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Eleanor Reaches The Big Five-O

Category: Mature
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My fiftieth birthday, the big five-O, I was so determined to treat it like any other day, “It’s just a number.” I said to myself speaking out loud as I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a bath towel around me, tucked it into my cleavage and walked back to my bedroom across the short landing. Reality soon disillusioned me as I removed the towel from my naked body in front of the wardrobe mirror.

“Good Lord Eleanor, the gal ain’t what she used to be,” I said with a grimace and turned quickly away to find my clothes and get dressed.

I made my way downstairs and entered my living-room, I had was just about getting used to living alone in the house that I once shared with my husband and where we were so happy, bringing up our daughter, but Sandra was now happily married, living not too far away with her husband Peter.

I made a cup of tea, one sugar and the toast jumped out of the toaster just as the phone rang; it was Jean a friend from my schooldays who also lives nearby. I put the portable handset to my ear and quickly pulled it away again as the voice on the other end bellowed, “Happy birthday Eleanor,” Jean always had a loud telephone voice. I crooked the phone between my shoulder and my ear and started to put a thin skim of butter on my toast, just two slices, then put them on a small plate before sitting in my favourite chair.

“So what does being fifty feel like?” Jean continued clearly enjoying ribbing me over my age.

“Well, it felt just fine Jean until you phoned,” I replied, she laughed.

“Look Eleanor, me and Maureen wondered if you would come out tonight and celebrate, you know just a quiet drink at the local pub, just the three of us.”

Maureen and her husband lived two doors away from Jean, she was a big woman, always had a weight problem, but I did envy her long – always shiny – black, shoulder-length hair, I have a weight problem myself but when I am in Maureen’s company she always makes me feel slim. Jean is the opposite, small and petite, a red head like me, she’s very pretty and is a few years younger than Maureen and has an infectious smile and tends to be great fun.

“OK,” I said, “what time?”

“We thought about eight o’clock, is that alright?”

“Fine, I will come around to yours we can meet up there.”

“Great Eleanor, see you then,” and she hung-up.

Before I had finished eating my toast and drinking my tea the phone rang again. This time it was Sandra, she always calls just before setting off to work.

“How’s the fifty-year old today?”

“Not you as well,” I said, “I have just had Jean on the phone rubbing it in.”

“Anyway, happy birthday Mum.” She said before asking me how I was.

I told her I was fine and that Jean and Maureen had invited me out for a few drinks.

“Oh, that should do you good, are you going?”

“Yes, of course, I am actually looking forward to it. I will need to go out and get something to wear and have my hair done.”

“Good for you Mum, I might come and join you all, and you never know you might just get yourself a bloke.”

“We are all meeting at eight o’clock at Jean’s and by the way, no thanks, I am allergic to men, thank you very much.”

She giggled and said, “OK I will believe you where thousands wouldn’t, see you at eight o’clock.”

“Don’t be late.” I said, making it sound like an instruction knowing her track record where punctuality is concerned.

“I’ll be there.” She said, “Enjoy your birthday Mum.”

I put the phone down and finished what remained of my toast and tea. I completed my usual chores and got ready to go into town, catching the local bus, Saturdays are always busy, the shops were full but eventually I found a lovely blue dress, treated myself to a new, white bra and matching panties, then to the hairdressers for my hair done before catching the bus home again.

Around six-thirty I started to get ready, out of my old clothes, washed and dried. I again stood in front of that damn mirror in my bedroom and let the towel drop to my feet. I can’t help looking, hoping it will be better than last time. “God my thighs look fat.” I said talking to the image of myself that stared back at me glumly.

Turning around and looking over my shoulder I didn’t like my bum any better than my fat thighs which met at the top, I could see the cellulite on the cheeks of my fat backside and the backs of my thighs and sighed for the days when they were really young, smooth and shapely. Wolf-whistles, how long is it since I’ve had one of those — never mind.

