Desire's Thirty Year Wait

"What are you doing, Tim?"

Five simple words I will never forget that started me on a journey that has led me to places I never thought I'd go. Five simple words, and the silence that followed proved to have a profound impact on my life as a middle-aged man. But before I get to why those words were spoken to me, I need to first explain what it was that got me in the predicament I was in. And it all began because of an older woman.

I was eighteen years old and like many young men of that age, attracted to an older woman. This woman just happened to be the mother of my best friend, Phil. It also happened that Mrs. Wine was my high school history teacher. To make matters worse, her husband was our high school football coach, and yep, you guessed it again, Phil and I were on the team. You see the predicament I was in.

Mrs. Wine had just reached her thirty-ninth birthday and for a woman her age, she was stunning, but in a normal way. While her ass was semi-wide and pushed the seams of whatever color bikini she was wearing for the day, her tits were huge, at least 38dd, and firm. Mrs. Wine's hair was light in color, and she often wore thick mascara around her eyes, as was the fashion then.

But it was what she had below the neck that always commanded my immediate attention. At school, Mrs. Wine always dressed conservatively with high-necked blouses, full length sleeves, and skirts or dresses that reached her knees. And not once did she ever wear high-heeled stilettos when she taught. Sensible flats covered her feet, I guess because she was on her feet all day trying to improve the history skills of high school students.

Still, there was no disguising the set of tits Mrs. Wine displayed whenever Phil and I sat around the pool. She always wore a bikini and heels, a combination that caused my young cock to flutter every time I saw her. Phil once remarked that his mom wore the heels with her bikini because it made his dad horny for her. I guess that's why I fantasized about fucking her so often: there was just something about how Mrs. Wine appeared in heels that drove me crazy with lust. I guess I never noticed that she only dressed that way when I spent time at their house. When she'd bend over to serve me lemonade, I couldn't stop from staring at Mrs. Wine's tits, hoping one or both of them would "accidently" fall from the thin bikini bra cup. And there were a few times when I looked between her legs and detected a few loose sprigs of cunt hair jutting from the legband of her bikini bottom. Those were the nights I flogged my cock until well into the morning, believe me. And because it was summer and Mrs. Wine preferred to wear thin, loose fitting shirts, it never failed that I'd get at least a glimpse of her nipple making their presence known through the thin shirts she liked to wear.

It was summertime when I decided to steal a pair of Mrs. Wine's panties. I'd seen a French porno video where a guy wrapped a pair of panties around his cock and jacked his shaft until he exploded in orgasm. I decided that stealing her panties was the best I could do, so why not? I mean, the act would be simple enough to carry out, wouldn't it? So, one rainy Saturday afternoon when I was spending the weekend at Phil's because my parents were away, and when the rain chased us inside, I decided to execute my plan. As we stood in the cool air-conditioned room drying off, the low temperature caused Mrs. Wine's nipples to expand. Seeing them under her bikini bra was all I needed. It's time, Tim, I said to myself. All I needed was for her to be away from her bedroom, and I knew I'd find the reassure I sought.

Phil and I spent a lot of time watching movies in those days, and Mrs. Wine said she'd join us. "Your father won't be home for hours," Mrs. Wine informed Phil, "So I might as well relax with you guys, if you don't mind." I was thrilled. Not long into the film, however, Phil drifted off to sleep. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Wine lounging on the sofa to my right, her long kegs extended outward, her feet still encased in the high heels. It was when she began to scan through a magazine that I decided to move. Now was the time, I said: do it now. Standing, I asked Mrs. Wine to excuse me as I needed to use the restroom and to retrieve something from my bag in Phil's upstairs bedroom. Silently, I made my way up the carpeted steps to the upper level. Moments later, I entered Mrs. Wine's bedroom, my eyes leading me to a dresser located by the window. Knowing I did not have time on my side, I quickly opened the top drawer and discovered what it was I'd come for. There in the drawer lay what appeared to be hundreds of pairs of panties of various colors and styles. There were high-waisted panties, regular, white panties, and a few other assorted items I couldn't identify. But there in the corner lay exactly what I wanted: a pair of black lace panties with a small pink bow attached to the front. I snatched the panties from the drawer, holding them up to the light entering the room from the window. They were almost transparent in design, and I realized that anytime Mrs. Wine wore this particular pair of panties, Coach Wine would be able to see her cunt hair. Yes, these will do nicely, I said to myself as I stuffed the panties in my right pocket. It was then, with the knowledge that I had a pair of women's panties in my pocket along with the sensuous feel of the silk on my skin that my cock began to stir.

It was then that I heard two conflicting voices in my head. One voice, the cautionary voice, told me to leave that instant, that I'd acquired the prize I sought, and should leave before being caught by Mrs. Wine or her husband. The other voice, however, told me to steal another pair: Surely, the voice said, she has plenty of panties and won't miss another pair. You can guess which voice I listened to. So, rather than close the drawer and make my escape, I instead extended my hand once more into Mrs. Wine's panty drawer, rummaging around for a second pair of panties to steal.

"What are you doing, Tim?" The words flew across the room and stabbed me like a spear. Turning quickly, I saw Mrs. Wine standing in her bedroom doorway, arms crossed across her chest, legs spread shoulder-width, her high heels hanging from her right hand. I'm sure my eyes were as wide as dinner plates at that moment, and I found myself unable to speak. My heart thundered in my chest, reminding me of a huge, bass drum. When I didn't respond, Mrs. Wine stepped across the carpeted floor, the anger in her eyes seeming like a flame.

"I asked you a fucking question, young man," Mrs. Wine said as eyes filled with a rage I'd never seen before. Her arms returned to cross her chest, the high heels flopping upward as she again crossed her arms. Mrs. Wine was standing so close to me I could hear her rage-induced breathing. How could I have been so stupid, I asked myself, to ever pull such a fool stunt? But it was because she was standing so close, he body crowding against mine now, that I detected a hint of her perfume, some tropical-like scent. Despite the intensity of the moment, I couldn't help but be stimulated by her perfume: I guess that's how an eighteen year old boy thinks. "What the fuck were you doing in my panty drawer, Tim?"

There it was again: Mrs. Wine's use of the word "fuck." I'd never heard her speak this way before, and while I realized her choice of words was brought on by her anger, just as with her perfume, her vocabulary at that tension-filled moment also caused my cock to flutter. Couple that with the fact that the woman I'd been fantasizing about for years was standing less than a foot from me wearing a bikini and holding a pair of high heels across her enormous tits did not make matters any better for my physical condition. Man, was I in a predicament. The silence in the room was overwhelming.

Now, I'd like to tell you that at this point, the same level of sex-driven lust that convinced me to perform this stupid prank also forced Mrs. Wine to step forward, press her lips onto mine, and kiss me deeply and erotically. I'd like to describe to you how she removed her bikini bra and pressed her huge tits and nipples onto my chest, how her nipples stabbed me like two meaty needles. And I'd love to tell you how she fell to her knees, removed my still very hard cock from my swim trunks, wrapped her luscious lips around the shaft, and sucked my cock until I came in her mouth, how I flooded her oral cavity with a load of come in a quantity she'd never experienced before. But I can't do that because none of that happened. Yes, my cock was still rock hard from the excitement of my little act, but that's as close as I could come to any of the actions I just described.

Mrs. Wine decided not to wait any longer for me to explain why I was in her bedroom with a pair of her panties in my pocket. She dropped the high heels to the floor, extended her right hand and demanded, "Give me the damn panties, you little bastard. Give them to me now." There was nothing else I could do but to relinquish the prized panties, dropping them into her opened palm. Mrs. Wine stared at the panties for one long second, her eyes suddenly seeming unfocused as some unspoken thought crossed through her brain. It was almost as if her anger left her and she understood why I'd tried to steal her panties. But that moment lasted but a second and it was when Mrs. Wine dropped her chin and suddenly spied the large and uncontrollable bulge in my shorts that her anger again exploded. Curling her right hand into a ball with portions of the black lace panties extending outside her fist, Mrs. Wine pointed at my hardon and seemed to suddenly smile at my dilemma. "Well, doesn't that just make things worse," she said, her eyes once again turning red with rage. "I can't believe you're standing in my bedroom, my private space, with a hard dick, you little cocksucker."

