Standing by my bedroom window, I grasped the handles on the bottom frame and lifted the lower sash. A gentle summer breeze quickly refreshed the room’s sultry heat.
Placing my palms on the windowsill, I leaned out, observing the row of houses opposite before glancing down at the garden below.
There, basking in the sun on a wooden bench, was Violet. My new love was twenty years my senior. She may not have been conventionally attractive, but she had an insatiable passion for sex.
Since we met, she has tried to look more appealing, though her preference for ultra-short skirts only accentuated her thick thighs.
She was wearing her favourite white cotton mini-skirt with a front zipper—very convenient when I wanted to remove it. Paired with a low-cut navy blue and white patterned blouse, it allowed me a glimpse of the deep valley between her breasts.
Violet held a book in one hand, undoubtedly a trashy soft-porn romance, and a glass of red wine in the other.
I waved to catch her attention.
“Good morning, Love.”
Violet peered up and flashed me a big smile.
“Come and join me, Frank.”
I gave her a thumbs-up and walked down to her flat, passing through the kitchen and out into the garden, included with her lease.
“The wine’s on the worktop.”
I went indoors, found the open bottle, and filled a glass before returning to the garden and sitting on the bench beside Violet.
“Cheers!”
We clinked glasses, gazing into each other’s eyes.
“Kiss me, Frank.”
I found her forthrightness different from my wife’s sullen nature and enjoyed being bossed around and instructed to do whatever she wanted. I leaned over and put my lips on Violet’s. Immediately, she grasped the back of my head and pulled me in, mashing my lips against hers as her tongue thrust into my mouth.
Kissing had never felt like this with my wife; back then, my early attempts were met with her tightly closed lips. By the time we got married, I was only allowed a quick tongue touch—just a couple of seconds. Our sex life was always the same, just missionary, and that only happened if she had just watched some romantic drama on the BBC. Somehow, an actress in a period costume swooning over a guy in a similar outfit was enough to get her in the mood. After our two kids arrived, her interest in intimacy dwindled, and from then on, my needs were satisfied no more than once or twice a year.
Being desired was a novelty for me, and Violet was needy. I felt my cock rise to press against my trousers as her tongue lashed around my mouth.
When she was satisfied with our kiss, she leaned back, propped by the bench’s armrest, and laid one foot over my thighs. Her other leg draped over the edge, with a foot on the ground. Violet’s legs were open, and her little skirt crept up her thighs, revealing a glimpse of pristine white panties.
“Like what you see, Frank?”
I nodded.
“Yes. Love. Very much.”
She unbuttoned the waistband of her skirt, pulled down the zip, and slipped her hand underneath. In a moment, I saw her panties bulge out, with her knuckles prominent under the tight material.
“Does it turn you on, watching me play with myself?”
The game was afoot. Violet asked the same question every time.
“Yes, my love.”
Without thinking, my hand drifted over the bulge my shaft had created in my trousers. I squeezed and felt a tremor of excitement.
“Hands off, Frank. You know what I like.”
I was like soft putty under her control, my will bent to her command, and I let my hand fall to the side.
My sight was fixed on the movement of her fingers underneath her knickers as she frigged herself, and my erection pulsated under my clothes. I wanted her desperately, and she knew it.
I knew all the signs—the glazed look in her eyes, the soft moans and whimpers, her head dropping back, her panting breath. All accompanied by a frantic rubbing inside her panties.
Violet’s orgasm always seemed an anticlimax to me. There were no great shudders and no screams. Her fingering became erratic, and then she let out a series of grunts, and her thighs slammed shut, trapping her immobile hand between them.
She took her hand from her knickers and pulled them up, creating a camel toe in the cotton. Almost instantly, a wet patch appeared, leaking from her pussy.
“Do you want me, Frank? Are you hard?”
“Yes, yes, Love.”
“Come indoors, it’s bedtime. You haven’t fucked me for three days.”
Three days? In my marriage, three months was quick, and I was still sore from our last enthusiastic lovemaking.
She got up, grabbed my hand, and hauled me up. I knew it was supposed to be the other way around, but I was dazzled by love and didn’t care.
Her hormones were buzzing as she dragged me to her bedroom.
She wasted no time at the bedside, where she grasped her top’s hem, pulled it over her head, and tossed it on the floor. Her white bra with pink edging was within my reach. I laid my hands on the cups, squeezed gently, and felt her ample flesh yield.
“Take it off.”
I stretched behind her, found the joint, squeezed the clips apart, and slipped the straps from her shoulders. Violet let it fall down her arms to the floor.
“Now, my knickers.”
