This story is based on a really early experience I had. It starts slowly, but that is the point – the time taken meant everything in terms of how I would come to define attractiveness in a man. Please stick with it and don’t forget to vote and comment.
I suppose I never really thought about him in a sexual sense until that moment. He had been our neighbour on the other side of our road for about seven or eight years. He was always polite to my folks and unlike all the other adults who lived along the road, always had a nod and a wink for me as well as the time for an intelligent question or remark to accompany the greeting.
As I reached my own going out age, and heading for university we would quite often pass on our way in or out of our houses and enjoy a few words. He always seemed so genuine and to this day I know that he never meant anything more in his remarks.
He was married to a beautiful woman, though she was frosty as hell to me and seemed always in a bad mood. That said, they hadn’t been married that long, and I could remember some pretty lively parties and after hours arrivals at his house when he was single.
Then there was that day, just after I had finished my exams and was in that halcyon period before university, where you are blessed with warm days and little obligation. I had a little summer job in the local newsagents, but just a few shifts a week, and on this day, nothing to do until the afternoon.
I decided to take a walk in the park just near my house and bumped into him out walking his dog. He ran his own business, so he was around at all sorts of hours when the regular wage slaves would have their noses to the corporate grindstone. I never really knew what it was he did, but he always had a smile on his face, so I guess he must have enjoyed it.
But this day was different. He looked a bit stressed, but still managed an easy smile when I approached. He asked if I wanted to walk round with them, and with nothing better to do I agreed. More to the point, I think he really wanted some company. As often as I saw him, he was mostly on his own and I think had quite a solitary life.
We talked while we walked, and yet despite a twenty year age difference, I never once felt any condescension in his tone. His conversation was interesting; his joy in my stories was obvious and as we walked I felt all of those waves and greetings over the years were consolidating into a recognisable friendship, given body during this first proper conversation. It was a friendship that was only ours, and with no other people influencing it or introducing us, we were equals in it.
Our walk lasted about an hour and in that time I found out much about him, as he did about me. His past had been an interesting one for someone who was still quite young himself. He had been a professional sportsman when he was younger, wrote articles and books as well as running his own business. His travel stories to Africa and Asia were amazing and I was left with the impression of a man who knew how he wanted to lead his life and had set it up accordingly.
It was only a few days afterwards that I reflected that he had not once mentioned his wife or family in his conversation. We parted with a pleasant smile and I can remember his final words – “Thanks for walking round with me, it was a true pleasure”.
It was such a simple phrase, with its sincerity and honesty, but one that left me feeling so good about having been in his company. I drifted through that day, repeatedly coming back to the feeling I had had in his presence. When I got home after work it was almost a relief to be able to chat to my mother and casually drop into the conversation that I had walked with him earlier on. Her comment was that “Yes, he seems like a lovely bloke – always says hello and smiles”. It was a mundane comment, but I seemed to need that approval.
Still I wasn’t thinking of him in a sexual way. Not that I wasn’t tuned into sex at that stage of my life. Quite the contrary – I was really popular with the boys and wasn’t averse to stringing a couple along at once. I wasn’t sleeping around, but I had done it enough times to have long forgotten my virginal state. I was looking good and had blossomed nicely over the previous year or two. I could pass in clubs as twenty one without any trouble, and had even been photographed out on the town as one of the ‘in crowd’ that you see in the glossy lifestyle magazines.
As for him, well he was late thirties, still in reasonable shape, but no Adonis. I often saw him in sports kit going to play football or to the gym, so he clearly tried to look after himself. He sported the first signs of that well worn look that men develop at the same time women start to look creased, and it suited him. I rarely saw him smartly dressed as his work was outdoors, but he wore that rugged fashion that looked natural on him even in his scruff. As I said, he was no Adonis, but decent enough looking, probably with hindsight what I would call handsome, rather than beautiful.
A few days went by and I couldn’t seem to get him out of my mind. Every time I left the house I looked to see him. It was the same when I came in or was walking up the road. What seemed to be perpetuating it was that when I went out with my own dates and mates, the conversation seemed meaningless. Nobody ever seemed to get to the point, implicitly understand or make the acute observations that we had in our conversation that day. My dates seemed like little boys in men’s bodies. I had discovered the true difference between boys and men.
About ten days later on the Friday morning, I saw him leaving the house but walking rather than taking the car. It was like I needed to spend some time with him again, so unthinking, I darted out of the house and as casually as possible ‘bumped’ into him outside.