For a long second, Mrs. Wine also stared alternately at my hard cock and at the panties. Finally, her voice suddenly softer, and less filled with anger, she said, "I'm not going to ask you why you did this, Tim," she said, just as the sound of a car driving on gravel entered the room through the half-opened window. "Just leave now, and this will stay between you and I." The sound of a car door closing informed both Mrs. Wine and that time was critical now, that Coach would be in the bedroom in a matter of seconds. "Leave, Tim," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If he finds you up here, he will kill you." I all but ran from the room and across the hall to Phil's bedroom sitting on the bed with shaking hands and a rapidly beating heart. I waited a full hour before leaving the room, the sounds of Mrs. Wine and her husband talking just across the hall reaching my ears. I could only trust Mrs., Wine on her word that she would not tell her husband what I'd done. I remained at Phil's house that evening, frightened out of my wits that Coach Wine would eventually discover what I'd done and pound me into the dirt.

That night, when Phil and I were in his room, I naturally found it impossible to sleep. I tossed and turned while Phil snored gently on his bed across the darkened room from me. I wondered how Mrs. Wine could sleep as well, knowing she'd caught her son's best friend rifling through her panty drawer. I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, just knowing I'd disappointed Mrs. Wine. Somewhere around three o'clock, however, the bedroom door opened and Mrs. Wine slipped noiselessly into the room. She crossed the room and sat silently on the corner of the small bed where I lay with my eyes closed. I believed that if she thought I was asleep, she might leave and let me stay at least until the morning. After several silent seconds, Mrs. Wine bent forward at the waist and placed her lips almost directly against my right ear. "I know you're awake, Tim," she said, her breath warm against my skin. "Look at me."

Opening my eyes, I could barely make out the features of her face, but there was no mistaking the scent of the perfume she'd been wearing earlier when she caught me stealing her panties. Our eyes met and I knew to remain silent, knew that any word I said could cause her to once again explode in anger. She shifted her position on the bed as the moonlight from the open window painted her face and features. I was sure the loud, thunderous beating of my heart could be heard miles away. Still, I remained motionless on the small bed, unsure what it was I was supposed to do.

It was then that I felt the soft pressure of Mrs. Wine's hand on my shoulder. By now, her face was mere millimeters from mine, the moonlight blocked now by Mrs. Wine's head. Again, several seconds of silence before Mrs. Wine's voice came to me, her voice barely louder than a child's whisper. "I'm flattered by what you did, Tim," she said, ‘"but I'm a married woman, and I just can't have you going through my personal belongings." For another long second, Mrs. Wine's face was very close to mine. "I hope you understand." Suddenly, all remaining light in the room disappeared as Mrs. Wine extended her neck forward and placed her lips warmly upon mine. There was nothing false about the kiss, and although I wanted to wrap my arms around her and press her body close to mine, I knew now was not the time. The kiss was brief and sensuous but I knew what Mrs. Wine was doing. I knew she was thanking me in her own way, a way she believed I would understand. I knew that in her mind, the kiss was not erotic: it was a simple thank you from a woman who suddenly felt herself attractive again. When she finished the kiss, Mrs. Wine left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

The next morning, breakfast was a silent affair between Mrs. Wine and I. It's not that she refused to look at me or to be as kind to me as she usually was, but there were unspoken messages between Mrs. Wine and myself. The aroma of baked rolls and other pastries filled the kitchen as Mrs. Wine busied herself with cooking, not once turning to look at me. She'd dressed that morning in a simple robe, nothing sexy, just a cloth robe that clung to her body. But even still, it was how the robe clung to her that again excited my uncontrollable cock. The blue material hugged her chest and although she may not have intended for the robe to do so, her nipples were clearly on display, particularly each time she moved from side to side and her tits tried to keep up with the side-to-side movement. The length of the robe wasn't excessively short although a good portion of her tanned legs were on display. Each time Mrs. Wine turned her back to me - which seemed often, in fact - I had an unobstructed view of her wide hips. And while the robe wasn't as tight as her bikini bottoms, the two ass cheeks still pressed tightly against the material, giving me no doubt that underneath the fabric, my history teacher might have had a wide ass, but a desirable one, nonetheless. Still, the silence between Mrs. Wine and I was thick, but I chose not to press the issue. Not when I knew Coach was less than ten feet away.

Later that day, as I was preparing to leave, Mrs. Wine handed me a white cardboard box which she said was filled with baked goods. Alone in the kitchen again, Mrs. Wine made sure to give me a tender embrace. There was no mistaking the sensation of her tits pressed into my chest and I knew that unless I broke the embrace, my cock would flare up again. And I didn't want to embarrass myself or Mrs. Wine. And because we were alone, she extended her right hand and laid the palm warmly against my left cheek. "I hope you understand, Tim," she said, the beginnings of tears in her eyes. I could do more than nod, my way of thanking her for not telling Coach what I'd done. When I stated that my parents would enjoy the baked goods, Mrs. Wine placed her hand atop the box and said, "You might want to open this in private, before you let them dig into the box, Tim." Turning on her heels, she left the kitchen, and me.

Fifteen minutes later, I was home, alone in my bedroom with the door closed, the unopened box sitting on my lap. Carefully, and with shaking hands, I opened the box to reveal several cookies and cupcakes lying on a layer of wax paper. Still not sure what Mrs. Wine's cryptic message meant, I removed each of the cookies and cupcakes, laying them on a spread-out newspaper on my bed. Even before I reached the last cookie, I could tell there was something in the box I hadn't expected. At the bottom, and under two layers of wax paper was a pair of neatly folded, black lace panties, the same panties I'd removed from Mrs. Wine's drawer. A slip of pink-colored paper lay atop the sensuous garment.

With shaking hands, I unfolded the note, and began to read the neat handwriting. "My dear Tim. I've thought a lot about what happened between us yesterday. Once again, I am very flattered. I've also been thinking about what I should do. Yes, I could tell my husband, but that would result in a very bad time for you. And if I told Phil, I know he would lose the best friend he's ever had. And to be honest, Tim, I want you to know that, as always, you are welcome at our home anytime. But as I told you, it is essential that I have my privacy. I know sexual urges in young men such as yourself are very strong sometimes and make you act in ways you may not understand. I'm sure my own son has the same strong desires for girls as well. And because I understand young men have needs, I decided to give you this gift for two reasons. First, I hope giving them to you will keep you out of my personal space. Please remember in the future to respect my privacy. But I also want you to have them because I truly am flattered that you would want something of mine to remember me by. I feel that if you are willing to face such great risks, then I can show my appreciation by giving you the very thing you risked so much for. Please understand that I cannot do this again, nor do I wish to discuss the matter with you. Enjoy." I folded the note and slipped it under my pillow. Now it was time to examine the unexpected gift I'd just been handed.

Now that there was no risk in examining the panties, I held the thin, silky garment before my face. The black lace waistband was luxurious against my fingertips. The small pink bow stood in stark contrast to the deep black material. But it was the sensuousness of the silk as I inserted my hand inside the panties that caused my cock to grow. Mrs. Wine's pussy was in these panties, I reminded myself. Her cunt pressed against the material. Knowing there was no way I could stop myself, I quickly returned each of the pastries to the box, lay on my bed, and with Mrs. Wine's panties in my hand, stroked my cock until I exploded in a crashing, pounding orgasm. Wave after wave of come flooded over my closed fist as I gripped the shaft of my cock, the back panties becoming covered with the white crème erupting from my cock. Sometime after my heart returned to normal, I rinsed the panties in the bathroom sink, and stashed them and the note in the far back corner of my closet.

Well, believe it or not, but that was all that was thirty years ago. I'm forty-eight now and at the height of my profession. I'm a well-known sports writer who covers professional football, and I've had the fortune to cover the amazing career of my best friend Phil. Were he alive, Coach would be proud of his All-Pro son, especially now that Phil is on the eve of being inducted into the Hall of Fame. As for me, I haven't been back to my hometown in twenty years or more, and I missed Coach's funeral because I was out of the country. But I'm here now, covering Phil's induction into the Hall, happy for the man whom I still consider to be my best friend.

