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The Scavenger Hunt
by Mrs. Ruza (address withheld)

***

A young man overcomes his lack of confidence by using a 
scavenger hunt ploy to introduce himself to widowed 
mature women. (Fm-teen, inc, 1st, anal)

***

From the Journal of Damon Wentworth as Augmented by 
Katrina Ruza 

Prologue

The events of the year 1992 culminated with a birthday 
party for Damon Wentworth at my home. In addition to 
celebrating his 19th birthday that evening we were 
marking the end of a one- year pact we three mature 
women had with Damon. The pact came about through an 
ingenious naughty mission this young man through a very 
clever scavenger hunt. A third and unexpected event 
occurred that night which was a decision we three women 
made to operate as a private ladies' club. This club 
became known to us as the Downtown Ladies' Aide Society 
of Omaha. 

This evening was the first time that all three of us 
women who were in Damon's life in the past year got 
together. It was at my suggestion that Damon ask the 
other two women, Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Patel, to meet 
with him and me. Damon was nervous about the gathering 
idea but the women eagerly agreed to my suggestion. 
They all accepted my outline for the program for the 
evening. 

Damon had recently confessed that he had from the 
beginning kept a journal of his plan for his scavenger 
hunts. For this special evening he would tell the 
stories how he met each of us and then we three women 
would add our own recollections of our initial 
encounters with him. I, as chair pro temp, would take 
notes and then combine Damon's version with each 
woman's own remembrances to supplement Damon's journal. 

Each of us women would get a copy but of course we 
would keep it private. (The only way I can share this 
story is through having made a few changes which I 
can't tell you about.) This story is just the first 
encounter of the three stories of encounter Damon told 
that evening. It is special for me since I was his 
first conquest as you shall soon understand. 

We women were all giddy at first but, but soon became 
relaxed as the champagne took effect. Damon, being 
under age was given a non-alcoholic sparkling white 
grape drink. Since I, Mrs. Ruza, was his first 
"victim," I told my story first. Then Mrs. Johnson 
followed and lastly Mrs. Patel. The first episode then 
is what he told us that night with my complimenting it 
from my own recollection. So here then is Damon's 
story.

Damon's Story

Since I am going to tell you about others in this story 
I better tell you something about myself. It is not 
particularly interesting but these women have made me 
see I do deserve some credit for a little imagination 
having grown up in a small town. I was born in late 
1973 in a small rural town near Omaha. I have not 
changed much in physical appearance since that time.

I was active in sports especially basketball and 
baseball in high school and have worked to keep my 
shape. I don't have a weightlifter's body but it 
doesn't have much fat either. I am 6' at 180 lbs with 
dark brown hair and eyes. I am not handsome but not 
homely either. I wore glasses for distance. I had one 
little scar but it is hidden by the bridge of my 
glasses. I did that falling on the corner of some 
cement steps at home. I wear my hair then and still do 
at medium length and parted on the left. I was on the 
quiet side and still am. I didn't talk as much as other 
boys thinking in this way I would seem more mature but 
I was not.

I lived in a fairly Midwestern small town. My family's 
two-floor home was white slate with green wooden 
shutters. I was on the edge of town with our back yard 
ended at a cornfield. My father was a hardware store 
merchant and my mother was a homemaker. I had one 
sibling- a younger sister. My mother was a quiet woman 
who would be considered a feminist today. 

Her philosophy was that "What ever was good for the 
goose was good for the gander." In other words, what 
was good for men was just as good for women. She was 
good to her husband, my sister and me. She took her 
turn being den leader in cub scouts and in 4-H. Her 
main social activity was attending church functions and 
Pythian Sisters' meetings. Pythian Sisters was a kind 
of woman's social club. 

But it was my father and the church in which I was 
raised which gave me my motivation and ideas on how to 
proceed in life. My father's contribution to my 
thinking came from his belief that there were four 
elements needed for success: first, set a goal and 
don't lose sight of it; second, take action toward the 
goal; third; make revisions as necessity demands; and 
fourth don't give up. This worked for me, as you shall 
see. 

The other force in the shaping of my character was the 
little Congregational church our family attended. The 
ministers taught that we humans have two basic 
identities –the spirit and the flesh - which are in 
constant battle against each other. My parents-
especially my father- had the same perspective and 
values as the church. So I was given a double dose of 
moral training. On the one hand, I can blame the church 
and my father for stymieing my natural instincts. But 
on the other hand, I can give them the credit for 
helping me develop the organized thinking and 
discipline necessary to become the more worldly man I 
later came to be. 

I felt - and probably looked like - a contented 
adolescent but beneath this facade I had been wallowing 
in discontentment and discouragement about my lack of 
success with girls. Actually, I learned much later most 
adolescent boys were not progressing with women either. 
However, at that time I thought I was the only one that 
was a failure with females. 

Just having turned 18 I did not have much of a social 
group in my small town. The girls in my high school 
were fearful that we boys would do something to that 
would cause them to lose their reputations and have to 
"visit their aunt in Kansas City for seven months." And 
the very few that were not concerned were already 
taken- and besides, my straight reputation would 
prevent me from going with them anyway. 

The one social group I was in was my church's youth 
Pilgrim Fellowship. I saw the girls in that group 
every. Thursday night in the meeting room in the church 
basement for many years. I also saw them in school 
everyday. They were so familiar that they were almost 
like sisters which consequently left me with no 
romantic or prurient interest in them. 

