I was a business major, but the college required all students to take what they called "core" subjects. It was the Fall of my senior year, and I still needed to take a course in US History. The only one that fit my schedule was on Tuesday and Thursday nights at 6:30.
I was less than excited, and even less so when I walked into class. Every other student was my parents' age. I found out that they needed a degree to be promoted in their job. I found a seat, and the professor walked in.
Professor Nordquist must have been close to 70; a refugee from the ‘60's. His receding hairline was followed by long gray and white scraggly hair that hung almost to his shoulders. A few weeks later he came to class with a pony tail. Weird, I thought.
As it turned out, he was a very interesting teacher. He wasn't going to bust our balls about being late, and didn't seem to take this all too serious. He realized that these students, me excluded, were there for one purpose, take the class, get their degree and get promoted on their job. He wasn't going to put too many, if any, obstacles in their way.
Half way through class, he gave us a 10 minute break. Way back then, most students went outside for a cigarette. I went outside for some fresh air; I didn't smoke. Nor did I talk to anyone; we didn't seem to have much in common.
Thursday's class was much the same, but things changed the following Tuesday. I was in the Student Union having a cup of coffee before class when this woman came up to me. "Mind if I join you?" I kinda' recognized her. She sat next to me in that history class.
"Sure. I'm Bart."
"I'm Sharon Henderson. What do you think of Professor Nordquist?"
"A little strange, but he does keep things interesting." The course was American History: Columbus to the Civil War. Professor Nordquist told funny stories about things that happened. You might find them boring, and besides that's not what this is about.
"I think he's hilarious, and I've learned things I never knew."
Tonight's class was about the American Revolution, but the Professor had a different take on it. He told us about Ben Franklin, and read an excerpt from "Advise to a Friend on Choosing a Mistress." According to Franklin, among the reason for choosing a mistress who is much older is that they are ‘oh, so grateful.'
As I said, except for me, everyone in the class was in their 40's. They thought it was hilarious. Sharon, sitting next to me, mouthed the words, "oh, so grateful," and smiled at me.
The next week, on Thursday, Sharon was sitting having coffee in the Student Union. I reversed the tables on her, "may I join you Mrs. Henderson?"
"Oh, hi, Bart. Good to see you. It's Miss Henderson, I'm divorced, but please call me Sharon." We chatted about our class with Professor Nordquist, and as we headed to class, she said, "could I interest you in a drink after class?"
"That sounds good." Frankly, I could use a drink. My last class on Tuesdays and Thursdays ended at 2 PM, but I had to hang around until this History class. I lived in a dorm, but by the time I caught the shuttle bus, it was after 3 before I got to my room, and then I had to catch the bus back around 5. Sometimes I just hung around the main campus. Either way, it was hours of boredom.
"There's a bar called Earp's, just off campus. I can drive us there, then give you a ride back to campus later."
"Okay." I knew Earp's, but I was surprised that Sharon did. It catered to college kids, those over 21 and those who had a fake ID. I'd been going there since freshman year. They didn't check those IDs too closely. I suspected that Sharon might be the oldest person there by at least a decade.
I thought she was in her mid-40's, and what we called back then a "bottle blonde." Sharon was about 5' 5". The weather was still warm and she wore a tight pull-over blouse, not cut too low, but it did emphasize her boobs. She wore jeans, that looked like her ass had trouble getting into. Don't get me wrong, I really wasn't checking her out. Afterall, I was pretty sure she was my mom's age.
For many college kids, the weekend starts on Thursday, and Earp's was crowded. We were able to find a table, but it was wall-to-wall, and loud. I ordered a beer, and Sharon had a white wine. Thankfully, she insisted on paying since my summer job money had to last until May.
We tried to talk, but as I said, it was loud. We were sitting next to each other, "it's hard to hear in here. I have some beers in my refrigerator. I don't live too far from here."
I nodded. Maybe you think I'm naïve, but it never occurred to me back then that she had anything in mind. The term cougar hadn't been invented yet, or maybe I'd just never heard it.
After we finished our drinks, she drove me to her home, which was in a nice neighborhood, as she said, not far from campus. While she opened a bottle of wine, and poured me a beer, she told me that she managed a retail store in town that sold women's clothing. If she could get her degree, she might be promoted to regional manager.