I might have lost a wife and a house to divorce, but one thing I've been able to hold on to is a special gift I was given long ago. You guess it: Believe it or not, but I still own that pair of black panties Mrs. Wine gave me long, long ago. Oh, sure: they are a bit worn from the many times I've used them to jack my cock, but they're still sensuous, nonetheless. Regardless of where I traveled, the panties have gone with me, wrapped around my cock when I found myself alone in some far off hotel room.

Phil and I'd made dinner reservations for the night before his induction into the Hall of Fame. We were scheduled to meet at a restaurant attached to a small hotel outside of town where Tim wanted to stay to avoid the crowds his popularity always generated. When he asked if he could bring a guest, I agreed, believing his wife had traveled with him to the ceremony. I arrived a half hour before my old friend, and sat at the table having several whiskies before his arrival.

Despite Phil's desire to have a quiet dinner with an old friend at some out of the way place, there was no way he could escape his notoriety. I heard the noise generated by his arrival before I even saw him. Seconds later, still fighting a crowd of autograph seekers, Phil and his guest entered the small room trailed by what seemed to be an army of well-wishers. I really wasn't surprised by the size of the crowd of autograph seekers trailing beside and behind Phil. And I wasn't surprised to see him linked arm-in-arm with a woman dressed in a flowing black dress with a hem that barely reached the mid-point of her shapely and tanned legs. Black leather, strappy high heels covered her feet, causing her body to sway from side to side in a sexy manner. A large, almost floppy hat covered her head as far as her chin, preventing me from seeing her face.

But what I could see amazed me. Whoever this woman was approaching me with my still best friend displayed a set of tits that I simply could not take my eyes from. A long, fleshy line of cleavage announced itself on her chest, the two globes seemingly firm and well-tanned. The slit exposing the woman's cleavage extended well past the bottom of her tits, almost as far as her navel. The last thought that went through my mind as the couple finally approached the table was, that's my buddy: That's the type of woman Phil has always been lucky enough to find himself with.

So you'll understand my surprise when the couple finally arrived at my table and the woman lifted her head and I discovered that Phil's "date" was actually his mother. I'd kept in casual and intermittent touch with Mrs. Wine over the years but hadn't seen her for many years. Dear god, I said to myself, retirement has been good to Mrs. Wine. She accepted my kiss on her cheek, then laughed as she extended her right hand to wipe away the red-spotted smudge of lipstick on my right cheek. "We couldn't have some girl thinking you're playing around on her, could we, Tim?" Mrs. Wine said. Phil, his mother, and I each sat and for the next hour, chatted about old times. I tried, but I failed miserably at trying not to stare at Mrs. Wine as we completed the meal and ordered after-dinner drinks. From time to time, our eyes met as if we were passing a silent but long-held secret between us. Well, I guess we were, but I was unsure how much Mrs. Wine recalled from that long ago afternoon.

It was those times when I found myself unable to tear my eyes away from Mrs. Wine that my fantasies raged. There was no doubt in my mind that I still desired her - I did still have the panties she'd given me - but I wondered if she recalled how I'd come about getting them. Because I'm so tall and my legs are so long, it was inevitable that from time to time Mrs. Wine's high heels made contact with my calves as she swung her feet back and forth. Each time she did, I felt sexual shivers climb my leg. And, of course, my cock couldn't help but flutter from time to time as well.

It was while we were waiting for desert to arrive that Mrs. Wine excused herself to go to the ladies room. I tried not to stare at her shapely ass as she made her way across the room, but I failed miserably. She hadn't been gone more than ten seconds before Phil leaned in close and asked me to do him a favor. "Listen, Tim," he said, a wicked, sly grin on his face. "There's a sort of members-only pre-induction get together I've been invited to. I only heard about it this afternoon and evidently, it's something those players who are already members of the hall of fame do for the incoming class." Phil turned his head in the direction of the ladies room and said, "I've heard they provide incoming members with "special favors," if you know what I mean," Phil said, winking his left eye at me. "So, I need someone to take care of mom for the rest of the evening." I ensured my friend I'd be happy to make sure his mother returned safely to her room, and that he had nothing to worry about. "You're a real friend, Tim," he said. Moments later, even before desert arrived or Mrs. Wine returned from the ladies room, Phil excused himself and left the restaurant.

When Mrs. Wine returned, I explained what was happening, and to my surprise, she understood the situation. Sitting again, she removed the hat and for the first time, I was granted an unobstructed view of her face. I'd noticed that she'd lost the small paunch on her belly that had been there when I was a kid, and her makeup was more with the times now. Her arms and legs seemed toned, and her salt-and-pepper hair hung now just past her shoulders. The woman seemed classy, dignified, and sure of herself. Under the table, my cock was a flurry of activity as I reminded myself that in just a few short hours, I'd once again have Mrs. Wine's black panties wrapped around the shaft of my cock while I fantasized that I was fucking her.

When desert was completed, I convinced Mrs. Wine to have another drink with me and to my great surprise, she agreed. Now near ten o'clock, I signaled the waiter and while I ordered two bottles of wine: he resisted, telling me the restaurant did not allow patrons to leave with unopened bottles of wine. A fifty dollar bill changed his mind. Across the table, I heard Mrs. Wine giggle, a sign I had amused her. When the waiter departed and our eyes met again, Mrs. Wine not only extended the length of time she stared at me, but allowed a small smile to creep into the corners of her mouth, her lips heavily coated with red lipstick. "I see you're still a resourceful young man, Tim," she said. "I think moving is an excellent idea, but before we do, there is one more thing I need to do," as she pulled her purse toward her.

Slowly, Mrs. Wine's right hand emerged from her purse with a small, golden plated, tube-shaped object in one hand and a circular-shaped item in the other. Directing her attention to the tube of lipstick and the compact mirror, Mrs. Wine reapplied her lipstick while I sat and watched.

Now under any other circumstances, watching a woman apply lipstick would not have been that big of a deal. But this wasn't just any other woman, either. This was Mrs. Wine, the woman I'd lusted after since I was eighteen years old. As she pressed the spear-like tip of the lipstick to her lips and spread the red-colored paste across her mouth, my cock began to do backflips, becoming extremely hard and all but screaming to be released from my trousers. When Mrs. Wine seemed satisfied with her efforts, she returned the items to her purse and then, unexpectedly, slid her hand across the table to lay it upon mine. "You know, you've turned into quite the man, Tim," she said, her eyes all but burning into me. Before I could respond, the waiter returned with the wine, and with her arm in mine, Mrs. Wine and I left the restaurant in search of some place where we could enjoy the wine. Just as we passed through the restaurant door to exit to the outside, Mrs. Wine said, "I hope we can find some place quiet." I couldn't have agreed more.

Outside now in the warm summer night, Mrs. Wine and I walked arm in arm, hoping to find a quiet place to chat and to drink the wine. I had an idea, and as her high heels clicked on the tiled walkway, I guided her toward the hotel pool. I knew there'd be tables with umbrellas there which we could sit under and chat about old times. We arrived at the gate of the pool area, only to be confronted with what Mrs. Wine saw as an unwanted obstacle. "Closed after 9:00 p.m." the sign said. "No admittance when the gate is locked."

Now, normally I am one to follow rules, but there are times when I say "screw the rules," and do what I feel is right. Naturally, this was one of those times. Beside me, I heard Mrs. Wine say, "Damn it," Mrs. Wine said. "This seems like the perfect spot for us to spend time," she said. I felt her tighten the grip she had on my arm in disappointment as we stared downward at the sign. Mrs. Wine turned her head to me and asked, "Now what, Tim?"

