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Many years ago one of the hottest things that ever happened to me, became the start of a lifelong relationship that has been hotter and sexier than any of my life. Until that moment my relationship with this woman had been loving and tender, but never sexual; until that moment. I had always viewed her as sexy, but she was not for me. She was actually married to someone else, off limits, out of my reach, not to mention out of my age range. She was older than me by a couple of decades, but I had had a few lovers that had been older than me, one or two even by more years than her. I often wondered if maybe that might have been a thing for me, older women. She reminded me of my first real relationship, much earlier in life, with a woman named Beth.
I met Beth through mutual friends, in my second year of college. She was older, by quite a lot! My feelings for her had developed kind of quickly, which I found a bit startling. Bear in mind I was 22 years old, in school, surrounded by other students, young college professors, trying to get established. There were always weekend parties, with disparate groups of young people from all over the world, and not a few lovely young women who were game for a laugh. Beth was by then 73 years old! She was slender, even willowy, tall and elegant, confident and very self-assured about what she wanted. As it turned out, she wanted me. I went with her the first day she beckoned.
Beth worked part-time on campus and an art historian. She had worked in the art world her entire career, and was on the board of the local modern art museum. She ‘dabbled’ a bit in oil painting herself. I was taking a required art history class, not my greatest area of interest, but one day when Beth covered a course I was fully attentive. She was such an authority, spoke with such expertise and passion, that I was rapt. She wore a lovely print summer dress, cut just above the knee, a bit of cleavage with a lacy but elaborate pendant that hung between her breasts enticingly. She was describing the manner in which painters between the wars, represented the female nude, from Paris to Berlin. Weimar Germany was awash in “Freedom of expression”, which would land many of the most radical artists into trouble with the Nazis.
I had questions about her lecture on Weimar Germany that day, so stayed after a bit and we chatted at length. So long in fact that as the following class was filing in we had to be ushered out. Our conversation continued as we strolled to the local coffee bar. It was pouring rain and we had darted from cover to cover my trying gallantly to cover her head with my jacket. The coffee shop was almost deserted. From there, we somehow had magically transported to her kitchen where our conversation continued through a light supper.
When at last the conversation lulled, we simply sat there gazing at each other.
“Would it be very wrong of me,” she began after a long silence, “to tell you that I find you very attractive?” I was somewhat taken aback, but replied,
“Not if I can say the same.”
She stood to take our plates, and slowly bent down to kiss my mouth. She simply set them in the sink and returned to her seat.
“And if I were to admit, …” she paused, gazing intently into my eyes, “that I would love to have you lead me upstairs, … to my bed, … and make love to me?” My head had rightfully fallen off, but led her I did.
Beth and I remained frequent lovers through the balance of my college career. I learned more about art from her than the university could have ever taught me in 4 years. She was fascinating, scholarly, but also naughty and fun! Beth was heaven in bed! After a life spent with 2 husbands, both dead now, and a slew of lovers, some short-term, 2 long-term, she knew, and asked for, what she wanted. She also enjoyed, and knew exceedingly well, how to give pleasure! She sucked me so perfectly! Deep and loving. She very much enjoyed the taste of my cum; she noted that she didn’t enjoy some others, and wasn’t shy about letting them know it.
Beth had the body of maybe a 60 year old, but it turned me on so much!! Her slender form had an exquisite shape, tiny waist with a surprisingly shapely but pliable bottom. Her breasts had probably been a B-cup her entire life, and though they sagged just a bit carried the most perfect nipples, which she delighted in having them gently suckled. Her skin was a bit loose with the years, but it remained silky soft and heaven to touch and caress. I didn’t connect until many years later that she reminded me of my own mother, a very surprising revelation.
Beth and I spent a long loving, rather melancholic weekend together, after graduation, just before my departure for the west coast. We had actually grown in love, but she had always kept a practical view of our relationship, recognizing its temporal nature from the first. Not that she wasn’t sad at our parting; she would admit so in a letter much later in her life. She admitted that she spent a week in tears after I left.