As I said, my folks had rural Protestant Midwestern 
values of the era. For example, they put their six pack 
of beer in the back of the refrigerator so we kids 
would not see it. They did not talk of sex and assumed 
it was for marriage. The only action close to sex was 
my mother was a believer in enemas as a solution to 
ornery children. Under the cupboard in the bathroom 
there was a dark maroon rubber bag with a large black 
nozzle. About a few times each summer my mother dressed 
in a bra and panties would close the door to the 
bathroom and put a cotton diaper on her lap. Then she 
would remove my briefs lay me over her bare knees. I 
did not like this at first but had just begun for some 
reason I began to enjoy the sensation. 

She stopped when I was 14 saying I was not so squirmy 
anymore. However, if her mother in law – my grandmother 
- was visiting she allowed her to have the duty saying 
it was okay for someone other than the mother to give 
enemas. Grandmother was a still good-looking brunette 
with high cheek bones. She was on the slim side but 
bosomy. When she gave me an enema was in her underwear 
and her bra was too small for her. 

She also wore panties which were light beige so they 
were nearly transparent. Unlike my mother she had no 
black hairs escaping, because she was shaved. I learned 
later that was unusual for the time. I thought it was 
very intense but not quite erotic because I was just 
before my hormones kicked in. However, I did begin to 
realize then females were different.

My grandmother would look at my lower half and make 
comments such as "I wish my lady friends could see what 
my grandson brings to the table." One time she said 
this she had put her hand under the cotton diaper 
before she laid me prone across her lap. The first 
time, I seeped pre-cum (I did not know that is what was 
then) into the diaper she said, "It was good to get rid 
of all fluids in an enema." 

She made me hold the water in until the last second. 
She then pulled out the black plug and watched me 
rushing to the stool as the diaper dropped. Only then 
did she leave the bathroom. It was years later I 
grasped the meaning of some of her comments. My sister 
received an enema only about once a summer from my 
mother and she refused to let Grandma give her one. 

As for seeking knowledge of sex, it was first from 
reading freely at the local Rexall drugstore such 
magazines as Modern Romance to find words like "breast" 
or "passion." Then I quickly graduated to Hustler then 
Playboy. Although my folks were conservative 
Christians, my dad had a cache of magazines, books, and 
a few porn tapes hidden in a cedar chest. I am sure my 
mother was not pleased with them but it was accepted 
that men were "that way." These provided me with my 
education and greatest pleasures in my adolescence. 

My parents would have been shocked if they had known 
that I had discovered them. My favorite books were 
Gyneocracy and In Praise of Older Women. Actually, it 
was the video tapes that gave me the most admiration 
for my parents and especially my father. My parents 
were not only kind and nice small town people but they 
were human and not as strait laced as I thought. 

As I said, my physical contact with females was 
practically non-existent. At the girl's annual Rainbow 
Dance, I got to hold Carol Ann Addington close when I 
danced once. She was the girl with the bad reputation 
who talked about sex and wore more than the usual 
amount of make up for girls her age. When I arrived at 
the dance she was snuggling in the corner of the dark 
hall with her boyfriend getting some new "hickies" 
planted on her neck. 

My mother told me to dance with many girls. So when 
Carol Ann and her boyfriend finally got around to 
dancing I cut in for a dance. Dancing with Carol Ann 
once was the most shocking action I took in my youth. I 
explained to others that my mother said I should try to 
dance with many girls. It was worth the stares to put 
my boner to Carol Ann and not worry that I would be 
slapped or left on the dance floor. 

I did have a glimpse of my mother coming out of the 
shower once and going to the chest of drawers. She did 
not know I was in the bedroom. But I was so young and 
it was such a fleeting glance, I can't even recall a 
clear picture of it other than a black bush between her 
legs. I saw my sister nude a couple of times- once by 
chance when I walked in on her while she was changing 
into a bathing suit and one other time when I looked 
into the keyhole while she was in bath tub. What I saw 
was a pair of dark red knobs on cup cakes. That was too 
risky so I did not do that again. 

My aunt was a hugger when she came to visit and leave. 
She did let me see her cleavage with large beautiful 
sagging breasts when she bent over to put her boots on 
once. She gave me a smile. That smile and the wondrous 
snapshot of her cleavage is still the most erotic 
picture I have kept from my childhood. But this was 
about it for my actual experiences with sex. I was a 
virgin with no bona fide sex event before my 18th 
birthday. 

Masturbation was called self-abuse the. Each time I did 
that I had a fear that something bad could happen to me 
and was left with a mild depression. For a while I 
panicked about the white lines on my scrotum. I finally 
realized they came from the roots of the hair follicles 
being pulled while I examined myself for residuals from 
the act. 

The Story -The Plan

So it was several months before my 18th birthday that I 
had decided to finally take action to save my mind from 
further anxiety over the creeping doubts of my 
masculinity. I did not feel I had a problem in the 
vital organs since I had seen other males in the shower 
and found that my genitals were larger than all other 
boys my age except one fellow named Eddy. I remember he 
said when his girl friend kissed him at the end of the 
date she put her hands in front of her crotch so she 
could cop a feel. I was envious. 

I had been blaming my failure for sexual progress on my 
church upbringing and small town conservatism. No 
longer would I allow that mind set keep me from being 
imaginative and becoming assertive in entering the 
world of female sensuality. I began to devise a plan, 
which I promised myself that I would carry out. The 
goal was to have a fulfilling sexual encounter with 
some female within one month after turning 18.

Before dropping off to sleep each night, I spent an 
hour lying in bed thinking of a plan for that first 
event. I thought of all kinds of activity such as 
simply bumping into a woman in the mall and grabbing 
her breasts as she fell. I decided that was crude. I 
also thought I could phone females from a pay phone 
implying I was calling a girlfriend about a rendezvous 
and that I got her number by a mistake. I must have 
thought of a 100 of such scenarios.

