that she saw! She was another of his mother's friends, she knew us both well. She would probably tell everyone!

I didn't care; in fact, it was kind of fun. Let them all know that I was even attractive to a sixteen year old, let them all talk. But I was surprised Jeremy didn't seem to mind. I was very impressed actually.

It wasn't like any of them didn't know who I was. Yes, we'd been a tight little community in the old days, and I wasn't the only woman in the house who'd been sleeping around. Yes, that pudgy little school teacher Joanne had once spent the night with me and an older man I was dating at the time. But that was a long time ago. She was good looking then.

He wasn't the first boy to respond to my flirtation, but the others had always been so embarrassed; or perhaps, ashamed.  When we made love, it was secret, they would have been mortified if anyone had found out.

Jeremy didn't seem to care what others would think, and that was what made that moment so special to me. I felt proud, defiant. Yes, I was fooling around with a boy one quarter of my age, and it was fun. Who should say we couldn't do as we wanted? Who had authority here?

His young hands stroked me, squeezed me gently, and it couldn't have been more sensuous. The simple shoulder rub was, in the context of the boy and myself, as overt an act as making out together.

In the darkness, my nipples hardened and my pussy wept for him as we talked quietly. I wondered if inside the house, they were talking about us. Of course they were, why else would no one have come out onto the cool dark veranda?

I wanted to take him somewhere private and get down to it with him, but something made me hesitate; I thought we should both sleep on it first, and have a date.

I don't always insist on that, many times I've gone straight to bed with someone I liked, especially if it's someone I already knew for a while. But it seemed only decent in Jeremy's case. We both needed the opportunity to reflect on it first.

Besides, he was living at home with his mother, and I was staying with an old boyfriend while I was in town, so we didn't have anywhere to go. I wondered what his mother would think; she was much younger than me. She was an old hippy though, so I was sure she wouldn't mind. Well, she would mind of course, but she wouldn't be able to admit it.

He kept rubbing my shoulders as we talked quietly, late into the night. Flirting, teasing each other. We both knew there was only one thing we wanted from each other. Henry came out, stared, and then went back inside, leaving us alone again.

He didn't try to slip his hands down to my breasts or anything. He did stroke my face with his fingers though, and my throat. Such a young boy, yet already so sensual! I desperately wanted to kiss him, but patience is one of my very few virtues.

The next day I put on jeans and boots, then fixed my hair and makeup for my date.

Jerry knocked on my door; "Hey Monica, I'm going to the marina for lunch. You want to come?"

"You know I always love to come, darling, but not with you today."

"Say, you're looking hot. You're not going out with that kid, are you?"

"Yes I am. Are you jealous?"

"Of a schoolkid who works in a bakery? I don't think so. Come on, it'll be fun. All those millionaire yacht owners will be there."

Jerry knew I just adored millionaire yacht owners [like himself]. He wanted to show me off to them, and I would have enjoyed it too. Most of them would be in our age group, but their wives wouldn't look like me unless they were much younger.

"Come on," he insisted, "we'll take the Mercedes."

So, a millionaire and a Mercedes, a hot lunch with a wealthy crowd [including lots of old friends and some old lovers] at the marina, or a motorbike ride and a sandwich somewhere with a sixteen year old bundle of hormones?

I hesitated. I have my own money, but it's not enough to pay for the lifestyle I like to live. I like a house with servants, flying first class, five star hotels, and riding in expensive cars. I usually only get those things while I have a rich lover.

You might be surprised to know that it's much easier for me now than it was when I was young.

Then, there were lots of hot girls competing with me for the attentions of the wealthy men. Now, I stood alone. Of course most men just went out with younger women, sometimes much younger. But there were some who got really turned on by a hot woman who was their own age. And there were just not many other single women like me around. A few, but not many.

So you see, lunch with Jerry at the marina was very tempting. All those wealthy people to meet with; the men would stare at my curves and the women would despise me as I shamelessly flirted with their husbands. I'd wear heels, a nice gown, and my jewels. We'd have oysters and champagne. I might meet someone rich who I could spend some days or even months with.

I looked at Jerry who was grinning at me. He knew me so well. He was the kind who picked up young social climbing girls, then spat them out after a week. Of course we'd had sex in the past, and we would in the future no doubt. We'd known each other for forty years. But it was unlike him to interfere in a tryst.

"Why don't you want me to go out with Jeremy?" I asked him.

"Shit, Monica. He's just a boy. It's embarrassing."

"For me, him, or you?"

"Everyone knows you're staying at my place while you're in town."

"So, you want everyone to think we're sleeping together?"

"Well; at least I don't want them all to know you're having it off with that kid. It's a bit..."

"Disgusting?"

"Well..."

"Look, Jerry. If you had a chance with a hot sixteen year old, we both know you'd drop everything and go after her, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah." He admitted.

"And if I was around, I'd help you if I could."

"Really?"

"These youngsters need guidance. How are they going to learn about sex if experienced older people don't teach them?"

"Well, you have a point there." He leered.

"Let them fall in love later, they have time. Meanwhile, we can all have fun together, right?"

"Tell me more about these young girls." He said, half joking.

"I have a niece who's a genuine nymphomaniac." I told him. "I'll introduce you one day."

He laughed; "Ok, sure."

"I'm serious. She's a teenager too, and very pretty."

The definition of nymphomaniac is doubtful. These days they call it sexual compulsion, addiction, or obsessive compulsive disorder.

