Nancy returns home early to start Ricks lessons
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Nancy, Floresstella free porn video
Preface
This is Nancy’s story. It is based on actual places, people, facts, desires, and more than a touch or two of fantasy. It includes activities and people she wanted in the plot. Most are very real, actual people she said knows. Some are people I know. Please understand, as a man, I would never harm a c***d nor take advantage of the weak. Nor would I have sex with the daughters of my wife. Adding that to the story was her Idea.
Alford, Lord Tennyson published a collection of poetry in 1842 that contained the poem “Ulysses”. Tennyson had just lost his father and was forced to move in with his mother and siblings in order to care for them after living an interesting life during the Victorian period.
The poem, in the form of a monologue, is delivered by the hero of Homer’s heroic figure in his “Illid and Odyssey”, Odysseus (in Greek), who was recalling his active past and looking toward the future while considering his present situation. He longed for a future where life could be lived as a grand adventure- with gusto, fully, ‘to the lees’, in the words of the poet. Or, in Nancy’s words, ‘Quiere vivir la vida a full’.
His poem ends with these words regarding his potential journey, the one he longed for, “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
Where will your journey take you?
As told by “Nancy”, Xhamster’s floresstella
Chapter 1, Yes.
I had been on Xhamster nearly three years when I responded to a question asking if I speak English. I responded with a simple ‘yes’. As I look back, I think it was a good decision.
Nancy, that is me, I am the divorced mother of three beautiful daughters. My two oldest are enrolled in the local university and the youngest, Gina, graduated from secondary school. I own a successful boutique in an upscale neighborhood although, with the current economy, it can be downright economically stressful.
My story began some years back when my husband was caught in an affair with a younger woman. Why? Beats me. I thought I was an attractive, loyal and sexy wife with a toned muscular body. I was a good homemaker and mother. I believed I was the total package. I enjoyed the sex, bore him three beautiful daughters, and, would have gladly born more.
Caught, I told him to leave; we divorced. Dejection from rejection brought a classic case of depression. So, I went to my mother who provided the emotional support I needed to get through the divorce and subsequent life as an unattached adult woman and young mother. She was right. A book describing the story of my life to date had ended. I was free to write a new book, free to weave a story describing my events according to my wishes- within some limits imposed on me by unwritten rules of a judgmental society. It was empowering to say the least. Several chapters were complete with more to be composed. I wanted to write on my terms. Live on my terms. It was not often easy, there were tears that were shed.
My simple word to his question, “yes,” was the beginning of chapter one for my book.
My mom is as close to me as she is beautiful. She is the mother of six of us, the last was born when she was 49. To me, and obviously others, she is sexy. Bronzed skin from time on nude beaches in Brazil covers her sexy body with no tan lines and gives her an exotic look. Her full breasts fill out the bikini tops she loves she is required to wear on public ones.
I guess she had more of an impact on me than I realized until I started writing this. I enjoy sex with mature, older women. Yes, she is my mother, but she is desirable. Besides her full breasts, she has hips that are built for c***dbearing that top off muscular legs- her bikini bottoms are low-cut nearly to an obscene point making her look like that cougar young men jerk off to in porn movies on Xhamster. No one would guess her age of 62. Nor does she act like the widow type as she lives a full life including sex without the fear of pregnancy with lovers who fill that need in her life.
As an untamed woman of the Pampas, I felt the same needs for sexual companionship as my mother described her similar situation while talking with me. A frank and revealing conversation built more than a kindred bond between us. I knew what she described as how she felt with a good man. And good men can be difficult to find. Sure, the sex could be wonderful. But the great sex ended after a while, especially for me when they heard I was responsible for raising three daughters and they only wanted to play, not pay, or act responsibly.
I had a loving relationship with a woman following my divorce at a time I was vulnerable. I fell in love with her and the sex was, for the most part, gratifying. However, she was unreasonably possessive.
I admit, I enjoy sex with men. There is my basic need need to be taken, penetrated, humped hard, fucked. Even with a good strap-on or dildo like the Janedoe strapless dildo, it was not the same. But she wanted no part of men. And if the situation should occur that another woman look at me, or worse, men were to look at me and I look back, I was verbally and emotionally attacked. I realized I was not loved by her as much as I was possessed.
Being possessed is fine. I can be submissive. But unloved? That is not an acceptable state for a person. And possessing a person is not the same as loving them.
After my affair with her, and a few men, I worried about my three daughters.
As a mother, I had “that” talk with each of them explaining human nature and where it could lead sexually. In my country, it is custom that females behave like the Virgin Mary and men are measured by the number of women they take to bed. It leads to conflicts if a young woman is not careful. I insisted they be careful and insure the male had the means to support a mother and baby before they had sex. If the guy was not financially secure, my daughters had to take charge of their future because the guys want to just play and usually move on to something new.
