The life of Elaine, a 50 year old woman. 

Part 1   Introduction

My name is Elaine Hutchinson and I am a fifty years of age. I have long dark hair, pale, almost milk-white, complexion, hazel eyes, 5'4" height and a what you might call Rubenesque figure of ample bust, plump cheeks and soft full lips. I married (finally) at the age of thirty and have a son of sixteen called Paul and a daughter of eighteen called Angela. My dear husband James is the same age as me, give or take a few months. Neither my husband nor my children have any knowledge of what I will unfold for you, nor have I ever attempted to involve them in any of the experiences that I will discuss because I believe that the only way to have a happy family is to live and behave as a normal family. I live in a village in England in the East Anglia region. My childhood was not a happy one, particularly in the adolescent years and beyond. My inability to relate to boys stemmed from slight overweight, lots of under confidence and some facial skin problems which developed with the onset of puberty but thankfully cleared up later. A spate of bullying at school also left me fairly isolated and pretty friendless, although I did have some nice girlfriends. My own parents were, well, parents. My mother, Chrissy, was in the slightly overweight group and also a strict Roman Catholic. She is a pretty looking woman with red hair, cut medium length and bobbed under but with little ability or patience to talk to me about matters pertaining to the opposite sex. Chrissy works as a Legal Executive in a solicitor’s office and her hours can be long and varied.
My father was member of the Church of England but converted to Roman Catholic when he married mum. He is a warm lovely man, and at times the only real friend that I had. Dad works in Information Technology, something to do with databases and his work times, too, can be lengthy and varied. I don't have any siblings although we do have some relatives fairly near. As a result of my own predicament and the often absence of my parents, I was left sometimes with more time on my hands than was good for me. Don't get me wrong, I am not blaming anybody for anything, not even myself. I truly believe that people are made in a certain way and chance experiences carry them along a particular path, good or bad.

If discussions of sexual matters offend then please read no further.

Here I go.

I have had a lifelong fascination with male genitalia. Even as a little girl, and certainly long before I made any sexual connection with the male private parts, I was always curious about these forbidden parts of the male anatomy. Don't ask me why, I still can't answer that question today, God knows, I've asked myself it often enough over the years.

My recollection of how it all began is rather hazy now and perhaps a little inaccurate, but I was about nine years old. I recall that it was a very hot summer and my mother had constructed a makeshift pool in the garden to keep the children cool. In the pool playing there was I and the two boys from next door, Alan and Robert. Playing in water was not usual for any of us, so nobody had a swimming costume; in fact nobody had anything on at all. As we played into the afternoon I remember inwardly comparing the difference between myself and the two boys. Robert was nine years old, the same age as me and Alan was a year older. This was the first of many times on which I became envious of what they had between their legs. For a start they had something to play with, and I don't mean that in a sexual sense, rather like a girl might play with her long hair. Both boys seemed to fiddle down there very regularly and every once in a while it would grow and stand up. I was very intrigued to see this strange occurrence of growth and I always waited to see it happen. The boys had absolutely no interest in what I had down below, but then I suppose there wasn't much to see, just like having a little bum at the front I suppose.

Well that was the start of my fascination, in fact almost an obsession, with the private anatomy of boys. At school we would go to the swimming pool twice a week and I would use every opportunity to look at the boys. They were all in swimming trunks of course, but the style in those days was such that you could easily see the shape of what was underneath. I quickly learned that there was a wide range in the sizes and shapes of what they had. It was amusing and thrilling, to see how often the boys scratched or rubbed or squeezed themselves and they did so unconsciously. I often wondered why girls never felt the need to do anything like that, perhaps because there was nothing to scratch, rub or squeeze. The only thing that we girls would do was to pull our costumes out from their tendency to cut in between your private parts, the material of our costumes then made it so we needed to do this a lot.

I never seemed to have enough of looking at boys down below. In my room I had some modeling clay and I would make an appropriate shape and fit it down my knickers at the front and lift my dress to see the effect. This was a game I would play for hours on end, but not that convincing when wearing a pink dress. So, often I would take my dress off so that I only had my white school knickers on and I could then model my part in lots of ways. I'd love to feel it and play with it; sometimes I would make it erect like some of the shapes I'd seen. I would have loved to do it naked, but the clay wasn't the correct colour, my skin being a creamy white shade and the clay was brown, and in any case I wasn't that sure of what one would look like hard.

