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Subject: LynDuke***OLDER WOMAN/younger woman***
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    LynDuke's---Older Woman/younger woman

        			                         
    I grew up on  a 1,000 acre ranch in California, and when I was 18 was
attending a private high school. My friend  Amy lived only 1/4 mile from
Harrelson Prep which we attended. We loved Harrelson.  I had to commute about 
an hour every day so often I spent the night in town at Amys. Her parents were
hardly ever at home because they both worked and had jobs with a lot of
responsibility. Often I would have Amy stay at the ranch on weekends. Her
mother Ann  had no other children and didnt seem to mind an extra person being
around. Ann,  40ish, was a chemistry  instructor at Harrelson, pretty, built,
could compete with any co-ed  for male companionship. She had a seductive way
of touching you and welcoming you into the house. Her eyes   surveyed you. Her
hypnotic smile hid whatever was really on her mind. Amy’s Dad was a loan
officer at Valley National Bank and very handsome. I became fond of Ann as well
as Amy. The mature older woman  was quite forward. She told me she regretted
not having had one more child. She always insisted on a hug and sometimes a
kiss from me  either upon entering or leaving. She lavished attention on Amy’s
friends when they were around.

    I spent many happy hours with Amy.  Neither of us had dated much in high
school--too busy with activities and studies. We liked to explore. We tried
marijuana twice at parties. It was OK but I prefered not to use regularly--it
made me forgetful. We  had slumber parties when Amy would invite me and 2 or 3
other girls to stay over.  We imagined this to be what dorm life would be like
if we ever lived in one. Once a girl showed some  sexy pictures and read some
naughty stories  from a Playboy, all stuff she had found under her big brothers
bed. That was  a boost to  conversation. Everyone was giggling and bright eyed.


     Amy and I shared  secrets. She told me about the rough  bare-bottomed
spankings her father gave her   til she was 13.  Til she started high school,
her mother still took her temperature rectally. A frustrated nurse, Ann had an
elaborate method of greasing Amy up. She stood behind Amy  who would be lying
on  the bed, facing away, knees drawn up---and pushed as much KY up Amys butt
as she could with her finger. Sometimes she used exam gloves. As Amy got older,
she occasionally felt the beginnings of orgasm  during this proceedure. Unsure
what it was, she  hoped her mother wouldnt notice. Amy couldnt help it!  Amy
wasnt the one that insisted on having this procedure! She just surrendered to
the good feelings wondering what it might lead to and endured the older womans
attack on her anatomy as best she could. 
    Once  when Amy was 13, Ann was standing behind Amy lubing her up when Amy
became hysterical, shouting  “if you dont .....stop....if you....dont stop, Im
going...Im going to...”.  “What are you going to do?” asked her mother Ann.
“What are you going to do if I dont stop?” she asked again. Amy thought
carefully and then on the verge of tears whimpered “Im going to come if you
dont stop! ”. Again, frightened of  being punished for something she couldnt
help. In a tone meant to sooth, the older woman looked at her very analytically
and said, “Why dont  you just go ahead and do that if you need to Honey? You
just take care of that right now.” Frightened little Amy said,”Are you sure its
ok?”.  Mother heartily  replied, “Go ahead its alright.... just enjoy the
feeling.”   Ann, resumed the lube job on Amys rectum, rubbing the KY into Amy
with the same  pressure and circular motions she used when applying hand lotion
to herself. Just using the one finger, mostly right behind the younger womans
uterus. Suddently the climax built  to a crescendo, and she let loose  with
little shuddering movements that went on for about a minute while  weeping with
pleasure.  “Im sorry Mom”, whispered Amy afterward. as a look of repentence
crossed  her face. “No problem, Im not angry, Darling”, said Ann in a soft
reassuring voice. Then she smiled, patted the hip of the young woman who was
her nearly-ready-for-college daughter, and inserted the rectal thermometer.
Soon she brought in the  red enema bag that she had fixed for Amy’s therapy. It
was the very last time Amy had her temperature taken this way by the older
woman.
    Once Amy and I  got into a discussion of my early youth, and it was
comparable, except my mother stopped assaulting me with rectal  thermometers
when I was 5 or 6. I can still remember her holding me in her lap,  rubbing my
back and arms and legs while the thermometer hung out my bottom. I was always
afraid of it falling out, because then she would have to push it back in and I
was  afraid it would hurt. It usually didnt, unless she didnt use enough KY
jelly. So often, she would massage me for awhile, and then put her hand across
my soft bottom to hold the thermometer in place. All the while hugging me
tight.
     Once when we were high on beer, Amy told me that part of her masturbation
routine included pushing things deeply up her rear end like vibrators, and
candles, as she got a bigger orgasm. Sometimes only her rectal muscles
orgasmed. 
    
    The summer of our graduation,  Doug  came into the picture, sweeping me off my
feet. He was mostly agreeable. When he didnt agree, he knew how to disagree
politely. I love this quality in a person. It makes me less shy about
expressing my thoughts. If Doug didnt agree with my stance on, Vietnam for
example, he would say, “Lyn I know youre pretty commited to that  view point,
but here’s what I think about it.” And he would politely go on to give his
thoughtful view on the topic. 
    Doug and I managed to attend a few formal events which I enjoyed because I had
an excuse to get  dressed up in formal wear. Our  favorite past time was
sitting at a coffee house and chatting with friends.Doug was a checker and
bagger in a supermarket and this took up very little of his time everyday. He
was usually off weekends .

