Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Written in Loving Memory of a Generous Lady
* * * * *
A warning to the reader. If you are looking for huge cocks, long shapely legs, full swelling bosoms, mountainous climaxes and the like, do not read on.
It began at a twenty first-birthday party back in the 1950s. I was about twenty-one or twenty-two at the time, and had just finished my apprenticeship as a plumber. I was living in one of the many country towns that, at that time in my country, were growing due to rapid industrial expansion. Our town was situated over the largest coal seams in the world, stretching down a valley fifty miles long and averaging about 30 miles wide. The seams went beyond the valley out into the sea, and the coal was only an average of fifty feet below the surface.
The coal is very low-grade brown coal, but the latest technology had allowed it to be used, and so, in addition to the open cut mines, power stations, gas plants and paper mills were being built. I was working as a plumber for the State Electricity Commission.
I attended a church in the town along with quite a few other young people, and one of these, a girl called Gaylene Flynn, was having her “twenty-first.” She was the daughter of Cynthia Flynn, a widow of indeterminate age, but I suppose somewhere between forty-five and fifty. Who Mr. Flynn had been no one seemed to know, and we had long given up asking. And so it was that I arrived at the Flynn house about 8 p.m. one Saturday night.
I was not a great partygoer, and was feeling somewhat depressed because I had just lost my girl friend, Edna, to one, Arthur Cracknell. Arthur was a rough, tough labourer about my own age. A few months after my loss to Arthur he got Edna pregnant, married her, and in the following years presented her with seven more pregnancies. Perhaps to my shame, I must admit to a certain amount of satisfaction as I learned that not long after marriage Edna was also presented with a beating up every Saturday night by a drunken husband. Those were the days when divorce was not easy to come by, and there were no “Single Parent” pensions then.
I would sometimes see Edna in the town, round shouldered, lank haired, wearily pushing her latest squalling and smelly offspring in a decaying pram, looking at least twenty güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri years older than she was. Not that this was unusual with girls in our town. Edna had been proclaimed as one of the “Town’s Beauties,” but as one lady said to me, “In this town a girl leaves school when she’s fifteen, has her hair permed, her teeth out, gets pregnant and gets married.” Contraception not being what it is now, pre-marital pregnancies were the common lot of most girls, followed by marriage, unless the father was able to escape the district in time.
Enough of Edna (I had a lucky escape there), and back to the party. There were about a dozen other young people already present, plus Mrs.Flynn. Over the next hour or so more arrived to swell the ranks to about thirty and the noise increased to something resembling half a dozen foundries going full blast. Having handed over my obligatory present to Gaylene and made appropriate birthday noises, I wandered around chatting here and there. Popular music of the period started and added to the already cacophonous row. At one stage, I found myself sitting next to Mrs.Flynn (“Just call me Cynthia” [not her real name]). We started to talk about this and that – what did I do, where did I live, had I got a girl friend – you know the sort of thing.
Now let me tell you a bit about the Widow Cynthia Flynn. She was about five feet two inches tall, a sort of non-descript neither fat or thin, light brown hair, of indeterminate breast size, but not large and as her dress went well below the knees her legs were not very visible, but I wouldn’t say they were long and sexy. She was the sort of woman who, if a young chap like me passed her in the town, he wouldn’t offer her a second glance. The thought, conscious or unconscious, would go something like this, “Another ordinary looking bird on the wrong side of forty-five,” and she would be wiped from the memory banks.
That is the negative side of Cynthia, but on closer inspection, and I was very close as we sat on the couch talking, I was able to observe one feature which sent hot shivers running down your spine, to collide in my penis and make quite a stir. That feature was her eyes. They managed to combine a slumberous with a predatory look. Once turned on you, güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri those eyes sucked you into her (more about this aspect later) and there consumed you. In addition as she talked, she had a way of delicately touching your arm and sometimes your thighs with her hands.
As I have clearly indicated, in general circumstances I would in no way be sexually attracted to her, but as she looked, consumed and touched, manhood made itself felt. In those days, male clothes were much looser than now and it did hide embarrassing projections to some extent, but this lady knew her business, and as became obvious, she could read the signs. She suddenly rose, took my hand, and said, “Darling, we can’t talk properly in here, let’s go somewhere quieter.” Without waiting for me to answer or agree, she simply led me out of the room, down a passage leading to the back of the house, opened a door, and we were in a bedroom.
She sat on the bed with me standing just in front of her and reached out to touch my penis through the cloth. Looking at me with those devastating eyes, she purred, “Darling, I think we had better do something about this.” She undid the buttons (no zips in those days) of my trousers, and with that she pulled herself right onto the bed, pulled up her dress and opened her legs. She had no knickers on.
Up to that moment, my experience had been a bit of girl fumbling, and the occasional penetration of an unwilling vagina. The problem as I have already indicated, was fear of pregnancy. The most common form of contraception was withdrawal at the critical moment, and this didn’t always work because precum has enough enthusiastic little sperms to do the job anyway. In any case, this method could leave the participants even more frustrated, because just when nature commanded, “Get in deep to give those little sperms the best chance, ” you had to get out in a hurry.
So it was that I was not only surprised by the immediate visibility of Cythia’s sexual organ, but, even more surprised when she said, “Put it all into me, darling.” I made no hesitation in complying. You see, as I warned you at the beginning, no great physical details or fantastic foreplay, just a guy with an erection and a woman with a willing body.
But güvenilir bahis şirketleri if you think this sounds very ordinary, then you are wrong. On entering Cynthia I experienced a sensation I had never had before or since, not even with my lovely wife. As her eyes sucked you into her, so her vagina did the same for the penis. She was warm, soft and wet, and the walls of her vagina clung round the penis, tugging you into her deeper and deeper. When I came, which was very quickly, it was virtually at her command. She drew the sperm out of me.
When I vacated her, she commented, “Lovely, darling. Gaylene’s always out on Tuesday and Friday nights,” nothing more. We got off the bed straightened ourselves up, and rejoined the party. She went off to talk to other people, and I was somewhat put out when I noticed that during the rest of the evening, she went in the direction of the bedroom with three or four other young chaps. Still, I had something to do on Tuesday and Fridays nights now.
That first time with Cynthia turned out to be a sort of first installment of things to come. You may be pleased to know that we went through all the ramifications of sexual contact – you know – kissing, oral and anal sex, sitting, and standing – the whole lot. I should point out that her kissing was like none I had or have experienced. As with her eyes and vagina, it was not so much the open-mouthed tongue thrusting type, but again, a sucking sensation. It was as if she wanted to devour you.
The odd thing was, that apart from the invitation which she nearly always made, “Put it all into me, darling,” she rarely initiated the foreplay. If I wanted to liken her to anything, she was like an indulgent mother trying to please her child, and was pleased herself when she succeeded. I never knew her to have an orgasm. It was as if she desired and enjoyed the sheer pleasure of taking you into her.
What she did on the other nights of the week I did not try to find out. I did know that Gaylene was out nearly every night of the week, so…?
Looking back over fifty years, I think that Cynthia’s great satisfaction was in giving pleasure and release to young men. I wonder how many pre-marital pregnancies did not take place because she was such a kindly giver.
I got married some five years after I first had sex with Cynthia, and my wife wasn’t pregnant. Cynthia has long gone to another life, and I shall soon follow her. So, thank you Cynthia. Over all the years, I have thought of you gratefully and lovingly. Thank you for being so generous with your body. God bless you.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32