All I know is that if I have sex every day, preferably two or three times, I feel good and content. And if I don't, I feel incomplete. I get distracted, thinking about nothing else.

I often wonder about my abnormal sex drive and my abnormal attractiveness. Without one, the other wouldn't be much fun. I guess it runs in the family, My younger sister seems to have grown out of it, but her daughter has needs like mine.

Jeremy rode well, and I found it exciting yet terrifying. I held him tight, flattening my breasts against his back. I kept thinking about his young cock, just a few inches below my hands, and wondering whether he was getting hard already.

He drove off the road into the woods, up a track to the old watchtower.

I remembered the place. So many years ago, when I was a girl no older than he is now, I went there with my local boyfriends to make out when I was here on holiday. I was always being shifted between here and Germany, where I was born.

I took my helmet off and leaned back against the railing as we stood on top of the tower. I shook my hair over to one side of my face and rolled my eyes to the other to flirt with my young date.

The trees had grown so high that we couldn't see much from there anymore, and no one could see in either.

Jeremy moved closer, but not as close as I wanted. I looked straight into his eyes and smiled, the simple signal. In a crowded room, it meant I was teasing you. Alone, it meant take me in your strong arms and kiss me.

"Take me in your strong arms and kiss me." I finally said out loud, my one virtue having now run out.

Cougar, that's what they call an older woman on the make for a younger man these days. And that was how I felt; as if I had the energy of a predatory cat, toying with my innocent prey.

His lips met mine at last, I wrapped my finger around his head and he wrapped his around my ass. I opened my mouth and his tongued shot in. I sucked it deeper. I could feel his hardon through our heavy trousers, pulsing eagerly, filling me with his excitement.

He was a beautiful boy, with clear skin and big dark eyes like a girl, the tight ass of a boy yet wide strong shoulders like a man. He was a bit short though, an inch shorter than me. That was a little off putting I admit. Still, he had a couple of more years to grow, so perhaps one day we might meet again with equal height.

We kissed like that for quite a while. At my age, I like to take a lot of time over the foreplay, and at his age, he was excited enough just by the kissing. He was pretty good at it too, but of course he was learning from me, taking my lead.

It was extremely sexy; to be up here again after all those years, decades. The last time I'd made out with a boy up here, Jeremy's father had not yet met his mother. We were from different eras, different worlds. And it was fantastic.

But it wasn't very comfortable up there. And I'm a woman who likes my comforts.

I broke away. "Let's go somewhere else." I said.

"Ok."

He was such a good boy, so eager to please.

"Where?" he asked as we got back down to ground level.

"Jerry's place." I told him, climbing on the bike behind him and holding his strong young body tight.

Love; well, I was in love once. It was terrible. I was just a child, barely older than the one I was about to make love with now. My lover got hooked on heroin and died when I was 20. The pain of it, the guilt I feel that I didn't force him to stop, is very much still with me.

Sex I'll have, and I do. But love? Thanks anyway. Love is for lucky fools who don't yet know how much it will hurt in the end.

Jerry had a decent house on the edge of town. It was the weekend, so the maid was away. We had the place to ourselves.

We almost ran up to my room; I closed the door and we stood a few feet apart, staring at each other. His lust for me was fantastic; it made me feel like a movie star, like a young girl again. I laughed out of pure excitement.

"Take your clothes off." I told him.

He couldn't stop grinning either. It was so beautiful, so pure; all he wanted was sex. There was no pretense, no other motives from either of us. I wanted to use his young body, and he wanted the same thing. He wanted the experience, and lord knows I had it to spare.

It was a fairly generous room, with its own bathroom and a view over the garden.

My boy lover did as I told him, slowly taking everything off as I watched.

He turned his back to me as he pulled off the last stitch, his underwear. Was he bashful, or just playing coy? I had to see his cock now. I'd felt its heat against my thighs as we fooled around earlier, and I'd waited long enough!

I stepped close to him and ran my red lacquered fingernails gently down the length of his back. His skin was white and smooth, more like a woman than a man. I'm not a lesbian, but I have made love with women a few times just to try it. I like women's skin, and the way they kiss; but then they have no penis, which I find frustrating. I don't like surrogates; I like a live natural organ, filled with pressure and nerve endings, sensitive to my touch.

He shivered as my hands roamed over his tight round ass, then circled his hips... I made myself move slowly, prolonging the delicious moment.

First there was that initial look between us at the dinner. The sexiest moment I could remember was when he had the audacity to touch me for the first time, when he massaged my shoulders in [almost] public. Our hot kissing was good too.

But now, my hands finally found his VERY stiff teenaged penis. I felt him melt into me, pushing his broad back against my chest as my fingers stroked his wonderful organ.

It was positively hot in my hands, as if it had its own heat source.

"This isn't your first time, is it?" I asked him as I ringed the tip with my thumb and forefinger, and pulled back down the length.

"No." he breathed.

"Mine either." I admitted, and he laughed.

"That feels good." He said as I gently masturbated him.

"I like it to." I said. "Get in bed."

He was a good boy; he would do whatever I wanted. Oh, and I wanted a lot. I smiled at him approvingly as I sat on the bed at his feet. I started with his toes; playing with them, pulling them. I bent down and sucked on several.

I moved up to his legs; they hardly had any hair on them yet, they were as muscular as a man's but as smooth as a woman's.

At last, I got back to his penis. I grinned at him and he grinned back. I took it in my hands and looked at it closely.

It was very beautiful; the essence of his young vitality. Average size, but so HARD! That was the main difference between it and those of the older men I usually went out with.