Two years later I was in for a rude awakening. Every girl's nightmare, I had my first period. My mum had forewarned me about it, but the sight of blood in my knickers was almost enough to make me pass out. I knew something was going to happen because I'd been feeling terrible and moody for days, but when it happened I thought I had contracted some awful disease. Anyway, Mum explained and got me sorted out and I was soon an old hand at dealing with this particularly nasty "feminine" problem. Although having a period marked a major down side in my life, the awful monthly cycle of stomach pain, back pain and bleeding, there was an unexpected up side. My fascination with the male private parts took on a new angle. I began to get strange butterfly feelings when I played my game with moulding clay. I couldn't quite pin down what was going on, but it was like a craving and I really liked it. 

The first time I masturbated was in year 8. The idea hadn’t occurred to me until it was discussed in a sex education class. The teacher convinced me that it wasn’t wrong or unhealthy, but I knew that my dork status would be elevated to perverted dork if anyone ever had reason to suspect my habits. 

One girl I witnessed masturbating was at a sleepover in year 9, when I woke up early. It was nothing graphic (she was still lying in bed), I could just tell what she was doing. All I thought was that she was stupid for not realizing I was awake, as I presumed she didn’t want me to see. She was proceeding in about the same way I would, as far as I could tell, and it made me feel better that I was not alone in performing this ‘perverted’ act. I was so intrigued that I continued to watch her until she came, her hand moving very rapidly in the final stages of her orgasm.

I still had no experience with boys, although all the girls I knew were dating and they would tell me things about boys and the things they got up to. I was very eager to know as much as I could from someone of the opposite sex, but none of the opposite sex was interested in me. 

So I studied hard, read lots, and thought even more; this gave me good results at school, but I was getting hopelessly screwed up about relationships and my exam success led to me being bullied for being a 'spotty swot'.  By then I was becoming more and more inquisitive. In fact I'd even taken to looking at the only male around our household, my Dad! I know it sounds bad, but such was my curiosity. Our upstairs toilet was just across from my room and if I left my door ajar I could see right to the door of the loo. If dad went for a wee, he would rarely shut the door behind him and although I could usually only see his back, sometimes he would use the side of the toilet. It used to terrify me doing this because I felt I was always on the verge of getting caught. Oh, but what a reward when I did get to see something. There was a whole world of difference between a boy and a man in terms of size and sometimes I would notice that he was stiff and had to push it down to aim into the bowl, this would usually happen in the morning. Sometimes he would even stroke it after he had finished peeing. All of this was a real treat for me and gave me lots to think about while I masturbated, and I still think of the experience fondly to this day.

When masturbating, I would lie in bed and rub two or three fingertips between the outer labia of my vulva, just above my clitoris. This pulls the skin of the clitoral hood against the erectile nub itself and feels good. I find my clitoris too sensitive to touch directly. I don’t move my fingers in circles or anything, just up and down, fairly quickly, just like the girl I mentioned earlier. I am not concerned about mess on my fingers, I get them slippery with the wetness my vagina makes. If I am especially concerned about mess or smell, I’ll rub through my underwear or clothes. 

Sometimes I would also insert things in my vagina-- mostly just my own fingers but occasionally small objects, commonly bottles of lotion or bath oil. Sometimes I think the people who make these objects actually do so for this very purpose. Also, in high school, if I had somehow mustered up the courage to buy a sexy bra on a shopping trip with my mum, I might put it on while I masturbated. The first few times I masturbated, I was too overwhelmed with the discovery of orgasms to fantasize at all. Since then, I’ve fantasized more often than not. Sometimes the masturbating would arise out of the fantasizing, and sometimes I would be masturbating just because I was randomly aroused and end up fantasizing.

Mostly I masturbated in bed before I went to sleep, but also often in the bath or shower, and sometimes other places (watching tv, camping) if the urge struck me. When I first started, I masturbated quite a lot, and then would try to cut down, and not succeed, and then forget for awhile and slow down, and then masturbate a lot again, etc etc. Usually the more I did it the more I wanted to. Every once in awhile I would make myself sore with rubbing and have to give it a rest for a couple of days. This pace tapered off as I got older, but I would still have bouts of frequent masturbation. 

