Joolijools and I kissed as soon as we got in my car. She looked at me with those tired green eyes that expressed her sorrow that she wasn’t Michelle Pfeiffer or even Audrey Hepburn. My hand automatically went around her head, with its permed middle-aged ginger curls, and pulled her large skull towards me and those eyes narrowed and closed as she gave herself to the kiss. Her tongue moved accommodatingly with mine, keen to contribute but wanting to be led. My hand instinctively went to her breasts and felt their bulk and firmness. The warm, reassuring feeling of a nice big pair of boobs sent a surge of blood into my dick and her hand slid up my thigh to find the swelling.
We had got into my car without discussing it. I presumed he had her own, somewhere in this gravelled square behind the hotel, but we hadn’t even discussed where we were going when I had stood up and said, “Let’s go.”
“Are you disappointed?” she asked softly as I leaned across to the passenger seat. “That it’s me?”
I placed her hand on my cock and kissed her politely on the lips.
“Does it feel like I’m disappointed?” I said as I took her nipples between my fingers and felt their shape through the layers of bra and jumper. “I’ve always fancied you,” I said.
“Really?” she retorted. “You could have fooled me. “Always polite but distant. Mind you, I could feel your eyes disappearing down my cleavage sometimes. But I thought that was my imagination.”
While we were on the subject, I slid my right hand inside her jumper and worked it inside the bra, so I had a big handful of breast flesh.
I had known there was something familiar about this Joolijools woman as soon as I read her profile. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I just got the definite feeling I had met her before. She was a straight-talking type, unpretentious and unsophisticated, but with the “university of life” attitude making up for her lack of education.
I wasn’t looking for a library partner or someone to share internet research duties with. I was just looking for a woman to have a good time or two with, and if the conversation that led to the sex was interesting, so much the better.
She didn’t want to exchange photos before we met, and I decided to take a chance on that. I have pretty broad tastes in women, and I can usually find something attractive about them. Plus I’m not exactly Brad Pitt myself, although I expect most women to be neither embarrassed to be seen with me nor repulsed to be alone with me.
We had arranged to meet in a pub that did food in the evenings. I didn’t go there as a rule and I didn’t expect to find anyone I knew there, although you never know. And when she walked in I was slapped by the competing emotions of hoping she was my date and quickly adapting to the situation if she wasn’t, planning how I could turn things to my advantage. This was quiet, sexy Sheila, who used to come into the pub I worked at years ago and sit at the bar with her sister. She hadn’t been top of my list of fantasies because there were plenty of nice women customers, but I had passed many a lunchtime half-hour in conversation with the two debt-collector sisters, who seemed as hard as their occupation must have demanded, and yet there was a softness behind Sheila’s facade that told me some man would be the lucky recipient of her private femininity.
“You know what’s going to happen if we go to my place, don’t you?” I asked.
“You’re going to shag me,” she said. I loved the confidence with which she defined our roles. So many women these days talk about the act as if they are in the driving seat, when in fact most still want to be seduced, kissed, felt up, undressed and penetrated. Maybe they are more proactive now, to use a word that emerged at about the same time as the change was happening. But Sheila clearly enjoyed being reactive rather than asking the questions.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to shag you. Isn’t it funny how two people can be well behaved and civilised when what they really want to do is get their clothes off and play with each other’s bodies?”
“Yes,’ she replied. “I do want you to play with me and I intend to play with you. And I’m going to start now.” With that, she lowered herself towards my lap and unzipped my trousers, pulled out my cock and plunged it into her mouth. “He’s nice and big,” she observed. “I used to daydream about sucking you.”
We decided to leave her car there, because I lived close by, and in minutes we were in my kitchen, she backed up against a cupboard with me pressed against her and my hand between her legs, having quickly lifted the knee-length skirt that I was so glad she was wearing. Her pubes were abundant and fluffy and her vagina was soft and cushioned. For some reason, it crossed my mind that vaginas are always like that, but I wondered if that is because every time I’ve had my hand there, the woman has been aroused, so maybe what they feel and doctors feel is slightly different.
“Let’s go and sit down,” she whispered, and kissed me tenderly. “We should take it slowly or it will all be over too quickly and we’ve waited for it so long.”
We sat together on the settee.
“I know you had Maureen,’ she said. “How did that go?”
“She’s a strange one,” I confided.
