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CLICK HERE TO ENTERHe 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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