I've always prided myself on my spontaneity. Thinking quickly, I turned to Mrs. Wine and asked, "Do you trust me?" Perhaps knowing what I had planned, she grinned at me, and nodded her head to show that she did in fact trust me. Trusting the two bottles of wine into her hands, I stepped beside her, and in one swift motion, swept Mrs. Wine up and into my arms. "Hold on, and don't make any noise," I whispered as I used my height and long legs to step over the waist-high fence. Mrs. Wine giggled as I took several steps past the fence and deeper into the darkened pool area. I turned my head to glance at Mrs. Wine, realizing only mere inches separated our faces. Diverting my attention straight ahead again, I noticed the hem of her loose-fitting dress had slid several inches up her thighs, the two bronze and well-tanned legs located now just below my chin. Her high heels dangled at the ends of her legs, the sexy stiletto stems pointing at the horizon.

Several steps later, I stopped my forward progress and began to slowly lower Mrs. Wine to the ground. Facing me now, she stood very close to me before extending her neck forward and kissing my right cheek. "Such a knight in shining armor." With my heart beating like a drum now, I took a chance, grasped Mrs. Wine by the hand, and led her to the rear of the pool area where the opened umbrellas cast dark shadows over the area. Choosing the one table located the farthest back, I sat the two bottles of wine on the table along with the glasses, and assisted Mrs. Wine in taking her seat in one of the four cushioned and armless chairs ringing the table. I knew that unless someone entered the pool area, it was unlikely we'd be detected and could chat in peace. As Mrs. Wine lowered her body to the cushion, I saw there was just enough light for an unobstructed view down the front of her dress, providing me with a perfect view of her long, sensuous cleavage. Dear god but how the memories of Mrs. Wine wearing a bikini flooded over me, not really giving me comfort but certainly causing my cock to grow harder. Perhaps sensing that I was staring, Mrs. Wine looked up and thanked me for assisting her to a sitting position, her dress rising a few inches to reveal well-toned thighs as she adjusted her body in the chair.

"This is nice, Tim," Mrs. Wilson said after we toasted a drink to old times. It was easy to see that she was visibly relaxing now, reclining farther back into her chair. Whether it was the wine causing Mrs. Wine to be at ease or just the familiarity of being with someone she's known a lifetime was immaterial to me. No, what mattered most was that my best friend's mother was enjoying herself. I found myself glad that Phil had decided to bring his mother along. Over the next thirty minutes, this special elderly lady and I discussed many topics ranging from Phil's storied career as a professional football player to Mrs. Wine's retirement from teaching. I was in heaven being here alone with Mrs. Wine, glad Phil had decided to attend his little party. I continued to refill her wine glass whenever she needed it.

Just as we emptied the first bottle of wine, two teenagers entered the pool area. "Fuck," I heard Mrs. Wine say, directing her attention that way. "I was hoping I'd have the chance to be alone with you." Pointing her finger in the direction of the two kids, she asked, "Is there anything you can do about them?" Yes, there was, I decided, and made my way to where the kids were just attempting to jump into the pool. When I convinced them I was hotel security - okay, so I lied - they seemed frightened enough to leave the pool without causing a scene. Happy now, I made my way back to the secluded spot under the dark umbrella. Along the way, I marveled at how Mrs. Wine had uttered the word "fuck" so easily and so quickly. There was no way I could suppress the memory of the first time I heard Mrs. Wine say the word "fuck:" it was as she held her hand, palm up, demanding that I return her panties. Back under the umbrella now, I realized how it was becoming harder to see Mrs. Wine's face because of the increasing darkness.

Imagine my surprise when I arrived under the umbrella and discovered that not only had Mrs. Wine opened the second bottle of wine and was in the process of refilling our glasses, but she was now standing, leaning backward against the circular-shaped table. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, her high heels supporting her weight. As I approached the table, Mrs. Wine stared at me over her wineglass, remaining silent as I accepted the glass of wine she offered me. After what seemed an eternity, she said, "You know, Tim, there's one thing you and I haven't toasted to this evening." Even in the darkness, her ice-blue eyes shone at me, freezing me in place as they had many years ago. I knew, I just knew what the next words from her mouth would be. Taking a step toward me now, her body so close that her humongous tits pressed against my chest, Mrs. Wine said, "Unless you have something you'd like to propose a toast to, baby."

It didn't escape me that Mrs. Wine had just referred to me again as "baby." And neither had it escaped me that she was now standing closer to me than she had in the past thirty years. I wasn't sure if the sexual heat I felt at that moment was either from her body, my body, or both. But there was no mistaking the fact that I was standing in the dark with a glass of wine in my hand, and the one woman I'd lusted after for so many years standing close enough for me to pull her to me, press my lips against her mouth, and kiss her deeply.

It was then, at that instant, that I realized thirty years is a long, long time to dream about something you wish would happen. Fantasizing about owning an unaffordable and expensive sports car is one thing because chances are you probably won't ever see that dream come true. But fantasizing about a woman is another and I suppose it was then that I decided enough time had gone by since Mrs. Wine demanded that I return her stolen panties. "Yes, Mrs. Wine, there is something special I'd like to toast to." Her glass slowly appeared before my eyes, the liquid inside swishing from side to side. Lightly tapping my glass to hers, I said, "Here's a toast to dreams coming true, Mrs. Wine." Her eyes were glued to mine now, as wide as mine, as intense as mine.

Just before I placed the wineglass to my lips, Mrs. Wine stopped me with her words. "That's a wonderful toast, Tim, but let me add one small thing." With the silence and the darkness combining to conceal us from view from anyone who might pass by outside the pool area, with the oversized umbrella containing us in the darkness it produced, Mrs. Wine's voice slipped from her lips, the volume of her words no louder than a whisper. "Let me just add, this: Here's to dreams coming true on this night."

Here was my opening, and I certainly did not need a glass of wine to drive my sexually oriented dreams forward. I didn't care that just before the wineglasses touched our lips that Mrs. Wine dipped her chin and stared through what little light there was at my hard cock. I didn't care any longer that she knew my shaft was hard because of her. I only wanted one thing, and I was certain now that Mrs. Wine wanted what I did: that our lips come together and that we finally, finally, kissed as a man and woman should. I slipped the wineglass from Mrs. Wine's well-manicured hand, placed both glasses on the table upon which she still leaned backward on, and laid both of my hands upon her shoulders. Under my arms, I felt Mrs. Wine slip her arms around my waist.

No one should wait thirty years to kiss someone. Not when the desire is so strong that it stays with you over the course of several decades. I extended my neck forward, my eyes closed, intent now on kissing Mrs. Wine. It did not matter that Mrs. Wine was my best friend's mother, and it certainly did not matter that she was old enough to be my grandmother. I would have kissed her even if she'd been the most hideous woman on earth. I was surprised, however, when Mrs. Wine's lips met mine half the distance between our mouths. When I felt her thickly-pasted lips press against mine, I realized something: Mrs. Wine had wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss her. Our lips came together, tightly, the lipstick causing my lips to slide from side to side, ever so slightly. I didn't care that her lips were so heavily covered with lipstick: It was the very recent memory of her applying the paste that had caused my cock to stiffen anyway. And I didn't care when her tongue darted between my lips and I tasted the lipstick on my tongue. In reaction, I slipped my tongue into her mouth, and for several long, erotic seconds, Mrs. Wine, this sixty-nine year old former neighbor of mine and I allowed our tongues to seek, to probe, to explore our mouths. I heard a series of low-toned moans but I wasn't sure if they were coming from Mrs. Wine's mouth or mine. Maybe they were coming from both of us. Not caring now, and happy this moment had arrived, I allowed my hands to drift downward, across Mrs. Wine's bare back - how had I missed that part of her dress before? I asked myself - until they came to rest on her ass. The black material of the dress clung tightly to each ass cheek, and when I pressed my palms against each cheek and pulled Mrs. Wine even tighter into my embrace, she surprised me by arching her back slightly, the forward motion pressing her lower torso against my cock. Mrs. Wine broke the long, extended kiss, threw her head back, and looking upward, said, "Too long, Tim, oh, too long."