It was totally inflexible. It could move around from the base, but the length was simply stiff. My mouth watered, but I hesitated just a little longer, prolonging the moment as I stroked it and watched his face.

Finally, I pursed my lips and set them on the end of his cock, then pushed them down, keeping the pressure on it as I squeezed it into my mouth.

I know men find this about the most pleasurable thing there is, but sometimes I think I like it as least as much as they do.

The feeling it gives me is simply wonderful; having a hard hot penis in my mouth makes me tingle all over. My pussy twitches and wets, my nipples swell. It's something primal, organic; almost like having it in my vagina. When I hold a penis in my mouth, I hold the man it belongs to, he's mine. And I love it.

I sucked him gently at first, then harder. I knew he wouldn't last long, and that was ok. If you want a lover that doesn't come, you'd better take an old man [Which is also fun in its own way].

Still, I was slightly surprised when he suddenly jerked up and grabbed my head in his hands after only a few seconds, and spurted my favorite food into my mouth.

I'm often asked how I keep myself looking so good at my age. Well, I don't really know; but I think the sex has something to do with it.

I have sex almost every day, often twice if possible. I believe human semen is a kind of elixir; I drink it, and rub it into my skin, especially my face. Not as part of sex, but in the evening before my bath. I don't have much trouble getting it; most men are quite willing to contribute, and there's usually one around.

Anyway, Jeremy had nice tasting sperm. Fresh, I thought. He must have masturbated recently. Boys do that. It seems like such a waste; there are so many needy women who could do with it.

Still, there was a lot of it. The boy just kept ejaculating for quite a while, holding my face in his hands and looking into my eyes. I like that; some men close their eyes when they come, and I wonder who they're thinking of. Jeremy looked at me with genuine affection as he ejaculated, completely unbothered by the fact I was old enough to be his grandmother. It was delicious, delicious in every way.

When he was finally through, I sucked him some more. I like to work a penis until it's soft again, getting every second of pleasure. But of course his penis didn't get soft; it stayed just as hard as ever, the crown tight and lovely.

And I hadn't even undressed yet!

I finally stopped sucking on his stiff penis, and I wanted to kiss him again. But I decided to rinse my mouth first, since most men don't like come-breath.

Some do though, you'd be surprised. I once spent a week with two young bisexual guys; well, they weren't bisexual at the beginning, but they were at the end! I got them to do things they never thought they would. That's another story though.

Jeremy's mother had been a friend of mine, and somehow it would have been disrespectful to her if I made her son taste his own come.

"Don't go away." I told my young lover, and I went into the bathroom to rinse my mouth quickly with a little mouthwash.

I came back into the room to find him waiting for me, his penis still half hard.

He was so beautiful; his skin tight and unblemished, his face still childlike, half man and half boy. His clear dark eyes watching me eagerly, anticipating what was still to come. Which was of course, me.

Some men lose interest immediately after orgasm. It's hard to take for a proud woman, but that's reality. They might stay for a few minutes, but I can see when they suddenly notice they're in bed with a [very] unsuitable woman, and just want to get away. Until they get horny again.

But when I looked at Jeremy, he looked straight back, his lust still burning.

I grinned at him and unknotted my blouse.

I always wear a heavy bra, because my breasts are large. I only let them hang without support during sex.  That means they're generally well supported for 20 hours out of every day, and they haven't sagged too much over the years.

They aren't the tight cones of a girl, but they still look nice; they hang plump and ripe, with big mature nipples that love to be kissed.

My skin is very white. As a redhead, the sun never agreed with me, and I didn't fall for the tanning fashion, even when I was young.

I don't often wear trousers, but I'd had to for the motorcycle ride that morning. I peeled them off slowly as Jeremy watched. He couldn't seem to stop grinning, and I felt so good that I found it hard not to laugh.

Finally, I got into bed next to him, on my side facing him. He rolled to face me and put an arm around me; I took his cock in my hand as we kissed. It was tender, sexy, and just about perfect.

I've had sex in all kinds of places; almost every room in this house, with different lovers through the years [I always stayed with Jerry when I visited the area]. On beaches, mountains, fields, and boats [yachts].

In cars, buses, airplanes big and small. In a deep cave, in the back of a shop. In an airport, in a police station [with two officers]. Underwater even.

But to me, sex is synonymous with bed; beds are the place for sex.

So comfortable, plenty of space and possibilities. Usually with privacy too. Oh, I've done it in pubic, or with friends watching. But I like it best in private.

Just my lover and I, a room, and a nice bed. His hands on my body, tongue in my mouth, and hard penis trembling in my hand, both of us anticipating what we knew was coming next.

I got up on my knees and hung my breast into his mouth. He sucked me like the baby I never had.

My old friends who became mothers told me I had to do it too, but I knew better. Babies are for women who have a home and maybe even a husband. My lifestyle would be over if that happened.

No, a boy like Jeremy would do to satisfy my maternal instincts. He could be my baby, and I could be his foster mother.

I gave him the other breast for balance.

I rolled onto my back next to him, and opened my legs. I love foreplay, but a time comes when I just want what I want.

But he put his tongue in instead. Well, I wasn't going to complain about that.

I slipped my fingers into his hair as he went to it. He definitely needed instruction, but it wasn't the time to give it to him.

He wouldn't be the first boy I'd taught how to use his tongue.

To be honest, I'd been robbing the cradle quite regularly for a while by then. What I really liked was making love with virgin sons of my old boyfriends.

Once, I had an old lover's grandson!

