Where to start? I should go way back. I was twenty-nine when I remarried and was out of the swinger lifestyle for almost a full year. My second husband was aware of my past with Justin, Jermaine, and my first husband, who were all swingers.

After I remarried, we bought a house in a rural area near a small city about twenty miles from the city where I was born and raised, and lived with Patrick. I always wanted to live in the country and be a country girl, something my second husband shared. But Patrick preferred being in the suburbs close to the city.

We bought an old farmhouse that came with a hundred and twenty-three acres of land. Some farmland and mostly wooded area. The house was a large five-bedroom home with three bathrooms. It had a beautiful, large wrap-around porch. There was a large barn on the property. The closest neighbors lived over half a mile away. I loved it.

The house was built in the early 1920s and needed work. My husband and I happily took on the project. We made modernization to the kitchen and bathrooms, new flooring, new plumbing, new electrical, painting, etc. But we kept the old country charm of the house as best as we could.

I was truly happy and put my past life behind me. I no longer had desires to have sex with other men, and my fetishes were no longer there. I get extremely annoyed when people send me messages on Lush after they read my stories and make assumptions that I was not really happy in my marriage. Well, to put an end to that, they are fucking wrong! Period! I was truly happy!

After I had my first son, my husband’s career as a farming equipment sales representative was so successful that I was able to quit working and stay home, raise my children, and take care of the house. I took an active role in my sons' lives.

As for our sex life, it was great for a long time. After I had my first son, I stopped doing a lot of the things I did before with my husband. Oral sex became a rare thing, and anal sex stopped altogether. While I still enjoyed “normal sex,” I no longer had desires to do the other. My husband did not mind.

After being married for almost thirty years, my husband and I decided to get separated, and shortly after, we agreed to file for divorce. The reason why is not important to my story and no one’s business but ours. My husband is a good man, was a great husband, and is a wonderful father. I will say it had nothing to do with sex, abuse, or either of us cheating.

We just fell out of love with one another. It was not an easy decision to make, and we had serious conversations about it, no arguing, just talking it over. We eventually agreed to be happy; a divorce was the best thing. It was an amicable divorce, and we used one attorney to settle the divorce and file for us.

Our problems started the year before we decided to separate. Again, we didn’t argue or get into fights; we just avoided each other as much as possible. Our sons were out of the house. My oldest recently got married and is now living in another state, and my youngest graduated from the Naval Academy and was commissioned as a Navy Officer. He is stationed on a Seawolf-class nuclear submarine.

Since this is an erotic story and about my re-awakened sexual desires, I have to talk about my sex life in my marriage. Even though I didn’t have the same desires I did before I married my second husband, I still desired sex. Our sex life was great.

Yes, after we had kids, it dwindled some. Kids are needy and require a lot of attention. We still had sex, just not as much as we did before we had children. I still masturbated when my husband was not around to satisfy my sexual needs when I was horny.

Then, after our children got older and became less needy of their parents, my husband and I renewed our sex life. Then, at age forty-seven, I went through menopause.

When I started menopause, I did my research online as well as discussed it with my doctor. Some women are too embarrassed by the way their bodies change during that time of their lives. Not me, I wanted to know what was going on with my body.

It was not just the changes in my sex life I was concerned about, but I did ask about that. I wanted to know about the other changes more, the hot flashes, the night sweats, my mood swings, etc. Menopause was terrible for me, and I struggled not only with all the physical effects, but it also affected me emotionally.

I am not going to go into detail about what I learned, but I will mention it during parts of my story when I think it is important to understand how it affected me when having sex.

What menopause did to me, as it does to many women, is decrease my libido. Well, for me, decrease is not the right word to use. It made my libido non-existent. I had no desire to have sex. I could not get aroused, and my pussy would not get wet, or at times it was able to, but it was only a small amount and not enough to make sex feel good. I also went through horrible mood swings and bouts of depression.

My husband and I, at that point, were still happily married, and while his libido also decreased, on occasion, he still wanted sex. He was three and a half years younger than I was. I told him no often; I just could not get aroused no matter what he did. The times I did become slightly aroused or the times I just felt sorry for not letting him have sex with me, we had to use lubricant in my pussy so he could penetrate me and not hurt me. I would never have an orgasm and basically just lay there hoping he would finish quickly.

Not being able to become sexually aroused, not being able to please my husband when he needed it, and not being able to have an orgasm was a depressing change. I went from a woman who was blessed with the condition of vaginal sensitivity and would come quickly and often, to a woman who could not even get a wet pussy.

Then our marriage started to end, and we were more friends than husband and wife for years before we decided to get divorced. Before my husband moved out, we had not even slept in the same bedroom for almost a year.

I resigned myself to the fact that my sex life was over, and sex was nothing I desired anymore, even after I entered my postmenopausal stage. Before the night I met my new sexual partner, I had not had sex in close to seven years and had not had an orgasm for even longer.

Another thing that changed after I got married and as I got older was my body, as you can see in the photos on my profile. My body weight fluctuated. I gained weight after I had my first son, lost some of it, but not all of it. I gained weight after I had my second son, lost a bit, not all of it. I was never the type of girl who went to the gym. I “played” around with a gym membership once, but didn’t go much, so it was a waste of money for a year.

