At Forty-Four, I Wanted a Much Younger Lover

Finally free at forty-four. Divorce did me good, better than I ever could have imagined. I signed the last papers, said goodbye to my lawyer with a handshake, and walked out of the building feeling ten years younger. My ex has to pay me a more than generous alimony; his salary allows it easily enough. And on top of that, I kept the apartment. We had no children. I’m free to do exactly as I please.

We’ve been separated since he met someone else. I don’t want to know anything about her or him. Let them sort it out between themselves. I console myself in my own way: surfing the internet late into the night, with a glass of wine beside me and the house quiet. I found a whole lot of sites that interested me. Among them, one that sold adult toys. I became infatuated with a set of Chinese balls and a simple dildo, nothing extraordinary, just enough to improve my solitary pleasures.

To tell the truth, I distrust men so much that for months I preferred to satisfy my needs on my own. No complications, no promises. My bed, my dildo, and my fantasies. For the time being, I wasn’t complaining.

One night, snooping through the male profiles on a dating site, I came across a guy I liked enormously. I contacted him through the chat. He replied at once. We talked for a long while, and something about the way he wrote, direct yet shy at the same time, made me truly want him. Just then, the connection went down. I cursed aloud at the blank screen.

There was no way a kid could get me this worked up with four sentences.

That same night I masturbated thinking about him. I slipped two fingers into my soaking-wet cunt and rubbed my swollen clitoris with my other hand, imagining his young cock opening a path inside me. I imagined him on top of me, unhurried, discovering me as though I were new territory, burying it deep inside me while I screamed at him to fuck me harder. It had been a long time since I’d slept with a man, and the fantasy was enough to make me come three times in a row, the last time with the dildo buried to the hilt and my fingers sliding over my clitoris, coated in my own juices. The next day I looked for him again and we picked up our conversation where we’d left off. Everything seemed like an exact copy of my dream the night before. We arranged to meet at a bar the following evening.

I wanted him with such urgency that I ended up giving him my address outright. I’m crazy, I thought as I pressed send. I’m a woman in heat, and I don’t care about hiding it anymore. Tomorrow at ten p.m.

***

The day dragged endlessly. That brief conversation had left me burning, with a constant tingling in my lower belly demanding immediate attention. I went to my bedroom, undressed, and forced myself not to touch myself. I prepared a quick dinner that I barely tasted. I turned on the television and didn’t understand a single scene.

Nothing worked. I went back to bed. This time I caressed my clitoris slowly, patiently, so the pleasure would last. I let my hand rise to my navel and pause for an instant, just before starting the movement again. The same fantasy as always: that he would put it all the way inside me, fuck me without asking permission, fill my cunt with hot milk. I came long and hard with three fingers buried deep, and finally fell asleep with my panties soaked on the floor.

I woke naked, tangled in the sheets. I took the opportunity to touch myself again, this time with the dildo, sliding it slowly inside me and drawing it out gleaming with my juices, fucking myself unhurriedly until I came biting the pillow. Tonight, I told myself, I’m going to be a real woman, one who’s dying for a young guy to make her his, one who spreads her legs without thinking twice. I wanted to behave shamelessly. I put on only the button-front dress, without panties or a bra, my cunt already wet beneath the fabric. If he saw me like that, I hoped he’d throw himself on me; and if he didn’t understand the hint, I’d make sure to spell it out by putting my hand down his pants. On the coffee table I left a bottle of old Armagnac, another of whiskey, and a bottle of hazelnut liqueur.

At last the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and it took all my willpower not to pounce on him on the threshold. His name was Mateo, and he was even more handsome than in the pictures. In the living room he chose the Armagnac, just as I did. We warmed our glasses in our hands, silently holding each other’s gaze.

—I thought you were going to change your mind —he said, his voice barely trembling.

—I never regret anything —I replied.

I sat down beside him. I wanted him to kiss me first, for him to take the first step, although inside I was already dripping between my thighs. I stared boldly at his lips. He understood the message. He leaned in and kissed me, and our tongues met in a slow back-and-forth that made my skin prickle and pressed my nipples hard against the fabric. I clung to the nape of his neck and bit his lower lip.

He took the initiative. One hand went to my shoulder, then moved down to my breast. He began squeezing far too hard, as though he were afraid I might escape.

—Gently —I whispered. —You don’t have to squeeze so hard. You’re hurting me.