Many ataköy anal yapan escort years later I spent a week in tears when I received news that she had passed away. It was only then that I realized what she had meant to me, how much I had loved her. I attended the memorial service for her in New York, wherein I met three of her closest girlfriends. Quietly and independently, they had each taken me aside to let me know that Beth had related to them the intimate details of our love life, years earlier. Beth had apparently told them practically every detail of our intercourse. It was surprising, and oddly exciting, that these women knew such intimate things about me and my abilities in bed. The last, Candace, had actually been one of Beth’s lovers as well. She admitted her firsthand knowledge into the exquisite details of Beth’s body, how she responded to certain stimulation, and how wonderful she was giving oral pleasure. Candace and I shared a quiet, rather erotic chat in the corner of the service. Both of us were rather worked up when we stood to part.
“It’s a shame that we never met earlier, even when you and Beth were together.” She had whispered. “It would have been quite an experience to have joined you two in bed.” She whispered. I heaved a deep, aroused sigh.
“That,” I whispered back, “would have been quite an incredible experience.” Candace grinned widely, biting her thumb, obviously aroused at the idea. I took in her shape, this beautiful woman in her mid-eighties; full curvy figure with beautiful full breasts. It occurred to me that I could take her upstairs right now if I chose. She was fairly offering herself to me with her eyes.
“I fear that my thoughts of Beth would dampen our evening though.” I admitted. Candace immediately agreed. We were here for Beth and it seemed wrong to indulge without her. I did however, take Candace into my arms and kiss her passionately on the lips. Her tongue responded in a moment. “But I will,” I whispered to her, “Spend a while in bed tonight, thinking of what it would have been like then, or right now, to make love to you for hours. You are very beautiful and sexy.” She was practically panting as she kissed me one more time. She admitted the same. I gave Candace another hug as I passed her in the lobby the following morning, as I departed.
“You were incredible last night, in my thoughts.” She whispered.
“You were even better.” I joked back with a wink.
After my university on the east coast, I then completed graduate school with a degree in Construction Management from a prestigious university in California. I then spent a years working my way slowly up the ranks; too slowly for my taste. By the time I was 32, I was ready to break free and really try something new. To the shock of everyone, including me, I took a position in Saudi Arabia, building an enormous university. I was handsomely paid and hop scotched up a number of rungs, in this one move. The work was thrilling, the design was cutting edge. The amateur nature of the work labor force however, was incredibly frustrating. No one in the field knew anything about what they were doing; utterly unskilled.
I was also frustrated by the lack of contact with anything resembling a female. Saudi Arabia is an incredibly tightly controlled, rather backwards society, wherein no man may speak to, or have contact with a female who is not a blood relation or his wife. They were not kidding about this. The Mutawa, or the religious police, were always on the lookout for such illicit contact. This had an disastrous impact on any love life I might have had.
Skype was my saving grace in those years. I would use it to chat with friends and my mother, thrilling to that annoying boop bee boop sound of a call coming through. I spent long hours sitting on my couch chatting with people, watching them on my big screen.
By my second year in the country I was feeling very lonely. I had to take trips out of the country every 90 days to renew my visa, so would fly to somewhere fun for a week of R&R. This produced an occasional fling with a woman, but nothing meaningful. This was soon going to be my second birthday alone in my apartment. I would go out to dinner with friends, but that wasn’t really how I liked to spend my birthday.
Typically it would be in the company of female company, either my current girlfriend, thought they never lasted that long, or in the company of another female. I had occasionally hired a stripper or an escort for the evening to entertain me. My male friends had often taken me out to strip clubs for my birthday. It was fun and a goof, but never all that satisfying. I much preferred the company of a woman I was dating. This was going to be the second year in a row wherein I would be stuck in Riyadh with no female company at all. In the days leading up to my birthday I had whined this complaint to my mother, who was mildly sympathetic.
“Perhaps you can Skype with a girlfriend, who ataköy bdsm escort might, … entertain you, … that way.” She had offered. I admitted that I didn’t know anyone that was willing to do that, at the moment.
“No one loves me enough for that.” I joked. We both laughed a bit. She asked what kind of ‘entertainment’ I had proffered for myself in the past when no one ‘loved me enough’ to do it for free. I told her some vague details of some of the strippers and escorts I had hired in the past, not really wanting to get into the details with my mother. She continued to press for details as we chatted.