I could not think of anything that I was comfortable 
with until the night my parents were going to a party 
(which was a rare event.) As they were leaving they 
said they were meeting some friends for a scavenger 
hunt. I asked them what a scavenger hunt was. They 
explained that it was a contest in which small groups 
of two to four people visit homes searching for items 
on a list. The group which returned with the most items 
by a deadline would be the winner. The items could be 
anything such as a wooden clothespin to a Farmer's 
Almanac. 

The light went on in my mind, "A scavenger hunt is my 
entry to the world of women!" Once I had the concept my 
brain went into overdrive imagining a way that would 
get me not only to first base but also to the home 
plate with some woman. The challenge would be to do 
this without my losing my reputation or worse - getting 
arrested. 

First, I realized for confidentiality I would have to 
do this in Omaha which was the big city not far away 
from my hometown. I certainly could not chance being 
recognized. 

My first desire was to target only older women who 
would be experienced with sex and would be less likely 
to laugh at my missteps. Besides, the picture in my 
mind of my aunt's glorious pendulous breasts was at the 
forefront. And, I must admit that I fantasized 
sometimes about my aunt and my grandmother.

The next concern was "How could I be just a party of 
one in the scavenger hunt and knock on a woman's door?" 
It came to me that if I would say my mates of the game 
had decided we could cover more territory by splitting 
up.

For props I figured I should make two lists of items 
for my scavenger list. "List B" would have nearly all 
neutral objects such as the wooden clothespin, a Bic 
ballpoint pen, or a sock with a hole in it. But "list 
A" would have some more provocative items on it. This 
list would include a Barbara Cortland romance novel, a 
Playboy with a black female centerfold, women's panties 
with a hole in them, or a porno video with Kay Parker 
in it. This "bait" would allow the woman to enter the 
contest where she would be most comfortable. 

The Cortland romance novel would be for the woman with 
soft sex. The Playboys would require searching through 
several centerfolds to find a black playmate. The 
panties were for the woman who could get physical fast. 
As for Kay Parker, you probably do not know her- she 
was a mature star of porno films. She was a brunette 
which high square cheekbones. She had voluptuous body 
with large breasts which were sagging but normal for 
her age. Kay Parker's straight acting and her body made 
it my favorite in my dad's collection. So with these 
items at different comfort levels I hoped to hook a 
mature woman. 

My procedure would be when a woman who came to the door 
did not have a striking appearance and demeanor I would 
pass on. She would get the "B" list with the neutral 
items. I would pull that list I from my left pocket. 
But with the sexy mature woman I would pull out my "A" 
list from my right pocket. 

So how would I find these women? A random door-to-door 
search, I thought, would be too time-consuming plus 
many would have husbands. I decided to read back issues 
of the Omaha World Herald newspaper and focus on new 
widows and divorcees. I would record the addresses of 
these women whose ages I decided must be between 45 and 
55. They would be the more experienced and forgiving of 
my lack of finesse in romance. 

A month later after listening to a friend talk about 
his divorced parents I decided to eliminate women who 
were divorced less than six months because they would 
be angry at all men. That was a waste of about eight 
hours of my research at the town's Carnegie library. 

The whole plot finally came together in a few months. 
On my 18th birthday I had the stage set. After my 
parents and sister sang "Happy Birthday" to me and we 
dined on the traditional birthday cake I told them I 
was going to Omaha to see a movie. As I drove off in my 
old Chevy the folks had given me, I looked at my legs. 
I felt they must be shaking but the movement was barely 
visible. By the time I got to the targeted residential 
area in Omaha it was just getting dark. 

The Story - Mrs. Ruza

I focused on the first mature woman who met my 
requirements- a Mrs. Ruza on Farnam Street. She had 
lost her husband from a heart attack six months ago. 
The obituary implied that her husband must have been 
about 50 years of age so she would be within my 
guidelines. I felt that enough of her grieving period 
surely had passed that she could begin to enjoy life 
again with a male - hopefully even a young one such as 
me. 

I did not know until much later that women who are most 
recently post menopausal are the best target. They have 
the best age of physical maturity, are most 
experienced, enjoy sex, no menses, and best of all - no 
birth control. This was before the AIDs era. 

Although highly anxious, I parked my old Chevy down the 
street from her house. I walked to her address and went 
up the steps to a one story red brick home and front 
porch. On the third ring, the door opened wide enough 
that I could see she a nicely coiffured short dark 
reddish hair. She had high cheekbones, dark eyelashes, 
large dark eyes, and a narrow handsome face. She had 
her hair pulled back but a few strands flayed out on 
both sides. 

I was wondering if those strands were not secured on 
purpose or whether she had just missed them. She was 
strikingly beautiful. My guess she was in her late 40s. 

I left the neutral scavenger "B" list in my left pocket 
and out of my right pocket I pulled the provocative "A" 
list. 

"Good evening, I am Damon Wentworth. My fraternity is 
having a scavenger party tonight. Could you see if you 
have any items on this list?" (Actually, I was not in a 
fraternity and would not be entering college until the 
fall.)

Mrs. Ruza: "Where are the other students with you, 
Damon?" Her saying my name in her soft voice transfixed 
me. Her sexy accent, I learned later was Hungarian.

I stammered but recovered, "Our team's strategy is to 
spread out on our own and meet later. The winners get 
to choose the sorority house to date for the upcoming 
dance plus have them cook us dinner that night. I would 
like to win because I have not had much luck in the 
dating department since coming to college. Here is the 
list I was given." 