He blushed to the tips of his ears. It was obvious that none of his previous girls had dared correct him. He learned quickly. His caresses became just right, delicious. He undid another button and left my tits exposed. He bent down and eagerly sucked my nipples, controlling his strength this time, tugging at them with his lips and running his tongue around them in circles until they were hard as stones. My cunt was already soaked, dripping down the insides of my thighs onto the sofa.

One hand moved down to my knee and stayed there, hesitating, waiting for permission I had no intention of denying him. It advanced toward the inside of my thigh. I let him. When I felt him grow bolder, it was my turn to take the reins. A hard bulge showed beneath his trousers; I took it all in my hand and squeezed it mercilessly. I undid his belt, lowered his zipper, and pulled his cock out into the open. It was hard and thick, its tip already shiny with pre-cum.

—What a delicious cock you have —I whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe. —I’m going to suck it all.

But first I caressed him the way I know how, with the calm of someone who has time. I pulled the skin up and down very slowly, squeezing the base, playing with the tip with my thumb, feeling it pulse in my hand. When he tried to return the favor, however, he couldn’t find the exact spot. I had to guide his fingers to the precise place, to my swollen clitoris, and teach him the rhythm with my own hand over his.

He isn’t a virgin, I told myself, but he lacks practice. He needs a woman to teach him how to fuck properly.

This time, yes. He caressed me properly, attentive to every one of my reactions, two fingers moving in and out of my soaked cunt while his thumb worked my clitoris, until he truly made me come. I arched on the sofa, squeezing his hand between my thighs, drenching his fingers. He was so proud of himself that he had to ask:

—Did you like it? Was it good?

—It was very good —I laughed, my legs still trembling. —Keep doing that.

***

He took off my dress. With so few buttons, it was hardly an achievement. Naked in front of him, I let him look at me without a gram of shame, turning slowly so he could see me whole: my breasts standing proud, my shaved cunt glistening with wetness, the firm ass that still held on to the good years. My body hadn’t changed that much since my twenties, and from his expression I understood that he hadn’t expected anything like this. A woman my age welcoming him that way left him speechless, his cock pointing at the ceiling.

What he couldn’t imagine was what came next. I knelt at his feet and took him into my mouth. First I licked the tip slowly, savoring the salty taste of the pre-cum, circling the head with my tongue. Then I ran my tongue down the entire shaft to his balls and sucked them one at a time while caressing his cock with my hand. I went back up and took him all the way in, down to my throat, until I felt the hair against my nose. I moved up and down at my own pace, cheeks hollowed, sucking hard on the way up and sinking it all the way down on the way back. I slobbered all over his cock, coating it completely with saliva, then used that lubrication to jerk him off while taking him halfway into my mouth.

—Fuck, fuck —he panted, gripping my hair. —You suck me better than anyone.

At his age he hardened again within seconds, and he was already on the verge of bursting. He leaned back against the sofa, eyes closed, surrendering to my mouth. When he came, he didn’t even have time to warn me. I felt the first jet strike my palate, hot and thick, followed by two more that filled my mouth with semen. I swallowed it all without letting go of his cock, sucking him until the last drop, then licked the tip clean. Luckily, that doesn’t bother me at all. On the contrary: I like feeling it empty itself inside my mouth.

I sat down beside him again, still tasting him in my mouth.

—Now you —I said, opening my legs in front of his face. —Eat my cunt.

Without arguing, he got down on his knees. I spread my legs wide and let him see everything, my swollen, glistening lips, my clitoris peeking out between them. I took his head and guided him, indicating each step with my hand and my voice. He had to learn to take his time, not to rush.

—Start with the lips —I whispered. —Lick them slowly, from bottom to top. That’s it. Now put your tongue inside me. Fuck me with your tongue.

He obeyed like a diligent student. He licked me from top to bottom, pushed his tongue in as far as he could, pulled it out, and licked me again. I soaked his face with my juices. And when he finally found my clitoris and licked it properly, sucking it between his lips and tapping it with the tip of his tongue, I came again and again, pressing his face against my cunt with both hands, grinding myself against him while he thought he was only getting started. I pushed two fingers into his mouth along with my cunt and made him suck them, dripping wet.

When he sat up, his chin was gleaming and his cock was harder than the first time.

—Did you like what we did? —I asked.

He didn’t answer. He kissed me, and that was all the answer I needed: he made me taste my own cunt on his mouth.

