There are two routes that take me to the railway station. One is a leisurely stroll through the park if the weather is kind and time allows, and the other if I’m running late, is a short cut through a broad avenue of upmarket properties. Today I was late and walking briskly, trying to ignore the affluence of the well-heeled residents living in the avenue.

‘Excuse me. Can you help please?’ It was the voice of a female and she sounded upset.

I looked to my left and saw a lady in a pink satin robe standing in the driveway of a large, detached house. Thinking she was addressing someone else I looked around, but there was no one. I turned to the lady again and pointed at my chest. ‘Me?’ I mimed.

‘Yes please. I’ve done a stupid thing and locked myself out of the house.’ She replied.

I paused briefly then walked toward the lady in distress.

‘I came out to collect the milk and the breeze blew the door shut behind me. If you can spare the time I would appreciate your assistance to get me back inside.’ The lady was obviously in difficulty and missing my train wouldn’t be the end of the world, so I asked how I could help her. ‘I realise it’s an awful imposition,’ she continued. ‘But, apart from calling out a locksmith, which I will have to do if you’re in a rush, you are my only immediate salvation. There is also another problem – I left the hot water running and my bath will probably overflow if it’s not turned off quickly!’

Recognising she really did have a problem, I said I’d catch the next train.

Well, to cut a long story short a ladder got me in to the lady’s bedroom via an open window and I turned off the hot tap filling her bath – just in time to stop the water flooding over the sides. Now, being an inquisitive sort of character I chanced to glance around her bedroom before going downstairs to open the front door. I noted the bed was yet to be made and her day clothes and underwear were laid out neatly for her after bathing. Not surprisingly I found myself drawn to the lingerie, which I scrutinised in more detail.

The lady obviously intended going out; judging by the style of her day dress. But it was the creamy silk lingerie that fascinated the connoisseur in me – bra, panties and slip all matching in design and colour plus a suspender belt with a pair of lovely tan coloured nylon stockings. I resisted the urge to run my fingers over the sleek, luxurious fabric but wondered more about this lady and the circumstances that required her to wear such beautiful and sensual garments on this particular weekday morning? Who was she meeting, her husband, her lover or possibly a girlfriend?

But there was to be a further surprise for me. Passing a chest of drawers on the way out, I spotted one of them half open and as my curiosity was well and truly roused, I took a peek inside. There lying among other neatly folded items of underwear, were a couple of dildos! Christ, I thought trying to estimate their length! I wondered when she used them last or were they in addition to her husband’s cock; perhaps she wasn’t married?

I suddenly remembered what I was doing here and ran downstairs to let the lady in.

As she was thanking me and offering to pay for any damage to my clothes, I had the chance to assess this mature woman more closely and I liked what I saw. She was fairly tall with a well-built body and a more than ample bosom that shaped her satin robe delightfully. Her breasts, which I could see were unsupported, looked heavy but firm and in proportion to her other buxom attributes and, there was just a hint of nipple shadowing the satin fabric. They were the kind of breasts that invited you to focus on, which was what I was doing until I realised what the woman was saying.

‘It was lucky for me you came along when you did, I can’t thank you enough.’ She said laying a hand on my arm. ‘But I mustn’t make you miss another train.’ I lifted my gaze to her face, which was crowned by thick blonde hair piled high and pinned off her shoulders in readiness for her bath. Her blue eyes sparkled and even without makeup at this time of the morning, her skin looked smooth and unwrinkled; I determined that this Amazonian beauty was full of passion and sensuality.

I told her there was no damage to my clothes, but to remember and put the latch on hold in future when collecting the milk. We smiled at one another and I turned to leave for the station, making a mental note to walk down this street more often – just in case!

For the rest of the day I found it difficult to dislodge the image of that lady. I tried to imagine her with make-up and dressed in the clothes I’d seen lying on her bed and even pictured her using the dildos, a fantasy which left me with a hard-on. I tried to estimate her age and settled for a figure somewhere in her forties. Was she married, divorced or widowed, I wondered? The woman was becoming an erotic enigma.

