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He was 19 when he first saw her. He had never been interested in mature women before. His former girlfriend had just turned 17, she had a pretty face, a nice, tight body, everything he liked in women. But this woman.. he just couldnīt stop thinking about her, since he saw her coming out of the office next door. She was about 40, maybe a little older, it was hard to tell. She always wore a tight black skirt and high heels, her walk was steady and fast. She seemed like someone, who knows exactly what she wants. He wondered, what mature women might want from a man in bed. Would they tell him what they wanted him to do? Or would mature women want a man just as strong and confident as them?
Until now he had always seen mature women as mothers or as housewives. He wondered, if she was a mother. Would she have marks of pregnancy on her body? He wouldnīt care if she did. Everyday he would watch her from his window, imagining, what she might wear under her elegant outfit. In his dreams she wore black silk panties and a black seathrouhg bra. Under her skirt she wore stockings and she wouldnīt take them or her highheels of, when she stripped for him.
So he kept dreaming about mature women, until one day, he was walking down the street, face turned towards his shoes, when he almost walked against her. He looked up, couldnīt even say sorry, when he looked into her eyes. "Iīm sorry.", she said, "I wasnīt paying attention." He just stared at her, couldnīt move. She looked puzzled, but then she suddenly started smiling. "I know you." she said, her voice turning deeper, warmer. "Youīve been watching me in front of the office, right?" "Iīm sorry..." he finally mumbled. "Donīt be! I always liked you looking at me." He met her eyes and they were full of promises. Without another word she took his hand and started walking. He just followed her, stumbling.
She took him to a house a few blocks away. It was a nice house, but he would have followed her into any house. Inside they walked in a living room with a big, black leather couch. She told him to sit down, while she crawled right after him. Without any more words she kissed him. It was so soft, yet so firm and perfect. He reached for her, but she turned away, stood in front of him. The she started to undress, her eyes watching him all the time, while she took of her blouse. Her bra was red, he could see her nipples under the thin fabric. The skirt was next and he could finally see her, as he had always imagined it. But she didnīt stop there, she came closer, opened her bra and pressed his fingers against her breasts. They were big, his hand could hardly reach around them. The skin was soft and he pressed harder, feeling her nipple in his palm growing harder. She made a soft noise and moved her body closer, her hand reached for his pants. He didnīt even feel how she opened the zipper, but suddenly she held his dick in her hand, the mere touch almost bringing him. She kept undressing him, moving her body like only mature women, who know their bodies and how men react to it, can move. When she finally sat on top of him, his body met hers like they had known each other forever.
He would never forget this night.

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