To think I used to roll my eyes up and tut whenever I got a wolf-whistle. I would probably do the same now, mustn’t let them think you like it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed I pulled on my new large knickers, stood up and wriggled my bum into them, I put on the new bra, fastening it at the front under my bust then pulled the cups around to the front squeezing my boobs into them before heaving the straps over my shoulders. The blue dress, which I hadn’t tried on before buying it, fitted perfectly, I felt sure it would.

Should I put some tights on? I toyed with the idea and decided it might be best. So again I sat at the bottom of the bed and slipped the tights over my feet and started to pull them up, over my knees, one of my better points, at least they are still round and shapely, then came the twinge right in the hollow of by back just as my black tights were about half way along my thighs.

I have had that same twinge before. I stood up and could feel a dull ache in the small of my back. With my blue dress pulled up to my waist I managed to pull my tights up over my knickers without too much trouble then smoothed my dress back into place.

As I made my way down stairs the dull ache brought back memories of when Tom was ill, he had died three years earlier and lifting him in and out of his wheelchair had caused a problem with my back that every now and again plagues me. Although I could feel it I was still moving freely enough and decided it was not going to stop me going out and enjoying myself.

Everyone turned up at Jean’s. Sandra was a bit late as usual but only a few minutes. We all walked to the local, it was pretty empty but that didn’t matter, we just wanted a few drinks and a good old chin wag.

We found a table and sat around in a group talking about the usual things, family, children, grandchildren and so on. Everyone commented on my new dress which was nice. The only downside to what was a nice evening was the dull, niggling pain in my lower back which was slowly getting worse.

After a visit to the loo, where I again had trouble pulling my panties and tights up, I returned to the table and very gingerly lowered myself into my seat. I was beginning to wish I had stayed at home, but the last thing I wanted to do was spoil what had become a very pleasant evening for the others.

It was Maureen who noticed my discomfort and said, “Eleanor you look to be in a lot of pain.”

“Yes, I have pulled a muscle in the small of my back getting my tights on just before I came out and it is tightening up.”

“Shall we get you back home?” Jean asked sympathetically.

“Oh no, I will be alright, anyway I am enjoying myself, it is my birthday you know.”

The women laughed and had one more drink each.

You could do with seeing our Steve about that back of yours.” Maureen said

Steve is Maureen’s son, about the same age as Sandra, roughly about 25 or so.

Sandra and Steve had been at school together and sometimes when they were babies Tom and I would babysit them both while Maureen and Bill, her husband, went out and they would repay the favour. Steve was a lovely lad and had grown into a fine, good-looking young man. I had completely forgotten about him being a chiropractor until Maureen just reminded me.

“He is very good and gives a good massage.” Maureen continued.

“Eh, I don’t care how good he is he is not massaging my body.” I said and the women laughed especially when Jean piped up with, “Steve can massage my body anytime he likes.”

“Me too,” Sandra took up the theme.

“Steady on girl, you are spoken for.” I reminded her.

We all went home feeling rather merry from the few drinks we had consumed.

I climbed the stairs and just about made it the bedroom. Unzipping the back of my dress was a major problem but eventually I did. I pulled it over my head not wanting to bend down and pick it up off the floor. There was that damn mirror again, that’s got to go I thought as I stood there in matching white bra and knickers with my tights pulled up to by belly. I rolled them down over my fat backside along with my knickers then slowly sat on the edge of the bed and taking my time managed to get them off and tossed them on the floor in a ball.

The clip of my bra easily came around to the front after dropping the straps. My bra ended up on the floor with my panties and tights. It was bad enough trying to get through the considerable pain barrier without seeing my saggy tits flop out.

“God Eleanor girl you look fifty.” I said as I got into my nightie and eased myself onto the bed and tenderly rolled myself under the sheets. Once in bed the pain receded somewhat and I fell asleep.

The sleep was fitful; I was awake at 7.00am and struggled even more to get my clothes on. My back was definitely getting worse by the minute.