It was around this time that I had my first sexual experience, albeit an unconscious and nocturnal one. I dreamt of lots of silly incoherent things, but I do vividly remember my Dad's erect penis in the dream. I think it was about 3 am when I woke. The feeling of pleasure was indescribable and I discovered that I was very wet down below. I thought I had peed the bed, or even worse, had a period. When I put the light on I could see it definitely wasn’t blood and I hadn't peed either. In fact I'd experienced my very first orgasm, and the feeling was exquisite. Fortunately I wear knickers in bed, so the damage wasn't too severe with most of the feminine discharge in my underwear and only a little on the sheet.

I was now fifteen years of age and in my fourth year of secondary education and I hated it with a passion. I wasn't a fat girl, but I was not slim either, unlike all the other girls who were pretty to look at with nice slim figures. I also sported spots from the acne that I had developed, so I suppose it was no surprise that the boys never gave me a second glance. I didn't have much of a problem with making friends with some of the girls, perhaps because I wasn't competition or perhaps just plain pity. In any case I was very self-conscious and very unhappy. I wished I could be slim but that made me unhappy and I ate more. My hair is long and dark and I tie it on either side in bunches with pretty hair bands and my height is 5'2".

I hadn't played the game with the modelling clay for a long time, but now I rediscovered it, but this time with more clay, I had suddenly become more endowed than before. My breasts were starting to grow, but oddly I was less interested in them than I was with the model of a penis that I had secreted in my panties. It looked rather odd behind the opaque material, especially as I had sprouted my first fuzz of pubic hair. This game really did turn me on though and I found myself attempting to recapture the feeling that I had experienced that night of the orgasm. I used to play and rub myself down there and although it was pleasurable I somehow never managed to get the intensity of that night.

One day my mum asked me to get her keys from her bedside table. When I looked on the table there were no keys to be seen. I opened the drawer to look for them and I was flabbergasted to see a model penis. I mean a penis. It was erect; it must have been seven inches long and was quite thick. I wasn’t too aware of what it actually was, but I knew I was seeing something that was adult and forbidden. My hands were trembling, I listened out to make sure she wasn't coming up the stair, and then I touched it. It was amazing; the material was surprisingly warm and smooth. Mum called to ask if I found the keys and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I slammed the drawer shut and ran downstairs. She found her keys in her handbag later, but I couldn't get the sight of that model penis out of my mind. I decided I would not go to school the next day. Mum and Dad both work and usually give me a lift to the corner of the road where the school, St Andrews Roman Catholic, is located.