    Back in those days people didnt hop into bed with just anybody,not even their
sweetheart, without thinking about it carefully. Sex was not high on our list
of things to do. Mostly all we did was neck in the car on deserted roads, and
feel each other up til the windows were  fogged. I loved it when he would sneak
his fingers into my panties and excite me. 
    One day during final exams, I was bushed, I saw Ann  leaving her Algebra class
to grade exam papers in the faculty office building. She said I looked flushed
and that I should nap over at their place until I felt good enough to  drive
home. My family was away on vacation so I wasnt looking forward to being home
alone. 

     I walked on over to my friends house.  Doug was working and Amy  was visiting
the ski slopes.  I ended up alone in the house with Ann. It wasnt long before
she made her first move on me..........
    I lay on Amys guest bed and proof read a term paper due Monday. Ann came in
with a beverage and asked me if I’d like one.   She placed her hand on my
forehead. Funny, but I didnt feel like I had a fever. I was already rested up
from the  long day, having had my nap, and almost ready to drive to the ranch.
I was a little high from the beer. Ann gave me another one, this time in the
bottle, then a 3rd one for us both. We chatted freely, punctuating our
conversation with a laugh here and there.
    “I know just what to do.” And with that she reached up under my skirt and
yanked my panties down in one swift movement. I was so shocked I didnt have
time to say STOP . Next thing I knew, she  was asking me to turn on my side.
She was holding up a pre-lubricated 
#
thermometer--menacingly. Poking around  for the opening, soon it was winding
its squishy way up my bottom. I was woozy, but It felt good. I was too wasted
to find it embarrassing . I turned and looked at her glowing face.
    “Dont worry Darling, its the best way,” the older woman reassured me. I wanted
to say, “thats what they always say before they shove something up my ass.”
      My skirt was hiked up in back to accomodate her hand which was holding the
thermometer in place. She covered me with a lap robe for modesty. Sometimes she
let  go of the cold glass tube  and just stood there staring at me from the
front. I felt a jolt of horror as she pulled the window shades down and   left 
me in this position in a dimly lit room. I couldnt imagine what she had in
mind.  I wished for Doug or Amy  to rescue me. Amys Dad was away at a banking
conference, no chance of him saving my honor. 
    My mind   fixated on the memory of Doug and his hand feeling me up real good
down there. In my reverie I could almost feel his lips on mine, and I felt a
stirring in my heart, a stirring in my loins.
She was making  the thermometer go in and out, that was making me horny. The
beer made it hard for me to put an end to something  that (I realized in my
inebriated state) had turned into sex play with another woman. 
    Now the thermometer was removed and  I felt her warm fingers on my nipples, 
my breasts, in my panty area, between my genital lips--the labia, flicking my
clitorus--very busy & determined. 
    She put me on my back, legs splayed wide, and had me scoot to the edge of the
bed. Using her thumbs to pry apart my labia, her careful talented tongue 
pleasured my clit. I moaned and cried restrainedly, never having had oral sex
before. She knew exactly what a woman would like. She knew me.

    The glass tube was replaced by her talented index finger. She rubbed me
expertly right behind the uterus. Both of her hands were busy simultaneously.
The index finger of the other hand worked up in my vagina.I could see a leer of
selfish satisfaction on her face. She was turned on by it all, she seemed to
also enjoy pleasuring me for my sake. Finally I was confident she was not going
to get into any  bondage, S&M, or  love making techniques involving pain!
    “Stop...if you dont...stop.....I’ll,..... If you dont stop...I’m going to...”
    “Your going to what?” Asked Ann who was in total control of my emotions now.
“What are you going to do if I dont stop?”
#

    I felt only half awake, but I was ashamed to say it, but I finally said it--
“Im going to cum if you dont stop.” I knew what I wanted to say but I could
hardly get the words out--too embarrased to  have an orgasm in front of this
older woman who was my friend. I guess this was another dimension of her love
for taking care of  people. A bit extreme. I had let it go too far. I should
have said something earlier. Now I wanted to see what she was going to do next.
What was going to happen. What I would do. 
    “Why dont  you let yourself come, Darling, you’ll feel better. Its alright, I
dont mind. Come on and do what you need to do.” I threw caution to the wind and
enjoyed this situation I found myself in. My climax was building. Having
surrendered to her, I couldnt stop my orgasm now. After shuddering, I cried
tears and more tears of release. I had only had tiny orgasms with  Doug,
because our coming together had been minimal. At last my desire for full
intercourse  with him had piqued as a result of this older woman, my friend
Ann.
    How would I deal with the knowledge of this in the days to come? Could I keep
it to myself?  Relaxing in the afterglow, Ann massaged my legs and arms and
back. Though she never stripped completely, her top was off, and I could see
and touch her white bra on her trim smooth body in the dim light. She held me
to her bosom, I didnt know what to make of it. I nuzzled my face there. I
licked her chest, wishing on some primal level  to taste her nipples and suck.
She reassured me with pats,  hugs,  rubbing, touching my hair. Had I regressed?
Was I a lesbian now? Oh God, had I sunk low, I wondered. She smoothed my hair, 
put on her blouse, and said she was going back to the office to work on term
papers and grade exams.  She made no reference to what had just happened. Said
that I should not drive home if I was too sleepy.
    About 2 hours later I woke up, got a cup of coffee in the kitchen, collected
my things, and began the drive to the ranch.
I was on the road  home with a deeply felt sense of satisfaction, elation,
wonder, and a matter-of-fact feeling that sometimes “shit happens”. Would I
allow anything like this to happen to me again?  Probably. Would I give up Doug
for these experiences? Doubtful. 



/March 21, 1998/



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