“Never mind fifty,” I mumbled “you are a bloody old woman with a worn out body and too many wrinkles for your own good, and now I am nothing but an old crock. ” I need a damn good pick-me-up before I get too depressed, I thought.

What was it Sandra had said? “You never know you might just get yourself a bloke.” That’s a laugh and pigs might fly.

By nine o’clock the pain was increasing and I knew I had to do something. In desperation I phoned Maureen.

“Maureen I think I am going to need your Steve, do you think he can help?”

“What for his favourite Aunt? Of course he will but he is at work and won’t be home until five, can you manage until then?”

“I’ll do my best.” I said, but I could have done with a bit more urgent treatment.

Steve had always called me Aunt ever since childhood and he still does. Now he is a handsome man with a shock of blonde hair, he is tall and I always thought that he and Sandra would someday get together, I couldn’t understand why they never had because I would have thought he could have had any woman he wanted and Sandra is also quite gorgeous, but it never happened. Steve has never married but there is always a string of attractive young females queuing up.

At five-thirty the phone rang.

“Hello Aunt Eleanor, what’s fifty feel like?”

“Oh for God’s sake don’t you start. As a mater of fact I am feeling more like seventy.”

“Look Aunt Eleanor, I have just got home, I am going to have my tea and I will be right over but it might be about seven o’clock, is that OK?”

I sighed heavily, another 90 minutes of this but what could I do? Anyway, was Steve just a long-shot, could he really help?

“Yes Steve seven o’clock will be fine.” I said.

“See you then Aunt Eleanor I will soon get you good and fixed.”

Seven on the dot the door bell rang and there stood Steve with his cheeky face and roguish smile and a bag in his hand which reminded me of one of those doctors’ bags.

“Come in.” I said, stepping aside to let him get through the door and into the living room.

He gave me a kiss on the cheek and wished me a belated happy birthday.

“That’s a joke,” I said, “Happy isn’t the word I would use.” I continued, by now almost bent double in pain.

“I’ll soon have you ship-shape Aunt Eleanor.” He said, sounding very confident which made me feel better.

“Please drop the Aunt bit, just call me Eleanor,” I groaned.

“I can see you are in considerable pain Aunt Eleanor,” he said, ignoring my invitation to drop the Aunt bit. “I think we will soon have you right again. Do you mind if I remove my coat?”

“Oh of course, please do.” I said as he took it off and laid it on the couch and putting his bag on the floor before looking around my living room.

“Here will do Aunt Eleanor,” he said pointing to the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace.

“Pardon?” I responded not quite on the same wavelength.

“Here,” he said pointing with his finger. “Lay down here on your stomach and it will be helpful if you remove your blouse.”

What remove my blouse? Foolishly I hadn’t counted on that but it was obviously necessary, nevertheless, it was very embarrassing indeed, especially when he had to help me to slide it off as I stood stooped and in pain with my bra and a great deal of cleavage exposed before this young man who I had known from when he was only a baby.

Very gingerly with Steve’s help, I got to my knees and in considerable pain stretched out on the white, sheepskin rug. I felt his hand first between my shoulder blades.

“You are all tense and tight,” he said, “try to relax”. Then his fingers ran down my spine to the seat of my pain tenderly carrying out a careful examination of the affected area.

After a short while he suddenly struck me right where the pain was, I think it was with the heel of his hand, and I nearly jumped through the roof. God, I had never felt a pain like it in my life.

“Ok, ok, it’s alright now, it’s alright, your disk had popped out, it’s back now.”

I was so angry at this sudden pain that I shouted at him, “Fucking hell that was fucking painful.”

Realising what I said and the colour of my language I started to apologise.

Laughing he said “It’s alright Aunt Eleanor; I get that every day and far worse.”

Then I realised that the pain had gone. The relief was sheer heaven.

I started to get up and felt no difficulty at all.

“No Eleanor,” Steve said for the first time dropping the prefix Aunt bit, “Stay exactly where you are.”