Mrs. Ruza: As she looked over the list she said, "Step 
in... I don't have any almanacs. Playboys? I tossed 
those after my husband's death. My husband, Duane, died 
six months ago. By the way I am Mrs. Ruza."

"Glad to meet you Mrs. Ruza, my voice was lower and 
clearer. "I am so sorry to hear that. I will leave- I 
don't want to bother you in your grief." 

"I'm all right now but it has been hard. I still miss 
him.... Come on in to the kitchen and let me look at 
your list under better light." As we walked into the 
kitchen light I could lower my eyes to see an hourglass 
figure. She has a white frilly full blouse on top and 
extra large hips with an abnormally narrow waist. I 
wondered if she used a corset, diet, or was just 
naturally thin in the middle. Although bordering on the 
odd with her shape she was very attractive. She 
refocused my attention when she looked at the list and 
said, "Barbara Cortland ...she is not an author I read. 
Used panties- I don't wear them." After looking at the 
list longer she said, "Who is Kay Parker?"

My voice choked again because I was still envisioning 
Mrs. Ruza without panties. I learned later she came 
from a family of nudists in Hungary and that was a 
carry over from her upbringing. With my anxiety rising 
so did my voice. I responded, "Oh, I heard one of the 
girls who helped make up the list for this hunt say Kay 
Parker was a star in adult movies. I don't know about 
that stuff."

Mrs. Ruza: Well my husband had a collection of those 
movies. I got a little tired of them because it gave 
him too many ideas. Actually some of the ideas were 
creative-- it was just that too often I was too sore 
the next day." She stepped back and smiled as she said, 
"Oh, I shouldn't be telling you this. How old are you?"

Me: Blushing, "I'm 18 today. It's my birthday."

Mrs. Ruza: "Happy birthday! 18? Well, I guess you are 
old enough. I don't have anything that is left on your 
list: I had wooden clothespins but I see you have 
already have them crossed off your list. Well let me 
see if my husband's video collection has any with any 
...who is she again? ... Kay Parker? He did have a 
large collection. Shall we look?" 

I thought I saw a twinkle in her as she turned. As we 
walked to her bedroom my heart was racing with that 
question and her enticing smile. Her dress covered her 
wide hips. I could not believe this - my first try on 
my scavenger hunt strategy and we were going to look at 
her deceased husband's porn collection.

When we got to her bedroom she pulled a suitcase out of 
the closet, she said, "This is a little embarrassing to 
look at this with someone who is even younger than my 
own son.... Here they are. Oh, there are no covers to 
the videos. I think he wore them out. So I guess you 
will have to look at them to see if Ms. Parker is in 
the credits. Go ahead and take these into the living 
room and look at them and don't worry - I can rewind 
them later and put them away. I don't want to slow you 
down in your contest. .... Please lock the door on your 
way out. I go to bed early so if you find one you can 
return the video later in the week."

My heart was fluttering and I was sweating in what I 
felt like must be torrents. The suitcase was full of 
XXX rated videos. The second one I looked at was Taboo! 
I knew Kay Parker was in that movie because my parents 
had the same video and it was a favorite of mine. 
However, I did not want my search to end this fast. So 
I reached for another video instead, Boys of Summer, 
and started to watch. Mrs. Ruza excused herself to go 
to the bathroom.

I had been in physical discomfort by the time I had 
driven to the Mrs. Ruza's home but now after this 
intriguing conversation with her my testicles had 
become ready to explode so I tried not to think they 
were part of me. Like all older adolescent males I was 
aware of the phenomenon of "blue balls." I did what I 
could with Mrs. Ruza out of sight, and quickly 
rearranged my pants so my member could straighten and 
my scrotum could have some room. 

I turned up the volume on the TV just loud enough to be 
sure that Mrs. Ruza could hear the love making sounds 
from the bathroom but not so loud she would think I did 
this on purpose. After a few minutes I then put in 
Older Women and Younger Men. Once again the intimate 
sounds went out in all directions. I was hoping that 
one of these videos would hook Mrs. Ruza's interest and 
she would come into the living room. But she did not. 
Finally, when I heard the doorknob of the bathroom door 
move I quickly inserted Taboo! with Kay Parker and 
shouted, "I found one!" 

Mrs. Ruza opened the door and entered the living room 
wearing a thick blue cotton bathrobe that was closed 
with a wide belt. She was holding the top shut but when 
she sat down she let it go and I could still see most 
of the top of one breast with beads of water on it. A 
beautiful grapefruit sized globe sagged. It then 
occurred to me that her breasts must be almost the size 
as Kay Parker's. As I looked back at the TV I almost 
missed her comment, "Wonderful! Oh, so is that Kay 
Parker? .... She has a nice body for her age. Look at 
those full breasts.... What is she doing?"

I could not talk for what seemed like a full minute. 
Afraid to look away from the screen I finally 
stammered, "Oh, I think she wants the boy to get into 
her bath." I did not want to say it was her son.

Mrs. Ruza: "My God! ...Oh, well it is only a movie.... 
I do miss my husband in that department too.... Oh, my 
look at the boy's penis! His is bigger that my 
husband's."

I gulped and said nothing. After another minute of 
staring at the screen I reluctantly said that I must 
return to the scavenger hunt search. 

Mrs. Ruza: "Well it was good to meet you Damon and I am 
glad to have helped you. Just return the video when the 
contest is over. You don't have to return tonight but 
later in the next couple of weeks would be fine. You or 
your wife or girl friend could pick it up."

