When Tabitha was sixteen, she lost her virginity to Ralph, the head boy of her brother’s all-male school. He wasn’t particularly keen – he was quite happy rummaging around in her knickers and wasn’t expecting to get his dick inside a girl until he went to university, but she more or less insisted.

After all, they had been going out together for several months and people assumed they had done it, which was what really mattered. It was all about image, and Ralph was captain of the rugby team and had this girlfriend who most of his peers would have given their right arm to be messing around with.

But Tabitha was a red-blooded girl and she wanted to feel a cock inside her, so she engineered an evening at her parents’ house while they were out watching her brother’s embarrassingly precocious turn in the Pirates of Penzance.

Tabitha was tall and stout and at that age, stout was an okay word. She was solidly built, neither svelte nor fat. She was good at hockey and field sports like discus and javelin. Many of the boys secretly found her intimidating, but they all agreed in their teenage-bravado way that she could probably teach you a thing or two. Ralph had the physical bulk to handle her, so they were a match made in some kind of heaven.

She made all the running but allowed him to think he was in the driving seat, so when he found himself between her thighs that momentous evening he was in no doubt that he had fucked her, not the other way around. Whatever, it was a sexual experience for both of them – a somewhat unsubtle, almost bruising encounter, but it got the job done.

They lost touch when uni called, and Tabitha’s sexual career thereafter was a chequered one that alternated between being banged by boys who felt up to it and didn’t mind her lack of finesse, and those whom she had talent-spotted and dragged into her web to be given the Ralph treatment.

You would never find a boy complaining about being strong-armed into sex; they were pathetically grateful.

She dressed nicely and wasn’t afraid of wearing a skirt when she thought a boy might be tempted to put his hand up it. She looked after her hair and wore perfume, but not too much. And she kept her bits clean and fresh, because you never know when it’s going to happen. And all the time her big, pendulous breasts hung like the sign outside her personal shop that said, “Hot blooded real woman available. Knock politely and see what happens.”

At the age of twenty-five, back from university with a degree in agriculture, she had chanced upon Clive, a young man from a similar farming background and had swept him off his feet. He was a rather limp lad, not quite effeminate but with not one iota of machismo, and she had sucked him off and kept his head between her legs until he did a passable job of licking her. She had ridden him from underneath, rattling his skinny bones so that in the end he had to congratulate himself, only glad that people couldn’t see the balance of power during the performances.

It was a strange marriage, she knew, but it was comfortable enough and they had a lot in common intellectually. Physically, it soon fizzled out completely, though, and she grabbed some excitement where and when she could find it. Clive didn’t seem to mind, if indeed he noticed.

And so, at the age of fifty, she no found herself sitting at her kitchen table talking to a young male journalist about the decline of farming in the area and prospects for the future.

This young man, Bernie, was broad-shouldered and generally stocky. He was masculine, anyway, and although he didn’t know it, she intended to get some satisfaction from him.

“So where’s Clive?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s out on his tractor,” she said breezily. “Won’t be back for hours.”

Bernie had been expecting to talk to both of them and they knew that, but clearly Tabitha felt she could handle it herself.

She sat up straight at the head of the table, wearing a knee-length denim skirt and an orange sleeveless cotton top with thin shoulder straps. It showed off her freckled shoulders, of which she was quite proud, and her large, fearless breasts, which had been with her through many a robust coupling. She had smothered men with her boobs, she had given tit wanks and she had lain there while big hairy guys had masturbated on her chest, some of them a little worried that she might think it crude and undignified. Little did they know.

This Bernie character was about to have all his birthdays rolled into one – if he wanted it.

The interview took about twenty minutes, as Bernie had said it would. You’d think it would take longer, Tabitha thought, but clearly, the guy knew what he was doing, which was always a good thing, whether they were carpenters or IT experts.

He was closing his notebook and threading his biro into the steel spiral at the top as she began to adjust herself, sitting up extra straight and inviting him to enjoy the sight of all this naked flesh, albeit only neck and shoulders and arms.