But I digress. I let Jeremy do what he could, and it wasn't unpleasant. He was so eager to please, his eyes so bright as he licked me, that I almost came despite his lack of expertise.

I pulled him up by the ears, and he crawled above me, his stiff penis dragging across my belly, until I had his tongue in my mouth again.

I quite like the taste of pussy.

I've tried it a few times, I even lived with a wild Spanish actress for a while who was bisexual. God, the times we had! Threesomes and foursomes, everything at once. Those were the days...

But I like men. And boys... with their square bodies, strong muscles, and stiff penises.

I held his face in one hand and his throbbing penis in the other. So sweet, so powerful, so damn horny. Ladies, if you want great sex, get yourself a teenager! Or even two if you can.

I spread my legs wide and set him there, and he pushed it into my hungry wet vagina.

Oh god, but that feels good...  my body opening to accept my lover's stiff penis, his strong young body on top of me, his smooth round ass in my hands, his eager tongue in my mouth. I may be sixty, but when I have a teenage boy clamped between my thighs, I feel as fabulous as I ever did.

I don't deny my age, or pretend to be anything other than what I am. I revel in it. I'm a sexy sixty year old woman, and I make love with men and boys.

At last, his strength was mine, as he began to use it for me. His body, until that point mainly relaxed, was now beginning to work.

He pulled out, and plunged back in, the muscles on his back and ass, his shoulders and arms, all working in perfect harmony to drive his young cock deep into my body.

He had no technique, but it didn't matter. He was so beautiful, so energetic!

Sex is the ultimate; like this, two people joined together only for pleasure.

No ulterior motives, not for bonding or reproduction, not for gain or fame. Just pure sex; the mutual satisfaction of our basic needs. Our bodies fit together so perfectly, each seemed to be made to please the other. My vagina clamped his penis, his smooth chest against my breasts, as he worked me, his lean young body, for that short time, mine.

I like this position best.

My  yoga teacher and I once spent a week going through the entire Kama Sutra; it was great fun, but most of those exotic poses are just too uncomfortable, even with a man as flexible as a rubber doll.

I like the man [or boy] on top, my fingers against his back or ass muscles as they contract and relax, feeling his weight and strength. Men are stronger than women for a reason, and this is it; sex. I love that feeling, of complete surrender. To just relax and give myself to a man [or boy], to let him have his way with me, to poke me with his cock, to stroke my clitoris with his mad pumping, until, at last, I come.

Hundreds of men, thousands probably, I've known through the years. But each one turns me on again, each one is new and different.

Even though I'd known Jeremy since he was a baby, I didn't know him well. I would see him once every couple of years when I was back in the village. He was obviously quite athletic. His breathing was steady and deep as he banged me hard, the way young people do.

I whispered in his ear "Yes oh yes!", which might sound stupid now, but when I said it, it was intelligent enough. "Give it to me!" I added, "I'm going to come...don't stop, just don't stop."

Ah, there's nothing like it in this world. That primal satisfaction, the ultimate.

The sweet hot flush swept through me, from my middle outwards, finishing at my fingers and toes. I held the boy tightly, exerting some pressure against his cock with my vaginal muscles too, as my new boyfriend [I love that word] followed through, his rhythm steady and powerful despite my squeezing and writhing.

"Keep going!" I urged him, and he did.

I took his face in my hands and looked into his clear brown eyes as I came again, then again, as his cute smooth ass contracted again and again, driving his hard young cock deep into my vulnerable body each time, his pelvis striking mine hard at the end of each stroke, my thighs wide and my knees bent, my feet on the backs of his strong young legs.

My first yoga teacher, back in the seventies, showed me some exercises for my vagina. At first, I thought it was just an excuse to get into my pants, but when I finally got him to put his finger in there, I found it was true.

Some years later, in a sex shop in Copenhagen, I found this amazing little thing called a "pelvexer". A hollow tube to put in there, connected to a pressure gauge I could watch as I did my routine. After a couple of years of regular use, I got it up to some very high readings, and I can hold it there too.

The next time I met that yoga teacher, he just couldn't stop complimenting my tight tight pussy.

So when I want a man [or boy] to come, I just squeeze his penis. Then squeeze it some more.

Once, with an old guy, I squeezed too hard, and pushed the blood right out of his cock.

Anyway, I wanted to make him come hard; I could have put my finger up his ass, which always works. Some men like to be strangled, bitten, slapped, kissed, pinched, or talked dirty to. One lover, I used to sit on top and slap his face quite hard before he'd come.

But I decided to just use pressure this time.

I squeezed so hard, it would have registered to the top of the meter on my pelvexer; He could barely force his cock in, and we grinned at each other through our intense pleasure.

Jeremy gurgled and groaned, and finally pumped his seed into my infertile old body.

He came and came, as I rocked him from side to side in utter ecstasy, digging my fingers into his ass.

After men [and boys] have orgasms, one of two things happen. 

Either they feel the need for further bonding with their partner, or they feel the need to get away; If say, their partner is the age of their grandmother, the latter is most likely.

Jeremy lay on top of me for a while as I stroked his back lightly. But I knew that the hormones in his brain were shifting; his primal need to fuck was now satisfied, and the next primal urge would now take over; to get away from this unsuitable mate.

It's really too bad, because we women mostly like to spend some time with our partners after good sex, but this is how humans are built.

Sure enough, he got up after a few minutes, looking slightly confused.

"Do you feel the need to go?" I asked him gently. "It's alright."