I gained more weight as I got older, and lost some again. But it was just natural weight loss, not going to a gym or from exercise. I never cared when I gained weight. I never suffered from the sin of vanity. I didn’t care if other men found me attractive anymore. I was happily married and didn’t want to attract other men.

As I gained weight over my body, my breasts also got larger. When I lost weight, I never lost the size of my breasts. When I was younger, I had fantastic, firm, full, thirty-six D cup breasts. Now, at age fifty-seven, they are full thirty-eight DD size, and while not firm anymore, they are still full-sized and not flat at all.

My body physically changed in other ways due to age, wrinkles, stretch marks, etc. I was lucky I never did or have yet to get “age spots” on my body, fingers crossed. Now at age fifty-seven, I am heavier, have wrinkles, and much larger breasts.

After my husband and I separated, and he moved out, I started thinking more about my first husband, Patrick. I never forgot him, even after thirty years, but after my second husband moved out, I thought about him more.

I loved Patrick like I never loved another man. The only love I felt greater than the love I had for Patrick was when I had kids, but of course, that is a totally different type of love. If I ever get a message that suggests anything different about the love I have for my two sons, I will just delete and block that person, because that is sick and disgusting!

I loved my second husband a great deal, but I never loved him as I loved Patrick. My second husband knew that and accepted it, because he knew I loved him. I always carried a torch for Parick.

Thinking about Patrick is the main reason I started writing my story about my life as a swinger on Lush. I admit, writing that story, thinking about Patrick sexually, sharing that story, and people reading and commenting on each chapter did arouse me. But it aroused me only a little and not enough to want to have sex or even masturbate. Then at age fifty-seven, things changed.

It was late on a Thursday night, about three weeks ago, when I met David or became acquainted with him. It happened due to a non-emergency call I made to the county sheriff’s office.

Around nine in the evening, I heard a noise in my backyard. When I checked, I saw a black bear cub had tipped over my trash can and was looking for food. After I watched and took a few photos, I called the sheriff’s department. I was not scared; animals don’t scare me. I love animals. But I also had enough common sense not to go outside and try to scare it away. If there was a bear cub, then the momma bear was nearby, and I knew not to get between a momma bear and her cub.

The reason I called the sheriff’s department was so they could alert wildlife and come and trap the bear and cub to maybe relocate it somewhere safer. I had some neighbors who would not hesitate to shoot the poor animals if they wandered on their property, even if it was illegal.

The woman who answered the phone asked if I was safe, told me not to go outside, and told me she would alert the county wildlife office the next day. I went back to the sliding glass doors and watched the bear cub and now its mother made more of a mess of my tipped-over trash can until they wandered off. I then took a shower, which I do at night, and changed for bed.

It was about two hours later, and I was about to go outside and clean up the trash. The bears had been gone long enough, so I thought it would be safe. I didn’t want raccoons to get into it. There was a knock on my door. That was an odd hour for someone to be at my door. At first, I thought it may have been my soon-to-be ex-husband, but then I thought he would have called me first.

I went to the door, peered out the side window, and saw a young man wearing a county deputy sheriff’s officer uniform. I then got scared. Police don’t just show up close to midnight for no reason. My first thought was that something had happened to my husband, and then my second was worse. What if something happened to one of my sons!

I was trembling when I opened the door and waited for the bad news.

“Mrs. Stafford, I’m Deputy Williams. I am responding to the call you made about a bear in your backyard,” he told me. I almost fainted in relief.

No, my last name is not Stafford, and no, his last name is not Williams. I made up those names to use for my story. I am not going to give my real last name on an adult website. As the saying goes, I may have been born at night, but I was not born last night.

“Oh, well, they are gone now,” I told him. “I was just about to go clean up the trash they made a mess of.”

Deputy Williams smiled, and I noticed he glanced at my chest. I was wearing my pajamas. That night I was wearing my summer, light blue, satin pajama set. The top was a button-down top, and the bottoms were shorts. I didn’t have a bra under the top. Who wore a bra to sleep in? They are not comfortable.

I blushed and crossed my arms, but was not offended. It was just a glance, and honestly, I was used to it due to the size of my breasts.

He was tall, had to be six feet five or six feet six inches tall, and I had to look up to look into his hazel eyes to talk to him. He looked lean, but it was hard to tell with his holster and utility belt, I guess that is what they are called, and the protective vest he was wearing under his uniform. He had short, light brown hair, but it was not a crew cut. He was cute, not that it mattered. I was just making an observation.

“They are gone now, and I was about to go clean up the mess they made,” I told him.

“Do you mind if I look around first? They may come back or be close, and if it’s a cub, the mother bear will be protective,” he told me.

“No, I guess not,” I answered.

I let him in the house and went into my kitchen to get a pair of my yellow rubber gloves to wear when cleaning up the trash and some plastic trash bags. Deputy Williams was waiting for me at the sliding glass door and was holding his flashlight.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked as I opened the sliding glass door that led to the back yard. “David Williams.”

“No, should I?” I asked back.

“I played ball, little league, with your son James,” he answered. James is not the real name of my oldest son.

“Oh,” I replied. I didn’t remember him at all.

“You were one of the team moms,” he said.

I was. I was active in my sons' lives, and I was one of the team mothers for their Little League teams.

“I don’t remember you, but that was years ago,” I admitted. “Did you go to school with James?”

“No, Ma’am, I just played ball with him on the same team. I went to Bishop,” the deputy told me.