Thinking of my date that evening with a woman nearer my own age helped to erase the mystery lady’s casino siteleri hold on my imagination. But later, when I recounted the episode to my date, Jackie, it brought everything in to focus again. Jackie and I spent the night together and although our tame sex sessions helped to ease my frustration her unimpassioned attitude was not my style at all. In fact during one of our sessions I pictured myself fucking the mystery lady with the blonde hair, an image which compelled me to fuck Jackie like crazy, but I still couldn’t influence her sexual torpor.

Our relationship eventually ran its course and we parted company, leaving me to resume my single life. Then my luck changed, suddenly and unexpectedly.

I’d taken a day off work to see my solicitor in town. When our business concluded quicker than expected, I dropped in to ‘Costa’ for a coffee. I had reached the checkout and was about to pay when a voice I recognised interrupted the transaction.

‘I insist on paying for that.’ I turned and to my amazement there stood my enigmatic lady whose bedroom and lingerie I was familiar with. Our eyes met in recognition.

‘Hello,’ I said in surprise. ‘There’s no need, I’ll pay for us both.’

‘But only if we share a table.’ She countered.

‘That would be very nice. Why not find one while I settle up.’

I don’t know whether she chose the low sofas deliberately, but after I’d settled in to my seat and looked across at her I was glad she had. For, as she crossed her graceful legs I was treated to a swish of nylon mesh accompanied by a flourish of pink and coffee coloured lingerie, or to be more precise – her slip with its lacy hem.

‘You know, I rather hoped we’d bump in to one another again. I wanted to thank you properly for that morning. You acted like a true gentleman.’ She smiled and I wondered if her calling me a true gentleman was a tongue-in-cheek reference, considering what I must have seen that morning in her bedroom – if only she knew the truth!

‘I was glad to be of service.’ I replied my mind firmly fixed on her legs and lingerie.

‘Don’t be modest, not everyone would have stopped to help. And I made you miss your train.’

‘Please, don’t give it a second thought. But, just in case you lock yourself out again and my services are required, I will walk past your house on a regular basis.’ My words made her smile.

We introduced ourselves. Her name was Emma, a widow – had been for the past three years – didn’t have a job and loved the nice things in life. She was in town that morning to meet her friend, who happened to be late, for which I was grateful. When she wasn’t looking directly at me, I found my gaze slipping from her face to her body and decided my initial impression of her was correct, she did own a very desirable body.

Today that body wore a full-skirted dress made in a clinging, grey jersey material. It buttoned from bosom to hem with just a hint of cleavage, which thankfully couldn’t be disguised, especially when she leaned forward for her coffee. It was easy to see Emma was a lady of cultured sophistication, but I kept thinking about her sex life. Was there a male friend on the scene to satisfy her? Or did her dildos provide all the gratification she required? Just then her mobile phone rang and she excused herself to answer it. When the conversation had finished Emma looked deflated.

‘It seems my friend Dawn is ill, gone down with a bug of some sort. We were going to a concert this evening but obviously that won’t happen now. A pity really, I was looking forward to it.’ Emma sounded genuinely disappointed. ‘Oh well, I’ll phone the box office and tell them the seats are available. Unless …’ She thought for a moment. ‘Unless, do you enjoy classical music, Jon?’ She asked.

‘Very much so,’ I replied.

‘In that case would you care to go in my place, take your girlfriend?’

‘There isn’t one at the moment. However, I would love to accompany you if you think it’s appropriate?’

‘Appropriate? Of course it is, I’d be delighted to have a handsome young man as my escort.’

So we arranged that I would collect her in a taxi, that way we could have a drink after the performance. We drank our coffee and chatted about the music being performed that evening, and then selected a suitable spot for our après concert cocktails before saying cheerio.

The theatre seats were front row balcony and perfect for viewing the orchestra. We perused the programme notes together, which gave me a wonderful opportunity to admire Emma’s breasts and her long legs encased in sheer black mesh. Her fitted evening dress, an ultra-conservative design with a high neckline, foiled any speculation as to what Emma’s lingerie might look like, but I automatically assumed it would be sensual and that pantyhose or stay-up stockings would be her preferred choice, certainly not suspenders with their possible tell-tale protrusions; disappointing, but understandable.

The first half of the concert was to close canlı casino with Sir Edward Elgar’s, Enigma Variations. Emma told me it was her husband’s favourite piece of music and one which they’d seen performed only a few days before his fatal heart attack. I was about to offer my sympathies when the audience applause interrupted me and the conductor took the stage. When Elgar’s masterpiece was about to start, Emma leaned across and whispered.