Next day dad dropped me off at school. In the car I wondered if he knew what was in that drawer. I trembled at the thought of it. As soon as the car moved off around the corner, I made my way back home. It took me about 15 minutes to get there. I went inside and dropped my bag and took off my school blazer and then raced upstairs. Inside mum and dad’s room I approached the bedside table and opened the drawer. The model penis was in a different place to where it had been last night and I subconsciously made a note of how I found it. My hands were trembling again, but I lifted the penis out of the drawer and had a closer look. It was rigid hard and it pointed up in an arch. The colour struck me; it was a pale creamy flesh like shade. It was beautiful. I held it in my hand for a long time. I examined it more closely and discovered that it had 'balls' and a place where you could put liquid. I didn't really know that then, but it was a mechanism to let this penis ejaculate. I wondered again if dad knew about this contraption in mum’s drawer. Curiosity made me visit the bedside table on my dad's side of the bed. I slid the drawer open and immediately came across a pile of magazines of the sort you see on the top shelf of the newsagent. I put the penis on the bed and picked up the top publication. On the front was the title 'Boys and Girls at Play' in the form of a bright yellow banner with red characters, with several pictures of boys and girls kissing. I opened the first page and I could see that pictures were arranged in the form of a story. The first page showed a boy and girl fully dressed in a wooded public area. I didn't look at the words, just following the pictures. As the sequence progressed it showed the two being more and more intimate with each other. The boy was fondling the girl's breast and then his hand went up her skirt. God, I was trying to get my head around the fact that my dad would have read this stuff. Next the girl's panties were worked down to her knees and the boy was feeling between her legs. Moving on to another page I saw that the girl was undoing the boy's zip. Now this really got me going, another few pictures and the boy's erect penis was visible from his trousers and the girl appeared to take great delight in fondling and stroking it. I was starting to flush, getting very hot and felt a lovely feeling wash over me. I had never been able to get this feeling in all the times I had touched myself. Now the girl took off her panties and lay on the grass and the boy knelt between her legs, pointing his erection right at her outer labia which looked rather swollen. The following photographs showed them kissing and embracing, his penis was inside the girls privates. I was in a terrible state. I was trembling, terribly aroused and I was frightened in case anybody would come home and discover me, so I closed the drawer and took the magazine and the penis to my own room. There I studied the penis again. It was a lovely shape, and the colour was similar to my flesh tone. I couldn't wait to see what it would look like inside my knickers. I quickly took off my school skirt, blouse and shoes. I still had my white bra, panties and knee length socks on. Inserting the penis inside my knickers to look like a man with an erection, I inspected myself in the mirror. The penis was too big for my panties and about three inches of the end emerged above the waistband of my underwear. It looked strangely incongruous with the little silk bow on my panties across the middle of its girth. But, oh, was I turned on. I could feel a strange sensation course through me, giving rise to wetness between my legs and I hoped I didn't make any stain on the object inside my knickers. I slipped my panties down with one hand until they were around my knees, the other holding the penis against me. Then I stood in profile to see what the penis would look like as if I was a man. I put the base between my legs and looked at the upward arching object, looking strange on me with my bra, white socks and knickers, emerging from my fuzzy base of dark pubic hair. I couldn't resist stroking it the way the girl had done in the picture, with her feminine hand wrapping its thick stiff girth.

I couldn't stand it any longer, I slipped out of my panties, lay on the bed and allowed the artificial penis to lightly rub against my tummy, then tracing down slowly over my mound, gently nuzzling the light patch of pubic hair that sprouted there. Then I moved the penis downward to touch against the top of my vagina, where I could feel the light pressure of the penis head against my swelling outer labia and pulsing clitoris. Then on down, over the front of my left thigh, over to the front of my right thigh. My thighs parted so that I could feel the warm stiffness against my left inner thigh then my right inner thigh, all the time moving closer to that private girl entrance between my legs. I had been used to inserting my skin lotion bottle up between my labia because it had a lovely smooth rounded shape, but this was very much bigger and thicker. Oh, it was heaven, the firm hardness against my warm softness. I could feel myself swollen and wet between my legs and I tipped the end of this man against my very feminine private labia lips. I was so wet that the member easily slid along between the puffy wet lips of my girlhood, opening a stretching the lips and parting the inner labia. I picked up the magazine again at the page that had really turned me own, where the boy was putting his penis into the girl. As I studied the picture I pressed the head of the artificial penis gently up into myself, pretending that I was the recipient of this male attention. The boy had short brown hair with a lank physique and his very stimulated male organ was being guided by the girl's hand into the place where it needed to be. The girl had long straight red hair, tied in a pony tail. She, too, was slim but much shorter than the boy. With her legs parted I could see the red pubic hair that framed the swollen lips that were the target of erect male organ. I could feel the artificial cock go in until I sensed it would go no further. Oh God this feeling was terrific, I urgently felt the need to push it further but it was beginning to cause me some discomfort and I was concerned that I might do myself some harm. So I began move it out and in as far as was comfortable and soon a beautiful sensation began to emanate from between my legs, all the way through my body, right to the tips of my erect nipples. The fingers of my other hand explored my swollen clitoris as I began to pant for relief. My thighs opened and closed on the penis head that had invaded my privates as my fingers worked magically on my clitoris and the surrounding area until, with a gasp and shudder of ecstasy I achieved orgasm. As the sensation peeked then so did the muscular spasms cause me grip the cock head with my vagina lips until at last I was completely spent. I lay there in that position for an age until eventually I had to get up.
I reached for my tissue box and pulled out several sheets and proceeded to dry my feminine secretions from between my thighs, lips and bottom, then some more tissue to carefully dry the penis which had so successfully made me come. 
It was now quite late in the afternoon and I decided I wouldn't go back to school so I dressed in a blue skirt and white top. I picked up my panties and turned them the right way out before stepping into them, getting the gusset caught in my left big toe in the process, causing the cotton crotch to twang as I pulled them up, but I finally adjusted them snugly around my bum.
I went to mum's room to put her toy back and I did so carefully, making sure it was as I left it. I also put the magazine back carefully as well.