The talk was based on my actual experience as I married while in college, got pregnant immediately, then dropped out to raise c***dren and be a housewife. Where would my life had taken me had I continued my education?
Sadly, that book will never be written.
With my daughters, we had that birds and bees chat. I was frank, honest, and graphic to the point of showing each of them using my body as a teaching aid without having a male present with his fleshy pointer. I had them examine their bodies, even using a mirror to peek inside themselves as they explored. I bought condoms and taught my daughters how to apply them on a penis using English cucumbers I got in the market. I insisted they were to be used every time a guy wanted sex. Well, except for oral. Or anal. I said I preferred they be home with boyfriends rather than in do it in a cheap Telos, in public places or the back seats of cars. They listened.
For those who do not know, a Telo is a small hotel that rents rooms by the hour and became an institution after Argentina outlawed prostitution. The business blends in to the local neighborhood and many are very upscale facilities.
The cucumbers were added to salads, just so you know.
I could tell when my daughters had been intimate. It shows in their eyes- it’s something mothers and other women see in the faces of other females. They have that distinctive odor after sex even if their guy puts his load in a condom. Plus, I could hear the sounds coming from their bedrooms and see the used condoms in the trash, to my relief... Of the three, my youngest is most like me. Gina has nice-sized perky breasts she shows proudly in her tops. She is also overtly sexual.
Scary to me as a mother, but she was desirable and sexy if I looked at her through the eyes of a detached adult.
Some months ago, I did something unusual. I brought a lover home in early afternoon thinking I could have a few hours of sex in my home when the girls were at school. He was handsome and said the right words. It was more than the usual, “I want to fuck, do you?”
Seriously, at times, I prefer that direct approach because I am feeling the same way. Erica Jong, in her book, “The Fear of Flying”, called it ‘the zipless fuck’. So, he said the things a woman likes to hear. I listened with my breasts, pussy and clit, not my ears and heart. He was just a fuck.
I was bent over the kitchen table getting a good fuck from behind when Gina got home after early dismissal. I never heard her. She later confided that she watched us fuck from the kitchen door and enjoyed watching us. My lover never knew, or he never mentioned it. Truthfully, I did not mind and would have not stopped if I knew she was there. Looking back, I think I probably would have gotten more excited being watched by her. I have played at sex clubs and parties and enjoy being watched as I had sex.
Following my divorce, it was like a dam burst releasing what had been contained behind it. I could not get enough sex! I learned I loved hot women nearly as much as good men. I discovered and perfected my oral skills, loved using toys and more than explored the joys of anal sex. I played with men and women.
That was the problem. It was play. Written on an ancient Roman wall was the Latin phrase, “Omnia a****lia post coitis miseriae sunt.” You can translate it on line if you wish. There is truth in it! There is a moment of sadness when the climax ends. You have to come down from that high.
The sadness was deepened by a simple fact. Men were scared off when they realized I had c***dren and feared the responsibility and their loss of flexibility. So, the sex might have been toe curling, but my world was left empty when the orgasm was over and I was left alone.
And lesbians? They were the opposite. They wanted an exclusive relationship demanding I be theirs and theirs alone. I am bi, not a lesbian!
So, after answering that “yes”, I saw the light was lit showing the profile owner of aguynamedchuck was on line. I said ‘hello’ thinking I might chat with Chuck. Nope. It was Jean ann, JA, the red head female in many of the profile photo sets i lad looked at in the profile. I thought she was sexy. I have told her I want to spend a night with her without a man present. Now, you might ask, ‘how did I know it was not a pelmazo, a jerk, posing as a woman?’
It is a fair question.
So, you view a profile and see the same face over and over and think, well, someone liked taking photos of her over time and you would be correct. But Chuck sent me a message saying he was going to send a photo of the woman, JA, holding a piece of paper with my name on it. Then, the photo of her face arrived in my regular email account- tell me that is fake. Especially when one of her breasts is revealed and it is the same smile. Then, Chuck sent a photo after he added my middle name to the same paper and was photographed with his face showing as well.
Bingo, we have a match. Or I have a talented graphic artist who knows how to age faces and has access to a ton of photos of the same woman- highly unlikely.
So many profiles are obvious fakes with photos showing faceless bodies. This profile would be hard to fake as JA shows up in photos with the same face showing. Her hair color varies as does the style- something that is natural occurring over a period of years. Her outfits change. The background changes. Her photos showed her with many dozens of men and women. She was sexual! Yes, I would play with her in a flash if given the opportunity!
I told her so!
What was cool was that Chuck was there while I chatted with her the first time. JA explained they were ‘friends’ for years and that Chuck was a widower. Then Chuck and I started to chat.