We sat on her living room couch and chatted for a while. I was shocked when Sharon put her glass down, put one arm around my neck and kissed me on the mouth; followed almost immediately by her tongue. It took me a moment, but I reciprocated. When that shock wore off, another quickly followed; she rubbed her hand across my crotch.
"Bart, remember what Ben Franklin said about women my age, being oh so grateful?" she mumbled with our tongues still engaged.
"Hmmm."
"I'd be oh so grateful." Her fingers found my zipper.
I may have been naïve, but I'm not stupid. I understood exactly what she had in mind, but how do I tell her I'm a virgin?
I didn't. Within a few minutes, while our tongues were still at it, my zipper was down, and Sharon had my cock out. I was twenty-one years old. Of course, it was hard.
Other than the locker room after high school gym class, I'd never seen another cock, so I have no way of comparing, but as the years have gone by, I realized that my circumcised cock is about average. This was long before the internet and internet porn.
If I was shocked by the kiss, and shocked again by Sharon's hand on my crotch, and then shocked again when she took my cock out of my jeans, nothing shocked me more, perhaps in my entire life, than what happened in the next minute. Sharon leaned over and put my cock in her mouth.
Of course, I'd heard of blowjobs, but as I've told you, I had no experience. Not even close. "Bear with me, Bart, it's been a long time since I've done this."
It was the greatest feeling ever. Over the years, one thing I've been able to do, and my lovers have always appreciated, I can hold off cumming for a long time. Sharon slid her lips up and down on my cock.
She had more than just sucking my cock in mind. "Why don't I show you my bedroom? We'll be more comfortable." By the time we got there her blouse was off. She was wearing a black bra, which off-set her chalky white skin. "You should get undressed, too. I'm sure you'll be more comfortable."
She still didn't know I was a virgin, and I didn't know how to tell her. I'd be so embarrassed. I decided not to say anything, I was sure at some point she'd figure it out.
The high school and college girls' tits I'd felt were nothing like Sharon's. These were big and soft. My hands were all over them, and her hand was stroking my cock. I was hoping she'd put it back in her mouth.
She didn't. Sharon got on top of me. "Bart, I hope you like my titties. I'd love you to kiss them and suck them." She rubbed them in my face. With those high school and college girls, it was always a struggle to get a feel. Oh, they'd let me, but only for a minute or two, then they'd say, "Bart, I think you've had enough for tonight." And usually, it was in the dark somewhere.
Sharon's bedroom light was on, and she just let me play with them: feel them, kiss them, suck them.
Her hand reached down and started to stroke my cock. "I'll bet you're ready for my pussy."
Now that would be totally new. Sharon rolled onto her back. I wasn't sure what she wanted me to do, but she rolled me with her, and I was on top of her. Sharon reached down, took my cock and rubbed it against her pussy. "Take it slow, Bart, it's been a long time, but I want your cock."
I could feel her trying to get my cock inside her pussy. She was moving her ass and hips trying to get it inside. "That's it; go slow." I had no idea about this fast or slow stuff. I did know that when I jerked off sometimes I used my hand fast, sometimes slow. I thought it might be the same way.
And then just like that, it felt like my cock was surrounded by something warm, wet and slippery. "Oh, my, Sharon, I never knew it would feel like this." I started to slowly move inside her.
She stopped. "Bart, are you saying you've never done this before?"
I think I blushed. I was so embarrassed. I was certain that my cock was softening. "Oh, Bart, you shouldn't feel bad. I wish you'd told me."
"I-I didn't know how. Would it have made a difference?"
My cock was now dead, and Sharon rolled off me. "Of course, it would. I would have made sure that it was a perfect experience for you. Now, let's see what we can do about your cock."
Sharon started playing with it, and when my cock started to grow, she put it in her mouth. It didn't take too long for it to get as hard as it was when I was doing her tits. Then she took it out, "Bart, you have a magnificent cock. I promise, I'll take good care of it." She kissed my cockhead and then down my shaft.
Sharon slowly stroked it. "I told you I was married, and I've had a few other lovers, but I've never had a cock as hard as yours. I'd love you to fuck me. I think you're ready. And your cock definitely is." She kissed it again.
"Come on. Get on top of me." Sharon looked me in the eyes, "Bart, I want your cock. My pussy wants your cock."