“Is there anything else you want?” she asked. The word should have been “need”, and Bernie noticed that her eyes fluttered when she said it. Her hands moved involuntarily to her chest and she smoothed the orange fabric on top of her mighty bazookas. She wasn’t looking at him; in fact, she was pointedly not looking at him. Something told him this was significant.

He had heard about her from a friend who used to work with her. The friend said she was obsessed with sex, but she didn’t look like it. She looked like she hadn’t had sex since her twenties. She was gruff and forbidding, and yet there was something bleeping silently at him, saying a gate was open and he had better go through it before it closed.

Bernie stood up, as if to leave, but Tabitha’s lack of response drew him to her. He stood behind her as she sat, motionless. He put a hand on her shoulder and felt her move subtly. Not nervous, not surprised, but adjusting to his touch, enjoying it. He leaned down and kissed the muscle that sloped from neck to shoulder. The movement was electric. He felt a flash of extreme want coming from her and a burst of extreme got-to-have in his loins.

“And so it came to pass,” Tabitha began, not knowing where the sentence was going. “And he did touch her and felt the forces of desire pass between them.”

With that, she swiveled around and unzipped his trousers. His hands moved to the top of her head as she pulled his erect cock out and plunged her mouth over it. Tabitha loved the feeling and the taste of this penis. She was confident enough to know that Bernie was now hers to do with as she pleased.

She took his hand and led him upstairs. As she closed the bedroom door behind them the blood was pulsing through her temples. As for Bernie, he was breathless with desire and good fortune. She marched over to him and pushed him down onto the bed.

“Undress,” she ordered, and as he wriggled out of his clothes she pulled her top over her head, dispensed with her big, practical bra and slipped out of her skirt and big knickers.

She stood there naked, big and bold. Rotund stomach, rather bulging thighs and a forest of black pubic hair. It had been two years or more since her last encounter and she had fantasised about this moment. This young man was robust enough to cope with her wild lust, so she was just going to indulge herself.

Pushing Bernie down onto the bed she sat astride him and ground her crotch into his face. He made gallant attempts to lick her vagina as she wiped it up and down his face. This was good.

“What I like,” she boomed, “is to have my arse licked. Will you do that for me, Bernie?”

Bernie’s cock was all but bursting with frantic animal lust.

“Of course,” he replied, not knowing why it was those words that sprang from his lips.

“Good man,” she said quietly. She knelt on the bed and beckoned, “Come,” as he scrambled into position behind her. Men were notoriously pathetic at this, scared of it, reluctant, half-hearted. Perhaps she should have shown him a video before they got going, but all the best ones were lesbian scenes and she didn’t want this man to get the wrong impression. She enjoyed all the intense oral stuff that lezzers did, but she liked to have the option of a cock to finish off.

Bernie loved the feeling of being summoned into this woman’s utterly intimate inner sanctum. He liked the aroma and he loved knowing that he was in sole charge. At that moment he was unique in the world, with his face in this nice woman’s arse, entrusted, invited, entitled and blessed.

He licked her and she moved to intensify the feeling, maximizing the pleasure. She was pleasing herself, yet she could sense that he was just as happy as she was, lost in a world of his own, the grateful recipient of the keys to her naughty palace.

Tabitha began to squirm as the orgasm approached and she began to talk.

“That’s right, lick my arse. You dirty man. You lovely, filthy man, you’re making me cum just by licking my arse. I’m cumming, oh my god, I’m cumming…” and with that, she fell forward and Bernie wondered if she had died of fulfilled lust.

He wasn’t finished. He knelt over her buttocks and masturbated furiously and within seconds he was shooting his spunk between them. As his torrent began, Tabitha arched her back and presented him with her crack and he looked at it as he filled it with his semen. His milky spawn clung to that rarely-viewed anal skin and he could tell she loved it. Just as she had insisted on him satisfying her in her way, so he loved receiving this expression of his most depraved wishes.

Tabitha fished under the pillow and passed him a tissue.

“Wipe me up, there’s a dear,” she grunted.

Afterwards they lay together in a deep embrace, each wallowing in the recent memory of unbridled sexual release.

“You’re a dirty bastard,” Tabitha whispered.

“And you’re a shameless wench,” Bernie retorted happily.