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A strange encounter between an old widower and a young man.

Jonathan came over for coffee too, but just plain coffee, not coffee as prelude to anything else. I knew his type of woman and I was not it.

I sometimes asked him for advice. One night I decided to ask his opinion about something on my mind. There was a fellow in our circle of friends, a young man I had set my sights on.


"Mm hmm?" He didn't look up.

"I invited Travis over for tomorrow," I informed him.

Jonathan laughed. "Isn't he a bit young for you?"

"Hush. I want him to know exactly what I have in mind without having to spell it out for him. He's so young he might not be familiar with ... well, he may not know what I am like."

Jonathan looked at me, eyebrow raised.

"No, really. I want your opinion. Hang on, I'll be right back."

I took a short, silky-soft tee shirt and snug leggings into the bathroom and put them on. I came out. Jonathan was rolling a cigarette. I did a silly pirouette for him.

"What do you think? Does this make my intentions clear?"

"Umm." He was distracted. "Yes, that will do it."

But I wanted to be sure. Somehow this was very important to me. Who knows why. I seduced men all the time.

"Jonathan. C'mon."

Jonathan looked up. "Yes, that will do the trick, it would convince anyone."

I fretted over my approach.

"Maybe you could tell me... Well, do you think this would make my intentions clear?"

I playfully sat next to him on the couch and plopped my legs in his lap.

To my surprise, after a few moments of silence he began to stroke my legs. I didn't know what to do. This was Jonathan, not some random guy. I froze up. I sensed a hesitation in him. We could have ended it there. I could have called him silly and jumped up. He could have pushed my legs off his lap and laughed it off. But neither of us did those things.

After a tiny pause he continued to gently stroke my legs. We didn't speak. As his stroking continued, I closed my eyes. His gentle touch went on and on. The sensation created by this simple act is hard to describe. It was far more arousing than anything I ever did with my usual trail of men.

It was all so strange. Why was I doing this with Jonathan? I slept with casual acquaintances frequently without much thought. Sleeping with a friend seemed to cross a line.

After a long, delicious time, I stood up and took off my leggings. He stretched out on the couch and beckoned me to jump on top. He did not initiate sex. Instead he touched me between my legs.

I was a bit self-conscious at first about his serious attention to me. Usually I was the one doing the touching, eliciting the pleasure, pleasing my partner. I became very aware of my wet pussy as he gently stroked my outer lips. As he continued, it became more and more unbearably erotic.

His one desire was to give me pleasure. Even though he never touched my clit directly, his careful fingers excited me in a way I had never experienced before. I became lost in it all, not knowing who was touching me, or why, or how. It just felt incredible. I threw my head back and let the pleasure build and build.

I found I could not support myself under this erotic assault. I leaned over and placed my hands on the couch arm, my breasts swaying above him. His motions changed. He slid his fingers into my inner folds. This was an unknown pleasure to me, such gentle touching producing such intense feelings.

When he slipped a finger into my hole, I rose up again and my legs were taut and rock hard. His thumb came up to meet my clit and a convulsion ripped through me. I hung onto the pleasure, my orgasm going on and on, dark, hard and powerful. My mind went black as the peak came at last and the orgasm let me go.

When I came back into myself, I was over his knee, and he was very gently touching my rear entry. He took the pad of his forefinger and gently prodded me from different directions and angles. I had never been interested in anal sex, but this felt amazing.

By now I had lost all self-consciousness and was a pure vessel for pleasure.

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