‘Will you hold my hand, Jon? I fear my tears are about to flow.’

‘Of course I will.’ I reached for her hand and together with hers it rested on the green silky fabric covering her thigh.

My heart rate rose at the sudden intimacy Emma had instituted, the sexual innuendo of the touch impossible to ignore, or was it just wishful thinking? It was during the playing of the Ninth Variation that I sensed the impromptu contact with her leg. She gripped my hand tighter forcing it down on to her thigh with the result being an erection for me, a nagging hard-on which plagued my mind until the interval, when there was the embarrassment of standing up.

At times Emma had to release my hand in order to applaud the performance, and to occasionally dab her eyes with a handkerchief. But, as we made our way to the bar for drinks, she made sure we were holding hands. I thought nothing of it, that Emma wanted only my support and reassurance through this simple act of friendship; but it was clear whilst sipping our drinks that Emma was upset about something.

‘Jon, would you mind taking me home please?’ She suddenly asked.

‘Of course, are you feeling unwell?’ I enquired.

‘No, I’m afraid that Elgar’s beautiful music has revived too many memories of my husband.’

‘Well, that’s understandable, Emma. Tell me when you’re ready to go and I’ll get a taxi.’

During the journey home, Emma insisted on holding my hand again, but it wasn’t with the same purpose as at the theatre; this time she placed the open palm of my open on her thigh. Then, pressing her hands on to mine, slowly slid it over the silky material. The movement, barely perceptible at first, gradually lengthened until I realised she was seeking a response from me.

I acknowledged Emma’s overture by spreading my fingers further and increasing their pressure, my fingertips grazing across the satin and gently pressing the material in to the valley between her thighs. I fully expected Emma to allow my fingers to wander more freely but she kept control, moving them to her knees then back to the top of her legs.

On their second journey from hip to knee I grasped the hem of her dress and stopped, wondering whether to try my luck beneath the skirt. It was a most pleasant experience and I assumed it was Emma’s intention for me to explore further? But a decision was academic because the moment she parted her knees, the taxi drew to a halt outside her house and the mood evaporated, but not my erection. I paid the driver and turned around to see Emma opening her front door.

‘Would you like to come in for a drink, Jon?’

I tried to sound casual with my reply, but the words caught in my throat making me croak like a frog. I cleared my throat and answered.

‘Yes, that would be nice.’

‘I’m making cocoa but you can have whatever takes your fancy.’

‘Cocoa would be nice, thank you.’

Emma insisted I keep her company in the kitchen while she busied herself making the hot drinks. ‘I’m sorry I made you miss the second half of the concert, Jon, perhaps I can make it up to you some other way. How about dinner here on Saturday evening? Nothing elaborate, just a nice intimate meal. Please say yes.’

The word intimate struck me as being carefully chosen and I reacted to its sexual inference, or was I again misreading Emma’s intentions. But, there was no misreading Emma’s overt behaviour in the taxi. She was the one guiding my hand along her thigh, and the parting of her knees wasn’t at my persuasion. No, surely Emma was offering herself, it was obvious.

I was definitely attracted to this woman, despite the fact she must be at least twenty-years older. But age difference wasn’t the issue; it was merely the driving force as far as I was concerned. Emma’s appeal lay purely in the fact that she was a gorgeous, elegant mature lady whose body I coveted and whose sexual preferences would be a joy to discover. Well, all that plus a lovely pair of tits to show off her erotic lingerie!

I realised I was lost in thought and that Emma was awaiting my answer.

‘I’d love to, Emma, thank you.’

‘Good, I thought something light, how about pasta?’

‘Perfect,’ I replied. ‘I’ll bring some wine.’

Emma placed my cocoa on the table in front of me. As she did her breasts brushed against my shoulder and I got the impression it was deliberate, so was the moment our legs touched beneath the table and remained together. I concluded that Emma was definitely sounding me out, apprising herself of my affection for older women. kaçak casino I was further convinced that, should I make a move to kiss her, she would welcome the attention and reciprocate. The time was right for action, or so I thought.

I placed my hand on her thigh and squeezed gently before replicating the hand movements she’d used in the taxi. She inhaled a deep breath and sighed.