The following Thursday at school my friend Claire was telling me about sex with her boyfriend. That was my cue to ask about her first time and whether it hurt. Well Claire was fantastic, she was only too happy to oblige, telling me about hymens, pain, blood and lots of other stuff about having sex. It was all very interesting and it appeared that a virgin girl has her love passage obstructed by a membrane called a hymen. After a boy's penis fully enters a girl then the hymen is ruptured and her passage is cleared to allow full entry, a process that turns a girl into a woman. Unfortunately this 'loss of virginity' can sometimes cause considerable pain and cause blood to seep from the ruptured membrane.
I felt so happy that I now knew about the problem I had been having when I had tried to push mum’s artificial hardon into my tight vagina. I resolved to complete the act the next time I had a chance.

That chance to try out having sexual intercourse with mum’s dildo arose the following Sunday when mum and dad went to visit my auntie Linda. I knew they would be gone for at least four hours so I waited for the fifteen minutes after the car left before going to their room to collect my love object and also the magazine. I already had a mental image of my favourite pictures in the magazine and it gave me such a thrill to hold it in my hand again. I was still dressed in my night things; a white cotton nighty with red flowers and a pair of white cotton panties. I quickly went to my room where I then lay the dirty book and dildo on the bed. Next I put an old green towel on the bottom sheet that I had prepared this very purpose.  Then I wriggled out of my panties and then quickly lifted my nightdress up and over my head. Completely naked, I slipped back into my unmade bed and picked up the magazine, initially flipping through the pages and then, as I could feel myself get turned on, zeroed in on my favourite pictures, those looking at a stiff hardon being stroked and getting ready for entry between a girl’s open legs. Before long I could feel those sensations that caused a swelling and wetness to develop between my thighs and I reached for Mum’s dildo, the feel of its hardness giving me a particular thrill and I brought its head to press gently against mound, frustrating myself with the need to insert it into my vagina. At last I could wait no further, Imagining I was about to be mounted by the boy in the picture, I closed my eyes to imagine him above me, telling me he loved me. I imagined his hot lips touched my and his tongue probe between my lips and then I could feel his cockhead part my lips below. As his lips moved to my ear and I could feel his hot breath against me as the penis began to invade my welcoming vagina, legs apart. I soon got him into the position that was causing me discomfort before. As my sexual pleasure heightened I eventually pushed harder and, with a sharp pain, the penis went right inside.  Even though I was prepared for it, the pain startled me when it happened and I stopped immediately and looked down between my legs to see that the pink penis was now red and a trickle of blood rand down under my bottom onto the towel. I had just lost my cherry to an artificial penis. The pain subsided quickly and I was determined to continue. Closing my eyes again, I moved the penis and out, and with each stroke I got closer to that first and only feeling I'd had like this. One more stroke and I pushed it hard into me and I could feel that orgasm start and I began to ejaculate liquid onto my hand as I experienced sexual relief, something I would do in future when I got particularly excited. I hadn’t even touched my clitoris once. Oh my God, what a powerful feeling. I gasped and gasped and then collapsed on my bed. After I recovered I went to the bathroom to have a bath to clean my artificial lover. I went back to my room and put on a skirt and blouse. I then turned my attention to the bed where I removed the blood-stained green towel which I would now wash by hand. I tidied up the bed, put my nighty under the pillow and took my knickers to the laundry basket. I went into mum and dad's room to take the items back that I 'borrowed'. I spent the next hour or so washing the towel and drying it in the tumble drier when I then realised I’d been walking around with no knickers on. I went back to my room to get some clean panties from my underwear drawer, stepping into them and wiggling them on before dropping my skirt.