“Do you know you are so tight and so highly-strung? I think you should have a massage just to loosen up a bit, it’s a freebie of course.” He said reaching for his bag and taking out a jar of specially prepared oils.

I didn’t think about my previous inhibitions and lay down again. A massage never had one in my entire life, this will be a new experience I thought and since I was half naked anyway I might as well let him get on with it.

“Just let me unclip your bra Eleanor, I will clip it up again once I have finished.”

I felt his fingers unclip the clasp of my bra and felt the wings fall to my side, I felt strangely exposed with my bust pressed into the sheepskin rug still in my bra cups.

Placing my hands under my forehead, palms down, with my elbows splayed out sideways he poured some oil onto his hands and began running them along my shoulders, out along my arms and back again before massaging my shoulder blades, his hands felt so firm but at the same time so sensuous. All the time he was talking to me in the most soothing voice telling me to breathe in slowly and then let it out slowly.

“Breathe in through your nose and out through your toes, if you know what I mean” he said, “and just let your body relax with each breath you take.”

Positioning himself at the bottom of my feet he took hold of one foot after applying a little more oil to his hands and began massaging my toes after lifting my foot by bending my leg upwards at the knee then grasping my foot with both hands he rolled them vigorously. Then moving to the other foot he did the same again.

I was conscious of the view he might get up my skirt and made sure I kept my knees well clamped together, didn’t want him seeing my knickers.

A bit more oil and my carves where given the same vigorous treatment.

For a few seconds he removed his hands and did nothing then he was back straddling the bottom of my calves and reaching forward he ran his hands from the top of my skirt band all the way up to my neck and out along my arms to my elbows and back again, the strong masculine hands felt so firm and powerful as he repeated it over and over. This was amazingly, I was beginning to feel wonderfully relaxed.

“That’s good Eleanor, lovely now, relaxing nicely.” He said, his voice deep and husky, extremely sensuous and almost hypnotic.

Each time his hands returned from my neck down to the small of my back he sat back onto my heels which pressed in that area between his arse and his ball sac, I didn’t move, how could I, why would I? I hadn’t felt a man in years and this was a young, virile man and to my shame I was secretly enjoying the sensation. I was, however, shocked to feel him undo the button at the back of my skirt and pull the zip down a few inches so his hands could reach the base of my spine. I was thinking he would be able to see my panties for sure if he moved the zip down any further.

Now his hands were all over my back, neck and arms, so relaxing and soothing, yet so manly and forceful.

“Are you OK Eleanor, is it nice? Let me know if you want me to stop.”

“Oh, that’s fine thanks, lovely.”

“Good, that’s goooood” he said ever so soothingly, “Just relax now while I massage your calves again there is still a bit of tension there.

Moving to one side of me he wrapped his hands around one of my calves and rolled it forward with one hand while pulling back with the other, softening the muscle until it became loose in his hands then he did the same to the other.

“Does that feel good Eleanor?” he asked, “You will feel the benefit of this later I promise.”

I was feeling the benefit already, it was magical but it caused a deep intake of breath when he moved his hands on to the lower part of my thighs and began a deep massage moving part-way up my thighs under the hem of my skirt. I was aware that the back of my thighs were becoming slowly exposed but his masculine hands were sheer magic. Where on earth had he learnt to do this, was it just a natural gift?

“Are you OK Eleanor? I will stop if you are uncomfortable.”

What should I say? There was no doubt that it was wonderful but at the same time was I really in control or was he?

The answer quickly came when he wriggled my skirt down over my new, white knickers and down over my feet and started to massage my bum through my panties and then back to the tops of my thighs.

“You’re alright Eleanor just relax don’t tighten up, you are doing very well.”

It was him that was doing very well; he was getting my clothes off without one word of protest from a woman twice his age.

His hands were back massaging through my panties then moved back down to my thighs again and he was massaging the top fleshy part where the flab of my thighs meet each other.