‘Oh, Jon, don’t presume too much.’ Emma said halting my hand. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I find you most appealing. You’re handsome and young, but I’m much older. I find your advances flattering, but are you sure about a relationship with a woman, who by my reckoning must be twenty-odd years older than you.’ Emma removed my hand.

‘But, what was all that in the back of the taxi, Emma?’ I must have sounded incredulous. ‘What was that if not an invitation? You’re a lovely lady, a lovely mature lady I might add and I like you a lot. I find myself drawn to your irresistible maturity and gorgeous body because you are an older woman who appeals to me!’

‘Yes, I’m becoming aware of that.’ Then to my utter amazement, Emma reached under the table and grabbed a handful of my stiff cock. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, presumably at the state of my readiness. ‘And I have the same kind of feelings for a younger person.’ She said smiling and squeezing her hand. I reacted by urging my groin at her fingers encouraging her to continue. ‘However, any such relationship that might develop between us must be conducted on my terms. If you are prepared to embrace those conditions, which I will detail on Saturday over dinner, then perhaps we can have an extremely gratifying future.’

I was left bewildered by what Emma said. What possible terms could she mean, considering she was still stroking my cock? I got the impression the woman was complicated, more so than any other woman I’d known. Sadly, the evening ended on this note. No more jerking me off, no kisses, just a polite peck on the cheek and a goodnight. I went home feeling very frustrated.

Saturday evening arrived and I was ready for Emma and her terms in respect of our relationship. I stood on her doorstep clutching bottles of wine and a dozen red roses, all of which I nearly dropped when she answered the door and I saw what she was wearing.

‘Good evening, Jon, don’t stand there, come in. And you’ve brought me roses, how thoughtful.’ Emma opened the door wider for me and chuckled at my look of astonishment.

‘Sorry, it’s just that you look fabulous and smell divine.’ I spluttered literally choking on her perfume.

‘You didn’t think I’d be wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, did you?’ Emma snapped back.

‘No, of course not, but seeing you in such a revealing fashion has took the wind out of my sails.’ The dress in question was a knee-length, plunge-neck, wrap-over with spaghetti straps. It was made of some slinky red material that highlighted her blonde hair that was piled and layered in a sort of choppy bob.

‘I had a sneaking feeling you would appreciate a number like this, even though it’s designed for a younger figure.’

‘Rubbish, its perfect on you. But, how am I supposed to eat gazing at your mm, your breasts across the table?’

‘I can change if it makes you feel more comfortable.’ Emma offered.

‘Don’t you dare? It’s a stunning dress, but those straps look so delicate, like they’re ready to snap.’ I said tongue in cheek staring at her large breasts; how I longed to hold and squeeze them.

‘Well, thank you for vindicating my choice – actually I chose it with you in mind because it shows lots of my cleavage; I’ve seen your eyes on my breasts, Jon.’ Emma winked and shook her breasts from side to side making her flesh wobble. ‘Actually,’ she said. ‘The hook and eye fastening doesn’t feel all that secure so, if during the evening it pops, then only the bow will keep it closed.’

‘Then you know what I’m wishing for.’ I replied hopefully.

‘You’re a naughty young man, but we’ll see what the evening brings in that respect.’

The wine I’d brought, which was eagerly quaffed, made a perfect accompaniment to Emma’s pasta dish – and her breasts – which I continually fixated up on. Thankfully, it was a light meal, but the copious amounts of wine drove my lust to the point whereby I felt the need to rip off Emma’s dress and plunge my stiff cock in to her unseen pussy. We held hands across the table and I was on the point of suggesting we move somewhere more comfortable and amenable for our needs, when Emma pre-empted me by getting to her feet and leading me to the lounge.

‘Jon, I know your desire for me is genuine, I felt it the other night – remember? But you need to understand more about me.’ We settled in to comfortable sofas and looking me directly in the eyes folded her skirt over her legs. Emma began. ‘Let me explain. I am a complex lady who, when it comes to sex and sexual affairs, is a woman who likes to be in charge and maintain the offensive. In short, Jon, I like to dictate proceedings and my partner must obey! They become my slaves and do everything I command of them! I like to dominate and only attain sexual gratification through my role as dominatrix, Jon! Do you understand what I’m saying?’

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