And did we chat and chat. He was nothing like I expected or what I had experienced. Our chats lasted for hours. It was not just about sex.
Chats led to phone calls. Phone calls led to his coming to visit me. Better, he came to visit us saying there had to be chemistry with my entire family or it could not work. He added he would simply fly away if there was no acceptance or “chemistry”. Without chemistry, there would be no biology, no sex.
I thought that was a strong statement and a major risk for a man to invest in a flight to see if there was chemistry knowing it might not result in sex.
So, after the COVAD-19 Pandemic quarantine ended, he flew down.
Chemistry? It worked! The girls enjoyed him, especially Gina. And my mother? The nipples poking out of her top when it was warm out expressed her thoughts. She is not subtle at times.
Despite our meeting through Xhamster and exchanging sexual comments and photos, Chuck honored his commitment to abstain from biology until the chemistry was in place. It happened the night he took Gina, my mother and I to dinner to a wonderful restaurant called Fervor known for its ability to excel in the preparation of both fish and beef meals. We arrived around 9. It was early for Argentina.
I think there is an American song beginning with the words ‘the night was young and the moon was yellow.” And, it was. As we sat looking toward the ocean to the east, that was what we saw, a full, bright, pale yellow moon. That and smiles. My dinner of grilled bone-in ribe eye and vegetables was perfect. They had sea bass that evening which Chuck and I ordered and enjoyed. Mother and Gina ordered tender loin. The ambiance was perfect, the conversation was delightful. The four of us talked and laughed. It felt right!
Around 11, my mother told Gina it was time for them to go leaving Chuck and I alone. We went to a club, Sweets, where we had a few glasses of wine, talked and danced. The club is a swinging place where upscale adults meet to hook up and play. Partially clad women strutted their stuff to draw attention from the young cocks looking for a hen to lay. A few ladies showed off their augmented breasts. It had to turn him on.
We talked. Dancing was fun; he certainly is not one to tango across the floor to win in competition, but he did draw attention with his height, broad shoulders, and chest in contrast to the shorter locals. He carries himself well with a sense of purpose and strength. And he certainly smiled. When we danced slow, he showed he felt the beat inside moving us gracefully and controlling my movements. I felt a stirring inside. Chemistry? Or biology? My growing wetness suggested both... it was getting late. Or, was it just horniness?
I asked him, “Can we leave?”
We walked to his rental car and he opened my door. If his nose was sensitive, he had to smell my arousal. My labia felt full rubbing my clit with every step I had taken; I was on the verge of a climax and we had only talked and danced. My nipples were erect and rubbing against the fabric of my black cocktail dress which did not help any.
I lost my senses when he asked me, “Where to?”
My mind was muddled. My command of English lapsed and I responded in my native tongue, “Mia casa.” Thank God he understood, ‘my home’.
It felt like the trip took forever with him sitting so close to me but so far away but we arrived and walked inside. I had gone sexually crazy after my divorce feeding my primal needs as a woman by being bedded by a string of men whose seed emptied into the confines of a latex condom. I needed something different, something symbolically intimate. We stepped inside my door and I turned to face him. Closing the door, I smiled, reached back and pulled the zipper of my dress down then moved my body to let it fall to the floor. I was as naked as the day I was born and said nothing. My eyes told him I wanted him.
We walked into my bedroom; he was the only man I had permitted to enter there. It was My space. I needed to experience something beyond our talk, beyond the words on a screen or a voice heard over the phone. It was dark and I lit a candle to provide light, then I nearly tore his shirt removing it while he kicked off his shoes and undid his belt and trousers. I pulled him toward the bed but felt him stiffen. For a moment, I was hurt feeling rejection but he explained he had condoms in his pocket. That was reassuring.
“I not want the condom.”
He lay beside me gently looking in my eyes, something he said he would do when we chatted, then gently kissed my lips. The tip of his tongue probed ever so gently- like feeling the gentle, fluttering wings of a butterfly. Our tongues danced a mating ritual. He turned slightly kissing my ear, my ear lobe. His warm breath quickened my pulse. There was no fumbling, no rushing.
My heart fluttered as did the core of my body. I was lightheaded as his hot kisses trailed down my chest lower and lower until he began kissing my breast swirling his tongue around my nipple but not touching it. He teased. My toes curled. Holding my aroused breast, his lips made contact with it sending a pulse through me. He licked, gently touched, sucked, made love to my nipple. He went to the other one taking it in his mouth and latching on to it as his greedy mouth attempted to empty milk from it. I wished my breasts were full to sate his thirst- that will come later.
Gently pinching my nipples while holding my breasts, his kisses went down my body where I felt him gently kiss the outer lips of my sex.