“How are you?” was the simple happy greeting that he gave. I smiled and blustered a slightly shy response, saved from any awkwardness by his next question “I’m just walking down to the bank in the village – are you heading that way?”
Okay, so it wasn’t planned but it had worked out. He seemed pretty contented just to stroll along with me and with my excuse that I just needed to stretch my legs, hence why I was happy to hang around while he did his banking then take the scenic and longer walk back through the park.
By the time we had got back again, I was utterly captivated by him. My muscle bound boyfriend could have walked up at that moment and I would have been totally cold to him. It was like an epiphany in my understanding of what I liked in men. I had extracted information from him about what his plans were for the next few days, when it turned out his wife would be away visiting friends and family. He had to stay to look after his business, but seemed perfectly happy to have the time to himself.
That night he was going to a local bar in our village and it was here that I dragged my friends that night before we headed for the bright lights of the city. They couldn’t understand why we were going there first, but I made some lame excuse about flirting with some rich older men who would buy us drinks and they seemed happy with that. So dressed to kill, we followed my plan.
When we arrived, he was stood by himself and obviously happy to do so, just chatting idly with occasional passers by. After about twenty minutes, I made a big thing of ‘accidentally’ brushing past him when heading for the loo. His face broke into the warmest smile when I stopped and talked to him rather than simply say hello. With a couple of drinks on board I felt confident enough to ask him over to join my friends and I for a drink.
I could almost read their minds as I walked over with him, wondering what on earth I was doing bringing this guy over. His same languid and disarming conversation, punctuated with teasing and charm soon had them won round. The close confines of the bar allowed me to be a little tactile with him, though beyond one or two almost unconscious touches, he was a total gent. By the time we got up to leave, they had lost all their cynicism about this older guy. He gave us all a peck on each cheek as we said our goodbyes, me last of all. His whispered “Thank you…” as we kissed, lingered in my mind all night.
In the taxi to town, my friends half grilled me about him. As soon as I said he was married they kind of dropped the subject, though with a mocking, “Shame, because you look like you fancy him!” I laughed it off and they passed any further opportunity to grill me. They were right though.
Saturday came around and I decided to invite myself over to see him with a bit of a fib. Clutching a couple of tickets to the opening night of a new bar, and knowing he was on his own, I called round. “What a pleasant and unexpected surprise this is, come in, come in” he asked and ushered me inside. His kitchen was beautiful, but lived in. He sat me down at a small table at the window that had two chairs which enjoyed a fabulous view across the fields and woods behind his house
“I’m just making coffee, can I offer you some?” I took the offer and explained the reason for my call.
“I’ve got tickets for the opening night of this new place in town and wondered if you would like to come with me. My friends and I really enjoyed last night and you were kind to us with the drinks, so I thought I could return the favour if you weren’t doing anything? My mates are at another party, but I think this will be cooler” I blurted out as confidently as I could. After all I had never asked a man out, let alone a married one twenty years older than me. I needn’t have worried, as his acceptance was swift and willing.
It was agreed we would take a taxi so we could have a good drink. My folks were away at friends that night so I could head out with my neighbour without what would have been some tricky questions. He called for me at 7.30 sharp as arranged, looking incredibly confident and relaxed in just jeans, boots and a white patterned shirt.
I had gone for the typical night out gear that girls could wear, with a short skirt and low cut top to compliment. If I say so myself, I looked fabulous, my summer tan and long hair really setting off the effect I wanted. A mocking wolf whistle and ‘wow’ told me that he approved.
We chatted excitedly in the car, laughing and teasing each other. He made out that he had no idea how to behave at something like this and that I would have to look after him, and for my part I said he was there to protect me.
But it was now that it dawned on me what we were doing. I began to worry about how it would look when we arrived to the event together; I thought about his wife and my folks and what they would have said if they had seen us; but somehow it just all felt so easy I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t flirting like a little girl, just talking like an adult, feeling every sensation and emotion that flowed through me.
My first worry went out of the window within seconds of arriving. The company was a mix of the hip cool single crowd, all incredibly self obsessed to a man and woman, the couples almost all made up of older guys with younger trophy girlfriends. Little did they know that he was my trophy!
Unlike the other guys there, he didn’t try to be the stand out guy in the place. He seemed super confident in who he was, how he was dressed and what he was doing here. He didn’t constantly survey the room for approval or curiosity. He simply carried on where we left off in the taxi, talking to me and those who came to talk to us. Everyone seemed to leave his company with a smile a pat on the back.