Bishop was one of the private schools, and my sons went to public schools. Bishop was not an elite private school and was relatively inexpensive. It was a Christian private school known for being a school for kids who were expelled from other schools for various reasons.

When he told me he just played baseball on the same team as my oldest son and didn’t go to the same school, it meant they were not friends, just teammates. Also meant he was twenty-five years old.

“How is James? I have not seen him since we played ball together,” he asked as we walked past my swimming pool. Yes, we had a pool put in after we bought the house. I love a swimming pool.

Deputy Williams, telling me he had not seen my son since their little league days, confirmed that he and James were not friends.

“He is fine. Married and living in another state,” I answered.

“How is Mr. Stafford?” the young man asked. “He was always nice to us kids on the team. Is he home?”

I smiled. “He is fine. We are not together anymore,” I told him.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“Thanks,” I answered briefly. I was not going to go into any other details.

David walked around the fence in a portion of my backyard, shining his light around and into the trees. I started cleaning up.

“Well, I didn’t see anything, but I did see where the cub or its mother dug under your privacy fence. You may want to get that fixed. Cayotes could get in, also,” David advised me. "Or worse, a wild hog."

“Ok, Thanks,” I answered and kept picking up trash.

David put on a pair of latex gloves he had in one of his pocket things on his belt and started to help me clean.

“You don’t have to do that,” I told him and smiled. It was nice of him to help. “I am sure you have much more important things to do besides help some crazy bear lady clean up.”

David chuckled. “I don’t mind, and if it’s possible, I would like to stick around a little to make sure they don’t come back,” he told me.

“You're not going to shoot them, are you?” I asked, concerned about the bears.

David laughed. “No, Ma’am. There are only two game wardens in the area, and they cover three counties, so we get trained on animal control. I have a tranquilizer gun in my patrol car. If they do come back, which I doubt they will, I could tranquilize them and call the park service, and they can send over some rangers from the state park and help relocate them,” he explained.

I smiled. “That’s very kind of you, but not necessary.” I was being sincere. It was very kind of him. “You have an important job and would be silly to babysit an old lady,” I told him.

“Well, truth is, I just got off duty and I was on my way home when I heard the call. I recognized your name. I told dispatch I would check it out since I only live about fifteen miles from here,” he told me. “I thought since the department was going to send someone out anyway, why not see someone whom I had not seen in years?” he paused and seemed embarrassed. “I meant James if he still lived at home,” he added quickly.

I giggled at his embarrassment. I thought that was what he meant and didn’t assume anything else by it.

I told David he could stay for a while if he wanted to. I was about to go to bed, but I wasn’t tired. It was just the time I normally went to bed, so it was more habit than me being sleepy.

David went to his patrol car to get his tranquilizer gun, which made me realize he was also serious about the bears maybe coming back. When he came back into the house, I noticed he also removed his protective vest, gun belt, and utility belt. He said he was going to sit on the back porch.

“Would you like something to drink or maybe something to eat? I could fix you something,” I told him.

“Nothing to eat but maybe some coffee if it’s not too much trouble,” David answered.

“No trouble, I’ll start a pot,” I replied.

“I drink it black,” David told me.

After the coffee was made, I poured the young deputy a cup and one for myself. I liked coffee, but normally didn’t drink it at night because it kept me awake. I added a splash of half and half to mine.

I sat on the porch swing, and David sat on one of the chairs on the back porch, his tranquilizer gun next to him. We talked about a variety of topics. He asked how my sons were, and I asked about his family. I enjoyed his company, and he had a good sense of humor and made me laugh about some of his sheriff stories.

I suddenly noticed he kept glancing at my chest when he thought I was not looking, and even when I was. I looked down and blushed.

My pajama top and bottoms were tight; I hated sleeping in loose clothes, especially the top. My top was tight against my chest, and my nipples were poking out and noticeable because they were hard. They were hard because it was a little chilly out, at least for me. It was a nice night, and in the low seventies, and you could tell fall was just around the corner.

I should have changed clothes when David suggested he stay for a while, but I didn’t even think about it.

It was the weather, I thought. It had to be the weather, I told myself. But I knew it was not just the weather. How did I know? As David and I were talking for over an hour, I started to feel something else. I started to feel a sensation between my legs that I had not felt in years. I was getting aroused!

I don’t know why I was starting to feel that way. David was cute, but I had been around handsome and even sexy men of various ages and had conversations with them and didn’t get aroused. So why did this young man make me feel that way?

There was another thing: why was I aroused at all? I had thought I would never get sexually aroused again, even though my doctor told me women can still enjoy sex postmenopausally. She told me it was healthy for women to have sex postmenopausally. I just didn’t think I would be able to or ever desire to again.

I was blushing at what I was feeling and crossed my arms over my chest. David knew why I did that and cleared his throat and quickly looked towards the tree line. He was embarrassed as well. Whether he was embarrassed for being caught looking or because he was looking at an older woman’s breasts and “headlights” whom he knew when he was a young teenager, I didn’t know.

“Well, I don’t think they are coming back,” David said and stood up. He meant the bears. “I’ll make a call to the game warden's office tomorrow, but I doubt they will do anything unless you see them again.”

“I’m not worried about them,” I told the young man. “I’m worried that if they get on some of my neighbor’s property, they may shoot them.”

