In age I think I had the edge on him. In experience almost certainly yet I feel I was quite innocent in many ways.

The evening we met, at a party, when he was a student and I was working, having eschewed student life, we were sitting on a couch talking while all around were others talking, dancing, drinking and there was a fair bit of noise, my hand was idly tracing circles over his stomach on his shirt, just up from his trousers. I thought nothing of it, occasionally noticing a slight intake of his breath. Later, when we talked about our first meeting, he admitted to having been highly aroused by my meandering hand, saying his cock was as hard as it could be while being restrained by his clothes. That night he could walk home to his lodgings and I could take my car to my home. We had a coffee at his place, some kissing and cuddling, more talking: just getting to know each other.

We would go out to the theatre together, see plays, attend the opera, have dinners. I wore a short skirt very often – he told me liked me in them – and I recollect one night when we were going to see a play. We were sitting up in the gods and the way to our seats was up a steep staircase. I was in a mini skirt and I was being daring that night: I wore a G-string.
(It was bought one day in a Soho sex shop when I was out with a friend, spotted the shop, grabbed her hand and said, “We’re going in here!” We browsed the articles, giggling here and there, at what we saw. Eventually I said that I was having one of these: a G-string. She followed suit. That night, back at home I tried it on, looked at myself in the mirror and got myself so sexed up over how sexy I thought I was that I spent a certain amount of time masturbating!)
I made sure I went up the stairs first, had to pause on the stairs when people in front stopped, I turned round and found him looking straight up my skirt. What I intended of course! And most gratifying! He looked at me with a lopsided grin: “We get a good view from up here!” he said. His hand found my leg during the play but I was not allowing much playing at that moment.

It came a few days later. We had been out for an excellent dinner, went back to his lodgings and, over more wine, we got down to some serious sex. He felt my nipples; he made them hard; he had his hand on my leg, sliding upwards till he found my panties which he stroked, and I opened my legs, then he ran he slid his fingers along my slit. He pushed the panties to one side so he could feel me properly. I was becoming wet and I could feel his fingers pulling at my hairs as he found his way into me. I was finding this pleasurable, having my cunt played with as he explored me.

“Here, let me take these off so you can really feel me,” I said, smiling at him. I whipped my panties off, took off my dress and bra and was now naked for him to see. I lay back on the couch where we were opening my legs so he could gaze upon me. I could see he was fascinated! But he didn’t delay in getting his hand back into me and rubbing me all around my cunt. I was enjoying this and took his hand, guiding it to my clit which needed attention. He was not very good in that area – lack of experience, I suspect. I leaned forward, undid his trousers; he pulled out his cock which stood up. I felt it, held it, noticed its heat.

He stood and removed his clothes, came back to me, caressed me and I toyed with his cock. Wasn’t too sure what exactly I had to do with it either in those days, except, of course, to put it where it was designed to go! Which I did. He lay on me and I enjoyed the sensation of his hot rod pushing into me, right in. He began to move in and out and I wanted to grip his tool. His thrusting was vigorous but it was shortlived. He plunged against me hard, groaning and I knew he was cumming. I was not!

Both our techniques improved from then on. Not all our experiences were in a room. Due to living quite some way apart we often met near my home and I could not take him there after a night out, so we had to amuse ourselves in the car. He taught me how to masturbate him and I often did leaning over towards him and massaging him. It usually did not take long before he erupted into his handkerchief. His skills on my body improved. I showed how to kiss my nipples really effectively, how to rub my clit to best effect, and as long as he did that before I brought him off, he was good. He had me cumming on several occasions.

One night: “One of the things I fancy you doing is removing all your hair. Could you do that? I fancy seeing you all smooth.” This was in an era when the puss was covered in hair, when German and French girls hardly bothered to shave under their arms. The bikini or swimsuit was not cut away so hair did not show. I thought about this, decided to do it. It did not take long to figure out what to do: a hair trim and then a shave. The latter was somewhat problematic, making sure I did not knick myself! The result? It electrified me! So beautifully smooth, so sensitive. The first night in bed I could not help feeling my mound, running my fingers over it. Naturally, this led to me running my fingers lower, into my cleft, fingering my clit, getting horny, pushing fingers into my cunt and bringing myself off.