Soon he was sat on my lower-carves again deeply massaging my thighs, buttocks and back. With each movement backwards and forwards I could feel his balls pressing against the backs of my knees. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the exotic experience, especially the occasional feel of cock touching my thigh. Did he realise that I could feel everything? There was nothing much left to the imagination as to what was between his thighs. I bit my lower lip.

How long had it been since I had felt between a young man’s thighs, felt a pair of balls rubbing against me, felt a cock, could it really be as big as it felt?. It was certainly twenty years since I had felt anything even remotely so exotic; in fact I had never felt anything as erotic in my life. Did he know what I could feel? Surely he must know.

“Just lift up slightly Aunt Eleanor.”

I raised my head.

“No not your head Eleanor, your buttocks.” He giggled.


“Your bum, lift your bum.”

I lifted my bum as he wanted and my knickers were down, over my thighs and knees and left around my ankles.

“Oh good Lord, you’ve pulled my knickers down Steve.” I heard myself gasp.

“Oh sorry Eleanor, if this is upsetting please say stop and I will but this will make you feel wonderful and deeply relaxed. There’s nothing to worry about, you have a beautiful bum anyway.”

Nothing to worry about! Laid here with my knickers around my ankles? He had nearly stripped me off; I was there in just my bra and with my knickers dangling around my ankles but with his hands again massaging the tops of my thighs and the cheeks of my fat bum. I relaxed again.

“You have lovely bum cheeks Eleanor and your thighs are extremely womanly.”

“Oh yes, don’t you mean ugly cellulite” I complain.

“Don’t worry, a bit of cellulite is sweet and makes your bum wobble.” He giggled,

“You look at your thighs through the eyes of a woman not through the eyes of a man.”

Here was a man half my age with his oily hands all over me, massaging my arse-cheeks and occasionally giving me a little slap, and I was in a trance with all my inhibitions gone. What’s more he was making me feel good about myself.

“That’s a good girl Eleanor,” he said, “you are feeling much more relaxed now and a lot of the tension has just drifted away. You feel so soft and lovely now.”

“Yes, and I also feel naked,” I said.

“Yes, naked and very beautiful, you are all woman Aunt Eleanor.”

All Woman, my self-esteem was certainly getting a boost, I was actually beginning to feel very sexy, maybe I am all woman.

Now he rolled the top of my thigh with a little more force, his fingers pushed the fleshy tops of my thighs slightly apart and his finger came very close to touching my pussy so I squeezed my thighs a bit tighter together, like a reflex action to protect my pussy.

“Now Aunt Eleanor, that’s a bit naughty, I need you really relaxed, loosen your thighs, that’s a good girl.”

Oh my God he is going to take me and I was too far gone to stop him, but I didn’t have the willpower to resist him, I had never been so sexually excited and I released the tension keeping my thighs tightly clamped together, abandoning my pussy’s last line of defence and his hand again drifted between my relaxed thighs this time gliding against my vulva with his little fingertip. I know he felt the wetness that had been seeping from my snatch. I opened my thighs just a little wider so he could see my pussy if he wanted to and to give him full access. I was no longer the Eleanor Turner I had known all my life, all sorts of feelings and exotic thoughts were whirling around in my head. How could I be thinking such wicked thoughts? Every woman alive should get this sort of attention at least once in her life I thought.

“Your pussy is wet and sticky Aunt Eleanor, you are a very naughty girl.” He said in a very deep, husky, sexy voice that sounded so self-satisfied. I couldn’t help thinking now that he had every right to be confidently smug as he caused me to flinch again when his hand pushed between the flesh of my thighs at the top, running his hand between them, giving my pussy a squelchy squeeze, pressing the lips together then returning to massage my thighs again. The flesh of my thighs meet at the top and he had struggled a bit to get his hand between them so it was inevitable that he would remove my knickers from my ankles so he could really spread my legs out. God it was so exotic and when he pushed his hand between my thighs again there was no attempt at resistance from me. His difficulty level with me was now zero.