On my knees, I took hold of the waistband and dragged them down her legs. My vision was of multiple folds of flesh above her pubes and a narrow triangle leading down to her sex. Her honeypot, my honeypot.
“Please, Violet, I want to eat you.”
Her response was to shuffle forward, gradually widening the space between her ankles until her mons pressed against my forehead. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back as her body surrounded me.
In darkness, I lifted my hands and pried her lips apart, allowing my tongue to enter the hot, wet void. My need was to serve her well, wallowing in the smell, texture, and taste of her pussy. I felt her hands grasp the back of my head and push me further in. When my tongue found the hardness of her clit, she whimpered.
“More, Frank, more, you beautiful man.”
My tongue did its magic on my beloved’s body, flicking in every direction, stretching out as far as it would go. I felt her flex as she approached orgasm, and then she pulled hard on my head, followed by a series of jerks and groans. Her juices seemed to swamp me, pouring out of her vagina.
I felt like I was in heaven, loving this older woman who offered me so much.
When she let me free, I gazed up at her body, over the folds and pendulous boobs, waiting for her approval.
“Get undressed, Frank.”
That was it. I was disappointed, wanting praise, but Violet came first. My clothes joined hers on the floor, and I stood naked, my cock standing erect in front, waiting for my love.
“On the bed, on your back.”
I pulled the duvet aside, glancing at the large framed photograph of her late husband, Ernie, and wondering whether Violet’s insatiable sexual appetite had precipitated his stroke.
She climbed up to straddle my body, then grasped my cock and lowered herself onto the shaft.
Violet was so wet that I slid in with ease. I love her being on top, the sight of her boobs swinging around, and seeing her face contort with pleasure.
Her first act was to masturbate her clit again with knuckles pushed into my groin.
As she rubbed, the motion moved my rigid shaft inside her, increasing my sensitivity. It took less than a minute before she came again, her head thrown back, accompanied by a series of harsh breaths. For me, the event was marked by her muscles clamping hard onto my shaft. Oh, how I loved the feeling of being bound to her.
Finally, Violet started to fuck. She rocked back and forward, pulling and pushing me within her vagina. My body was screaming for release, but at the same time, the sight and feel of her boobs swinging over and brushing my chest was something I never wanted to stop.
She leaned down and touched her lips on mine. Her tongue pushed into my open mouth. Her breasts were pressed against my chest, moving up and down in sync with her hips.
My world contracted to those contact points. The pressure building between my legs constantly increased with every shift of my cock inside. As I felt my shaft enter the open, I lifted my body and thrust in deep, meeting Violet on the reverse stroke.
I came, my body jerking spasmodically beneath her. My great thrusts restrained as I slammed into her with my cock buried deep within, jetting its load against her cervix. It was good. My head filled with extreme pleasure, my eyes unseeing.
As I relaxed, I felt her clamp on my shaft, and a series of muffled groans reverberated in my mouth. After four orgasms, she would be content, and I would enjoy her attention, pampered with love. I knew she was happy as soon as she spoke.
“Thank you, my wonderful man.”
I felt my softening cock slip out of her, and Violet rolled off me to lie alongside. Her fingers played with my foreskin, pulling it up and down the head. Every move was too sensitive, but the pleasure was undeniable.
We rolled together, our bodies joined from the chest to the knees, kissing softly.
“I love you, Frank. You’ve rescued me from misery.”
“I love you, Violet.”
As we were lying there, I started reminiscing about when her intense desire made me feel a bit overwhelmed, and a question popped into my head.
“Violet, is there a fantasy you’ve always wanted to explore, something special?”
She gently ran her fingers through my hair, looking thoughtful.
“Yes, there is.”
There was a moment of silence as if she was weighing her words.
“I’ve always wanted to be with another woman.”
“Really? Tell me more.”
“I had this best friend back in sixth form. We were joined at the hip. On days we had tutorials, we’d hang out at home, just goofing off and flipping through silly magazines. One time, we were laughing at a photo of a naked guy, and she got all worked up. She lay back on her bed, slipped her hand into her underwear, and started to pleasure herself. I could not help but join in.”
“What happened next?”
“We moved on to exploring each other. We were lying just like this and helped each other out.”
“And then?”
“Sixty-nine.”
“What was the outcome?”
“She went off to uni, I started dating boys, and that was that, but I’ve always wished I could experience it again.”
She gazed at me, her fingers lightly tracing my face.
“But now I have you, Frank. I don’t need anyone else.”
We shared a kiss, but the thought lingered in my mind. Maybe having a female partner could ease some of the pressure on me.