I felt my temperature climb as he licked and kissed the soft swollen portals, the fleshy gates guarding my pussy. Slowly, his fingers and tongue parted the pair of arroused outer folds giving him access to my sensitive clit. His tongue swirled around it without touching it. I was going crazy with the teasing and my anticipation. His finger entered me causing me to shiver. As his tongue attacked my clit, his finger curled up inside and pressed the inner front wall of my pussy near my pelvic bone and pressed. I felt a pending sense of release.
His mouth was on me as his finger pressed on that wonderful gift bestowed only to women, my G-spot, the seat of intense pleasure- I thought I was going to lose my bladder control. Instead, I released my pent-up lubricating cream sending my sweet fluid into his mouth as I was hit with a powerful orgasm with those contractions that rippled through my body. Initially, it was like the first giant wave of a tsunami. The urgency, the need- it only increased.
He responded, “Mmmmm,” as my nectar of love leaked out. I have had women do me like that but never a man. I recalled him joking he would make love to me as good as a woman, if not better. At the time, I honestly thought it was just cockiness...
He was correct!
Urgency? I felt like a virgin wanting to submit much like Lida did with her swan. His ‘Mmmmm’ was like an unanswered question as to his desire. It echoed my own desire. I could not get any wetter nor turned on.
I responded my gently pulling his head toward my face and telling him to take me. Going through my mind were our chats when I frankly spoke of lovers whom I used to sate my sexual needs. This was not purely sexual.
He was above me and looking into my eyes with those beautiful hazel eyes. I wondered what he was thinking. My body was screaming for him in a pent- up sexual desire. My heart wanted him too.
He softly spoke.
The gentleman in him again asked about the condom knowing I always required their use. I wanted all of him. He would be the first man since my divorce I would take in my vagina in the manner I needed him- I wanted him unwrapped! I wanted his veiny soft skin-covered cock inside my vagina, his skin against mine. My mind reeled. I needed him and ‘what’ I knew we spoke about. He wanted a family, especially a boy. I wanted to give him that gift and all else I could give him.
I took his cock and silently guided him inside me as my body silently screamed ‘give me your baby.’ I felt his hard cock as it gently penetrated me and I knew he was what I needed. It was not just sex I would enjoy, it was something far greater and more fulfilling. There would be no empty feeling after the sex ended and the man got his nuts off inside me. It showed in his eyes as he slowly pushed in and withdrew before pushing in again. The cycle was the same as he gently but surely increased the depth he probed my body with the head of his wonderful cock. My vagina was morphing into a pussy.
My body respond involuntarily as though it was driven by ovaries releasing a precious egg that needed what his cock, moving inside me, could provide. It was as though they had a mind and will of their own, my hips rose to meet his gentle thrusts. He adjusted his motion to maintain a measured movement. He was teasing my body. I was frustrated but, at the same time, I felt euphoric.
I got lost in the process. A sexual fog enveloped me. I became possessed. English failed me but so did Spanish. I spoke in the groaning and whimpering tongues of love and pleasure. Deeper he probed and faster he thrusted- all the time his body was supported by his arms on either side of me. My legs wrapped around his waist pulling him deep. My arms wrapped around him, my nails pressing into his skin in an attempt to pull him deeper and get him to fertilize me. I felt like the cat in heat that was driven to procreate but had been selective to find the best genetic code to pass on to another generation.
An orgasm is many things and produced by various means. I thought I knew them all. The one building in me was like nothing else I knew. I felt an emotional bond with him that gave its effect to what was happening to my body.
There was the lust-driven sex act, the experience coming from the thrill of something new. This was certainly new. The physical feeling of our union added its dimension as his copious precum mixed with the secretions I was pumping from inside making me wetter than I ever recall being. He was certainly thick- with a thickness that seemed to increase as he was inside me. Then, there was his length; they added their stimulation to what was driving the building tension winding me up internally like a spring that had never been wound so tight. As if that were not enough, I felt the complete need to submit and become the vessel that produced his offspring.
I was not a meek, submissive girl giving a man what he wanted. He was not a man taking what he wanted. I was a woman who had born three babies and knew what she was doing. And he knew how to give both of us what we desired. It was as though we both gave more than we received.
The sum of the parts was greater than the actual parts.
After many moments of feeling him pressing into the depths of my pussy, I felt him hitting bottom. It was then he changed positions taking the weight of his body off his hands and arms. He lowered himself on to my body and increased the tempo of his thrusts. His hands reached under me pulling my hips up to change his angle of penetration. I felt tension building in my feet that went up my legs. I became more aggressive.
We fucked; we made love. At the same time.
“I am so close.” We said it at the same time. He made a thrust pinning me to the bed. It was the moment I wanted, I was his! The hot streams of his wet seed squirted deep inside my body.