“Mmmm Eleanor, you have a beautiful little twat darling.” he said, it needs a massage just as much as any other part of your body. Now turn over my lovely.”

Cupping my hands on my bra I turned over. It was a silly gesture. Steve just took hold of my hands and roughly pulled them away from my bra-cups then removed it exposing my tits and tingling erect nipples. I was stretched out; in front of a man 25 years my junior, laid on my back, totally naked with my thighs wide apart doing whatever I was told. The thing that shocked me most was how totally submissive I had become.

Taking the oil bottle he smiled as he poured some oil on my tits which now became the centre of his attention as my boobs and nipples received an expertly delivered massage.

“Why you women cover gorgeous tits up I will never know.” He said as I laid there in paradise letting him tweak my nipples between his fingers and thumb and massaging my oil-soaked boobs in his large masculine hands.

From my tits I felt his hands roam over my stomach and down to within an inch of my pubic-bone and back again. God I wanted him to go all the way down.

Each time his fingers stretched a little further until his middle-finger touched the top of my slit. I couldn’t help myself from spreading my thighs, and just laying there with my knees wide apart.

Then with one hand concentrating on my tits the other hand took hold of a handful of soaked pussy. The myriad of exotic sensation were sending me into an ecstatic trance. My tits were being massaged with one hand at the same time that my crack was being explored with the other.

“Now let me have a good look at the fucking thing.” He said with my pussy totally exposed and dripping wet.

“Lovely, lovely, it’s a little beauty Eleanor, let’s have a good look at your slit,” he said running his index finger between my pussy lips.

“It is so fucking cute.” He said and his use of language didn’t bother me one bit, in fact it heightened my ecstasy.

Feeling his eyes all over my pussy caused me a sudden rush of embarrassment and I impulsively moved to close my legs.

He grabbed my knee pushing my legs apart again.

“I can’t do this if you are going to keep crossing your fucking legs, I can’t massage your twat properly unless I can see it for fuck’s sake; now keep your fucking legs wide apart. Come on Aunt Eleanor behave now you really must cooperate.”

Strangely it upset me that I had made him angry and submissively I decided to behave and exposed my pussy yet again, spreading my thighs as wide as I could across the floor, I didn’t want to make him angry with me again, he always had a temper when he was a little boy.

Sorry Steve, is that better for you

“That’s much, much better, Eleanor, it’s the cutest, little twat I have ever seen and I have seen a few, you should be very proud it, it’s beautiful.” His voice was manly, masculine and deeply husky and testosterone loaded.

I was never fully sure what he was doing but now I knew I was being helplessly prepared to be fucked for the first time in years.

I felt his fingers separating the tightly-curled hairs of my red bush and gently he started to exotically massage my pussy, his finger sliding up and down my slit massaging the swollen lips of labia to get at my throbbing clitoris.

“A woman’s twat is made to be massaged Eleanor like any other part of her body, it is a wonderful, relaxing therapy. Now I want to see you use your arse to fuck my fingers and cum in my fucking hand. Don’t hold back just flush your pussy.”

Each of my labia was receiving intense and subtle attention and clearly he was visually examining each petal as he rolled them between his fingers. My nipples were more erect than I had ever known they could be. My erect clit was forced to emerge from its hood and he hadn’t even touched it yet.

Did I want this young man, I had known when he was a mere child, watching me fuck his fingers, watching me cum, seeing my clitoris, something that is a most private thing? I don’t think my husband had ever seen my clitoris?

“Perfect, absolutely perfect; your sweet, little clit’s popped out nicely Aunt Eleanor, just what we needed. Keep your thighs well apart and let me deal with it.”

He was dealing with it alright. God above, no man had ever paid such attention to my vulva and now I was dementedly thrusting at his fingers as they ran tight, little circles around my exposed clitoris, his hand was drenched and I was cumming at a rate of knots and he knew it. My body was shaking, I was grunting, the orgasm building up in my body was so intense it was frightening. I was writhing in ecstasy and agony all at the same time.