Me: "Oh no. I am not married and I don't have any 
girlfriend."

Mrs. Ruza: "You mean after all the activity of the hunt 
and viewing these movies you have no where to get any 
release tonight? Well, this may sound forward but if 
you want to return the video tonight I will leave the 
back door open. I will be asleep by then but just 
quietly wake me up. I will have a birthday surprise for 
you, Damon!"

After I cleared my throat I said, "Thank you, Mrs. 
Ruza. I will try to return the video tape tonight." 

Mrs. Ruza: "Wonderful, Damon. There is a key under the 
mat at the backdoor. " 

The peak in my pants made it difficult for me to get 
off the chair. Mrs. Ruza helped me up and then 
accompanied me to the front door. As I reached out to 
shake her hand I saw that her take a step which exposed 
her below her waist. I was already in a daze but when I 
saw that she was shaved I almost hit the door jam. She 
winked at me: "Please park your car a block a way 
because I don't want the neighbors to get any ideas.... 
being a recent widow. Good luck with your scavenger 
hunt, Damon!"

I could barely walk back to my car because both my 
groin and my head were throbbing. I drove about a mile 
away and parked my car. I adjusted the level do I could 
lay back in the bucket back to rest. But rest turned 
out to be impossible. The images of what may have been 
a wink from this beautiful full -figured Hungarian 
woman flashed on and off in my brain. 

I turned on the radio to try to calm myself but the 
songs were all about love so I switched to station WHO 
for a farm program. Outside it grew darker. The cicadas 
in the trees were making their loud incessant noise to 
impress a mate in the area. I kept looking at my watch, 
until finally an hour had passed. I started the car and 
turned on the lights. I returned to Mrs. Ruza's 
neighborhood and parked a block away from her home. 

Fortunately my testicles no longer ached, but it was 
still a slow walk toward her house and then up the 
steps. I quietly walked pass a pine tree which had 
reflected the moon light on the needles. I smelled the 
pungent sweet sap of the tree. Reaching down and under 
the mat, I did not find the key – could this have been 
a dream? Then relief – the key was at the far corner. 
My shaky hand found the key hole and I opened the door. 

I went in and walked slowly into the hallway - took off 
my shoes and set them aside. I shuffled quietly through 
the house guided by the nightlight bulb which turned 
out to be the bathroom. The moonlight through a window 
also helped me find my way. All I could hear was the 
ticking of a grandfather clock from what must have been 
the living room. 

I came to a bedroom with an open door and saw the 
moonlight on an outline of a lump under a sheet. I 
heard shallow breathing. I removed my clothes being 
careful so the belt buckle would not make a sound. I 
put my watch in my shoes and placed them under the bed. 
I then put my shirt, pants and worked by briefs off my 
erect penis. As I lifted the sheet I could see the back 
of a nude woman lying on her side facing away. 

The figure was like an hourglass with the hips so big. 
It offered the most beautiful black and white picture 
that would ever register in my brain. A smooth deep 
gully ran from her neck and ended near the top of her 
buttocks. I moved under the covers and put my head on a 
pillow and waited. I tried to control my breathing 
because I was so nervous. I was actually afraid that I 
would stop breathing. After several minutes the body 
next to me moved and I heard a very soft voice, "Duane 
-is that you?" I was startled with the question 
addressed to Duane. After some quick thinking mumbled 
"Yeah, hon." 

I continued to lie there. There was no further movement 
just the sound of the ticking of the grandfather clock. 
I thought, "What am I doing? I did not know this woman 
at all. But I could not change my course which was 
developing better than I had ever imagined. What should 
I do next?" After what seemed like a long time but 
probably was only five minutes I rolled over to her 
body and flipped my rock hard penis on what must have 
been the flesh of a thigh or buttock.

There was a moan, then a quiet "Duane, I missed you." 
The form rolled over and Mrs. Ruza faced me but did not 
open her eyes. "Mmmm -come to mamma." With those words 
a warm soft hand traveled from my thigh, over my 
scrotum up to the tip of my penis. Seconds passed but 
the grasp of the fingers and thumb did not change. She 
just held the tip and did not move. Most of my semen, I 
feared, had already leaked out from the time I saw the 
videos to the time I was in the car. But my penis could 
not hold back a second longer.

As my legs and groin muscles went into a spasm a 
reservoir of semen repeatedly shot into the cup of her 
hand. She glided toward me and leaned forward still 
with eyes shut and kissed my chest. She then inserted 
the hollow rod into her. After a few minutes, she 
pulled back and my stiff prick pulled out. She rolled 
over and went back into a deeper level of sleep. 

I was depleted but in state of complete pleasure. I 
wondered if she was disappointed in my –or Duane's 
reaction. But then I thought the tender way she had 
planted a kiss on my chest seemed as if she was 
content. My brain and body were now exhausted but my 
mind would not let me sleep. It must have been a half 
hour later that I did finally fall asleep. 

I was awaked by a hand flop on my chest and then heard 
the grandfather's clock strike twice. I waited for few 
moments and there was no further movement from my 
bedmate. Still nervous as I waited two minutes then 
counted to three and reached over and pulled my lovely 
partner's shoulders close to me. I pulled some more 
until both her globes flattened onto my chest. I could 
feel that her nipples were firm. I did not know what I 
should do next. 