“If they do, they would be facing some serious fines and maybe even jail time,” David assured me. "Poachers often get caught because they can't help but post their trophies on social media," David chuckled. “But I’ll let the wardens know your concern, but really, there’s nothing much they can do unless they feel the bears are a threat or someone else sees them on their property.” He picked up his gun. “I’ll be leaving now, and it was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Stafford, and when you see or talk to James, tell him I said hello.”

“Please, it’s Jennifer,” I told David as I stood up and took his empty coffee mug from his hand. “You…don’t have to leave. I made a full pot of coffee if you want another cup. I want to see something anyway. Why don’t you come in and make yourself at home while I get something?” I told him.

“If you don’t think I’m imposing, I would like another cup of coffee. It's good coffee,” he smiled at me.

“It’s Waffle House coffee. I ordered it online,” I told David. I think Waffle House has the best coffee.

We went inside, and David sat on the sofa in my living room. I went into the kitchen and poured two more cups of coffee, went into the living room, and handed David his cup and placed mine on a coaster on the end table.

“I want to get something, be right back,” I told the young man.

I didn’t ask David to stay because I was going to seduce him. That never crossed my mind, even though talking to him made me feel something I had not felt in a long time. I was enjoying his company, the caffeine from my one cup of coffee was keeping me awake, and I was curious about him when he played ball with my son. I still had no clue who he was.

I am not some cougar or desperate, lonely older woman who goes out picking up young men so she can feel young again. Even if I did want to go out and pick up a man, which I certainly did not! I would not pick up a much younger man who was the same age as my oldest son.

I walked into the room that my husband and I made as an office and computer room. On the bookshelf were a series of photo albums. I am an organized person, and they were arranged from left to right in chronological order. I selected the one that was of James’s years playing Little League Baseball.

I walked back into the living room, sat next to David, and opened the album. “I want to see if I recognize you from the photos,” I told him. David moved a little closer, and I placed the open album across both our laps.

I slowly flipped the pages, and we both commented on remembering the photos. When I got to a team photo, I paused, and David looked it over. He quickly pointed at a tall boy in the back row.

“That’s me there,” he said.

I suddenly remembered who he was. He was taller than the other boys on the team, and I was surprised I didn’t remember him because of his height. He was a tall, skinny boy with braces and a little goofy-looking. I remembered he played first base, mainly due to his height, and while a good fielder, he was not a good hitter at all and struck out a lot.

David turned the pages in the album and stopped at another team photo, which was a year later than the previous one. This team photo included the team mothers, me, and two other moms. David pointed at me in the photo.

“You were so pretty,” he told me. He looked up and looked into my eyes. “You are still pretty and haven’t changed.”

I blushed. “Oh, please, David,” I said and giggled. “I have changed a lot.”

“I didn’t mean it like you look the same,” he explained. “I meant that you are still very attractive and nice. You were so nice to us and took care of us all, more so than the other team moms.” I smiled. “I remember the time you yelled at the coach in the middle of the game because he wouldn’t pull…what was his name?” David continued, looked at the photo again, and pointed to another boy. “That’s him.”

“Dustin,” I reminded him. I knew Dustin immediately because he and James were good friends all through high school.

“Yeah, Dustin. Anyway, Dustin was pitching in the playoff game, and the coach would not pull him after he hurt his left hand when he slid into second base. Dustin told Coach that he was hurt and needed to come out of the game, but Coach told him to tough it out and the team needed him.” David laughed. “Then, when the inning ended and Dustin went back to the mound, you could tell he was in a lot of pain. Before he could even throw a pitch, you marched onto the field, walked up to the plate umpire, looked over at Coach like you wanted to murder him, and talked to the umpire. The umpire then stopped the game, waved the paramedic over, and all three of you went to the mound.” David laughed again before continuing.

“Then, Coach joined y’all, and the paramedic checked Dustin’s hand, and they pulled him from the game because he had a fractured wrist.” David laughed once again. “I remember David’s father yelling why they were pulling his son from the game, and you yelled back, because he has a broken wrist and is in pain, you stupid moron!”

I laughed. “Well, the poor boy was in a lot of pain, and the coach didn’t care,” I said. “That was his last year coaching, I remember they would not let him coach after that.”

"You were a great Team Mom," he told me. I thanked him. "Last time I saw you was when I was sixteen, no, seventeen. It was the summer you went to the Rec Center pool. The girl I was dating then was a lifeguard there that summer, so I spent a lot of time there. I talked to you a couple of times. Well, not really talked, just to say hello."

I remembered the summer I used the pool at the Rec Center. My pool had developed a crack and had to be re-done, and it took all summer. I didn't remember David talking to me, but of course, I wouldn't have. I wouldn't have thought about some seventeen-year-old boy just saying hello to me.

"I thought you had not changed much since you were our Team Mom," he told me. "You were still pretty."

I laughed. "Oh, please. I was...umm, let's see, that would have to have been about seven years ago or maybe eight, and then about seven or eight years since Little League. I changed a lot," I told him.

David looked into my eyes, and I looked into his. We stopped laughing and were silent for several seconds. David reached up and brushed my shoulder-length hair behind my ear, and I let him. He then caressed my cheek.

“God, you still are sexy, Jennifer,” he told me.