When we next met and he had the opportunity to feel me he was over the moon. It must have been 2 or 3 days later so there had been the tiniest bit of growth.. He was ecstatic, remarking on the smoothness of me, how nice and novel it was to have no hair. I lost little time in inviting him in so he could enjoy the new sensations – and, of course, so could I. I found it fascinating that he wanted just to look at me, bare, and gently run his fingers over my mound which invariably heightened my sexual arousal.

I have very sensitive back legs and at times when he stroked them it made me extremely sexed up. At a party one night we were lying on a bed and while kissing me he was stroking me behind my knees and sending me nearly wild. If we could have had sex right there I would have been willing! Unfortunately, it was in a room full of people so the moment passed.

The night he finished his degree exams we went out for a special dinner unlike most of his friends who just wanted to get drunk. He wanted to celebrate with me, and I with him. A champagne dinner, candlelight, excellent food in a good restaurant. I wore a short skirt, skinny, pink panties with matching bra and he was in a suit – appropriate for the place. He told me he would love it if I would go out and come back with no panties on. I had not done this before but the effect of the champagne, the atmosphere, made it an exciting thought. After a trip to the ladies room I was without panties.

“Have you taken them off?” he wanted to know.

“Ah, well, you’ll have to find out.”

It wasn’t long before his hands were wandering under the tablecloth. I helped accommodate him by guiding his hand to my hot spot. It was hot, and moist. Back at his lodgings he kissed me, deeply, pushed me onto the bed. I felt his hand between my legs, feeling my cunt, another hand on my tits. I decided that all clothes should be off.

In bed I lay back, let him play with me. His kisses all over aroused me more and more. My nipples were hard, my cunt was wet. I savoured the moments when I felt his breath on my cunt and then he was licking me, licking right inside me, licking my clit and sucking it, sucking it so much that I could feel my orgasm building.

“Don’t stop now, keep licking, I’ll cum, keep on!”

My climax was shattering and seemed to go on and on, but after a bit I pushed his head away, forced myself up. I had had my pleasure - the best yet with him – and must reciprocate. Not through obligation but because I wanted to. I pushed him over, lay on top of him, kissed his nipples, raked my nails along his chest, grasped his cock, stroked it a few times and then manoeuvred myself so that I could take it in. He slid into me easily as I was so wet. I started to move up and down on his rod: delicious sensations again, with his cock filling me. He did not lie still. He started to thrust up against me. I screwed in circular motions on his thrusting cock. On his upthrust I could feel him deep inside me. He became increasingly carried away pumping faster and more desperately until he came with a huge upthrust which lifted me clean off the bed, seemingly way up in the air, impaled on his throbbing cock. So violent was his cumming and holding me there that I felt little physically inside, but emotionally it was a very intense moment.

We had been going out together for quite a while - many months – when the company he now worked for sent him permanently to Madrid. I began to see other men. After all, I could not spend my time pining. My experience broadened. I drove to Geneva to see him, we made love passionately, I drove back. My job was in one city, his in another. Gradually, he was becoming marginalised. On a visit he made back to see me my desire him for had waned. A dinner out did not have the same appeal; his tender ministrations with his tongue between my legs, although expertly applied and most pleasurable for me, failed to make me reach orgasm. I did not want him inside me. He, on the other hand, when I took him in hand was highly aroused. This, I felt, was to be our swansong. Cock rigid with desire, as big as I ever remember it. I massaged it, cupped his balls. His cock wept as I slowly brought my hand up its length. I could feel its hardness, its straining. He entreated me with his eyes, suggested we make love, but I said that I would love him with my hand. I stroked, slowly, so as to heighten the moment and lengthen it for him. He began to breathe heavily, almost gasping. I slowed more: I could feel a twitching and then I suddenly beat faster. Few strokes were needed as he was on the edge. I felt him pulse, I saw the white liquid fairly jump out of his straining cock, shooting up across his belly, his chest, even his chin. I watched him pump time and again as I continued to stroke him as he had shown me. This seemed to me the greatest cumming of them all! It went on and on, spilling forth his seed, all over himself. I released him, leaned down to kiss him even as he breathed heavily.

We slept side by side that night but it was closure. A fond memory of a good relationship on the way to a broader life.

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She makes hungry where most she satisfies