We went to my bedroom. Lying on the bed, he kissed me everywhere again—my neck, my tits, my belly, my thighs. I took him in my hand once more, stroking him calmly as if we were about to start all over again, but he stopped me. This time he knew exactly what he wanted. I spread my legs and invited him in. He positioned himself between my thighs, ran the tip over the lips of my cunt, soaking it in my juices, and slid it inside me slowly, inch by inch, all the way to the bottom. I let out a long moan when I felt him fill me completely.

—Fuck me —I told him. —Fuck me hard, don’t be shy.

He started slowly, far too slowly for my taste, so I hooked my legs around his waist and forced him to bury it deep with every thrust. His strokes quickened as he approached his pleasure. The bed creaked, my tits bounced with every blow, and he drove it deeper and deeper into me, grunting through his teeth. I was on the verge, right on the verge, my cunt throbbing around his cock, when I felt him explode deep inside me, shooting hot streams of milk inside. I came barely an instant later, squeezing his cock with my cunt muscles, milking him of every last drop.

—I think you’re the first man to make me finish like that —I lied a little, just to see him smile, feeling his semen trickling between my thighs when he pulled out.

It worked. His face lit up like a boy being given something he hadn’t expected.

***

I got him hard again in no time, sucking him calmly while he recovered. Shamelessly, I showed him how I like to touch myself. I spread my legs in front of him and rubbed my clitoris with two fingers while sliding three fingers of my other hand into my cunt, moaning for him, showing him the exact rhythm, how I like to be done. I was the first woman he had ever seen pleasuring herself in front of him, and he couldn’t look away. He stroked himself slowly as he watched me, mouth open. When I glanced down, he was already ready again, his cock pointing at the ceiling.

—This time I want you somewhere else —I whispered in his ear, gripping his cock. —I want you in my ass.

I got on all fours on the bed, arched my back, and showed him my ass. I spread my cheeks with two fingers so he could see my asshole clearly. In a thin voice, he confessed that he had never done it that way with anyone. I handed him a bottle of oil and explained that he should use plenty, on himself and on me. I felt him coat my asshole with slippery, cold fingers, putting one inside first, then two, stretching me open. I shuddered with pleasure. I stopped him before he got carried away: very slowly, at least at first. He obeyed like a diligent student, resting the tip of his cock against my hole and entering only slightly, restraining himself and giving me time to get used to his thickness. I felt my ass yield little by little, felt him take it inch by inch. At just the right moment, I was the one who pushed backward. I took him all the way, to the balls, and screamed with pure pleasure. From then on he pounded me at a rhythm that made me lose my head, gripping my hips and driving it again and again into my ass while I brought my hand to my cunt and worked my clitoris. I came like a madwoman, feeling him deeper with every spasm, with two holes filled: him in my ass, my fingers in my cunt. It took him a while to come, which suited me perfectly: he was making up for all the lost months with every thrust.

—What a tight ass —he panted. —You’re squeezing the life out of me.

—Fuck me harder —I begged. —Break me.

When he was close, I wanted to watch him finish with my own eyes. He pulled out of my ass and I turned around. This time I didn’t have to explain anything. He already knew what I wanted. I knelt in front of him and took his cock in my hand, pulling the skin down and up very slowly, just as I had learned he liked, aiming it at my tits and my face. He, in turn, slid two fingers into my soaked cunt and returned the caress with a skill he hadn’t possessed two hours earlier, fingering me at the same rhythm I jerked his cock. I felt him tense all over, hold his breath, and I watched with almost scientific calm as pleasure overtook him down to his final tremor: the first jet of milk struck my face between my nose and mouth; the second landed on my chin and ran down to my tits; the last ones spurted over my nipples and belly. I smeared it all over my breasts with my hand and cleaned the tip of his cock with my tongue.

It was over. For a moment he said he wanted to go back home, but I had no intention of spending the night alone—not that night, not with my ass still throbbing with pleasure.

—Stay —I asked him, and it wasn’t a question.

He stayed. We did it several more times, in every position, until the gray light of dawn began to seep through the curtains. I rode him on top, riding his cock until we both burst; I took him on my side with one leg over his shoulder; I sucked him once more in the middle of the night, waking him with my mouth full; I let him come on my tits and inside my cunt as well, twice more. By then I had made up my mind. This is serious: now I have a lover much younger than me, patient, obedient, and with a stamina no man my age could match. I intend to make the most of it. I intend to leave him dry every time he comes to see me, milk that young cock for every last drop. And judging by the way he looked at me when he left, he intended to come back very soon.