His look of confusion turned to one of guilt. Boys are so funny! They're just unable to conceal their emotions.

"It's normal." I told him, "Go on, wash off your cock and get dressed."

"I.. I need to go home." He said.

"Yes, of course." I encouraged him. "Go on now, we both had fun didn't we?"

"Yes." He said.

"But now you feel slightly disgusted. Used perhaps?"

"No, it's just that I need to go." He lied lamely. But I could see I was accurate. I've studied these things for a long time.

"It's alright!" I laughed, "Go home. And when you're in the mood, come by or give me a call. I'll be waiting for you."

As Jeremy was leaving, Jerry pulled in with some bimbo half his age.

I pulled a dress over myself and went out into the front room to meet them.

"Hi Jerry, who's your friend?" I asked him.

"This is June. I mean Jules!" he said.

"I have a gallon of sperm up my cunt." I whispered in his ear as his floozy looked around.

"From that kid?" he demanded.

"That's right. Do you want to suck it out?"

He looked at Jules; a redhead like me, but the job wasn't done as well as mine. It looked as fake as it was. Mid thirties, short, nice bottom, moderate breasts. I knew jerry was wild to have her, she was about half his age. But my offer was causing him some conflict.

In the end, she stayed for dinner, and I left them to it, but she went home without satisfying the needs of my host.

Jerry came to my room.

"Hey Monica, how about it?"

"Forget it you horny old goat!" I told him.

He grumbled to himself as he went off to masturbate.

A couple of days later, Jeremy hadn't called. I'd been in Jerry's house for a week, and it was about time to move on. He had his young lover by then and I was a bit in the way; a guest has to know when her welcome is ending.

Still, I decided I had to see Jeremy at least once more before I left town. By the next time I would be here, he could be married and have babies.

I went to the hairdresser and had my red color touched up. A 60 year old woman can't keep the hair of a 30 year old without a lot of investment. I had it trimmed back to just touch my shoulders, just as I'd kept it for 45 years.

Back in my room at Jerry's house, I got myself dressed up in one of my favorite evening gowns. Peach silk, it plunged down my body, covering much but hiding nothing.

It showed off my figure nicely; it covered my shoulders, but lay casually over my generous breasts, showing quite a bit of cleavage. Held close around my still narrow hips, and showed the curves of my round ass. Open at the back nearly [but not quite] to my crack, and slit up one side to the upper thigh, it was not the dress of an old lady! But I don't have the body of an old lady either.

People know me as lazy; I saunter rather than walk, I'm never in a hurry. I keep away from anything too active and stay indoors [mainly to keep out of the sun].

But privately I do my yoga for several hours each day, exercising my ass and legs, chest and back. And my vagina of course. This body doesn't look this way by accident.

I put on my diamond earstuds and pearls as I examined my face carefully in the mirror.

My beauty is a blessing that I was born with, but I do everything in my power to preserve it.

Not the skin of a young woman, but not the wrinkled face of a lady my age either. The crows feet around my eyes and mouth gave little away.

I don't own a car, I don't have my own home. I stay with friends, moving around a lot. Ibiza, Paris, Frankfurt, London, the US, Bali, Singapore, Kyoto, Rio, Bombay. A few weeks here, a few weeks there, I get bored easily.

I spend my money on what's important to me, and I can't get for free.

Like my brilliant plastic surgeon in Brazil.

And, I stay out of the sun, don't smoke, drink, or take drugs [except my hormones of course].

Bare legs or stockings? Well, I have decent legs considering my age, but I was on a mission to pick up a teenaged boy. Fine mesh then.

I did my makeup carefully, and called a limo to take me down to the little bakery where Jeremy worked after school.

I could see everyone in the place staring out of the window at me as I stepped out of the car.

Getting out of a car gracefully is an art, and when a lady steps out of a limo, there is nearly always an audience.

One leg first swings out, careful to keep the skirt over the groin. Make sure there is no puddle or debris, then the shoe is set to the ground. Swiveling the body, sliding out, the second leg next to the first, it's generally necessary to bend forward to clear the door. That gives everyone a glimpse of cleavage, so one has to be careful not to have a wardrobe malfunction. I love to take it all off, but there's a time and place for everything; limousines are about style and class. I have one and I fake the other well.

I walked into the bakery, showing some leg through the long slit skirt. I could feel very eye in the place on me. I don't wear high heels much anymore, since I have to be careful about my joints, and I'm tall anyway. But when I want to make a big impression like this, they're part of the ensemble.

When I was young, it was nothing special. Any of my friends could have dressed up and gotten a similar reaction. But at 60, to be the center of attention, to have a room full of strangers admiring my figure; well, that's a rush each time. I was tingling with excitement as I smiled seductively at the cashier, pulling my shoulders back so my breasts pushed forward.

"I'm looking for Jeremy Harris." I told her. "Tell him his aunt Monica is here to pick him up."

I let my gaze roam over my audience; six or seven people seated at 3 tables, mouths hanging open.

My life is often boring, even depressing. But moments like this pay for it all. I was glowing in the glory of it, of knowing that they were all admiring me. They thought I must be a celebrity of some kind to have the audacity to wear a dress like this in the middle of the day, and to ride around in a limousine.

My young lover came from the kitchen and stared as well. I gave him my sexiest smile.

"Come along, Jeremy. Everyone's waiting for you."

"I... Uh... my shift goes for another half hour."

The manager was a man, so I shifted my attention to him for a moment, leaning in his direction subtly. "Do you mind if Jeremy leaves a little early today?" I asked him.