She did not wait for me but shoved her right forearm 
under my pillow and used it to push my face down to her 
left breast. With my face flatted to her global cushion 
I remembered the delicious snapshot when Mrs. Ruza's 
bathrobe had opened as she had walked me to the door 
earlier. That photo eventually was replaced with the 
white large pendulous breast of Kay Parker from the 
video collection. My body reacted as if I had just put 
a wet finger in a light socket. I rolled my right hand 
over her shoulder and on to the back of her neck. I 
felt some of the wisps of hair. I said nothing and did 
not move except for my fingers softly stroking her 
skin.

She grasped my hand and lowered it to her smooth shaved 
mound. Her hand led mine in a counter clockwise motion 
around her clitoris and nudged its base as she guided 
me. She then moved my hand away and found my cock. She 
slid her hand down the shaft as she guided it into her 
crevice. I could feel the vagina tighten around me 
while her hips ground into mine. Six months without a 
penis in her box and the circling of her love button 
must have let the gates of the dam break. 

She commenced a slow thrusting which turned into a slow 
crescendo of speed and force. I just did the best I 
could to by placing my hands behind my buttocks to hold 
my place in the bed. The climax turned into a pounding 
which was almost painful. I felt her mound grind into 
my pubic bones as if trying to squeeze out every drop 
of love juice. She only paused to let her tongue sweep 
to dislodge mine and then she seemed to try to swallow 
it. I held off preventing a shot of whatever semen was 
left. 

Her words "Duane, Duane" were soft at first but became 
louder with her faster movement until finally there was 
last shout of "Duane!" Her body convulsed around mine. 
It was more of grunt "Hon!" than a word as I expelled 
the air from my lungs and my semen started spurting 
inside Mrs. Ruza's cunt. 

Her vagina synched with a milking action as I gasped 
for oxygen. After the last peristaltic movement of our 
organs our minds as well as our bodies were now 
emptied. We both said nothing – we did not have the 
energy to speak or move. She immediately drifted off 
into a deep sleep and I must have followed not long 
later. The image I dozed off with once again the black 
and white shiny photo of the hourglass body lying on 
the bed and the Kay Parker full pendulous breasts. 

In the morning, I opened my eyes to some rays of 
sunlight coming in below the shade. My body felt like 
it had just had two Japanese massages-the kind where 
you are close to screaming. It did not want to move. I 
was afraid to look to my side fearing I had been 
dreaming. But I slowly opened my eyes and saw the dark 
hair and part of an hour glass back of my dear Mrs. 
Ruza. I was in a state of total bliss. A minute later I 
saw two notes on the nightstand that Mrs. Ruza must 
have penned sometime in the night. I reached for the 
one which said "Read this now" and left the other which 
said "Read later":

"Damon, dearest, I hope you liked your birthday 
present! When you left I watched some of the movie. I 
am not Kay Parker but we are at least about the same 
age and 'design.' I had at first thought you were my 
dear husband but I realized it you must have accepted 
my invitation to return. You were a very satisfying 
consolation."

"Damon, you are still a boy so if you regret what we 
did you can leave quietly and I thank you for a 
wonderful time. However, if you want to finish with 
some additional pleasuring an older woman who you 
returned to the world of humanity please continue with 
these instructions. I don't know if you will ever 
return after you have had a chance to sort this out so 
I would ask you to provide some activity that my 
husband refused me. As I said, in confessing about 
seeing those videos when you left I was impressed with 
some rear entry. I wanted Duane to try but he wouldn't 
because it was too distasteful for him. 

"I don't think any thing can be bad about the human 
body. (My family in Hungary was naturalists or as is 
said in this country nudists.) So, my dearest boy, if 
you think you could find it in your heart (or other 
organ) to do me a favor I would appreciate it. Please 
be gentle because even I can have a first at my age. I 
will be tight. Use 1/3 of the tube of K-Y here for 
lubrication by anus and another third for your 
wonderful tool. Try to make it last at least a half-
hour before you release your juice so I won't be fully 
awake. You are getting my entire love dear boy, Mrs. 
Ruza."

This letter opened the final act in a night which was 
better any adolescent boy could dream of. There was a 
tube on the night stand which had the label K.Y. I 
pressed some on my finger then more as I recalled she 
said to use a lot. I quietly slid back into bed and 
lifted the sheet to look for the spot she directed me 
too. There was more light now from a rising sun to help 
me fix on the target. It was readily accessible since 
she was once again on her side facing away from me. 

It was this picture that I have carried with me –this 
hourglass body in this light with shadows. I know that 
most young men think the breast of the woman is the 
most beautiful part of a woman. Although the variety of 
the shapes of the globes, sizes, aurelea, and nipples 
are beautiful and drive us young males nearly insane, I 
personally don't think there is a view anywhere in all 
God's creation that is awe inspiring as the view of the 
back of a woman. There you see her neck, the curve from 
her shoulders, and the ravine of the spine which goes 
along from the neck to her tail bone. There is nothing 
more alluring to me than that line. 

If any male (or female for that matter) could have seen 
the back of Mrs. Ruza's shape on her side they would 
have agreed with me. Another major lesson I have 
learned that night and confirmed later on that year it 
matters not if a woman is 45 or 55 years of age and 
that they may need more time to apply make-up but the 
body under those clothes has skin as soft and smooth as 
a baby's. It makes no difference if the skin is white, 
brown or black. 

The typical young male does not know that older women 
offer a gold mine for the young man: she is 
experienced, her body is more developed, and her 
breasts are larger from giving birth and the sucking by 
babies, husbands and lovers. And of course, if it is 
after menopause begins there are no contraceptive 
barriers to separate you and her from ecstasy. 