I could feel my cock probing for that warm, wet, slippery opening. Sharon guided it in. "That's it, Bart, keep giving it to me. Nice and easy. We have all night."
When I felt like I was in as far as possible, Sharon started moving slowly underneath me. "Hmmmm, just like that Bart. Your cock feels so good. Now move in and out just a little."
I did as she suggested and Sharon started moving a little more rapidly; her hips and ass bouncing off the bed. "That's it, Bart. Damn, your cock is wonderful."
We moved more and more quickly; eventually getting into a rhythm. "Oh, yeah, oh yeah, fuck me just like that. Just like that. Oh, yeah, Bart, oooooh!!!"
When I came, it was the most amazing thing ever. I let out a loud, "arrrrrrr, arrrrr, arrrrrh." It may seem obvious now, but at the time, it was so much better than when I came while jerking off.
"You were amazing. I can't wait to fuck you when you know what you're doing."
Sharon and I rested for about an hour. "Bart, remember what Ben Franklin said, women like me are oh, so grateful?"
"Of course."
"Now, be honest with me this time. I'll bet you've never had a blowjob."
"Ummm, no never."
"Let me show you how grateful I am for the way you just fucked me."
It might have been because I didn't know any better, but Sharon made me feel better than I'd ever felt in my whole life. She used her lips and tongue to get my cock hard, and then took my cock deep in her mouth, then out almost all the way, then back down. She was fucking my cock with her mouth.
The best part was that she never quit. She just kept going up and down, up and down. When she did take it out, "Bart, you have the best cock. I've never sucked one better. I'm enjoying you so much." Then she went back down on it. My cock was deep her mouth when I came. "Arrrrrrr, arrrr, arrrrrrr," I moaned.
"I hope you can stay the night; I'm going to want your cock again in the morning." After what she'd just done to me, I would have missed all my classes for more of that.
Sharon didn't blow me in the morning; we just fucked. I was much more comfortable, and because I was twenty-one I just kept going and going. "Fuck me just like that, just like that. Oooooh, Bart, Oooooooh, Bart. Keep giving it to me. Give me your cock."
Even with our age difference, Sharon and I saw each other every weekend and at least one night a week; after class. There was lots of fucking, and she told me how she liked it. One way we both liked it was when she was on top, and put those marvelous tits in my face.
Before fucking a second time, Sharon always insisted on a blowjob. "Bart, I have to show you how grateful I am for the good fucking you gave me."
We'd been together almost three months; the term had just ended, and we were having a drink at Earp's which tonight wasn't particularly crowded. "Sharon, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, you know that. Anything."
I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Do men really eat pussy?"
"Oh, Bart, I've been having so much fun, I forgot there are so many things you haven't done. Oh yeah, men definitely eat pussy. Let's get out of here, and you'll get your first lesson on pussy eating. And Bart, I promise, I'll be oh, so grateful," she smiled.
I thought she drove faster than usual. As soon as we got to her home, she was getting undressed and so was I. For the next hour, Sharon was in bed with her legs spread, coaching me on where she wanted my tongue.
It was my first taste of pussy. It wouldn't be my last. Sharon's orgasms were mind blowing, and I loved the fact that I was responsible for those loud noises coming from her mouth, and the way her hips and ass moved.
There were at least three orgasms, but who's counting? "Bart, come up here and fuck me. Fuck me now. I need your cock. My pussy needs your cock."
As I look back, Sharon was a great fuck, but that night she outdid herself. That ass never bounced so much, and then later that night she demonstrated, as she'd promised, how grateful she was with an incredible display of cock sucking.
It's forty years later, and I still have fond memories of that night. I've never had a better blowjob, and every woman I've been with since then is measured against Sharon's skillful mouth. None have measured up, except one. More on that later.
Every time we were together, Sharon insisted that I practice my pussy eating. I was more than willing. Eating her made my cock so hard, and then the fucking was crazy good. Later, I was always amazed at her stamina with my cock in her mouth: up and down and up and down.
I didn't want it to end, but given our age differences, it was inevitable. Why would I? The fucking was great, the blowjobs were incredible, and the pussy tasty. What guy could ask for more?
A little over a year after we first started seeing each other, it ended. Sharon ended it, kind of, in a most unusual way.
TO BE CONTINUED
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