I was at college, learning English Lit because I
want to write milf stories. and hating every second of it. The studies required me to spend lots of time within the library and it was here i first seen Eleanor.
She wasn’t any stunner but there was something about her which intrigued me. She was in her fourties, sharp-featured, petite with short, mousy hair and constantly wore blouses and long skirts. In the winter these can be heavy and tweedy, but in summer time she permitted herself the luxury of slim cotton and flowered styles.
She was a librarian and I found her valuable in searching out ancient tomes I’m meant to study. Her normal station was at the high desk in a remote corner of the library, bending over indexes or whichever. I’d personally approach her and stay by the woman’s side till she completed exactly what she was doing before asking her for aid. She usually appeared happy enough to assist me, but never gave any sign that she ever before really noticed me or perhaps could differentiate me from any of the other countless college students. And that’s why it nevertheless shocks me that I made a move on her while i was at an age when I had absolutely no confidence with more mature females.
It was actually springtime, coming to the finish of the academic season and Eleanor had simply just switched to 100 % cotton skirts. They captured my eye and I began to think of the woman, and exactly what may lie beneath that dress.
I was searching for some stuff on Chaucer and was standing by Eleanor till she recognized me. Bending over, her blouse had ridden up from her skirt and a small band of pale whitened flesh was on view. She looked upwards and just before I could generate my request, said, “Could you assist me to read this, I’ve forgotten my reading eyeglasses?”
Gallant to the end I bent over and read out to her exactly what some historic tutor had scrawled on a piece of cards. I was standing upwards once again and anxiously waited. A couple of seconds later on she asked me personally for help again i obviously obliged. But this time as I bent down next to her I let my hand relax about the small of her back. But not on the strip of naked skin, but just above it. She didn’t flinch.
And that was it, the very first time I’d touched Eleanor. I received my Chaucer and left.
This Is Why I Really Love Older
A few days later I was back and the exact same situation played out once again. I stood, she asked for help, and I let my hand rest on her back again whilst reading for her. However this time when i bent over I observed her purse laying on the floor and her eyeglasses peeping from it. My thoughts raced, she didn’t need help whatsoever. She desired me next to her. Never have spectacles had this kind of impact on testicles.
Knowing this made me brave so i let my hand slide down her back just a little, on to her uncovered skin. She seemed to tense just a little, but this might have been my own imagination.
Eleanor apologised for taking so very long, but the message this sent me was that she enjoyed the actual feel of my hand and wasn’t going to finish it simply by moving. But I had to be proper. If I was incorrect I’d be accused of being a nuisance and thrown out of the college. More to the point, my buddies would make fun of me to death for touching up an old woman. Was the sense of this morsel of skin really worth all that?
Light heart by no means won fair lady, it is said, but too be hung for a sheep as a lamb also came to mind. I let my palm slide lower. Now I’m off her uncovered skin and onto the material of her skirt but heat still emanated from her. Another inch and I would certainly encounter the crack of her butt. That’s when I would really find out if she had been taking pleasure in the interest. I actually never got the chance to discover. She straightened upwards, my palm fell away, and she inquired exactly what I was looking for.
A few days later again I came back, more determined than ever to seize her behind. In the event that she asked me for support and I spotted her specs I was going for it.
And sure enough she asked for my help. I really couldn’t see her eyeglasses, but this constant request for help ended up being dubious sufficient by itself. If she objected I’d apologise and state I’d felt light headed. She surely couldn’t mind a fainting dude catching her ass to be able to stay vertical.
Well, in fact, I actually didn’t grab her butt. I rested my palm very gently around the bottom of her spinal column. But, gradually, I let my hand slip lower. The 100 % cotton associated with her skirt was nearly non-existent and soon my hand was cupping one of her small round glutes. But having arrived at this point I really didn’t know what to do after that. With a woman of my age I’d have squeezed, however was that suitable behavior with an older woman? There is absolutely no rule-book.
In the end a feeling of maturity won and instead of squeeze I caressed, circling her bottom with the palm of my hand and keeping my tips of the fingers from digging into her soft flesh. She seemed to enjoy it and a soft moan seemed to originate from her before she straightened up.
Now I took to visiting the library every day, spending my nights thinking up good reasons to stop by and tormented with the thought of lifting that thin natural cotton and getting my hands on Eleanor herself. But the library seemed to be too open to risk raising her skirt and frequently I needed to use my body to protect things i was performing from prying eyes. I delved, however, further between the cheeks of her rear end and my fingers teased her bumhole and once ventured far in between her legs to stroke her pussy lips. With each and every liberty I took Eleanor would flex further and lift her bum invitingly towards my hand. Her moans now were far from discreet and when she clenched her pencil between her teeth to curb the sound.
We’d been proceeding like this for several weeks when she turned her face to me, still bent over, and said, “You do realise that you’re getting me terribly excited.”
I didn’t understand how to react but moved my genitals towards her thigh so she could feel that she was creating a comparable effect on me. At this she shut her eyes as well as moaned once again.
Ultimately her eyes opened up and she inquired, “How does one intend to move forward?”
“It’s your decision,” I mumbled.
She straightened up now and stroked my cheek with her fingertips. “I’m a married woman you know.”
I hadn’t truly considered it, but exclaimed, “Yes, I figured you’d be.”