I felt complete.
This is Nancy’s story. It is based on actual places, people, facts, desires, and more than a touch or two of fantasy. It includes activities and people she wanted in the plot. Most are very real, actual people she said knows. Some are people I know. Please understand, as a man, I would never harm a c***d nor take advantage of the weak. Nor would I have sex with the daughters of my wife. Adding that to the story was her Idea.
Alford, Lord Tennyson published a collection of poetry in 1842 that contained the poem “Ulysses”. Tennyson had just lost his father and was forced to move in with his mother and siblings in order to care for them after living an interesting life during the Victorian period.
The poem, in the form of a monologue, is delivered by the hero of Homer’s heroic figure in his “Illid and Odyssey”, Odysseus (in Greek), who was recalling his active past and looking toward the future while considering his present situation. He longed for a future where life could be lived as a grand adventure- with gusto, fully, ‘to the lees’, in the words of the poet. Or, in Nancy’s words, ‘Quiere vivir la vida a full’.
His poem ends with these words regarding his potential journey, the one he longed for, “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
Where will your journey take you?
As told by “Nancy”, Xhamster’s floresstella
Chapter 1, Yes.
I had been on Xhamster nearly three years when I responded to a question asking if I speak English. I responded with a simple ‘yes’. As I look back, I think it was a good decision.
Nancy, that is me, I am the divorced mother of three beautiful daughters. My two oldest are enrolled in the local university and the youngest, Gina, graduated from secondary school. I own a successful boutique in an upscale neighborhood although, with the current economy, it can be downright economically stressful.
My story began some years back when my husband was caught in an affair with a younger woman. Why? Beats me. I thought I was an attractive, loyal and sexy wife with a toned muscular body. I was a good homemaker and mother. I believed I was the total package. I enjoyed the sex, bore him three beautiful daughters, and, would have gladly born more.
Caught, I told him to leave; we divorced. Dejection from rejection brought a classic case of depression. So, I went to my mother who provided the emotional support I needed to get through the divorce and subsequent life as an unattached adult woman and young mother. She was right. A book describing the story of my life to date had ended. I was free to write a new book, free to weave a story describing my events according to my wishes- within some limits imposed on me by unwritten rules of a judgmental society. It was empowering to say the least. Several chapters were complete with more to be composed. I wanted to write on my terms. Live on my terms. It was not often easy, there were tears that were shed.
My simple word to his question, “yes,” was the beginning of chapter one for my book.
My mom is as close to me as she is beautiful. She is the mother of six of us, the last was born when she was 49. To me, and obviously others, she is sexy. Bronzed skin from time on nude beaches in Brazil covers her sexy body with no tan lines and gives her an exotic look. Her full breasts fill out the bikini tops she loves she is required to wear on public ones.
I guess she had more of an impact on me than I realized until I started writing this. I enjoy sex with mature, older women. Yes, she is my mother, but she is desirable. Besides her full breasts, she has hips that are built for c***dbearing that top off muscular legs- her bikini bottoms are low-cut nearly to an obscene point making her look like that cougar young men jerk off to in porn movies on Xhamster. No one would guess her age of 62. Nor does she act like the widow type as she lives a full life including sex without the fear of pregnancy with lovers who fill that need in her life.
As an untamed woman of the Pampas, I felt the same needs for sexual companionship as my mother described her similar situation while talking with me. A frank and revealing conversation built more than a kindred bond between us. I knew what she described as how she felt with a good man. And good men can be difficult to find. Sure, the sex could be wonderful. But the great sex ended after a while, especially for me when they heard I was responsible for raising three daughters and they only wanted to play, not pay, or act responsibly.
I had a loving relationship with a woman following my divorce at a time I was vulnerable. I fell in love with her and the sex was, for the most part, gratifying. However, she was unreasonably possessive.
I admit, I enjoy sex with men. There is my basic need need to be taken, penetrated, humped hard, fucked. Even with a good strap-on or dildo like the Janedoe strapless dildo, it was not the same. But she wanted no part of men. And if the situation should occur that another woman look at me, or worse, men were to look at me and I look back, I was verbally and emotionally attacked. I realized I was not loved by her as much as I was possessed.
Being possessed is fine. I can be submissive. But unloved? That is not an acceptable state for a person. And possessing a person is not the same as loving them.
After my affair with her, and a few men, I worried about my three daughters.
As a mother, I had “that” talk with each of them explaining human nature and where it could lead sexually. In my country, it is custom that females behave like the Virgin Mary and men are measured by the number of women they take to bed. It leads to conflicts if a young woman is not careful. I insisted they be careful and insure the male had the means to support a mother and baby before they had sex. If the guy was not financially secure, my daughters had to take charge of their future because the guys want to just play and usually move on to something new.