He sorted our drinks, granted they were mostly free, but I felt cosseted and special. When I spoke to people he stood back and left me to hold the limelight, when he spoke to them he included me in the debate. I felt fabulous. By the end of the night I was unconsciously holding him round the waist when we spoke, and I am sure the admiration was now verging on adoration as I looked up to his eyes. For his part he just kept smiling at me, stoking the warm fire that glowed inside.
Time to go home came too soon and we spilled into the street to seek a taxi home. I was having the best night of my life and didn’t want it to end. The offer of coffee back at his place was never going to be turned down by me. I also knew now how I had to end the night.
I had asked about his wife and he had confirmed my first impressions. She had gone cold on him, insecure about his confidence, more stressed than his relaxed nature would react to, but he did not make a play of it. He simply shrugged his shoulders with resignation and the comment that it would all work out. How could she not appreciate all of the qualities of this beautiful person? He had not mounted a charm offensive on me, just treated me as an individual, been calm, considerate and well mannered.
It was time to take the initiative. I knew he would never leave his wife and knew I didn’t want him to. Neither did I want him forever. I just wanted him for now. We stood drinking coffee and talking, more quietly now and certainly more intimately. We passed comments over how much we had enjoyed the night before I decided to play the one card I thought might work.
I walked over to him and took him in my arms with the words “You said thank you last night, tonight I’ll say it. Let me have you for this one night while we have the chance, we may never get it again”. I looked up half expecting him to be angry at my suggestion. Instead he grasped my point straight away, tipped his head forward to kiss me full on the lips, his hand up on the side of my face gently stroking it whilst the other pulled the small of my back into his waist.
This kiss was the full Hollywood kiss that girl’s dream of. This was not the grabbing, groping efforts of some inexperienced youth; this was kind and gentle, but with authority and power implied. My hands clawed bluntly at his shoulders, across his back and ass. His firm fingers ran up my spine. From that moment on I sure knew what a good kiss was…
After some time indulging ourselves with this passionate kissing and stroking it was me who again suggested we move on.
“Please take me to bed. I need to feel you closer to me now” I implored him.
He took me by the hand and led me upstairs to a spare guest room. Unlike the one at my folks’ house, which was a dump, his home continued with beautiful room after beautiful room, each with a welcoming feel that said come in, sit down, relax. I remembered all the work he had done to the house when he had moved in years earlier and now saw how he had replicated his character with the decoration and layout.
We kissed again, then fell into a sitting, then a lying position on his huge ivory embroidered duvet. His hands began to explore more bravely, firstly caressing the outside of my breasts through the tiny top I was wearing, before stroking down my side to my legs. He was touching bare flesh for the first time and my willingness to let him proceed encouraged him further. His fingers searched up around my ass, easing the tiny thong to one side before skimming gently across the downy hairs that led down the cleft of my ass.
This gentle, teasing, daring touching had me gasping for breath unable to decipher my own feelings and decide how I should contribute to this scene. I fumbled a few buttons on his shirt undone as his hands moved around my waist, under my skirt then stroked across my stomach. They switched back to the zipper on my skirt and soon it was loosened and discarded.
Satisfied for a few minutes with the start of my disrobing, he doubled his efforts on the kissing and the touching, once again circling my breasts. My nipples were fit to explode they were so hard. For the first time I noticed the smell of my own sex as a stimulant to the lovemaking to come. I knew I was soaking wet down below and the scent would surely tell him I was ready for him.
His smell was different, manly with the remnants of his citrus body spray and yet not unpleasant. My other lovers had often been a little too ripe or drowned in some cheap deodorant. This was truly erotic. I can still smell it today.
Gently, and all the time still kissing me, he pulled my top off over my head. An appreciative look followed, whilst he threw off his own shirt and we embraced again. My bra went almost unnoticed and I felt his strong hands gently squeeze my breasts. I was used to gropers and grabbers, but this was a new sensation altogether. He circled and stroked them, now and then drifted across a nipple to send a wave through me. I was in heaven.
He rolled onto his back pulling me with him. I was now basically on top and required for a moment to return some of this pleasure. I kissed my way down his chest, the first hairy one I had ever felt, at the same time clasping his belt buckle, undoing it and the button fly that lay below. I could not fail to notice the hard object pressed against the back of my hand as I did so, a quick glance spotting his tool straining against the material of his Calvin Klein’s.
Just as I thought I was about to take a lead he rolled me over again and began to kiss his way down my body. All the time his hands continued to rove across me, trailing lower as he went lower himself. His lips settled the sweetest kisses on my nipples, sucking slightly as he drew on them, his thumbs sweeping underneath and pushing my small tits towards his mouth.
