Turning Forty Isn’t as Painful for Some Folks as It Is for Others

So many friends had given me a hard time about turning forty that I’d become real depressed by the time my birthday rolled around. To top things off, my husband had to fly to LA the night before on an emergency job. We may have been married for twenty-two years, but we still made love nearly every morning. It has kept our marriage and love strong to start each day with a good screw.

So here I was—forty, waking up alone instead of in the arms of the love of my life. It isn’t that I don’t know how to satisfy myself using my trusty right hand, but nothing can take the place of a hard thrusting cock in one’s pussy. Since it was Saturday, I wasn’t in any hurry to get out of bed, so I turned over and went back to sleep.

The doorbell woke me at ten. I wasn’t expecting anybody, so I hopped out of bed and peeked out the window and saw my friend Dolly’s car in the driveway. I called out, “I’m coming,” grabbed a short, nearly transparent robe, and dashed down to let her in. I stood behind the door as I opened it and said, “Come in,” then about died when I saw it was Dolly’s son Gabe, not his mother, who walked into my living room!

Gabe wasn’t a child any longer but a handsome twenty-year-old young man who had been trying to look up my skirt or down my blouse since, well, forever. I sleep in the nude, so he was getting an eyeful, with my breasts and bush quite visible through the thin robe. I quickly grabbed a pillow to cover myself, only to find it too small to cover both my tits and cunt. I chose to cover my cunt and then asked Gabe what he needed.

Indicating a package he was carrying, he said, “My mother asked me to bring this over to you, since it’s kind of heavy. It’s a birthday gift from her and some of the other ladies.”

He put the gift down and then brought me the card, never shifting his eyes from my breasts. His hands were shaking when he held the card out to me, saying, “Happy birthday, Mrs. T—.”

I took it and said thank you, then opened the door, thinking he would get the hint and leave before I had to ask him to. He kept looking at my tits and said, “My God, Mrs. T—, your breasts are incredible. I’ve always wanted to get a good look at them. Today, thanks to my mother, my dreams came true.”

He stepped closer and then, reaching over me to push the door shut, pressed me against it and laid a wet kiss on my lips. When our lips parted, his hands were cupping my breasts, but I didn’t even try to stop him, since he’d started a fire in my loins. A couple of minutes later he was easing his hand between my legs to explore my wet folds. He knew he had me.

The pillow had fallen to the floor when Gabe pressed me to the door. He kicked it away now as he scooped me up and carried me up to the master bedroom. He laid me on the bed and then removed his clothes, revealing a sturdy six-inch erection standing up from the curly thicket above a fully packed bag of balls. He removed my robe, then simply climbed on my naked body and slid his cock in my cunt.

He began thrusting rapidly in and out of my pussy and came in less than a minute. I was just warming up when he popped, so I held on to him when he started to withdraw, saying, “You’re not going anyplace until you finish what you started.”

He said, “But I’m all done. I’ve blown my load.”

I told him I knew he’d blown one load, but a man his age should be able to unload half a dozen times before saying he’s done. His cock soon became totally hard again, and he said, “I’ve never thought about doing it more than once. The girls I’ve dated have all been in a hurry to get dressed and go home as soon as I finish once.”

I said, “It’s time you learned the difference between girls and women, my young friend. I love sex and would do it twenty-four hours a day if I found a man who could keep up.” And I thrust my hips up at him and spurred his ass cheeks with my heels to get him going again. Having just shot his load, he had more stamina and was able to screw me long enough to bring me to orgasm before flooding my cunt.

This time I let Gabe dismount and rest, but not leave the bed. As we lay side by side, I said, “You were always naughty, always trying to look down my blouse or up my skirt. One time I lost a pair of panties from the hamper in my bathroom after you had been here. I always suspected you of taking them. Did you?”

“Yes, I took them,” he said. “In fact, I still have them hidden in my bedroom closet. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal, that you’d even miss them. Who knew you were so compulsive about counting your underwear?”

I let it drop, and we continued chatting as we lay there, about nothing in particular. When Gabe said, “By the way, Mrs. T—, how old are you today?” I burst out laughing.

He said, “What’s so funny?” and I said I thought it was a little silly of him to call me Mrs. T—when I was lying next to him naked with my pussy full of his semen. “Well then,” he said, “how old are you, B-B-Blanche?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he said, “Well, my mom is forty-four, so I guess you must be about that old.”