The talk was based on my actual experience as I married while in college, got pregnant immediately, then dropped out to raise c***dren and be a housewife. Where would my life had taken me had I continued my education?
Sadly, that book will never be written.
With my daughters, we had that birds and bees chat. I was frank, honest, and graphic to the point of showing each of them using my body as a teaching aid without having a male present with his fleshy pointer. I had them examine their bodies, even using a mirror to peek inside themselves as they explored. I bought condoms and taught my daughters how to apply them on a penis using English cucumbers I got in the market. I insisted they were to be used every time a guy wanted sex. Well, except for oral. Or anal. I said I preferred they be home with boyfriends rather than in do it in a cheap Telos, in public places or the back seats of cars. They listened.
For those who do not know, a Telo is a small hotel that rents rooms by the hour and became an institution after Argentina outlawed prostitution. The business blends in to the local neighborhood and many are very upscale facilities.
The cucumbers were added to salads, just so you know.
I could tell when my daughters had been intimate. It shows in their eyes- it’s something mothers and other women see in the faces of other females. They have that distinctive odor after sex even if their guy puts his load in a condom. Plus, I could hear the sounds coming from their bedrooms and see the used condoms in the trash, to my relief... Of the three, my youngest is most like me. Gina has nice-sized perky breasts she shows proudly in her tops. She is also overtly sexual.
Scary to me as a mother, but she was desirable and sexy if I looked at her through the eyes of a detached adult.
Some months ago, I did something unusual. I brought a lover home in early afternoon thinking I could have a few hours of sex in my home when the girls were at school. He was handsome and said the right words. It was more than the usual, “I want to fuck, do you?”
Seriously, at times, I prefer that direct approach because I am feeling the same way. Erica Jong, in her book, “The Fear of Flying”, called it ‘the zipless fuck’. So, he said the things a woman likes to hear. I listened with my breasts, pussy and clit, not my ears and heart. He was just a fuck.
I was bent over the kitchen table getting a good fuck from behind when Gina got home after early dismissal. I never heard her. She later confided that she watched us fuck from the kitchen door and enjoyed watching us. My lover never knew, or he never mentioned it. Truthfully, I did not mind and would have not stopped if I knew she was there. Looking back, I think I probably would have gotten more excited being watched by her. I have played at sex clubs and parties and enjoy being watched as I had sex.
Following my divorce, it was like a dam burst releasing what had been contained behind it. I could not get enough sex! I learned I loved hot women nearly as much as good men. I discovered and perfected my oral skills, loved using toys and more than explored the joys of anal sex. I played with men and women.
That was the problem. It was play. Written on an ancient Roman wall was the Latin phrase, “Omnia a****lia post coitis miseriae sunt.” You can translate it on line if you wish. There is truth in it! There is a moment of sadness when the climax ends. You have to come down from that high.
The sadness was deepened by a simple fact. Men were scared off when they realized I had c***dren and feared the responsibility and their loss of flexibility. So, the sex might have been toe curling, but my world was left empty when the orgasm was over and I was left alone.
And lesbians? They were the opposite. They wanted an exclusive relationship demanding I be theirs and theirs alone. I am bi, not a lesbian!
So, after answering that “yes”, I saw the light was lit showing the profile owner of aguynamedchuck was on line. I said ‘hello’ thinking I might chat with Chuck. Nope. It was Jean ann, JA, the red head female in many of the profile photo sets i lad looked at in the profile. I thought she was sexy. I have told her I want to spend a night with her without a man present. Now, you might ask, ‘how did I know it was not a pelmazo, a jerk, posing as a woman?’
It is a fair question.
So, you view a profile and see the same face over and over and think, well, someone liked taking photos of her over time and you would be correct. But Chuck sent me a message saying he was going to send a photo of the woman, JA, holding a piece of paper with my name on it. Then, the photo of her face arrived in my regular email account- tell me that is fake. Especially when one of her breasts is revealed and it is the same smile. Then, Chuck sent a photo after he added my middle name to the same paper and was photographed with his face showing as well.
Bingo, we have a match. Or I have a talented graphic artist who knows how to age faces and has access to a ton of photos of the same woman- highly unlikely.
So many profiles are obvious fakes with photos showing faceless bodies. This profile would be hard to fake as JA shows up in photos with the same face showing. Her hair color varies as does the style- something that is natural occurring over a period of years. Her outfits change. The background changes. Her photos showed her with many dozens of men and women. She was sexual! Yes, I would play with her in a flash if given the opportunity!
I told her so!
What was cool was that Chuck was there while I chatted with her the first time. JA explained they were ‘friends’ for years and that Chuck was a widower. Then Chuck and I started to chat.