After a few minutes that seemed like decades, he continued his journey south. Swiftly he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my thong and of it came. I was slightly self conscious for a moment or two as I knew he was looking at my secret place, but the pleasure he then began to deliver removed any hint of embarrassment. He started with tiny butterfly kisses around my tummy and inner thighs, before blowing warm breath across my sparsely haired slit. A single finger ran gently up from ass to clit as if spreading my moistness evenly, before gently easing further in to test how wet I was.
He then slid back up the bed, offered me the finger to suck, which I did unthinkingly. I had never done this before. It was sensational. Once removed, his hand returned to my pussy. This time he just rubbed so very gently across my clit, almost just teasing it with the end of one finger. Every so often he would dip his finger in to take some more moisture up onto my clit before resuming his mission. I was in ecstasy. My first orgasm came quickly, my first at the hand of another, the second and thirds almost a continuation, his gentleness ensuring I felt no pain.
As he eased back I was gasping in his arms, my legs shaking uncontrollably, my juices running down my thighs, mingling with the sweaty glow the heat had created. It was amazing and I told him so, only to be answered by a devilish smile and him sliding down the bed to begin again with his tongue. God, I nearly exploded with the pleasure as his tongue traced the same furrow as his finger before, not ceasing until I had cum again, my hands pressing his head into me, my legs suspended in the air to offer my pussy completely to him.
This time when we kissed I could taste my cum on his lips. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to clean them completely. Now it was my turn to show him what I could do. I rolled him onto his back and probably quite clumsily dived for his pants. His cock was rock hard as I would have expected. I peeled his pants down dropping my face to him as I did so. I faced my first circumcised cock. It looked so clean and tidy, much more attractive than my previous sightings. He was not huge, but a good size and with a lovely upwards curve. I couldn’t wait to taste him and didn’t.
He moaned appreciatively as I enthusiastically went at my work only to be stopped a few minutes later. I was concerned I was doing something wrong but he assured me that I wasn’t. “I just won’t last with that kind of treatment, and I have much more I want to do tonight” he explained.
With that I was underneath again, pillow placed in the small of my back. “I’m going to fuck you now, I just have to be inside you” he whispered. With that he slid into me so gently, but firmly and without stopping. It was easy with the wetness, but I was tight too after four orgasms. This made me catch my breath, but as his pelvis hit my clit, and I now realised why he pillow had been placed there, pleasure overtook any thought of discomfort.
We were kissing passionately again and at the same time he was simply rocking slightly in and out, all the time his pelvis rubbing my clit. The pleasure mounted quickly and soon I was cumming again grabbing and holding him so close as I did.
Yet still he had not cum. I chose the next position, with me riding him. His hands played with my tits at first, but as I fell forward, so one of his hands sought out my ass. A finger trailed down towards my puckered virgin entrance and began to gently push and rub the hole, well lubricated as it was by my own fluids. Normally I would have bolted at this point, but I knew people used anal play in their lovemaking and trusted him to only give me pleasure. I eased and found that the finger added to the dirtiness, the forbidden nature of what we were doing, and so allowed the exploration to continue.
In my mind I pictured a second cock entering my rear. I had seen porn with this in and was intrigued to feel what it was like being taken in this way. After an initial discomfort I was pleased to find that an inch or two of finger was a stimulating sensation, when combined with the cock in my pussy. It clearly was for him as well and I could feel the intensity of his thrusting increase.
He needed release, I could feel it. I was totally at his mercy now. I was turned onto my front, my ass pointing up thanks to the pillow now under my stomach. He took my pussy again, this time from behind, and for the first time with hard aggressive strokes, faster and faster until he exploded inside me, collapsing as he did so onto my back. We kissed again, even now in our satisfaction.
It would not be our last time that night. By the time morning had come, we had fucked in many more positions. He had given me orgasm after orgasm with fingers, tongue and cock. He had cum in my mouth and across my breasts. It was truly incredible sex. I could never go back to second rate fucking again.
Although we said we would only do it this one time, temptation got the better of us both and we fucked on several more occasions until I went to university. He introduced me to anal sex and exposed me to many of the possibilities that I would not fully explore for more than a decade myself.
He is still with his wife, and our secret remains just that. I see him when I visit my folks and there is always a knowing wink in the greeting. Perhaps one day soon I might show him my repertoire of tricks. He is still young enough to stand it I think…