In one swift motion, Mrs. Wine removed her hands from around my waist, the motion causing me to break my own hold on her shapely ass. "I can't wait any longer, Tim," she said as she quickly removed my jacket, unloosened my belt and in one swift motion, pulled my trousers down and away from my body. I stepped out of my shoes, glad now I'd decided not to wear socks. With a flurry of hand motions, Mrs. Wine removed my shirt, leaving me standing before her wearing in nothing more than a pair of white cotton underwear. "Sit down, baby," Mrs. Wine said, her voice soft and erotic.

Here I was, finally, after thirty years, at that point where the one woman I'd wanted to fuck for an entire lifetime was now standing over me, looking down at me, her chest heaving as heavily as mine. Without speaking, Mrs. Wine stepped forward, spread her legs more than shoulder width apart, and straddled my lap, her silky black dress riding upward to reveal great, long portions of her upper thighs. One again, she wrapped her arms around my neck, and pressed her mouth to mine. Just below my waist, my rock-hard cock begged to be set free, screamed to be released from the confines of my shorts. Never in my life had my cock been so hard, so much like a rock, so resembling an eight-inch steel rod made of flesh.

Mrs. Wine felt the bulge as well, my cock now pushing my underwear upward, resembling a small mound and covered by the flowing hem of her dress. She dipped her chin again to see the miniature hill pressing against her dress, and with both hands, pulled her dress hem upward to reveal even more of her naked thighs. "Well, look what we have here," she whispered, her eyes still cast downward. My entire body was shaking now, filled with the sexual passion that seemed to fill every fiber of my body. "Oh, my, oh my," Mrs. Wine said as she slipped the fingertips of her right hand under the waistband of my shorts and slid her hand from side to side, the painted fingernails gliding smoothly across my quavering skin. At the same time, Mrs. Wine pressed her left palm directly upon the mountainous bulge in my shorts, flattening the small hill until my cock lay flat against my skin. As her fingertips teased the cockhead inside my shorts, Mrs. Wine began to slide her flattened palm against the still concealed shaft, massaging my cock through my underwear. Without looking at me, Mrs. Wine stroked my dick and said to me, "It seems we have a situation here, Tim," leaning forward now to press her weight against my swollen cock. When I let out a moan, Mrs. Wine bent forward again, her massive but still concealed tits now adding weight to that of her hand. Finally looking up at me, Mrs. Wine smiled, extended her neck upward and kissed me again, her tongue disappearing deep into my mouth, her lips once more covering mine with the thick red paste of her lipstick. As we kissed, I felt Mrs. Wine tugging on my shorts, felt her sliding the garment down my long legs and off my body as a warm breeze settled over me. I didn't care that I was fully naked under the umbrella: all that mattered was that I was here with Mrs. Wine, here with the one woman I'd fantasized most about.

It was when Mrs. Wine broke the kiss and brought her body to an upright sitting position that I knew matters had become even more interesting. "Well, look at this," she said as she wrapped her hand tightly around the exposed shaft. "I seem to have caused some type of reaction in you, baby," she said. As if she could read my mind, Mrs. Wine released my cock, sat back and with both hands now behind her back, unclasped the dress still covering her body. As the black fabric fell downward and away, it was as if time slowed to milliseconds, as if all time had purposely slowed to allow me to take in every last detail of this amazing moment. Slowly, ever so slowly, the black dress fell downward, first revealing Mrs. Wine's slender neck. Next came the expanse of skin located between her neck and the upper regions of her tits. Finally, her long, meaty cleavage came into view, the uppermost two inches of that wonderful line separating her tits slowly emerging before my eyes, despite the dark conditions under the pool umbrella. Next came the midpoint of her cleavage as the first round edges of each mountainous titty released itself of the confining dress. And then, finally, there they were, the nipples, erect, stimulated, pointing at me as if they were beacons needing to be grasped, needing to be touched. For what seemed another eternity, I simply stared at Mrs. Wine's tits, amazed that a woman her age could still possess such an amazing set of titties. I know there was a chance Mrs. Wine's tits were not real, that they had been augmented at some point in her life. But so what? I asked myself as I lifted both hands and cupped each magnificent melon in my heated palms.

"Oh, dear god, oh, dear god," Mrs. Wine cooed as I began to knead the titty flesh in my hands. When I arched my back to bring either or both of the extended nipples to my hungry, wet mouth, Mrs. Wine met me halfway, cupping each tit in her hands, her long, painted fingers covering mine as she assisted me in supporting the weight of each melon in my hands. "Yes, baby, yes," she cooed, her words sounding more like a hiss than a sign of anticipated sexual contentment. And when her nipples finally reached my mouth, when both meaty, thimble-like buttons slid between my lips, Mrs. Wine grasped the back of my head and pushed her upper body forward, making sure that not only did I have both nipples in my mouth, but that an ample supply of tanned tit made its presence known inside my mouth as well. "Suck them, Tim," Mrs. Wine moaned now, "Suck them, baby." Hungry for Mrs. Wine as I'd never been with any other woman before, I drew the nipples and surrounding titty into my mouth and only when I heard Mrs. Wine asking me to release the pressure of my sucking did I release the nipples and allow her to sit back.

Somewhere in the oral attack I'd placed on her tits, Mrs. Wine had managed to regrasp my cock, and as I looked down at my waist, I saw Mrs. Wine slowly stroking the rock-hard shaft. "Tell me what you want, Tim," she said as her tongue slid from inside her mouth and began to tease the purple-colored head. "Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it." Nodding my head was all Mrs. Wine needed to proceed. She stood, the black dress still wrapped around her waist but only barely so. Her huge tits glowed in the small amount of moonlight entering the darkened area, her nipples two, large chocolate-colored spots just inches from my face. "This has to go," she said as she placed her hands inside the dress, pushed it downward and forced the garment to her feet. Stepping out of the dress, I saw she wore nothing than a pair of dark panties, covering her cunt, preventing me from seeing her wide, beautiful ass. For one short moment, Mrs. Wine stood almost naked before me, wearing only the panties and high heels. "Do I pass inspection, baby?" she asked. But before I could respond, Mrs. Wine bent forward at the waist, placed both of her hands along my naked thighs, and without saying another word, dipped her head down, down, down until her luscious lips made contact with the head of my cock. At least two inches of the shaft disappeared between her ruby red lips, the lipstick acting now like a lubricant as Mrs. Wine drew more of my cock into her mouth.

Mrs. Wine soon established a pace that I knew would bring me to orgasm sooner than I'd anticipated. Up and down, up and down, Mrs. Wine's head became a blur of activity, her hair mussed now and semi-covering her face. When I extended my right hand and removed the hair from my view, the sight of my best friend's mother swallowing my cock was all I could handle. Thirty years of sexual desire for this woman, thirty years of using a pair of her old panties to bring myself to orgasm, and thirty years of suppressed dreams came to the surface at that instant. "OH, FUCK," I screamed as my orgasm began, not caring now that I'd wanted to come in Mrs. Wine's cunt rather than her mouth. "BABY, I'M COMING!" I moaned, momentarily forgetting that my lover and I were in the darkened shadows of a hotel pool. "SUCK MY COCK, MRS. WINE, DEAR GOD, SUCK MY COCK!" As if this was my first orgasm, torrents of hot, sexually-produced crème flooded from my cock, spewing forth to coat every inner crevice of Mrs. Wine's mouth. Unwilling to divert my eyes, I watched as Mrs. Wine released the handhold on my cock, opened her mouth as wide as possible, and rammed her head downward so forcefully that I felt the impact of her lips as it made flesh-on-flesh contact with the base of my cock. Mrs. Wine repeated this move over and over, each time causing another fountain of come to eject from my exploding dick, the come coating her teeth, her lips, her throat. Holding her head in my hands now as the orgasm began to subside, I forced Mrs. Wine to hold my cock between her lips as the last traces of sexual seizures began to fade away. Finally, the orgasm over, Mrs. Wine released my cock, sat upright, and to my amazement, placed her right index finger at the corner of her mouth, removed a small dollop of come, and then massaged the goo into her right nipple.