After 20 minutes of her interrogation I was offering her some fairly graphic details of my past experiences. Mostly it had been looking and some light touching. I was shocked when Mom asked if I had an sex with any of these girls.
“I don’t mean to pry, …” she began.
“Oh yes you do!” I countered. She was thoughtful for a moment.
“Well, … maybe I do mean to pry.” She admitted quietly. Then added, “I’m just interested, that’s all. I wouldn’t judge you for any of it. It’s just that, …”
“What?” I asked after her long thoughtful pause.
“Well, you’re the most important person in my life. By a long shot! I love you and want to know what’s going on with you and what you’re up to and how you’re doing.”
“Yeah but,” I continued, “hearing about this stuff is, … well, …”
“I’m not that big a prude, you know.” She countered. “I know that you have sex, of course you do. Who doesn’t?” The question of whether my mother was having sex now, blossomed in my mind.
Along with that thought was a flash in my mind of what she must look like during that act. It wasn’t my fault. It came unsolicited into my head. I was looking at her via Skype, sitting on her couch, late at night, legs drawn up under her wearing a silk robe as we chatted. I tried to shake the thought from my head. I was struck by the thought of what I must look like to her, sitting on my couch, wearing, … I glanced down at myself sitting in front of her wearing just my lightweight jogging shorts. I noticed that from her vantage I was sporting a sizable bulge where my sleeping penis was laying over my thigh; fairly obvious. What shocked me more was that I didn’t move, didn’t adjust, just sat there feeling kind of obscene.
“So there’s no one to give you a sexy birthday strip tease there?” I just shook my head. “No one loves you enough?” More sad shaking. “Well, … I love you enough, but that’s nothing you want to see.” She joked.
“Now there’s a thought.” I joked back, looking thoughtful. I imitated Rodin’s ‘The Thinker’ nodding and thinking. It began as a joke, but I was a bit shocked to find myself really thinking it.
“Yeah right!” she chuckled. “Not exactly the body you wanted to see.”
A long moment passed as I realized my mind was turning with that very thought. Maybe it was the body I wanted to see.
“Why wouldn’t it be the body I’d want to see?”
“Yeah right!” she chuckled again. A moment passed. “Sweetheart!” she scolded.
“That would be so hot.” I admitted. I had planned to make it sound like a joke, but it came out sounding a bit more earnest. Mom just stared at me. I was now conscious of the fact that my bulge was now growing even bulgier.
“What?” I asked. “It’s not like you’re not sexy as hell. I mean, …” It had started as a ham-handed compliment, but somehow came out as something different. There was a long uncomfortable pause.
“Well.” Mom stated flatly. “It’s getting late. I should be off to bed.” She busied herself with collecting her tea cup and plate, getting ready to sign off. “Enjoy your weekend, day. We’ll chat soon?” I flashed on how Friday was the one weekend day off in Saudi Arabia, and that tomorrow was back to work. “Love you sweetheart, chat soon. Bye.” Then bleep. She was gone.
I stared at the black screen for a bit rolling over the conversation in my mind. I glanced down at my shorts again to notice the profoundly obscene bulge of my semi erect penis pushing at the lightweight material of my shorts. This was what I was presenting to my mother as we chatted? Pretty bad I admitted to myself. I signed off, went to bed and masturbated furiously to the memory of the beautiful, very young girl who had come to ‘entertain’ me on my 35th birthday. She would up staying the weekend. She charged me for Friday night, but the next two days and nights were on her. What a body she had had!
Mom and I didn’t Skype again for several days. Her texts were short and to the point, and I figured she had been insulted by my behavior over Skype. Work was stressful as ever and the morning of my birthday most greetings arrived as emails or texts. My traditional wake up phone call from Mom wherein she sang me the birthday song at 5:00 in the morning without fail didn’t materialize. I had taken the day off, another annual tradition, and by the time I rolled out of bed, I realized ataköy elit escort that Mom had not called. Now I was worried.
She responded to my text with one of her own.
“Happy birthday my sweetheart boy. I love you so very much!
Are you taking the day off?”
“I am. Hanging around the house today. Not much going
on here. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Hoping we could Skype later? Maybe 2:00
“Sure! Love it!”
