Message-ID: <55045asstr$1166890202@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Jonathan P" <jonathanbareb@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Lydia (MF)
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Date: Sat, 23 Dec 2006 11:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Lydia

Common wisdom is that a post-menopausal woman lubricates less than when she 
was younger, and that her sex drive decreases to the point of apathy.  Sure, 
I've seen that happen in a few women.  It certainly wasn't true for Lydia.

Lydia and I met doing online chat.  Two years of conversations resulted in a 
face to face lunch at a Mexican restaurant, an hour away and halfway between 
our homes and our spouses.  We sat next to each other in a booth, knees 
touching, talking in hushed tones and laughing.  She was quiet at first, 
then as we both got more comfortable, her personality unfolded.

She was medium height, with flashing blue eyes and brown hair with a hint of 
red tint.  Her body was, to use a cliché, pleasingly plump, with big breasts 
and wide hips and small hands.  By the time our plates were empty, we were 
holding hands.  The conversation lulled, then I looked at her.  It was time 
to ask.  "This was nice.  Shall we do this again?"

Lydia smiled.  "Oh sure!  Mexican again?"  She leaned toward my ear and 
whispered, "Or something else?"  She pulled back, seemingly surprised at her 
boldness, and blushed.  I grinned at her.

A month later we passed on the tostadas and went straight to the Holiday Inn 
Express.  We stood at the foot of the bed, undressing each other, exposing 
my flesh - some of which was very firm - and her flesh - most of which was 
soft and curvy.  Toe to toe, we kissed continually and explored each other's 
body.  Her breasts were big handfuls, her nipples small and pink.  Her skin 
was dotted with freckles and moles, smooth and warm in my hands.  Her hands 
played in my chest hair, with one hand wandering downward to clutch my 
erection.  My hand found her pussy, shaved down to a goatee of hair above 
her cleft.

The bedsheets were white, crisp, and cool, but not for long.  We pressed 
against each other, face to face, chest to chest.  Lydia slid down to engulf 
my shaft, humming little noises as she alternately throated me and licked my 
precum.  "Lie on your back," I told her, and she complied, thighs spread 
open.  I moved on top of her, and she lifted her knees and spread them wide, 
and she wrapped her arms around me.

My lips and tongue found hers, and my cockhead played in her pussylips.  Her 
hips rocked up and down, brushing herself against me.  I nudged inside her, 
gently, not quite wet enough for a smooth entry, teasing her and teasing 
myself.  Lydia had a nondescript vagina, with no discernible nibbling muscle 
at the entrance, smooth, snug because she wasn't fully wet.

I pulled out and moved down her body.  I held myself above her on elbows and 
knees, visiting her big, beautiful breasts and small hardened nipples.  
Lower, visiting her rounded tummy, kissing freckles as I descended.  Her 
thighs widened and her lips parted, pink and glistening, and my mouth went 
to work.  Faster, then slower, nibbles and sucks, sometimes a thumb in her 
vagina, sometimes two fingers, but mostly just listening to her body and its 
responses and sticking with steady, moderately firm licks.

Lydia's climb to orgasm was one of those hockey sticks.  For five minutes, 
ten minutes, she lay there and stroked my head and shoulders and enjoyed my 
feasting.  Her inner lips started small and grew only slightly, her outer 
lips were the same, but her pussy splayed open and juicy.  Her modest hooded 
clit was a hard little nubbin, and my steady flat-tongued lapping licks 
seemed to have only a gradual effect on her state of arousal.

Then it was as though Lydia decided to allow herself to climax and just 
flipped an internal switch.  I sensed her clit harden another fraction, and 
her breathing shifted into another gear.  It was time.  My tongue quickened 
its pace, matched by an increase in her breathy moans, and she went from 25 
to 100 in ten second.  My eyes glanced upward to see her face redden and 
scrunch into that delicious female agony of pleasure.  Her hips tilted 
toward my busy mouth, her body shuddered, and she exhaled several loud 
grunting gasps.

My licking slowed, my job complete, at least for now, and I moved upward 
again.  We refound our missionary position, my cock refound her pussy, and I 
discovered just how juicy Lydia had become.  I entered her, effortlessly, 
sinking into her now almost-frictionless vagina.  Her walls felt like they 
barely grasped me, she was so open and soft and liquid inside.

I'd never felt a vagina like Lydia's.  I've encountered those that were 
overall snug.  Some that felt almost muscular, with active kegels.  Some 
have been textured, others as smooth as Lydia's, but none as soft, none as 
yielding to my shaft, and definitely none as juicy.  Inside, she was 
flowing.  Her juices leaked out and trickled down my balls.  When I stroked, 
her liquid cracked little noises.

"I feel you," she told me, "all of you."  My penis jumped.

"God, you are so wet," I replied.

"No friction," she breathed.  "You just glide.  I can't believe how wet you 
get me."  Her eyes were open wide, her mouth in an open O and breathing.

"I'm close," I told her, and she nodded.  "I'm going to come."  She kept 
nodding.

I groaned, and then I just let it happen.  Thrusting faster and faster into 
Lydia's soft, sweet, incredibly yielding vagina, my instincts trying in vain 
to find some small measure of friction of her walls against my cock, but I 
didn't really need that friction.  "Here I come," I told her, but I doubt 
she needed that update.

My juices added to hers, one liquid spurt after another.  Lydia's eyes were 
glued to my face.  I'm sure I was wearing the same goofy expression that 
she'd worn a few minutes earlier.  My cock throbbed inside her, and my mind 
pictured how I was filling her with my come, making her more and more 
slippery, if that was even possible.  "Warm," she whispered.  "It feels so 
warm."

And that's how it would happen with Lydia and me for the next three years, 
with a rendezvous every month or two or three at that same motel.  We were 
patterned, she and I, with only the smallest of variations.  "I like 
patterns," she told me once.  "I know what to expect.  I know how I'm going 
to come."  Oh, we had our occasional change of pace.  Some afternoons she 
would go down on me for a few minutes.  On other occasions she would get on 
top of me and rock.  But mostly it was the pattern established on that first 
day, where Lydia would climax from my mouth, then I would mount her and fuck 
her.  We both loved missionary.  I loved to fuck her, and she loved to be 
fucked.

Some days she would climax a few moments after I slid inside her, when she 
was still high on the mountaintop of her oral orgasm, and sometimes not.  A 
few times, after my orgasm when she didn't climax from penetration, my mouth 
would restart the steady licking that she found to be so effective.  Those 
second oral orgasms for her came quickly and sharply.  And we would always 
have time for a second round, sometimes even a third.  She was less likely 
to climax after her first one or two strong ones, but she didn't mind.  We 
both seemed to enjoy the leisurely fucking, with my cock caressing her soft, 
yielding, incredibly slippery walls until it just seemed to be the right 
moment for me to fill her, again, to overflowing.



JonathanBareB at hot mail dot com

_________________________________________________________________
From photos to predictions, The MSN Entertainment Guide to Golden Globes has 
it all. http://tv.msn.com/tv/globes2007/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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