If I thought, however, that Mrs. Wine was finished amazing me, I was soon proven wrong. "Watch this, baby," Mrs. Wine said as she placed both hands under the right tit, the same tit with the come-coated nipple, and lifted the huge melon upward until the nipple slid between her own lips. At first, the sucking sounds coming from her mouth were soft and low in volume. But within seconds, as the sound of Mrs. Wine's moans became more audible, so too did the sound of a nipple being drawn between two very wet lips. Mrs. Wine's hand pushed the titty as far as possible into her mouth, the fingers spread, the palm opened. On and on and on, Mrs. Wine sucked her own tit, her eyes now glued to me, but the fires of sexual desire burning through every fiber of her body.

I'd come too far, however, to simply sit on a cushioned chair and watch Mrs. Wine suck her tits. Pushing her gently backward, I rose to a standing position, my naked cock limp but once already beginning to stir in sexual anticipation. For one brief moment, I kissed Mrs. Wine as I guided her backward until her naked ass was sitting on the poolside table. "Baby?" I heard her ask as her almost naked ass cheeks made contact with the cool table top. But when I slid the chair closer to where she sat on the table, Mrs. Wine had enough sexual experience to know what came next. As if I were handling a bomb, I slowly slid the pair of black panties down Mrs. Wine's smooth legs, inch by wonderful inch. To increase the stimulation of the act, I preceded the panties with my lips and tongue, kissing her skin, sliding my tongue along her heated flesh. "Oh, god, Tim, the things you've learned," Mrs. Wine cooed as I finally reached her feet, I lifted each foot to release the panties from her body, holding them in my hand.

I stood, the panties in my hand, the black silk stimulating my skin. I held them upward, only briefly, examining the black material there in the dark. It was when my fingers passed over a small ribbon attached to the front of the panties that I realized Mrs. Wine had found the same type of panties she'd given me thirty years before. Laying the panties on the table beside her now naked ass, I knelt at her feet while my hands inched upward over her tanned thighs.

In every fantasy I've ever had involving Mrs. Wine - and there are many, believe me - I've always dreamed of placing my tongue on and in her cunt. And now, here I was, in the semi-dark, her pussy right in my face, my heart racing as my mouth neared the prize I'd desired for so many years. Mrs. Wine moaned loudly when the fingers of my right hand wove through her dense forest of pussy hair and separated the cunt lips. But she moaned even louder when I pressed my tongue flat against her pussy and slid the oral attachment the entire length of her cunt as if I were licking an ice cream cone. "Motherfucker," she moaned as she pulled my head deeper between her bare legs. "Motherfucker." Lick after lick after lick, I attacked Mrs. Wine's pussy, my face and lips becoming coated with her heavy flow of cunt juices. It was when I inserted two fingers between her pussy lips that Mrs. Wine truly reacted. As soon as the fingers entered her pussy and I began to wiggle them, Mrs. Wine lifted first her right leg and draped it over my bare shoulder, then followed with the leg foot, the panties still dangling from her foot. She now trusted the table to support her weight as she lay on her back with her legs draped over each of my shoulders. Mrs. Wine dug the pointed stems of her high heels into my bare back, arched her back, and began a series of up and down motions that made me ask who was fucking who. "YES, YES, GODDAMN IT, YES," she moaned, her pussy dropping and lifting action causing the table to rock on its legs. "MAKE ME COME, TIM!" she cried again. "PLEASE MAKE ME COME."

While I was thoroughly enjoying eating Mrs. Wine's pussy, by now my cock had returned to a state of maximum hardness. I wanted to make her come, yes, but I wanted that event to happen while every inch of my cock was buried between her cunt lips. Standing now, my cock in my hand and with Mrs. Wine shooting me a silent question, I released my cock and held each of her hands in mine, guiding her to me as I took several steps backward. It was time, finally, to fuck Mrs. Wine, and I was determined that nothing would stand in the way of me burying my cock as deeply as possible inside her pussy. Mrs. Wine knew what was coming, and that is why I assumed she was smiling. The black dress still clung loosely to her waist, but I quickly slipped it from her body, leaving her as naked now as I was. For one long, wonderful moment, I stared at Mrs. Wine, finally seeing her entire body now, finally beholding the sight of her standing before me completely nude, finally at the last leg of making my strongest sexual dreams coming true. Mrs. Wine watched me stare at her, and because I'd suddenly stopped her forward motion to take in the sight of her body, she questioned what it was I was doing. "Tim, what is it?" I heard her ask, unable to tale my eyes from her tits, her pussy, her legs, her body. "Tim? Baby, what's the matter?"

Looking up, I smiled at Mrs. Wine, I hoped the darkness surrounding us wasn't so thick that she couldn't see the huge smile on my face. "Nothing's the matter, Mrs. Wine," I said. "Nothing at all. It's just that I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Mrs. Wine stared at me, and for a moment, I asked myself if she was crying. But there would be time for that later, I decided, and just after taking Mrs. Wine's hands in mine, I said, "And I always have, since I was eighteen years old." Mrs. Wine smiled back at me, and placed her right hand atop my head. She nodded her head in welcome acceptance of my appreciation for her. "Now, come here," I said, ready now, as ready as I've ever been to fuck the woman of my dreams.

Remembering our earlier moments when she'd straddled my lap, Mrs. Wine allowed me to guide her to the same position again. This time, however, there were no clothes to get in the way, no garments to hide the location of desired body parts. Holding my steel-hard cock in both of my hands now, ensuring the fleshy missile remained in an upright position, I nodded again at Mrs. Wine, the signal she'd been waiting for. Once again, this elderly woman stepped forward, widened her stance, and with her pointed high heel stems braced upon the concrete and supporting her weight, Mrs. Wine stood over me, my naked legs extended between her wide-spread legs. Perhaps she felt the need to tease me before we fucked, or perhaps she wanted to take a few seconds to appraise my body as best she could in the limited light. But for several long seconds, Mrs. Wine stared down at me, her chest rising and falling in sexual expectation, her hands placed flat against her body, sliding from one region to another, her fingertips stimulating her sexually charged skin. Finally, she spoke, her words a lust-filled whisper as she leaned forward and placed both hands upon my shoulders. "I've been waiting for you, Tim," she said, her breath warm in my ear. "I've also been waiting a long, long time."

Standing tall again, Mrs. Wine placed her hands on each of my shoulders and began to fold her naked body into a position that would allow her to sit on my very hard cock. With eyes as wide as dinner plates, I watched as every part of Mrs. Wine's body slowly descended downward, first her well-tanned thighs folding from a vertical to a horizontal position as she flexed her knees to lower her cunt toward my cock. Next came her hairy pussy, the triangular-shaped patch of thick hair seeming almost completely black in the limited light reaching us under the umbrella. Her waist came into view next, slim from the way she'd taken care of herself over the years. And then, the underside, then the full view of those amazing tits, the nipples still hard, still begging to be sucked yet again deep into my mouth. Her slender, tanned neck, followed by her face, her eyes closed as she concentrated on making sure her pussy lips found my cock head and allowed the tip of my human spear to penetrate her cunt.

Just millimeters away from penetration now, Mrs. Wine removed her right hand from my shoulder and placed it flat against her tummy. As she continued to support her weight with the combination of her high heels and her left hand still firmly clamped on my right shoulder, Mrs. Wine slid her right hand, palm flat against her skin and fingers extended, through her dense forest of pussy hair, across her extended clit, and downward still over her soaking wet cunt lips until her fingertips came into contact with the tip of my cock. "Yes, there it is," she hissed as her fingers wrapped yet again securely around my shaft. "Yes, that's what I was looking for," Mrs. Wine cooed as she placed the wide head of my cock against her cunt lips and pressed her body downward. When the head and the first two inches of my cock slid easily into her pussy, Mrs. Wine threw her head back as she continued to bend her knees, her body lowering by the second, her body motion driven as much by sexual need as much as the desire to experience the full length of my cock in her cunt. "Oh, shit, Tim," she moaned as she allowed gravity to take effect and her entire body dropped, the full length of my cock now embedded between her cunt lips, the shaft buried inside the dark, moist cavern I'd dreamed of for three decades.