I realized that to Skype at 2:00 PM my time would be 2:00 AM her time; very late. I made breakfast, then biked to my gym at the American Embassy. I puttered around until about 2:00 and was getting comfortable on my couch for my birthday Skype with Mom. I recall wondering what she was doing up so late. My Skype booped with that familiar sound.
“Happy birthday to you, …” Mom started out by singing the entire song, which I always hated but endured with a smile. “How are you sweetheart? Happy Birthday.”
“I’m good. Just got back from the gym a little while ago. It’s late for you, yeah?”
“It is, but I wanted it to be a good time for you.”
We chatted a bit about all manner of mundane things, work around her house, news from home. She pulled out the perennial ‘I can’t believe you’re (insert age) already’ comment. To which I always replied ‘Oh I know. Getting old’. Birthday tradition. Mom chuckled. She seemed on edge.
“Funny birthday traditions.” She mused, practically reading my thoughts. “The same things every year.” We shared a long silence. “You’re more dressed than usual.” I realized then that I had unconsciously worn a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, after the last time. She had noticed this right off. Then I noted that she was also more dressed than usual. “I could say the same of you.”
“Well, I just mean that, … typically you’re just in shorts. I assume it’s rather hot there.”
“It is.” I admitted. “I just thought for our birthday Skype I would dress up a bit more.” I lied. “And you?” I asked. “You’re rather dressed for 2:00 in the morning?”
There was a long pause. Mom was fidgety. I noted her high heels, stockings, thigh high skirt and rather formal blouse. She was really dressed. She even had done her hair up and back and was wearing a bit of makeup.
“Have you been out tonight?” I asked, which shook her a bit out of her reverie.
“What?” she asked, sounding nervous. “No, no. Just, … wanted to look nice for our Skype date.”
I was mildly struck by her use of the term Skype Date. It sounded like a date date.
“Oh. Well, … you look lovely.” I told her. She brightened, but still looked a bit nervous.
“Thank you sweetheart. A woman loves to hear that from an attractive young man.”
“You really do. You look so lovely. I wish I was there to take you out to dinner.” She seemed to blush a bit. “Somewhere nice and quiet.” Then added, without thinking, “Somewhere romantic.” Now it really did sound like a date date. She made a happy humming sound.
“I mean, …” I nervously started to correct myself.
“No, no.” She jumped in. “A nice romantic night out sounds lovely. I can’t think when the last time I was taken out for a nice romantic dinner.” After a long pause she added, “by a handsome young man.”
This was definitely the oddest conversation we’d ever had. Mom looked decidedly mixed, smiling at me but looking sad and nervous at the same time. I was going to ask what was going on, but she jumped in with,
“How hot is it there now?”
“Very! It’s about 110 degrees during the days.” Realizing that I was hot in this outfit.
“Goodness you must be sweltering!”
“Kind of” I admitted.
“Well, you should make yourself comfortable. Don’t, … swelter on my account.”
I admitted that it would be far more comfortable, as I removed my shirt, without it.
“Yes far better.” She told me, then commented on my jeans, that they must also be very hot, as I usually just wore my shorts. “Why don’t you change into those?” she suggested.
“You don’t mind?” I blurted, my mind flashing on the rather lewd display of my junk from our last convo.
“By all means be comfortable.” She told me. I excused myself to go change quickly.
As I pulled my shorts up, without underwear as usual, I noted my swelling penis with a bit of alarm. ‘What the fuck, perv?’ I chided myself. I went to the kitchen for some water, hoping for some penile subsidence along the way; no such luck. I self-consciously dropped onto the couch hoping to hide a lewd display.
“There.” Mom told me. “That looks better.” The look on her face, as if she had made note of my bulging penis, was amusing. “Well, … more comfortable.” I agreed and then we chatted a bit about her day. She’d had lunch with a friend, then went shopping.
“Cherie sends her birthday wishes.” Mom told me.
“How’s your weather there?” I asked. They’d been having a heat wave. Mom admitted that it was still pretty warm even in the middle on the night. “I feeling a might under-dressed, or maybe you should get comfortable as well.” I told her.
A look washed over her face. I couldn’t really read it but it looked a bit like panic. She fumbled a bit with a button on her blouse. Nothing was said for a long time. Mom then sat bolt upright and took a deep breath.
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