She smiled thinly. “Do you need to make love to me?”
I nodded thirstily.
The grin increased and she looked down at the bulge in my pants. “We’ll have to be discreet.”
‘You be discreet’, I felt like screaming, ‘I’m simply horny.’
She searched around and verified that no-one had been within earshot. “There’s a storeroom with a couch over the reading room. Stay in the studying room when it closes. I’ll be on duty and we might have some privacy up there.”
I nodded, my brain ogling.
Her attitude became expert. “Now, what book had you been searching for?”
And so Eleanor Brown had taken my MILF virginity in that storeroom over the reading room and a grand introduction to more mature vagina it was.
Once we were on the sofa she came at me like a lioness, bathing kisses over my face however avoiding my mouth area whenever possible. When I suggested we undress she refused with a giggle and these 2 refusals set a dark tone for my relationships with older women. They could be as erotic as you want but will steer clear of open mouth kissing which implies a level of intimacy they hold for husbands, plus they often refuse to strip, dreading you will make unwanted comparisons between their more mature physiques and those of more youthful girls.
But with these two limitations Eleanor proceeded to go to town on me.
Within seconds her shirt was off and her buoyant little boobs were in my mouth. Meantime she was hoisting up that natural cotton skirt and ripping down her demure whitened cotton panties exposing a thick bush that came 1 / 2 way up her belly. My fingers, for so long denied, dived in excitedly. Her cunt was waiting for me personally, lips spread and moist and 2 fingers ended up easily inside her.
She lay upon the couch as I knelt on to the floor, sucking her tits and finger-fucking her to a chorus of moans and happy squeals.
I’m no expert on the clitoris at that time in my sex career, but she moved my fingers to where she wanted them and within seconds was bucking her hips and biting at my ears. The 2 fingers inside her became 3 and after that four as she roared her way to the very first orgasm of the bout.
Having reached that she got me by the belt and ripped me up so she might undo my flies. Her urgent tiny fingers pried my dick out and she croaked, “Oh my!”
Now I knew I wasn’t that large, I’d seen much more magnificent examples in the bathrooms which made me believe that her husband had a tiny one and she didn’t have much experience. She’d enough though to maneuver her head to it and take it into her mouth without that primary licking so many women believe are necessary as a possible introduction.
Cupping my balls with 1 hand she pulled me onto the sofa facing opposite her. Her darkish minge looked me in the face and I lowered my tongue into it and dove into her damp crack. Her thick bush was some thing of a buffer but I brushed it aside using sweeps of my tongue and found her solid little clitoris nestling between her lips. A couple of licks and she was proceeding towards her 2nd ejaculation while I could have the steam rising in my balls. I actually wasn’t that used to blow jobs and her mouth was delightful.
She appeared to sense my situation too but was determined to get a fuck out of the situation. She pushed my throbbing tool away from her mouth and started manoeuvring me round so that we faced one another. So far we’d said not much to each other. There is a unspoken knowning that i was simply there to bonk each others’ brains out, but now she became quite expressive which added to my enjoyment. “Fuck me, baby,”she gasped, “Fuck my vagina. Fuck this good.”
My cock slipped into her and it also was significantly looser compared to her mouth. I wondered how many kids she’d had. Nevertheless it was excellent and i also didn’t care. I started pumping.
She grabbed my head and pulled me right down to nuzzle her neck whilst her thighs tried to wrap themselves around me. But, petite as she was, these were way too short and she settled for getting her heels dug into my back, the cork of her flip flops rasping my skin.
She carried on with the ‘fuck me, screw me, ride me’ litany for a long time as I went about my work but finally after one long shiver she went silent. I elevated my head to look at her and tears are trickling down her face. I wished the tears were of pleasure and pumped her harder, using weight off my elbows and putting my hands under her arse in order to pull her small body up to meet my thrusts.
This kind of brought her back to life and she informed me I was the very best shag she’d had in twenty years, that I had the greatest cock she’d had, that she wanted a huge heavy dose of my spunk up her cunt. It absolutely was all the words a prim middle-aged, middle-class woman wouldn’t use and they came surging out of her and thrilled me to the point where I spewed my own lust into her with much moaning as well as panting.
I collapsed on top of her and she pecked my cheek and whispered, “That was great. Thanks a lot.”
You can say everything you like concerning the middle classes, however they’re always courteous. My tool shrivelled out of her and I rolled off, dropping onto the ground.
She sat up and yanked her dress down. “I’ve dreamed of a college student seducing me for several years,” she confided, “and I’m glad you were the one who was courageous enough to get it done.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
She reached for her knickers as well as slid them up her thighs. “Will there be a repeat performance?”
I didn’t know and said .
“I’ll reveal the things,” she told me, buckling up her shirt, “Whenever you want to , visit me such as you sometimes do, and when I really feel like it while I’m on the market, I’ll request you to help me with the reading. That’ll always be our little private signal.”
The idea sounded sensible, yet clearly there was a flaw. “What should i honestly am trying to find a book?” I asked.
“Oh dear,” she grinned, “You’ll just have to shag me regardless.”
Yeah, this woman was obviously a cheeky little thing, Eleanor, however , she introduced me to the fun of more mature ladies and I’ll always be
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