It was then that Mrs. Wine opened her eyes and stared so intently at me I thought her eyes could see into my soul. Asking myself if she'd suddenly come to regret what we were doing, I didn't move although the sensation if her cunt lips wrapped tightly around my cock was driving me crazy. But just as suddenly, Mrs. Wine smiled and using her high heels as leverage, began to lift and drop her body in a series of motions that caused her pussy to ride the length of my very hard shaft. "Fuck me, Tim," she said, "Fuck me like you've always wanted to," she whispered. Each time Mrs. Wine lowered her body, her fingers grasped the width of my cock, making it seem as if I was receiving a double fuck. And each time she dug in her high heeled shoes and lifted her body, the absolute wetness of her cunt stimulated every nerve located along the sides of my shaft. "Here we go, baby," Mrs. Wine said. "Here we fucking go!"

And with those words, Mrs. Wine took over and rather than me fuck her, as I'd so desperately desired for so long, it was this sixty-nine year old woman who was fucking me instead. I can tell you, however, that it did not matter to me who was fucking who. No what mattered was that Mrs. Wine's cunt had swallowed my cock, and I was very, very happy about it. In just a matter of seconds, Mrs. Wine was riding my cock furiously, her head sometimes thrown forward, sometimes thrown back. She alternated the hands she wrapped around my cock, always making sure one hand remained wrapped around the meaty tube, the other cupping one of her massive titties. I watched in absolute awe as she removed her cunt-juice covered fingers on her right hand inside her mouth and began to suck noisily on the red-tinged fingertips. Mrs. Wine had by now lost herself in the fucking, and the more I watched this amazing woman fuck me, the closer I came to exploding a second heavy load of sexual crème inside her pussy. She suddenly leaned forward, bringing her sexually-charged face close to mine. "Goddamn it, Tim, but this was worth waiting for." Once again, she ironed her mouth to mine, and once again, our tongues engaged in oral combat as we each did our best to probe the deepest spaces of our mouths. As we kissed, I felt the weight of her mammoth titties pressed against my naked chest.

By now, the action under the umbrella was intense, hot, and very active. Mrs. Wine was moving her body so violently that my chair began to slide backward with each downward and cock-sucking thrust of her body. Momentarily concerned about the chair sliding so far that we might come out from the darkened shadow of the umbrella, I wrapped both arms around Mrs. Wine's waist and cupped each of her ass cheeks in my palms. I was amazed to feel the sensation of dampness on my hands, but quickly realized that the sexual activity we'd been engaged in for the past half-hour had certainly caused our bodies to react. Holding on to Mrs. Wine's wide ass now, I was able to stabilize the chair, and our backward motion ceased.

It was then Mrs. Wine leaned forward, however, and retrieved her discarded panties from the concrete. Watching her intently, she laid the panties flat against my chest, covering my nipples, the lace sensuous against my skin. "I'm sure you remember these, baby," she said as she next leaned forward again, opened her mouth, and sucked my left ear lobe into her mouth. The panties cushioned her mammoth tits while stimulating my sexually burning skin. Mrs. Wine began to apply light bites to the fleshy appendage, just on the edge of being painful, yes, but more erotic than anything. She released my earlobe from her oral clutches and whispered into my ear, "Come with me, Tim, I'm begging you: come with me." Looking up into her eyes, I smiled and nodded my head, letting Mrs. Wine know that her wish would be granted. Arching my back now, I drove my cock like a piston between her cunt lips, holding on to her right ass cheek with my left hand, and her left titty with my right hand. And as I drove my cock inside Mrs. Wine's pussy, my mind traveled back in time to that day I attempted to steal her panties, and I fantasized that while she caught me yet again, this time she shed he bikini bottom and bra and wearing her heels as she was now, fucked me when I was an eighteen year old man, her hairy cunt sucking my cock inside her body then as it was doing so expertly now. Slam, slam, slam, I became determined to fuck Mrs. Wine so hard that my cock penetrated her cunt and touched her kidneys.

So long ago, it was the black panties that started me on this journey of fantasizing about Mrs. Wine. Now, here I was driving my cock deeply and forcefully into her cunt, and the same style of panties lay between our bodies. I guess that's why Mrs. Wine sat up, lifted the panties from my chest, and draped them over her tits, the nipples acting as small hangers. The panties hung on her titties as she stretched them from one side of her massive chest to another. "These are for you, baby," she said, wadding the panties into a small ball and placing them on the chair beside me. "We'll get to them later, I'm sure." Looking up at her as her tits flowed like two massive, ripe melons across her chest, I knew I was in love with Mrs. Wine, and that I had been since I was eighteen years old. "Come with me, baby," Mrs. Wine begged again. "Come with me."

And that was when we both heard the unmistakable noise someone standing by the pool gate and speaking. Mrs. Wine jerked her head in that direction, stopping the fucking motion, my cock still buried to the hilt inside her pussy. For one quick instant, she returned her attention to me, and pressed her pussy-juice soaked finger against her closed lips, the signal to remain silent. Yet, behind the finger was a sly smile, her way of telling me that we were in no way finished with what we'd started. What also amazed me was that she remained straddled across my lap, her legs wide, her tits almost pressed flat against my face. It was clear someone was standing by the same gate I'd carried Mrs. Wine across, and possibly considering entering the closed and darkened pool area. If they did, and if their path carried them toward the back of the pool area, then there was a distinct possibility that Mrs. Wine and I would be discovered. Yet, despite that fear, and I knew Mrs. Wilson realized the same thing as me, she remained sitting on my lap with my still hard cock slipped securely between her cunt lips. Mrs. Wine leaned forward and in a voice that was the same volume as a piece of paper sliding against another said, "Wait, Tim. Just wait." Kissing my lips, the forward motion of her body causing her cunt to slide upward on my cock, she again whispered, "Let's see where this takes us, lover."

Now, I was intrigued, and excited. Despite the unwanted intrusion, Mrs. Wine was determined to finish the act, to come while my cock was buried inside her pussy although there were clearly at last two people within hearing distance of us. We waited silently for several seconds, Mrs. Wine moving her body just enough to allow the sides of her cunt to keep my cock hard and stimulated, her tits pressed against my naked chest. She continued to kiss my lips, my ears, but it was when she dipped her head just enough to draw my left nipple into her mouth that I began a series of leisurely upward motions that forced my cock into her cunt that I once again turned my full attention to coming in Mrs. Wine's pussy. I'd never fucked in slow motion before, so this was something new and intriguing to me. By now, Mrs. Wine's body was pressed against mine as we inched slower now to coming. "Yes, baby, that's it," she whispered into my ear. "We've come too far to stop now." Slowly, the former, powerful piston like force now reduced to a simple in-and-out motion, I continued to slide my cock between her pussy lips, desperately wanting to come. Again, Mrs. Wine pressed her mouth close to my ear and whispered just loud enough for me to hear, "I don't care who's out there, baby," she said, her voice so laced with lust that she sounded like a different person. Picking up the pace of her cock riding, Mrs. Wine leaned in again and whispered, "I just want to come, motherfucker!" Giggling at her choice of words as she drew her head back, Mrs. Wine sat up, placed her hands flat on my naked chest, and began to ride my cock with the same speed before the unknown visitors arrived. Focused again on the woman riding my cock, I began to give Mrs. Wine all the cock she had asked for, intent now on leading her to an orgasm.

And again, that was when we heard the voice again. Evidently, the people who'd entered the pool area had now moved, and were standing less than ten feet away from us, but unable to see Mrs. Wine and I fucking because of the dark shadows. I realized Mrs. Wine was stimulated by the danger of being caught, the thrill finding its way from her brain to her cunt. Hell, I was excited too at being able to fuck this beautiful, older woman while someone else stood unknowingly by. But when we heard that voice again, matters changed quickly.

"I wonder where my mom is?" Phil said, his voice clear in the night air. "I hope Tim helped her to her room," he said as the sound of a young woman giggling also reached our ears. Mrs. Wine stopped, her eyes wide now, her pussy still clamped tight around my cock. Phil had moved closer and all he had to do was to turn around, look under the umbrella, and discover his mother, completely naked, and riding his best friend's cock. Mrs. Wine stared wide-eyed at the back of the dark figure almost within touching distance. Then, the sound of footsteps walking away from us, but only so far as two umbrellas to our right. The sound of scraping chairs on the concrete, then, suddenly, Mrs. Wine and I heard her Pro Football Hall of Fame son say, "Yes, baby, that's it: suck my cock!" Phil's words were followed by a series of moans, come his, certainly, but the other moans clearly coming from a young female. "That's it, baby," he said. "I want to come in your mouth."