I blushed once more but didn’t move or say anything. I started breathing harder, and my heart started beating faster. There was a tingling sensation between my legs, and my nipples became erect again. I could not believe the much younger man thought I was sexy. Not only was I much older than in the photo when he knew me and when he saw me again when he was seventeen, which seemed like a hundred years ago, but I was not wearing makeup to hide the wrinkles on my face.

“David,” I said in a husky whisper.

David leaned his head closer as I tilted my head slightly. Our lips were less than an inch apart. The young sheriff’s deputy moved his hand and placed his arm gently around my shoulder. We both moved our heads closer until our lips touched.

The kiss started slowly and timidly, like two young teens sharing their first kiss. It was not long before our kiss became more passionate, more intense, and I parted my lips as I pushed the photo album to the floor and wrapped my arms around David’s neck. David’s tongue entered my mouth as mine brushed against his. I ran my tongue over his for a moment before I slowly pushed it into his waiting mouth.

We started making out with a lustful, intense passion. I was making whimpering moans as we kissed and then gasped into David’s mouth when he pushed me onto my back. I spread my legs as he got on top of me and moaned out when he started kissing my neck.

“David, stop…stop, David,” I told the young man as I pushed him off of me.

David stopped and raised his body so he was kneeling between my legs. We were both breathing heavily. “I’m sorry, Jennifer, I shouldn’t have done that,” he told me in an embarrassed tone. “I want you to know I was out of line and that was not planned at all. I didn’t have any intentions of doing that when I suggested I stay. You are just still very attractive, and I, well, when I saw you again at the Rec Center when I was older, had developed a crush on you. I just got carried away,” He kept trying to explain his actions and started stammering incoherently.

I started giggling and reached behind my back. “The TV remote was digging into my back,” I told him, and held up the remote. Still giggling, I tossed the remote to the floor. “You’re not married, are you?” I asked after I stopped giggling.

“God no,” David told me as if he was disgusted by the thought. That made me giggle again.

“Good, now take off your shirt,” I told the young man.

I had sex with plenty of married men when I was in the swinger lifestyle, but that was different. The wives were in another room getting fucked by another man, sometimes by Patrick. Sometimes they were in the same room as me and their husband getting fucked by Patrick or sometimes another man. That was not cheating. But I was not going to have sex with David if he was married, because that would have been cheating on his wife.

David grinned and started to unbutton his uniform shirt. My eyes were focused on his chest as he removed it and then the white T-shirt he was wearing under his uniform. I made an approving moan when I saw his bare chest.

David was lean, but muscular. He had a swimmer's type body. I preferred men with a thicker body, but I certainly wasn’t complaining as I looked at his hairy chest. I love a hairy chest and never understood why some men shave their bodies.

I sat up, reached out, and started running my hands over the younger man’s chest. My pussy was no longer tingling. It was almost throbbing with a need to be filled. I could also feel that it was wet. My doctor had been right, women who go through menopause can still get wet and feel sexual desire.

As I was caressing David’s chest, I thought about my sudden arousal and desire to be fucked, something I have not felt in years. I struggled with menopause more than most women. I told them just the way my body changed, but emotionally as well. I went through mood swings and deep depression that my doctor prescribed Ativan for my mood swings.

As I ran my hands over David's bare chest, I started to think maybe my lack of desire to have sex was not just menopause, but also mental. Maybe it was just all in my head. Maybe the reason I seemed to “snap out of it” with David was not because he was a younger man desiring me; maybe it was something else, and if he had been thirty-five, forty-five, or even fifty-five, I would have felt the same way.

Maybe my mental repression of sexual desire had to do with the fact that with David, it was just going to be sex. I didn’t have to worry about commitment or worry about getting pregnant because no matter how much cum he ejaculated into my pussy it was medically impossible for me to get pregnant. I didn’t have to worry about having a relationship with a man besides sex.

I did not want a committed or even casual dating relationship ever again. I had been either dating someone or married to someone since I was sixteen. I had the love of my life and was lucky to have found love a second time. I raised two wonderful boys who became good young men. I didn’t want any of that again.

What I felt at that moment, as I was caressing David’s chest, was nothing but lustful sexual desire. All I wanted was for him to fuck me that night and never see him again.

Even though I wanted to get fucked right then and there on my couch, I also wanted more foreplay, and I was not some young girl who needed to be rushed. David and I had plenty of time before we fucked.

I ran my hands down to the young man’s stomach, and while he didn’t have defined abs, his stomach muscles were taut like the muscles of his chest. I draped my arms over his shoulders and pulled myself closer to him. I then started kissing his chest.

I kissed and licked his chest, ran my tongue over his hard, brown nipples, and started sucking one of them as I flicked my tongue over it. David moaned with pleasure.

“Damn, that feels good, Jennifer,” he told me. I looked up, smiled, and then did the same to his other nipple.

After several more seconds of me teasing him with my mouth and tongue, David gently pushed me back onto the couch. I tried to pull his body back on top of mine, but he removed my arms from around his shoulders.

“Now your turn,” he told me. “Take off your shirt. I want to see those huge tits of yours.”

I giggled again, yes, I am a giggler, and started to unbutton my blouse. My breasts are not as firm as they used to be when I was in my twenties, and as I explained, they have gotten larger over the years, but they were still full. Despite the lack of firmness and the fact that they can’t stand up on their own anymore, due to their size and age, I am not ashamed of my breasts at all.