"Sure. I mean, no. Uh... go on, Jeremy."

I waited as he took off his apron and washed his hands, basking in the attention from strangers. I knew the men were all thinking about having sex with me, curious about their own lust for an older woman [even though I was sure they wouldn't suspect my real age]. The women were trying to figure out where I'd come from, noticing that my lipstick, nail color, and dress all matched, and wondering if they would be able to look this good at any age.

I took Jeremy's hand and led him to the waiting Limo.

"Take us back to the pickup point." I instructed the driver.

"What's with the Limo?" Jeremy said, breaking the silence.

"A big car makes a big impression. Everyone thinks you have to be a millionaire to ride in one, but actually they only cost a little bit more than a taxi." I laughed.

I turned towards him, my breasts hanging in the thin dress.

"You're supposed to call a lady the next day." I admonished him. "How do you think that makes me feel?"

"Uh.. sorry." He said lamely.

I had half a mind to stop the car and tell him to get out. After all the effort I'd taken with my appearance, I could just get dropped off at the yacht club and do a millionaire instead. Or maybe two.

But the fabulous sex we'd had was still fresh in my memory. I did want to have the boy again before heading to Spain.

"Kiss me." I demanded.

That boy sure could kiss.

Now I've kissed a lot of men, and quite a few women too [even though I'm not gay]. I've kissed old men, young men, and boys. I know what a good kiss is.

It's not just the lips and tongue you know; it's the hands, the fingers gently caressing, finding just the right pressure and tempo.

His hand went to my breast, slipping into my dress as his other hand stroked my naked back.

I had been a little bit mad at him, but now all was forgiven. I was totally high on sexual force, my whole body flushed with excitement and pleasure.

I fished out his cock, which was as hard as wood of course, and stroked it as we kissed deliriously. The boy was as horny as I was, he needed it at least as much as I did. He needed to release his seed and his energy, and I needed to receive it.

The big car pulled up in front of jerry's house.

 I'd paid in advance, so we went inside. There apparently was no one around. I knew Jerry was home though, lurking in his room probably.

I regretted one thing; I'd told Jerry he could watch me teach that boy a lesson.

He was a dirty old man, going a bit queer in his senior years. We'd known each other for a long time, since we were barely older than Jeremy; I was always welcome in Jerry's house, but I knew I had to give him something in return if I wanted to maintain my welcome.

By that time, I wasn't angry anymore. I just wanted to take him upstairs and have nice straight sex like the first time.

We sat on a sofa.

"So why didn't you call?" I asked him as we sat in the living room. "Was the sex not good?"

"It was great." He stammered, looking away. I found that funny; he was perfectly confident when it came to fondling and kissing me, even with people around.

"Did you feel conflicted afterwards?" I pressed him, enjoying his discomfort, "About having sex with an old woman?"

"A little." He admitted, failing to contradict me calling myself an old woman.

"But you seemed happy enough in the limo." I pointed out, moving closer. I wanted him so much, wanted to feel his body against me again.

"Yeah." He admitted.

I gathered my knees under me on the sofa and lifted myself up, looming over my young lover; I swung a knee over his lap and straddled him, taking his face in my hands. Sensuously, I licked his lips as his hands held my waist.

"Should we go to bed?" I asked him.

"Yes." He agreed.

I stepped back off the sofa, he got up, and we headed for the stairs.

Jerry came out of his room just then; the old goat intercepted us intentionally of course.

"Oh hi Jeremy, Hi Monica. What's happening?"

I stopped and gave jerry a quick tongue kiss.

"Nothing darling, we're just going to my room for a while." I told him.

"Well have fun." He said.

"We will." I laughed.

"That was embarrassing." Jeremy said as we went in and closed the door.

"I'm still a little bit angry at you for not calling." I told him. "Take your clothes off."

"Ok."

I stood with my arms crossed across my chest as he exposed himself; in my elegant gown, heels, and jewelry, I felt powerful and confident. And as he stripped himself naked at my command, that feeling grew.

"I think I need to punish you a little." I said.

"What do you mean?" he asked nervously.

"Lie on the bed." I said, fishing in the side drawer through my toy collection.

I love sex shops; they usually have horny men in them, buying pornography. I always look through the toy section for anything interesting or new. It's always fun; I flirt with the men, but I wouldn't go with any of them; I prefer friends or friends of friends, for safety.

Anyway, I chose a cute little cocklock ring I got in New York. It's adjustable and has a little chain attached. I took his nearly hard young cock in one hand and slid the ring over it with the other, tightening it around the base.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It keeps you under control." I told him, pulling on the chain playfully. "Roll over. On your hands and knees."

"What do want to do?" he asked nervously.

"Teach you to respect a lady." I said, pulling on the chain a bit harder. "Roll over."

"Jesus." He said breathlessly, but he obeyed.

I felt a little shiver of delight; he was mine now. I knew how to play him, and I knew I'd get to have a lot of fun.

I like variety. I can be submissive, dominant, tender, or trashy. I enjoy every role. And so do my lovers of course.

I reached around his hip and took his penis in my fist. I couldn't resist pulling it a little before slapping his cute round ass the first time.

"Ow!"

I hit him again, harder.

"Ow!"

"Will you show more respect?"

"Yes!"

Whack

"Ow!"

"How?"

Whack

"Ow!"

"I'll do whatever you say!"

I stroked his red bottom softly. I didn't want to stop spanking him yet, but it was his first time after all.

"Roll over." I told him.