But to return to that early morning, I lifted the 
blanket to see the contour of Mrs. Ruza's backside to 
the completely shaved labia visible between her 
buttocks. I leaned over her hips to see on the full 
flaps of the labia. On them there were some glistening 
streaks of dried cunt juice. I steadied myself and drew 
my face closer and sucked in the air to register the 
scent. I remember thinking, "So this is the scent of a 
woman in passion. I will never forget it – it will be 
the Holy Grail for the rest of my life." 

After, I had the view of the body front and back, I lay 
back down. I then separated her buttocks for a look. I 
would have to follow Mrs. Ruza's instructions and aim 
my circumcised beet -red organ to pierce the pinkish 
constricted hole. Looking at that spot it dawned on me 
that is what the lubricant must be for. How else would 
this now thick penis, which was the size of a narrow 
cucumber, fit in there? After taking the cap off K-Y 
jelly I found it was cold.

Mrs. Ruza had asked me not to wake her so I thought it 
would be good to rub the clear jell between my palms to 
warm it up first. (I later learned that women nearly 
always appreciate this small step of consideration.) 
After I greased my prick I then again separated her 
taught but smooth cheeks and liberally smeared her 
little orifice. The application was done slowly and 
with circular motion - now and then softly dipping into 
the vortex a little to relax and grease its muscles. 

One of her legs slid down the other a little as she 
seemed to be stirring. The hole was well slathered with 
glistening lubricant. I then centered my rejuvenated 
penis and began to slowly work it between her buttocks 
into the prepared anus. Moving in at snail's pace with 
a little back and forth motion took my arrow in. 
Fortunately the feeling in my penis had returned and I 
felt fullness in my sack. 

Our bodies stayed locked as I continued to cup her 
globe. I drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time 
when I woke I gave a slight thrust sending a message 
from my brain to thrust my pelvis and penis forward a 
few millimeters. The tight vagina did not loosen its 
grip. After the hour my eggs of my scrotum were 
becoming too painful again. 

I could not hold off any longer and with the many short 
hard thrusts I spent each time like a dying echo in a 
very long and deep canyon. Our body movements were 
accompanied by loud grunts from me but soft sighs from 
my partner. I felt like I was on a cloud of cotton when 
I felt two soft hands cupping my balls. She dozed off 
some more. To this day I have never had such a 
combination of pain and pleasure with any other woman. 

I got out of bed, hurriedly dressed, took the other 
note off the dresser. I walked back on wobbly legs to 
down the block to my car. After getting in, I found I 
had put my T- shirt on backwards and my pants unzipped. 
I read Mrs. Ruza's note. "Damon, if you want to stop 
back in the future, my rear entry (the door of the 
house not my rear) will be left open every Wednesday 
night after my bedtime of 9:30 PM. The key is under the 
mat. 

Also, if you should want to return for regular visits 
on Wednesdays, please visit my gynecologist, Dr. Gina 
Andretti, at her office phone 567-XXXX. My husband 
complied with this monthly check up with her and her 
nurse every six months. He said it was pleasurable so I 
think you will enjoy it too. I want to keep myself and 
you, my lovely boy, healthy and safe." 

Epilogue and Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Patel

It was Damon's habit of keeping a journal which 
resulted in this story. This is an unusual romantic 
characteristic for a young man has provided pleasure to 
us women. What I will do now is to tell you a little 
more about me and some of my perspective. I wrote those 
notes he found on the bed stand in the night after he 
left my house with the loaned video. Of course I hoped 
he would return that night and if he did I did not want 
to get up in the middle of the night to give him 
further instructions. So when I woke up early in the 
night I put the notes on the stand near him.

As said in the story, I was born in Hungary and grew up 
in a family of six. Our culture –at least in the region 
my family was from - was so different than in America. 
On our summer holidays in August we always went to 
nudist camps and were frequently nude at home during 
the year. We loved to show off our bodies- young and 
old, male and female. 

When we came to America we found that cultural and 
religious hang ups with sex were so stilting to the 
character of the American people. In the part of 
Hungary sexual intercourse was considered a normal 
biological act for boys and girls 16 years and older. 
Semen was just another body discharge with whom you 
were to share with others except for immediate family 
members. Of course mothers showed their children how to 
use prophylactics. Anal sex was normal in the region of 
Hungary I was from. It was wonderful to finally 
experience it again this time as a widow. 

But enough about me and Hungary. I will describe 
briefly the other two women with us that night for the 
party. The other two who entered Damon's life that year 
through his scavenger hunt were: Mrs. Johnson a 38 year 
old full bodied black widow who was six months pregnant 
when Damon knocked on her door. She was the youngest of 
us women. She was depressed at the time after losing 
her husband then finding she was pregnant this late in 
her life. Her other children were grown and long gone. 
Damon was a god send to her. 

Damon described her having large torpedo shaped 
breasts. He said her bra size was DD even before she 
was pregnant. She was full bodied in the truest sense 
of that phrase. Her husband had retired from the Air 
Force and then became a mid-level administrator at the 
Union Pacific Company headquarters. Her interests were 
spirituals and opera which Damon said she would often 
play during their fun time. 

She appreciated a lad like Damon and said that although 
black men may have larger equipment than young white 
boys these white boys can keep stiff longer. She said 
she did not like to see her men slack. Damon fit her 
bill for race, size and youth. Her Hispanic 16 year old 
paperboy who had impregnated her was lanky, dark and 
quiet. He would fuck daily alternating with her and his 
15 year old girlfriend. 