Once I unbuttoned the last button, I opened my pajama top to expose my breasts to David. He made an audible sucking sound when he saw them fully exposed.

“Fuck, Jennifer, your tits are amazing,” he complimented me. “You know why I would try to talk to you at the pool?" he asked, and I shook my head. "So I could see your big tits. I liked seeing your swimsuit clinging to your huge tits when you got out of the water and seeing your nipples hard under the suit. My dick would get hard when I saw you use your thumbs to pull the bottom of your swimsuit when it wedged in your big ass. When I got home, I would jerk off thinking about what your tits looked like. I would imagine how they would bounce as I fucked you.

David reached down and ran his hands over my breasts. I moaned from the pleasure of his touch, but also his words. It turned me on to know that when he was seventeen, he masturbated thinking about me. David kept gently kneading my breasts as he continued.

"I would think about how your fat ass would jiggle as I fucked you from behind," he told me, and then chuckled. "I don't get turned on by a big ass, I like a skinny ass, but yours got me so fucking hard. Sometimes when I fucked Nina, I would imagine I was fucking you," he admitted. I assumed Nina was the girl he was dating then.

I didn't think I had a fat ass, maybe a little fat, but yes, it was much wider than when I was younger due to age and weight gain. Yes, it was not as tight and firm as it used to be, but was it fat?

As David stared at my bare breasts and erect nipples as he massaged them, I realized a few things. I did believe David didn’t have any other intentions when he responded to my call to the sheriff’s department, but to use the opportunity to see an old acquaintance he used to play baseball with. He had no intention of having sex with a woman he had not seen in years, even though he used to have a crush on her.

How could he? He did not know what I looked like, many years later and he had no clue I was no longer married and lived alone. But once the opportunity arose, he took advantage of it. Maybe I gave signals I was attracted to him that I did not know I gave, which made him take the chance. I must have. He could be fired from his job if I had slapped his face when he tried to kiss me and then called his supervisor.

I also realized that while I did believe him when he said he thought I was still attractive at my age, and yes, I was flattered and even turned on that a much younger man wanted to fuck me. But there was another reason why he did. Based on his comment about masturbating to fantasies about me when he was a teenager, I realized I was a fantasy for him. I was the older MILF he used to think about, and now, years later, he was going to fuck her even if she was in her late fifties and regardless of what she looked like. I believed if I were now ugly and weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, he still would have fucked me. I was a fantasy for him to fulfill.

That didn’t bother me at all, and even aroused me more. I didn’t want David to have any feelings for me but lust. I wanted him to fuck me, maybe fuck me twice if I wanted it, and then leave, and I would never see him again.

Let him go back to the department and brag to his cop buddies how he responded to a call when he was off duty and ended up fucking the fifty-seven-year-old woman who made the call. Let him tell them of the older woman with large breasts who hadn’t been fucked in over seven years. I didn’t only not care; it excited me that he would brag about it and give his cop buddies details.

I admit that turned me on that a nice-looking young man of twenty-five wanted to fuck me. I never thought about younger men in that way before. Yes, I have noticed when they would look at my chest to see my large breasts, but it never occurred to me that they may have wanted to have sex with me; if they did, I didn’t know. It never bothered me when I caught them looking. They were just being young men. Older men also would stare at my cleavage, but again, it never bothered me. Men were men, and that was their nature.

“Put your arms above your head,” David told me in a more commanding voice. A voice filled with authority, a cop voice. I liked it. I placed my arms above as he told me to. “I like seeing them stretched out like that,” David told me. “Keep your hands above your head.” He said in his cop voice.

I giggled. “Are you arresting me?” I teased. “Are you going to handcuff me now?”

David grinned. “Only if you resist, and then I will have to call for backup,” he teased back.

I giggled, but also for a brief moment, maybe two or three seconds, I imagined myself as I was now, but my hands cuffed above my head. David, kneeling between my spread legs and standing at the end of the sofa, holding my arms above my head, was another young sheriff deputy. Like David, he was shirtless and wearing his uniform pants. He was waiting for his turn and would take me after David was done with me. A shiver of excitement ran through my body.

I thought it was odd. I had not had a desire to have sex with two men at the same time in almost thirty years. Then there was the excitement I felt about being handcuffed. I was never turned on by bondage play. I hated being tied up or restrained. Patrick and I tried that one time on our honeymoon, and I could not stand it, and I panicked even though I had a hundred percent trust in Patrick and knew he would never hurt me. We never tried bondage again, and of all the people I had sex with during my days as a swinger and the things I did, bondage was never one of them.

I was suddenly brought back to reality when I felt David’s hand on my breasts, and I moaned out in pleasure as he started to gently massage them harder, but not too hard.

"Your tits are so smooth and soft," David commented as his hands moved closer to my nipples. I gasped out when David’s forefingers and thumbs closed around my nipples. "Damn, they're so hard, Jennifer," David told me.

He then started to pinch my nipples, not too hard, but hard enough for me to make short, rapid, low, gasping, whimpering moans of pleasure. My hands gripped the arm of the sofa, and I arched my back.

"David, uhhh, David, I... I want you inside me. Oh, God, I need you inside me so bad," I told him between my soft panting. "Put it inside me, please, now, do it now!"