And with those words, Mrs. Wine tightened each of her thigh muscles, braced her high-heeled feet, and began to once more ride my cock as if it were a bucking horse. "Come now, Tim," she whispered, "Goddamn it, come now." Faster now, her ass slamming wildly on my upper thighs, her tits flowing like melons across her chest, her hands flowing across my naked chest, stimulating my nipples, Mrs. Wine rode my cock and drove me to orgasm. The tremors began in my body before Mrs. Wine's orgasm began, my back bent so severely in the shape of an inverted U that small slivers of pain shot out from my lower back. But I didn't care. Upward, upward, and upward still, I slammed away at Mrs. Wine's pussy as my second orgasm of the night erupted in my loins and I did everything I knew to achieve the highest level of pleasure. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I whispered, just barely aware that I needed to remain silent in order to not be detected by Phil and the woman sucking his cock at that very moment. "Mrs. Wine, I've wanted to fuck you my whole life," I said, again my voice low in volume. Wave after wave of orgasm flowed over me as every fiber in my body reacted to the sensation of my cock being drawn inside a pussy almost seventy years old. Less than twenty feet away, Phil's moans grew in volume as the woman he was with drew inch after inch of his cock into her mouth.

Timing is everything, it seems and as my orgasm lifted of and enveloped my body, so too did Mrs. Wine explode in orgasm. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" she whispered, arching her back now to allow for maximum penetration of my cock into her cunt. "FUCK ME, TIM, OH FUCK YES, FUCK ME," she now said, doing her best to keep her voice muted and silent. "OH, SHIT! I'M COMING BABY, DAMN, BUT I'M COMING!"

It was clear to me, however, that Mrs. Wine's orgasm might just cause her to lose her ability to keep her voice down. By now, she was staring at me through half-slitted eyes, clearly in the throes of a powerful sexual explosion. "FUCK!" she whispered again, but still louder in volume than I desired. And it was then, as she lifted and dropped her cunt in a series of rapid-fire fucking motions, that the sound of someone else moaning sailed through the darkness and reached our ears.

"THAT'S IT, BABY, YES!" we heard Phil cry out, his orgasm clearly beginning now as his sexual partner sucked long lengths of his cock into her mouth. "YES, YES, YES!" he cried, the sound of his chair scraping across the concrete now joining the symphony of his moans. "I'M COMING IN YOUR MOUTH! I'M COMING IN YOUR MOUTH!" On and on and on, Mrs. Wine continued to ride my cock as her orgasm enveloped her body and while, less than a rock's throw away, her own son was also coming, his load of hot, sexual crème coating the throat of a young admirer. How cool is this, I asked myself, that a mother and her son would unknowingly be in the same location at the same time, each having an orgasms that rocked every fiber in their bodies?

But that thought quickly disappeared as it dawned on me that Mrs. Wine's moans and cries were growing in volume. There was no way I could let us be discovered, and so, thinking quickly, I grasped the pair of black panties lying beside me, extended my arm upward, and inserted the panties into Mrs. Wine's mouth. She understood what it was I was doing and why, and so, didn't protest. She willingly accepted the wad of black lace into her mouth, perhaps as stimulated by the erotic material as I was.

But that doesn't mean her orgasm came to end, either. By now, Mrs. Wine's body convulsed back and forth as she continued to lift and to lower her naked body, lifting her body just high enough for the head of my cock to remain buried between her cunt lips, then smashing her body downward to once again swallow the tube, her pussy juices lubricating the meaty pole as it slid past her thick layer of cunt hair and into her pussy. Mrs. Wine lifted her right hand and held the panties inside her mouth, perhaps aware that if they fell out, then we would surely be given away.

The noise beside us had not lessened one bit, either. Phil's moans continued to reach Mrs. Wine and myself, continued to fall upon our ears as his cock spewed large globs of come into the woman's mouth. "Damn, you're good," I heard Phil moan, his voice lower now, indicating that his orgasm had probably come to an end. "Baby, you sure can suck a cock," Phil said, his voice softer now, but still laced with desire. I couldn't help but smile upward at Mrs. Wine, but I was asking myself what she was thinking, sitting her riding my cock while her son received a blowjob and sent out sounds of delight.

But to her credit, Mrs. Wine continued to ride my forty-eight year old cock until, exhausted and spent, she collapsed across my chest. I gently plucked the panties from my lover's mouth, and laid them beside me again. Mrs. Wine's breathing was labored, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath and a normal heartrate. I stroked her hair, our silent signal that her only son Phil was still within hearing distance, still capable of detecting his mother sitting on his best friend's rapidly growing limp cock, both of us naked with only one explanation as to what we were doing.

It was only a moment later when Mrs. Wine and I heard Phil say, "Baby, I need to check on my mother." It was all I could do to keep Mrs. Wine's giggles at hearing this to a low level. It became even harder to stifle her laughter when, as the sound of Phil closing his trousers and snapping his belt closed said, "She never has any fun lately: I wish she would get out and experience life." Once more, in a flash, I stuffed the panties between Mrs. Wine's lips, he eyes wide with glee at the words she'd heard her own son utter. By now, Mrs. Wine's body was heaving with laughter, her great and wonderful tits sliding across my naked chest, the nipples bringing my cock back to life yet again. I was relieved when Phil's final words came through the darkness and he said, "Come on, baby: I have to go rescue my poor mother. I'm sure she's bored to death." And as before, her son's words forced Mrs. Wine into another bout of laughter, the panties still in her mouth, the mass of black silk muffling the sound. Waiting in the darkness, and lying naked chest to naked chest, Mrs. Wine and I were relieved when we heard the sound of Phil and his date leave the pool area, leaving us once again the sole occupants of the dark space.

Mrs. Wine once more sat up and removed the panties from her mouth, although my cock remained between her cunt lips. She and I both knew it would be a matter of time before I'd be ready to go again, but there was an unspoken agreement that we'd move to my hotel room for what we knew would prove to be another round of sexual pleasure. With a delicate hand, Mrs. Wine offered me the panties that had become such an important part of our amazing fuck. "These are for you, baby," she said. "I know how important they are to you." After a few additional moments of softly talking, we stood and dressed, Mrs. Wine asking for and receiving my assistance in arranging her dress across her body. When she saw the panties lying on the table where she'd sat while I ate her pussy, she placed them in her hand, and stuffed them in my coat pocket. Placing her hands on my shoulders again, Mrs. Wine looked into my eyes and asked, "I wonder how soft the bed is in my room?"

Later that evening - well, a better description would be the early morning - Mrs. Wine sat naked on her bed and described how she felt that long ago afternoon. "You caught me off guard, Tim," she said, adding that even then, although they were still relatively young, she and Coach Wine had stopped having sex. "And I was a woman in need, you see, but because of my position as a teacher, I couldn't do anything about it, except to please myself." For a long moment, she remained silent, her eyes looking off into some mental distance. When she redirected her eyes to me, she said, "But I was getting tired of using a vibrator or dildo which only half-satisfied my needs." Staring directly at me now, Mrs. Wine said, "So I decided to somehow seduce you because I knew you could be trusted."

Rising from my reclining position on the bed, I lowered Mrs. Wine to her back upon the mattress. Hearing her words had caused my heart to flutter because I knew now she was in love with me, as I was with her. Beginning at her mouth, I applied light kisses upon each portion of her body. I lingered at the nipples, the two chunky and dark colored knobs coming to life the instant I touched them with my lips. Next I made a moist path across her stomach until finally reaching the upper fringes of her cunt hair. Lowering my head now between her legs, I pushed each leg outward to give me more room to operate. Just before my mouth made contact with Mrs. Wine's cunt, I heard her ask, "What are you doing, Tim?"

Five simple words I will never forget.