Every so often he completely withdrew his hand from my pussy.

“Its twitching nicely now Eleanor, it’s going to fucking cum for me, just let go, then his fingers were all over my wet wideopen crack again.”

Jesus, the bastard was actually watching my pussy twitch as he was bringing me to orgasm. The very thought of him watching my pussy twitching caused delirium to take over the wild thoughts cascading though my brain.

“I am going to cum, Jesus it’s cumming, oh Jesus, Jeeeeasus it’s cumming for you Steve, watch it cum, watch it cum Steve.”

I had never been in such a high trance like state, I was feverishly hallucinating, rambling obscenities I had never used before.

“Gooood girrrrl Eleanor, show me how you do it.”

There were massive contractions deep in my body which was shaking, vibrating and thrusting wildly.

“Go on Eleanor, let it go my lovely, let it go, that’s a good girl. Let Steve see your twat cum, come on baby, come on, do it for me now.”

“Cumming.” I screamed, “Fucking cumming, Oh my god finger fuck me, do it you bastard.”

I had never used such language before but it seemed so natural to shout and scream the most foul language, what was he doing to me?

That’s so sweet Aunt Eleanor, I can see your little cunt twitching, just cum in the palm of my hand.”

His words heightened the power of my impeding orgasm, stronger than anything I had ever felt before and at its zenith I felt two of Steve’s fingers push inside me and go straight to my G spot and I squirted right through his fingers and onto the rug.

“Wow,” Steve gushed as he watched my pussy squirting for him, “wonderful, fucking wonderful, so beautiful.”

What an experience, I had never had that happen before; it felt great but so embarrassing to squirt like that from my pussy in full view of Steve’s ogling eyes.

Quickly, he unbuckled his belt and whipped his trousers off before kneeling between my legs and whipping off his shirt, leaving just a pair of jockeys with a massive erection filling them.

I grabbed the elastic and pulled them over his cock which was rock-hard and so erect that it sprang out pointing diagonally upwards. God it was so beautiful.

He knelt there for a few seconds with a thick, rugged, monster of a cock twitching in his fist.

“This will be so therapeutic for you Eleanor.” He said as he searched for my cunt-hole with his bull-end, then separating my labia he very slowly, little-by-little, made me take his throbbing shaft, my pussy stripped back his foreskin effortlessly, unsheathing his mammoth bull-head and his cock went all the way into me until his heavy balls were squashed against the soft, curvy cheeks of my arse. I was going to have to take him, all of him.

His thrusts were slow and rhythmic withdrawing totally his entire length and girth before making me take it all again.

I slowly took one deeply penetrating, length of thick cock after another feeling it swelled inside me until he began to thrust gradually faster, deeper.

Fifty years of age, I had never contemplated sex would ever happen again. What man would want my body and here I was, Eleanor Turner, with a young stallion’s cock inside me and I was getting fucked.

The speed and intensity of his thrusts increased and so did mine. It was as if our bodies and minds had melded together, we fucked as one in the urgency of the moment.

I hadn’t had sex for years because of my husband’s ill health and actually I hadn’t missed it, or I thought I hadn’t, until I felt this masculine, length of rugged, muscular manhood thrusting into me like a jackhammer. My pussy embraced it eagerly with a hungry greed I had never felt before. I was full, full of its hardness, full of its length and stretched by its girth.

I was buried beneath Steve’s phenomenally fit torso, as he kissed my neck and whispered exotically in my ear while never slowing down on the pile-driving of his cock.

“Come on Eleanor, let it all go baby, soak my fucking cock with a cuntful of your lovely juices. Let’s go all the way together, I am want to fill your tight-pussy right up until it overflows with cum.”

My legs were over his shoulders, his cute little arse pumping cock into me and I was cumming again. The little strength I had I mustered around my hips to thrust up and along the hard shaft of his cock. I was screaming my own house down.