And did we chat and chat. He was nothing like I expected or what I had experienced. Our chats lasted for hours. It was not just about sex.
Chats led to phone calls. Phone calls led to his coming to visit me. Better, he came to visit us saying there had to be chemistry with my entire family or it could not work. He added he would simply fly away if there was no acceptance or “chemistry”. Without chemistry, there would be no biology, no sex.
I thought that was a strong statement and a major risk for a man to invest in a flight to see if there was chemistry knowing it might not result in sex.
So, after the COVAD-19 Pandemic quarantine ended, he flew down.
Chemistry? It worked! The girls enjoyed him, especially Gina. And my mother? The nipples poking out of her top when it was warm out expressed her thoughts. She is not subtle at times.
Despite our meeting through Xhamster and exchanging sexual comments and photos, Chuck honored his commitment to abstain from biology until the chemistry was in place. It happened the night he took Gina, my mother and I to dinner to a wonderful restaurant called Fervor known for its ability to excel in the preparation of both fish and beef meals. We arrived around 9. It was early for Argentina.
I think there is an American song beginning with the words ‘the night was young and the moon was yellow.” And, it was. As we sat looking toward the ocean to the east, that was what we saw, a full, bright, pale yellow moon. That and smiles. My dinner of grilled bone-in ribe eye and vegetables was perfect. They had sea bass that evening which Chuck and I ordered and enjoyed. Mother and Gina ordered tender loin. The ambiance was perfect, the conversation was delightful. The four of us talked and laughed. It felt right!
Around 11, my mother told Gina it was time for them to go leaving Chuck and I alone. We went to a club, Sweets, where we had a few glasses of wine, talked and danced. The club is a swinging place where upscale adults meet to hook up and play. Partially clad women strutted their stuff to draw attention from the young cocks looking for a hen to lay. A few ladies showed off their augmented breasts. It had to turn him on.
We talked. Dancing was fun; he certainly is not one to tango across the floor to win in competition, but he did draw attention with his height, broad shoulders, and chest in contrast to the shorter locals. He carries himself well with a sense of purpose and strength. And he certainly smiled. When we danced slow, he showed he felt the beat inside moving us gracefully and controlling my movements. I felt a stirring inside. Chemistry? Or biology? My growing wetness suggested both... it was getting late. Or, was it just horniness?
I asked him, “Can we leave?”
We walked to his rental car and he opened my door. If his nose was sensitive, he had to smell my arousal. My labia felt full rubbing my clit with every step I had taken; I was on the verge of a climax and we had only talked and danced. My nipples were erect and rubbing against the fabric of my black cocktail dress which did not help any.
I lost my senses when he asked me, “Where to?”
My mind was muddled. My command of English lapsed and I responded in my native tongue, “Mia casa.” Thank God he understood, ‘my home’.
It felt like the trip took forever with him sitting so close to me but so far away but we arrived and walked inside. I had gone sexually crazy after my divorce feeding my primal needs as a woman by being bedded by a string of men whose seed emptied into the confines of a latex condom. I needed something different, something symbolically intimate. We stepped inside my door and I turned to face him. Closing the door, I smiled, reached back and pulled the zipper of my dress down then moved my body to let it fall to the floor. I was as naked as the day I was born and said nothing. My eyes told him I wanted him.
We walked into my bedroom; he was the only man I had permitted to enter there. It was My space. I needed to experience something beyond our talk, beyond the words on a screen or a voice heard over the phone. It was dark and I lit a candle to provide light, then I nearly tore his shirt removing it while he kicked off his shoes and undid his belt and trousers. I pulled him toward the bed but felt him stiffen. For a moment, I was hurt feeling rejection but he explained he had condoms in his pocket. That was reassuring.
“I not want the condom.”
He lay beside me gently looking in my eyes, something he said he would do when we chatted, then gently kissed my lips. The tip of his tongue probed ever so gently- like feeling the gentle, fluttering wings of a butterfly. Our tongues danced a mating ritual. He turned slightly kissing my ear, my ear lobe. His warm breath quickened my pulse. There was no fumbling, no rushing.
My heart fluttered as did the core of my body. I was lightheaded as his hot kisses trailed down my chest lower and lower until he began kissing my breast swirling his tongue around my nipple but not touching it. He teased. My toes curled. Holding my aroused breast, his lips made contact with it sending a pulse through me. He licked, gently touched, sucked, made love to my nipple. He went to the other one taking it in his mouth and latching on to it as his greedy mouth attempted to empty milk from it. I wished my breasts were full to sate his thirst- that will come later.
Gently pinching my nipples while holding my breasts, his kisses went down my body where I felt him gently kiss the outer lips of my sex.