I took my shoes off, rolled up my skirt, and took off my knickers. Panties, underwear, whatever you call them.

I swung my knee over and sat on his face. "Lick me." I told him, grabbing his head by his cute curly brown hair. "Harder."

I moved my groin so my clit was in his mouth as he did his best; and a fairly good effort it was, too. I ground down against him, careful to leave his nose free so he wouldn't have to stop for air.

His hot tongue poked and prodded, licked and tickled. I reached back to play with his bulging cock.

I knew jerry was watching. He'd put a little video camera in the room. He's such a pervert; he knew I'd give him a blow job if he wanted, and he had his new young strumpet to play with too. But he wanted to watch me have perverse sex with this boy instead, probably while he played with himself.

It took a while before I came; that bothers me sometimes, because I used to come much sooner and more often than I do now. Anyway, I came as he licked me, my juices soaking his face.

I got up and pulled my dress off all the way, but I was still wearing my net stockings and lift-up bra with bare nipples.

I wrapped the chain around my fist and pulled on his cock with it. The cocklock was tight around the base, and I was sure he wouldn't be able to ejaculate. He might have an orgasm, but there would be no mess.

I stood above him and lowered myself down over his cock. It felt good going in; hot and hard. The plastic ring was noticeable against my clit, and not too uncomfortable. For me at least. But I did regret the half inch it took from me.

I took his wrists in my hands and pinned them to the bed on either side of his face. He didn't resist me, although he easily could have.

I tightened my cunt, then tightened it some more.

"How does that feel?" I asked him.

"Pretty good." He gasped.

I began to move my hips back and forth, like I learned in belly dance.

I gave it up because it's too energetic for me, but I did learn to roll my hips back and forth quite quickly. It makes men crazy, and of course it makes them come.

But of course Jeremy couldn't!

"AAAHHHGGG!!" he gurgled, turning quite red in the face. I could feel his cock twitching inside me, and knowing how frustrated he was made me come.

I slowed down, and lifted myself up and down on him, squeezing his organ tight. His eyes were bulging, his cock twitching. I released his wrists and grabbed his hair, then kissed him as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

I think he was in orgasm for a minute or even two; I would have been afraid to do that to an old man, but it was fantastic to watch Jeremy have the orgasm of his life. With me. Me! At 60, still the hottest lay, the man killer, the queen of sex! What young girl could do this? It would be over in minutes.

And there was still so much to teach him.

I broke the kiss and rolled over with him still inside, still hard, still eager for more. In the basic position now, my legs open and my boy lover between them, he took over.

It sounds boring, but it wasn't. On top of me, hips plunging, young cock penetrating my old body, boy lips on my mouth, hot tongue in my head, his boundless energy making me come once, twice, three times.

I pushed my finger into his virgin asshole, and I could feel his pulse, his internal muscles working to fuck me, and his contractions as he came again, trying to ejaculate.

His young body shivered in my arms, my pride growing with each climax that passed through him.

Long ago, when I was a horny young slut, I went through a period where I wanted to see how many men I could drain. I had sex sometimes three, even four times in a day. I love to make men come, it's my joy in life. Their bodies go weak, their minds get bent. They have no idea how it even effects them; how far they'll go to get it. Playing games, telling lies, even fighting. They'll expend their resources. Money, time, energy, political capital; then, after they've had their release, they wander off without a care, leaving me bemused with a mouthful of come.

These days I'm more particular about who I choose. AIDs has changed everything. It's all so serious now. I lost quite a few friends; I get tested regularly, and despite my lifestyle I've been spared. My doctor thinks I must have immunity.

We were getting pretty sweaty, and it was time for a break. I pushed him off of me. He rolled onto his back, his wet cock as hard as ever.

"Stay there." I told hm.

I got out of bed and stepped over to the dressing table. I turned to face him as I brushed my hair.

I'm very particular about it; I always part it to one side, so it hangs partly over one eye. It has to be neat and glossy.

In my stockings and bra, my nipples aching for more, we watched each other as the moisture evaporated from our bodies.

I looked into the drawer again. I had a nice strap-on. But it was too soon for that; I chose a slim smooth vibrator instead. With my back to him so he couldn't see, I put a little lubricant on the tip.

I came back to the bed and lowered my face to his beautiful organ, taking it in my mouth again. So powerful, so warm, so eager to please!

"Lift your knees." I told him.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Darling, tomorrow I'll be gone, flying back to Europe. Who knows if we'll ever be together again like this? So relax and let me show you things. Are you afraid?"

"Yes!"

I laughed at his honesty. "Roll over sweetheart, and let Aunt Monica show you the next level."                    

He did it! My young victim, on his hands and knees, his stiff bound cock hanging below him. What a sweet round ass he had; pale and smooth, ready and willing too.

I reached between his legs to pull on his cock as I set the vibrator against his anus with my other hand. It wasn't switched on yet.

I twisted it and pushed it in carefully. "How does that feel?" I asked him.

"I'm not sure." He grunted.

He was so wonderfully compliant! I wished I had more time with him. Who knows what I might get him to do?

The vibrator was moving easily now, and I pushed it in and out, screwing his ass with it as I masturbated his strangled penis. Then I switched it on.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, and I saw his balls contract and felt his rod start pulsing in my hand.

I worked his penis and asshole as he had another dry orgasm that lasted for at least a half minute.

It was exhilarating, but it made me a little sad, too.

We were well matched as lovers, but at totally different tangents of our lives. Where could he find a girl who would give him what I could? When would I find a man my own age who I could stay with, who could thrill me like this boy? We could easily fall in love, become addicted to this kind of crazy sex.