David chuckled at my need to have him penetrate me. I thought earlier that I wanted and needed long, drawn-out foreplay before I would be ready for the young man to fuck me, but I was wrong. I wanted him inside me badly. No, I needed him inside me badly.

I had not had my pussy penetrated in years, I didn't have the desire to have my pussy penetrated in years, but now I needed it!

"Not yet, Jennifer, I am not going to rush this. I haven't thought about you since I was seventeen, but now that I have you, I am going to enjoy myself before I wear that old pussy of yours out. This is a fantasy come true, and all the things I thought about doing to you, I am going to do tonight and then do them again," David told me as he continued to play with my hard nipples.

I gasped out louder when he pinched my nipples harder and gave them a slight twist. It hurt, but only a little. It excited me more than hurt me.

"Do you want to know what I am going to do to you, Jennifer?" David asked. I bit my lower lip and nodded. David smiled, and it was a wicked smile. A smile of a predator who captured its prey. I found it sexy. "Tell me first when was the last time you were fucked." It was not a question.

I looked away. "I... I don't know," I told him.

David pinched my nipples harder, and I whimpered. "You're lying, Jennifer. I'm a cop and I know when someone is lying."

"I... years," I admitted and blushed.

"How many?" he asked.

I turned my head and looked up at the young man. "I...I don't know exactly...seven, maybe eight," I confessed like a suspect confessing to a crime.

David grinned again. "That's sexy, Jennifer. I am going to help you make up for eight years of not being fucked," he bragged.

David then told me what he was going to do to me and what he was going to have me do to him. He went into detail and told me using vulgar words and crude details. When he told me he was going to taste my pussy, he told me he had never tasted an older woman's pussy before and wanted to find out what it tasted like. He admitted the oldest woman he ever had sex with was twenty-seven, and he was looking forward to fucking an older, sexy woman. A woman whom he used to fantasize about when he masturbated when he was a teenager. All the while he was telling me those things, David was playing with my nipples.

As he was giving me the vulgar description of what we were going to do, I would whimper or gasp, and sometimes an "Oh God" would escape my lips. It was not only the attention he was giving my hard nipples, but also from his description of the dirty, sexual acts. Hearing him describe in detail and his vulgarity excited me as it did many years ago when I was younger and before I married my second husband.

It was an old fetish that I thought I no longer had. I thought I didn’t have that desire anymore, and it felt as if David reawakened it. He would reawaken other fetishes I used to have as well. Ones I thought no longer existed, but now I think they were just suppressed.

I used to get turned on when men I was intimate with would describe in detail what they were going to do tonight, as we kissed and touched and fondled each other. When I was in the swinger lifestyle, I would get off when I was with a man, and he would tell me what another man I had previously been fucked by told him about me and the things he did to me and the things I did to him. I got off on knowing he bragged about fucking me. It was not ego or vanity; I don't have an ego, and I certainly am not vain. It was a fetish, and now that fetish was back after almost thirty years. It excited me as it did when I was a much younger woman.

As I listened to David, my heart was beating faster, and my breathing became harder to the point that I was almost panting. My pussy, my old, neglected pussy that I thought I would never get pleasure from again, was wet as if I were thirty years younger. My clit was throbbing, actually throbbing, and the inside of my pussy was quivering and tingling due to my sexual arousal.

I wanted David to tell his cop buddies how he answered a call late at night on his way home, and it turned out to be a woman he used to fantasize about when he was a teenager. I wanted David to tell them how he thought she was still attractive. I wanted David to tell them how the old woman had large breasts. I wanted David to tell them how she had not been fucked for almost ten years. I wanted David to tell them how he fucked her, how he had her suck his cock and swallow his cum, and how she begged for it.

The thought of him bragging about fucking me turned me on. Just as long as he didn't use my name. The small city where we lived only had a population of about nine thousand. My soon-to-be ex-husband went hunting with the Mayor and the County Sheriff often.

After David was finished with his detailed, play-by-play description, he did everything he said he was going to do. He gave my nipples one last hard pinch and grabbed my legs just above my knees, and I made a grunt as he pulled me into him. David then hunched his tall body over, lowered his head, and attacked my breasts with his mouth.

I moaned out, and my fingers dug into the arm of the sofa as David kissed, licked, and sucked my breasts. I arched my back as I kept moaning from pleasure and made several upward thrusts into David, trying to grind my pussy into his crotch.

David slid his hands under my butt and gripped it tight as he started sucking my left breast, about two inches above my nipple. He kept sucking harder and harder. He was giving me a hickey on my breast. After he marked my left breast, he did the same to the right one, again about two inches above my nipple.

David was enthralled by my breasts. He gave them a great deal of attention for a long time and would continue for the rest of the night. I was not complaining. But I badly wanted him to touch my pussy or at least let me touch myself. I couldn't, however, because the young man was pinning my arms above my head with one hand while his other was fondling the breast and nipple his mouth was not on. I was moaning and whimpering from both pleasure and frustration as I was squirming and trying my best to grind my pussy into him so I could feel some type of stimulation on it, but David's crotch was too far away from mine. I thought about begging him to at least finger my pussy, but based on what he told me he was going to do to me, I knew it would not do any good.

After several more minutes, which felt like an eternity due to my need to be penetrated, I finally got what I needed. David, still holding my arms above my head, started sucking and gently biting my right nipple, causing me to make panting gasps, and I felt his hand move up my inner thigh. He pulled my pajama bottoms to the side.