Damon learned to appreciate opera through her. She 
tried to tie her love-making peak to scenes such as in 
the famous chorus scene in Turandot. Damon liked the 
triumphal march in Aida and she liked Aida because many 
of the characters in Egypt were black. What Damon 
enjoyed especially was watching her belly grow and the 
experience of fucking her through the advanced stages 
of her pregnancy. Mrs. Johnson recommended letting his 
girlfriend watch him and her fuck so his girlfriend 
would understand what she would look like when she too 
became pregnant. So from the seventh month on they 
would have a three some. 

Mrs. Johnson encouraged his sucking her milk after she 
gave birth. Although the baby was brown all would have 
thought it was the product of her white husband and her 
but she told Damon it was more likely from her Hispanic 
paperboy. 

The other woman, Mrs. Patel was 48 year-old petite 
golden skinned woman from India. She had recently been 
divorced by her husband, a gynecologist. She said that 
he divorced her because she was a product of an 
arranged marriage by his parents. He felt he was now a 
full American and dumped her. The other reason was that 
he had lost his interest in sex after having to look up 
women's vaginas all day. She was the most beautiful and 
seductive of all of us three, I have to admit it. It is 
the brownish red skin and large dark eyes. When she 
wore native sarongs she would attract every man's 
glance. 

One contribution of Mrs. Patel's that Mrs. Johnson and 
I appreciated was her providing Damon with a "Nair 
pouch." She had him lie down then coated his penis and 
testicles with Nair – commercial depilatory. She then 
placed a handkerchief sized sheet of plastic over them 
and shone aimed a desk lamp light at them. This warmed 
the cream and thus allowed it to spread over his penis, 
scrotum and down through his buttocks. 

After about 15 -30 minutes of the treatment Damon's 
genitalia were smooth and hairless. Damon said he liked 
the feel of this but the negative aspect was when he 
was walking he had to often adjust his balls since they 
slid over each other so often. Besides, he said he was 
glad to do it since we women liked the style. Mrs. 
Patel allowed us to each give him this treatment - but 
only once. She reserved if for herself. She kept him so 
he always glistened. I never asked her if this was a 
custom of India so I still don't know the answer to 
this today.

I was grateful that Damon felt I met the standards of 
his "plan A" when he knocked on my door. I also was 
happy that he put me in the class of these other two 
beautiful women. We women admitted that we benefited 
from this clever boy's plotting. All three of us were 
older widows who were leading lonely, dull lives until 
Damon became a catalyst for our new existence. (Mrs. 
Johnson had a small exception with her pleasures with 
her paper boy.) Damon helped us get over the grief from 
the loss of our husbands. We will never forget that he 
allowed us to return to the sensual world with even 
more enthusiasm. 

Damon learned what older women have to offer. Likewise 
we mature women need to be aware of the degree of 
unnecessary pain older boys and young men go though 
with pent up testosterone and semen. We need to create 
opportunities for their release and take advantage of 
the pleasure they can offer.

We unsuccessfully tried to coax Damon to combine our 
stories we told that night with his notes and write a 
book for us. He deferred saying that he just did not 
have the time to take away from his college education. 
He felt he had neglected his schooling due to his 
exhausting schedule with us and also his need for the 
excitement "to be on the hunt" again. 

We women had agreed that for our dear Damon to continue 
to grow as a young man he must move beyond us and 
eventually seek women closer to his age. He had learned 
what each of us had set out to teach about women and 
lovemaking in the year. We were a little disappointed 
that after the year with us he would continue his 
scavenger hunts. We felt we had taught him everything 
he needed to know how to bed any female. However, it 
must have been the exhilaration from "the chase" that 
kept him the game. 

***

Damon did not return to our group after that year but 
did agree to tell each woman about the story of each 
encounter. Consequently, the Downtown Ladies Aide 
Society of Omaha added a new member each year and 
released one boy each year for several years. We had to 
work to find just the right boys and young men. That 
would be an interesting story too but this story must 
end.

A few years later, Damon eventually gave up the hunts 
and married a young Bohemian-American woman he met at 
the Bohemian Café in Omaha. I like to think that is 
what may have attracted him to her was that she 
resembled me in some ways in that our native countries 
bordered each other. On the other hand it may have been 
the enchanting and voluptuous Mrs. Patel. ...Oh well.

I let Damon's story stand as he told it with a small 
smattering of fill and tweaking here and there. The 
points I added were for continuity of the story line 
plus some incidents I believe I recalled them better 
than he did. But the main point to share is that for a 
virgin he was very satisfying that night. A mature 
woman will find she can mold most any 16 to18-year-old 
male into a treasure. They have the sex drive of a lion 
who mate for several days in a row with little break. 
They can be broken in with the love making technique a 
woman appreciates. 

There should not be any secrets for boys or men about 
us mature women. We want you to shower first, talk to 
us, listen to us a little, caress us for a few minutes, 
take your time with the foreplay, avoid rubbing the 
clitoris too soon, and stay and chat some after 
release. Oh, with some of us you may lie just a little. 
Encourage us to share and explore our fantasies. We 
will make your time worth it and earn your praise. You 
can always go bareback with most of us because we are 
beyond childbearing. Our experience, mature bodies and 
willingness to instruct with gentleness will make it 
worth your while. 

So this was Damon's story of his scavenger hunt and how 
The Downtown Ladies' Aide Society of Omaha was borne. 
The mission our club adopted that night was to educate 
one young man each year on how to please women. Damon 
and the other two ladies gave me permission to publish 
their stories (with pseudonyms of course) but not for 
ten years. If there is interest, someday I will also 
incorporate the notes of Damon and the other two women, 
Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Patel, about their initial 
encounters during his scavenger hunts that year. 

Mrs. Ruza 
Omaha 2002

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 50