“Always has been,” Sheila said of her younger sister. “She said you were trying to watch the football.”
“England were playing,” I explained. “And she wanted to watch as much as I did. It all got a bit confusing and she sort of freaked out. Got really pissed off.”
“She said you tried to lick her arse,” Sheila said, struggling to balance her tone of voice.
“She didn’t like that,” I confirmed.
“No, she’s strange, as you say. Talks a good fight but doesn’t have the… temperament to back it up. She’s actually quite nervous. Plus she’s had some bad experiences with men.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to close the subject. I had met Maureen through the same site as Sheila – in fact, I suspected the younger sister had pushed the older one into it.
“So how has your love life been?” I asked, in the spirit of slowing down the proceedings.
“Not a lot of it,” she said uncomfortably. “Married, divorced, no kids, not much to report. Maybe you’re going to be a highlight.” We had sat back, separate and stiff, behaving ourselves.
“Okay,” she said at length. “You can kiss me again. You’re a very good kisser.”
“So are you,” I replied, stroking her cheek and looking into her eyes, which had come to life a little.
We sat on the settee for a good ten minutes, kissing and feeling like teenagers. Sheila clearly liked having my hand in her knickers and my middle finger up her hole, but I could tell she was holding back from sucking me again for the sake of making the moment last. She didn’t want this to go the ignominious way of my dalliance with her sister.
Eventually, we both lost patience and I stood up and pulled her by the hand.
“Come on,” I said. “We can talk lying down. Or are you just going to cum and go?’
“I’m staying the night, mate,” she said cheekily. “If that’s all right with you. I’m staying the night with the handsome barman from years ago.”
“And I’m shagging the sexy customer who used to sit at the bar with her body all wrapped up and private,” I teased back.
Sheila undressed slowly and provocatively for me. Her body was soft and pale, the freckles on her arms and face stopping abruptly at the border of her torso.
“Why are you looking at me?” she asked shyly.
“Cos you’re beautiful,” I replied.
“Oh don’t be silly,” she said dismissively. “Stop it.”
“No, you are beautiful,” I insisted. “You’re a perfect woman.”
“Penelope Cruz is a perfect woman,” she countered.
“For her age and type,” I said. “For me at this moment, this lovely Sheila is perfect. And I’m going to kiss you all over to show you I mean it.” To emphasise the point I removed what remained of my clothes and my erection waved at her.
“I love your cock,” she said as we lay down together, and she held it gently as my lips roamed her face and shoulders. She gasped as I sucked her nipples and her hand cupped my balls before I moved her left arm to expose her armpit. She sighed deeply as I licked her there.
“You are a kinky sod,” she said happily. “God, I like that. Why has no one ever done that to me before? It goes straight to my fanny.
I moved down her gorgeous, welcoming body, with its pale, silky flesh, until I reached her crotch, where I feasted on her pussy lips and sucked her juices. She moved involuntarily as the sensations raced through her, and when I got lower, towards her rear cleft, she shifted nervously.
“You’re not going to deny us that experience, are you?” I asked as persuasively as I could.
“What experience would that be?”
“Sheila, I want to lick your arse,” I said urgently. “Turn over.”
She turned compliantly and allowed me access to a zone I assumed was normally forbidden, or perhaps access had never been requested before.
“Please,” she said as the tip of my tongue touched her ring. “Be gentle.”
“It’s the gentlest feeling in the world,” I said, and to allay her fears I gave her a quick, innocent kiss before unleashing my tongue on her unexplored territory. She hummed happily.
“You like it,” I said.
“I love it,” she replied. “I don’t know if I should, but I do.”
“Of course you should,” I reassured her. “I’m going to make you cum.”
Sure enough, as Sheila submitted to the roaming of my tongue, she shivered and her muscles clenched as she came. She made to turn over but I kept her in that kneeling position and masturbated into her crack.
“Naughty man,” she said happily. “You can’t do that. It’s not decent.”
“I’m not decent,” I replied.
“Then neither am I,” she said, passing me a tissue to wipe my stuff from her creek.
We kissed and caressed for half an hour before Sheila announced she had to go and get her car.
“It’s new,” she explained. “I don’t want to leave it at the pub. Tell you what: let’s walk back there and have a drink, and the customers and the barman won’t know what we’ve been up to, but we will. Then we’ll come back here and do it again.”