I felt my temperature climb as he licked and kissed the soft swollen portals, the fleshy gates guarding my pussy. Slowly, his fingers and tongue parted the pair of arroused outer folds giving him access to my sensitive clit. His tongue swirled around it without touching it. I was going crazy with the teasing and my anticipation. His finger entered me causing me to shiver. As his tongue attacked my clit, his finger curled up inside and pressed the inner front wall of my pussy near my pelvic bone and pressed. I felt a pending sense of release.
His mouth was on me as his finger pressed on that wonderful gift bestowed only to women, my G-spot, the seat of intense pleasure- I thought I was going to lose my bladder control. Instead, I released my pent-up lubricating cream sending my sweet fluid into his mouth as I was hit with a powerful orgasm with those contractions that rippled through my body. Initially, it was like the first giant wave of a tsunami. The urgency, the need- it only increased.
He responded, “Mmmmm,” as my nectar of love leaked out. I have had women do me like that but never a man. I recalled him joking he would make love to me as good as a woman, if not better. At the time, I honestly thought it was just cockiness...
He was correct!
Urgency? I felt like a virgin wanting to submit much like Lida did with her swan. His ‘Mmmmm’ was like an unanswered question as to his desire. It echoed my own desire. I could not get any wetter nor turned on.
I responded my gently pulling his head toward my face and telling him to take me. Going through my mind were our chats when I frankly spoke of lovers whom I used to sate my sexual needs. This was not purely sexual.
He was above me and looking into my eyes with those beautiful hazel eyes. I wondered what he was thinking. My body was screaming for him in a pent- up sexual desire. My heart wanted him too.
He softly spoke.
The gentleman in him again asked about the condom knowing I always required their use. I wanted all of him. He would be the first man since my divorce I would take in my vagina in the manner I needed him- I wanted him unwrapped! I wanted his veiny soft skin-covered cock inside my vagina, his skin against mine. My mind reeled. I needed him and ‘what’ I knew we spoke about. He wanted a family, especially a boy. I wanted to give him that gift and all else I could give him.
I took his cock and silently guided him inside me as my body silently screamed ‘give me your baby.’ I felt his hard cock as it gently penetrated me and I knew he was what I needed. It was not just sex I would enjoy, it was something far greater and more fulfilling. There would be no empty feeling after the sex ended and the man got his nuts off inside me. It showed in his eyes as he slowly pushed in and withdrew before pushing in again. The cycle was the same as he gently but surely increased the depth he probed my body with the head of his wonderful cock. My vagina was morphing into a pussy.
My body respond involuntarily as though it was driven by ovaries releasing a precious egg that needed what his cock, moving inside me, could provide. It was as though they had a mind and will of their own, my hips rose to meet his gentle thrusts. He adjusted his motion to maintain a measured movement. He was teasing my body. I was frustrated but, at the same time, I felt euphoric.
I got lost in the process. A sexual fog enveloped me. I became possessed. English failed me but so did Spanish. I spoke in the groaning and whimpering tongues of love and pleasure. Deeper he probed and faster he thrusted- all the time his body was supported by his arms on either side of me. My legs wrapped around his waist pulling him deep. My arms wrapped around him, my nails pressing into his skin in an attempt to pull him deeper and get him to fertilize me. I felt like the cat in heat that was driven to procreate but had been selective to find the best genetic code to pass on to another generation.
An orgasm is many things and produced by various means. I thought I knew them all. The one building in me was like nothing else I knew. I felt an emotional bond with him that gave its effect to what was happening to my body.
There was the lust-driven sex act, the experience coming from the thrill of something new. This was certainly new. The physical feeling of our union added its dimension as his copious precum mixed with the secretions I was pumping from inside making me wetter than I ever recall being. He was certainly thick- with a thickness that seemed to increase as he was inside me. Then, there was his length; they added their stimulation to what was driving the building tension winding me up internally like a spring that had never been wound so tight. As if that were not enough, I felt the complete need to submit and become the vessel that produced his offspring.
I was not a meek, submissive girl giving a man what he wanted. He was not a man taking what he wanted. I was a woman who had born three babies and knew what she was doing. And he knew how to give both of us what we desired. It was as though we both gave more than we received.
The sum of the parts was greater than the actual parts.
After many moments of feeling him pressing into the depths of my pussy, I felt him hitting bottom. It was then he changed positions taking the weight of his body off his hands and arms. He lowered himself on to my body and increased the tempo of his thrusts. His hands reached under me pulling my hips up to change his angle of penetration. I felt tension building in my feet that went up my legs. I became more aggressive.
We fucked; we made love. At the same time.
“I am so close.” We said it at the same time. He made a thrust pinning me to the bed. It was the moment I wanted, I was his! The hot streams of his wet seed squirted deep inside my body.
I felt complete.
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