"Ohh God...Ohh God!" I cried out when he slid a finger into my pussy.

"Fuck, Jennifer, your pussy has been neglected for so long it's as tight as a drum," he commented. "Even as wet as it is, I could barely just get my finger inside it. It was like trying to force my finger into a ring two sizes too small."

David was exaggerating because his finger slid in easily, but I could tell by just how his one finger felt inside me that my pussy was tight. But he was wrong about the reason. A woman not having sex for an extended period does not make her pussy tighter. That is a myth, probably started by men.

No, the reason was because of menopause. When I had my long question and answer talk with my doctor when I was going through that change, she explained in detail about how it would affect me, including my pussy.

When a woman goes through menopause, her body produces less estrogen. That affects her pussy in several ways. The lack of estrogen leads to vaginal atrophy, where the vaginal walls become thinner and can narrow the vaginal canal, thus making her pussy tighter. It can also cause the vaginal canal to shorten. Basically, meaning I now have a tight pussy. I didn’t know if it was now shallow; I would find that out later. The drawback is that it may also cause sex to be painful for a woman.

Another thing she told me was that since the decrease of estrogen thins the tissue of a woman's vaginal walls, it could make her more sensitive when having sex, since there is less tissue surrounding the nerves of her vaginal walls. It can either make sex more pleasurable or painful. When I asked what percentage of women experienced pain versus more pleasure, my doctor told me the odds were like tossing a coin, heads you win, tails you lose. That made me laugh.

But so far, with David's finger in my pussy the coin landed on heads. I was just going to have to wait to discover what side the coin would land when he fucked me.

David kept kissing and sucking my breasts and nipples as he used his finger in my pussy. When he let go of my arms, I wrapped them around his body. David finger fucked me slowly, and I thrust my hips up in rhythm with his penetration.

"Oh, baby, oh, David...ohh harder, please harder," I moaned out.

David ignored my pleas for him to finger fuck me harder and faster and kept up his slow pace. But my need for him to go harder and faster still made me beg him over and over. I cried out to God again, and my fingers dug into his back when the young man inserted a second finger into me. David made another comment about how wet and tight my pussy was, but still, his thrusts were mercilessly slow.

David pushed his fingers inside my pussy as far as he could and started twisting and rotating them as I still pleaded with him to go faster and harder between my constant, whimpering moans of ecstasy. But again, he ignored me and told me how amazing he thought my big tits were.

As he continued to cruelly but pleasurably slowly tease my pussy, David pushed my left breast up and started sucking the underside of it to leave another hickey. I continued to beg, and I hated myself for it. I did not like begging for anything and found it humiliating. But I could not help it or stop myself.

"Uhhh, my God!" I cried out loudly when one of David's fingers brushed against my G-spot, but it was just a slight touch, and his finger did not linger on that wonderful spot.

That made me think the young man did not know about a woman’s G-spot. That was not rare. Justin had no clue about it until Patrick showed him while using me as his teaching tool. When I was into the swinger lifestyle, I had been with older men who didn’t know how to stimulate it.

“Ohh, God! Ohh God! Ohh God, David, I’m cumming!” I cried out after a few minutes, as I had a surprise orgasm.

There was no buildup or that exciting anticipation of what was to come, no pun intended. My first orgasm in about ten years hit me suddenly and intensely. I cried out as my back arched, my eyes closed, my face contorted from pleasure, my stomach muscles clenched and released rapidly, my thighs started to tremble, and my toes curled.

As I was cumming, David finally started fucking my pussy harder and faster with his fingers. Over my cries of ecstasy, I could just make out a squishy wet sound coming from between my legs as I was cumming, as my pussy became even wetter. David’s hard, fast finger fucking my pussy intensified and prolonged my orgasm as my pussy constricted and released around his fingers. He bit down hard on my nipple, causing me to cry out even louder due to the pain.

After my orgasm ended, I was gasping for air, my thighs were trembling, my pussy was quivering, and I had tears of joy running down my cheeks as I enjoyed the euphoria of the after-orgasm bliss that washed over me. When I finally opened my eyes, I looked up and saw David looking down at me as he knelt between his legs. He held up two glistening fingers. When he spread his fingers open, strands of my thick sex fluid stretched between them. He grinned at me and licked his fingers.

“Damn, woman, you sure need that, didn’t you?” David commented. “If those bears are still around, your screams sure would have scared them away,” he said and chuckled. “You were shrieking like the Echeconnee Devil.”

The Echeconnee Devil was a local folklore monster that began with the indigenous people who used to live in the area. It was said that it made an ear-piercing shrieking sound. If I were not feeling so euphoric, I would have blushed from embarrassment.

David got off the sofa, and I started to sit up, thinking we were going to the bedroom, but he stopped me and gently pushed me down to lie on the sofa again. He then moved to stand next to my head.

“I take it, it’s been seven or eight years since you sucked a cock?” he asked.

It had been longer, several years longer in fact, but I didn’t tell David that. I just nodded my head. David kicked off his shoes and started to unbuckle his belt.

“Well, I’m sure you still remember how,” he told me, and pulled down his pants and then his underwear to free his hard penis.

Continued in the next chapter. I promise more sex passages in the next chapters. That's all, David and I do when we are together: have sex. That's all I want to do with him and him with me.