“Fuck me Steve, cock my pussy, I’m cumming for you, god I’m cumming for you.”

“That’s great Eleanor, show me what a naughty girl you are, empty your pussy and squirt for me again.”

He needn’t have asked I already was doing and as he felt it splashing onto his balls he shot his massive, creamy load as deep into me as he could get it, holding his cock right inside me, close to my cerxix, until he had finished pumping his load and god I needed him to, I wanted all he had to give inside my pussy.

I felt the monster throbbing deeper inside me than any cock had ever been and I felt each splash of his load deep inside my subservient vagina. I hadn’t had a mess this big inside my vagina for years or probably never before.

My husband had been my only lover and I was, of course, no virgin but he was in virgin territory with that bulging bull-head and I felt a second and third gush of his spunky cream. It felt like my pussy muscles were sucking him dry. I drained him completely and utterly.

He thrust and held his cock inside me right up to the hilt until he had finished spunking and I felt a warm glow throughout my entire body that reminded me that I was a voluptuously attractive woman. Yes, I felt like a very lucky woman, but suddenly I realised that he was an even luckier man.

“Now Eleanor, you have plenty of testosterone charged jizzum to last a lifetime.” He groaned as I heard the slurp of his slackening cock emerge from my pussy’s dripping hole.

“I see I have slackened your cock off.” I said, feeling quite proud of myself.

We lay together exhausted, my mind in turmoil and my head resting on his firm chest and my hand fondling his soft cock and balls.

He cuddled me to him making me feel, safe, secure and even loved.

His cock stirred again and I slipped his foreskin backwards and forwards over the knotty, mushroom shape of his bull-head. His eyes were closed, his mouth open as he gulped air by the litre.

“That’s so nice Aunt Eleanor are you going to swallow it for me?”

I had him writhing and thrusting, it was my turn.

“No Steve, I want to see your spunk shoot out of that tiny slit at the end of your cock, come on let me see the goods. I want to return the favour.”

I worked his foreskin, peeling it back until his purple cockend came into view and the little cock-slit could be seen getting a little wider each time. I looked at his face, it was grimacing, his teeth were tightly clenched, he was holding out on me. He didn’t want to shoot his load in the open where I could see it. Well tough, he was going to whether he wanted to or not, I had never seen a creamy load actually shoot out of a man’s dick and I really wanted to and this one big cock. Looking at it I could hardly believe I had had it all the way inside me.

I put my free hand under his balls, they felt full of jizzm and I wanked his cock even faster.

“Come on your turn; show your Aunt Eleanor what you are capable of.”

He was grunting, grunting and grunting louder and louder, the purple bull-head was swelling and getting thicker, the little slit was fully open and a thick fountain of spunk shot from the end of his cock into the air, the next cumshot trickled down the vein at the side of his thick shaft. Quickly I covered his cock with my mouth and for the first time in my life I tasted and drank cum.

He reached and pulled my head down his shaft while I caressed his balls and swallowed the thick slimy sludge that had been the contents of his bollocks.

“You are such a good girl Eleanor, that was so exotic.”

We got dressed and I realised I hadn’t locked the doors, Jesus; I thought, what if Sandra had walked in while I was getting a fuck on the rug, squirting or drinking jizz?

Perish the thought, but it must not happen again.

As Steve left he suddenly turned and looked into my eyes.

“Oh nearly forgot,” he said giving me a kiss, “Many happy returns.”

“God I hope so.” I said.

I switched the TV on and sat to watch the news. How long had it been since I had felt the warm comforting glow of a man’s cum seeping into my panties? I could still taste the salty cum in my mouth, it was a delicious feeling, I was addicted, it must not be the last time.

The house suddenly felt empty without him, would he ever come again? I knew I needed more. Anyway, he had made me feel confident and renewed with the self-esteem I needed so badly, assuring me that I was an attractive woman even at 50.

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