But of course I would never let that happen. He might not know better, but I did. Sex is the ultimate, love is for fools.

I pushed against his hip, and he rolled onto his back again. I straddled him and slid myself over his cock again.

Squeezing him with all my power [Jerry always told me my vagina is tighter than any ass he's been in], I looked down at him as my hips rolled around. So lovely, strong, and compliant; he was already a powerful lover.

What if I stayed a while? I could rent a place, we could be together. I would tell him about life and love, and he... he could just do me twice a day.

Ah, those are the thoughts that lead to obsession, love, and misery.

I peeled off my bra, put my breast in his mouth, and he sucked. I held his face, he was my baby.

I lifted off of him and lay next to him on my back. I took his cock in my hand and steered him to where I wanted him.

Kneeling over me, his penis lay between my pale breasts. I unlocked the clamp, stroking his stiff rod with a tenderness I rarely felt anymore. I squeezed my breasts together with my hands, and he began to fuck my breasts; at the end of each stroke, it popped an inch into my mouth.

He was going to come; and this time, there would be semen.

He began to tighten, his fingers clutched at my head. He groaned; his cock bulged and twitched once or twice in the second before the flood.

I shifted my hands to his ass and pulled him forward into my mouth. I didn't like Jerry's maid very much, and I didn't want her to find the evidence of decadence all over the sheets and pillows.

And he came; good god, how he came!

I suppose in all the years, all the men I've known, there must have been one who equaled that load, but I don't remember him.

Young Jeremy started pumping, and it just kept flowing... his hands holding my face, mine on his tight round ass, his stiff quivering rod held by my lips as it squirted, squirted, squirted, on and on, blast after blast, the warm tasty fluid inflating my cheeks, filling my mouth until I had no choice but to swallow it.

I like swallowing, but it's a waste. I wanted to rub it into my breasts and face.

Ah well, in the moment I needed to drink it down and so I did. There would be other men, other mouthfuls of skin cream for me.

I love that time after good sex, that moment of utter contentment.

I feel then that I'm in a state of grace, I need nothing.

I receive semen like some people receive a religious experience; it's special, it's primal, magic, beautiful, complete. It's the communion between man and woman, as close to god as I, in my debauched mortality, can get.

I sucked on him gently for a while, enjoying his remaining stiffness as I emptied my mouth of his fluid. I love the taste and sensation, but I knew I had to clean my mouth out before it began to smell horrible.

My young lover pulled away and climbed off of me, and I went into the bathroom for some mouthwash.

As I bent over the sink, I felt him behind me, his fingers stroking my back and his damp cock against my ass.

I stood up and leaned back against him, his hands circled me and went to my breasts, lifting and holding them. I tilted my head to one side, and he nibbled my neck.

It was a beautiful moment, perhaps the most sensual instant of our brief affair; his balls were drained, his urgency and need were gone. And still he wanted more, more touch, more sensation, more of me.

I looked at him through the mirror, his half adult face, not yet a man but no longer a boy. Discovering the power of sex, the pleasure of sensuality, of passion. The joy of sharing his body with a woman.

I felt privileged to share this moment; I was honored that he would want to hold my old tits in his unblemished hands, bite the neck that had known so many teeth before his, and push his hard cock against the cheeks of my no longer perfect buttocks.

"You want more?" I asked with just a touch of incredulity.

"Yeah." He said.

So we went back to bed.

I had nothing left to offer. I just lay back and lifted my knees, and he climbed in as eager as ever.

He fucked me, fucked me...

I actually checked the clock when he started. The boy fucked me for another half hour.

And he held me, and kissed me, and loved me like an old man just never did. Like only a boy his age could, with a simplicity of uncomplicated excitement, a desire to please, a need for touch.

And I came again, and then again. I was getting sore, I had reached my limit; which wasn't something I reached often.

I tried to push him away, but he held me tighter and pumped just a little harder instead; and then he came inside me, his last orgasm a feeble one compared to the flood he blasted out earlier, but a fine compliment to us both.

At last, he was through; his strength and semen totally spent. He lay there, on top of me, his breath ragged and his lovely body damp from exertion, his cock finally shrinking, still in me as I stroked him.

I saw the box on the shelf opposite the bed that had the hidden camera in it, and I felt a tinge of guilt at betraying him. I wondered if Jerry was still watching; the old goat.

The next day I was packed and ready to go, my body still aching from the session with Jeremy.

"Hey Monica, why don't you stay a while?" Jerry asked.

"My ticket is fixed. If I don't go now it will be no good."

"I'll buy you an open ticket, business class." He offered.

Business class! I love business class. It's so civilized, always full of wealthy men too.

"I have to go Jerry." I told him sadly.

The best sex is the first sex; and love is to be thoroughly avoided.

"I'll be back again."

"How about a quickie before you go to the airport?" he asked.

I laughed; "Maybe next time. Or come see me in Ibiza, we'll have some fun."

But we probably won't. We're both too jaded, too spoiled by our younger lovers.

I haven't seen Jeremy since. We've both moved on, found more suitable lovers. But perhaps next summer we'll have another encounter; somewhere private, where we can get into it without distraction for a week or two.

If you'd like to read more about my life, write to me. Tell me something about yourself; have you had an older woman? A younger one? Have you longed to watch your wife do a boy?

Ace, 2011

This story is fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead; well, never mind that part.

  S end any and all comments to; storyace@hotmail.com