I said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I turned forty today, so you’ve just screwed a woman twice your age.” He said that I was better in the sack than any of the girls his age he’d been with. They all kept their panties on until he had a condom securely in place, never letting him near them bareback. “And I find your pretty bush much sexier than their shaved gashes. Look, talking about this has given me another hard-on! Could we do it again?”

Instead of answering in words, I straddled him, took his hard cock up my pussy, and began riding him cowgirl-style. He fondled my bouncing breasts. I can reach orgasm easily in this position, while for most men it tends to delay orgasm. Gabe indeed turned out to be one of the men who lasted longer, so I enjoyed letting myself just build up to a grand release in the process of bringing him to the boiling point. When he finally blew, it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t have much juice to spew, but his hot body was alive with passion.

Gabe called his mother and told her I’d hired him to clean the garage. Then he and I spent most of the day in my bed, tearing up the sheets, until he could no longer get it up. My body was drenched with sweat and semen, so after he left, I treated myself to a refreshing douche and a hot soak in the tub, planning to have a light dinner and go to bed to catch up on my sleep. But as I was toweling off, the phone rang. It was my friend Connie, who said she’d just realized it was my birthday and I should get ready because she and Jesse (her husband) were taking me out to dinner and would be by to pick me up in an hour.

I tried to decline, but Connie simply wouldn’t hear of it, so I got my butt in gear and was ready when they picked me up. We had a nice meal and then went to the lounge for several after-dinner drinks. Connie and I each danced with Jesse a few times, until I felt a tapping on my shoulder and heard someone asking for a dance. I turned and saw Wade, the salesman I’d only recently bought my new car from. He had flirted outrageously with me when I’d shopped at the dealership, even when my husband was with me.

I introduced Wade to Connie and Jesse, then joined him on the dance floor for a fox-trot, and stayed out on the floor for a slow, mellow tune. Wade drew me close, and soon I felt a large cock pressing firmly against my soft tummy. He asked where my “anchor” was, and I said he was out of town on business. He promptly dropped his hands to cup my ass cheeks through the thin silk sheath I was wearing and whispered, “I think I’ll fuck you tonight, pretty lady. I’ve had a hard-on for you since I first saw you walk into our showroom, Blanche. And that hard-on is a little more than eight inches long and thicker than your wrist.”

Just from hearing his nasty words, my pussy moistened and my nipples swelled. Having him squeeze my ass had an effect on me, too, in spite of the marathon day of sex that I’d had with young Gabe. By the time I left with Jesse and Connie, I’d made arrangements to call Wade after my friends dropped me off, and five minutes after I called, he was at my door. Soon after, we were making out on the sofa.

I led him to the downstairs guest room instead of my sex-stained bed upstairs. He took off his shirt and pants and I got out of my tight dress, and we tumbled onto the bed in our underwear. He embraced me and unhooked my bra, then spent half an hour fondling and sucking on my tits while telling me how lovely they were.

He finally set his sights lower and began to rub the wet crotch of my hose and panties. Soon he was tugging the hose down along with my brief panties. He sat back on his haunches looking at his prize for the night and said, “I knew you would have a beautiful bush.”

Then his face was between my legs and he was lapping at the secretions oozing out of me. He was eager to please, but not that great at muffin-munching, so I was more than ready to receive him when he moved up to mount me. He eased his steel shaft in me until his warm sac was resting against my anus, and then held still to control his excitement. Once he began to fuck me, I braced my feet to meet his thrusts, but he hooked his arms behind my knees and pressed them back to my shoulders, then began powering in and out of my snatch.

The guy had amazing stamina, screwing me for a good fifteen minutes before letting out a groan as volleys of warm cream saturated me. By then I really was exhausted, and I must have conked out. When I awoke it was morning, and Wade was fondling my tits and cunt to warm me up for another lusty fuck. When we finished, I told him he had to leave before the morning paper came because my husband’s nephew delivers it. A lie, but it had worked for me before!

While Wade dressed, he told me to call him when I could get away, since it was obvious, he claimed, that “your husband hasn’t serviced you in some time.” He added that this was fine with him, “because I like to screw a woman who hasn’t gotten any for a long time, because their pussy is so tight.”

I smiled and said nothing, but I was thinking that turning forty had been less traumatic than I could have imagined.

—Name and address withheld