This happened a while back; an old friend of mine invited me to a party at his place. I don’t usually go to that sort of thing as I don’t mingle well, but he and his wife are nice people and they always have good food at their parties and so, as the saying goes “the way to most blokes hearts”, and I am no exception, is through their stomachs (and occasionally their dicks), and so I attended. This wasn’t a debauchery party, just a finger food and BYO type of gathering. These people are straight up and don’t really know about my AMM activity or she certainly doesn’t but I think he suspects as we used to play up a bit when we were younger and hunting women and their bits, up until he settled down and I….well that’s another story entirely. I also didn’t really want to offend them. Anyway, somewhat begrudgingly I showed up and smiled as I was greeted at the door. I handed her my bottle of wine and she showed me where the other drinks were. I poured myself an OJ (I’m not a great drinker) and surveyed the room, all the time thinking I would rather be at home watching TV or practically anything else. My mate could see that I was floundering and came over to drag me into a conversation. This small group must have had about six or eight people discussing something or other. There was the usual loud mouth that hogged the conversation and most others just nodded and once in a while chimed in with a comment. I shot a comment in and retreated into the background having fulfilled my obligation for a while at least.

One couple was in their early thirties or she was anyway. The bloke was close to my age (maybe late fifties) and I was in my early sixties. She was pleasant to look at and while I tried not to stare I looked back every so often and drank in her good looks. She had wavy hair that was tied up on one side and the remainder cascaded down the other. Unusual I thought. Maybe it was a hair stile of the time, but it looked good. Her eye brows were a darker colour which explained the very blonde hair. Don’t get me wrong, while she was not a Miss Universe, I found her attractive. Maybe it was her personality that attracted me and then of course there was her body. She had nice full tits and although fully covered they were delightfully rounded. I will probably repeat that fact in this story, so please forgive me for that, but they left a distinct memory in my mind.

Anyway, all of this analytical reconnaissance was academic, as she seemed quite happy with the bloke she was with and they chuckled and joked with each other as the conversation flowed along. I was happy as I am not much of a conversationalist and others in the group were clearly happy to carry it as I (hopefully) subtly stole an occasional glimpse of this woman and her chest. I like looking at tits, clothed or naked. I enjoy looking at them anywhere. On the street, on the TV, you name it, I will enjoy tits anywhere. Call it a failing if you like but it gives me great pleasure. I like the female form generally, arses, the general shape, but tits stick out (so to speak).

She caught me a couple of times looking at her before I looked away. I have to admit, I delayed my look away intentionally. I don’t think her fella saw me as he was too engrossed in the conversation (idiot!). People joined and left our conversation including the blonde and her bloke and I didn’t see her again that evening. I left about halfway through the evening and I was told by my host and mate that it went on into the wee small hours of the night. As I said other than the occasional lingering look from me to her, which was reciprocated I might add, albeit briefly for safety sake, I had not put any hope into anything developing as she seemed as I said very much attached to her man.

My host/mate phoned me a day or so later and suggested we get together for a coffee. We only lived a couple of suburbs apart and so we met up at a local café. The conversation as to how the party went was brief and he produced a piece of paper with a phone number on it. He told me that the little blonde had asked him to pass it on to me and asked him to tell me that if I was interested then would I contact her. Interested in what?! My tool knew the answer and my heart hoped it was right. It turned out that the little blonde had made a move on my mate some months before and he, being happily married to his missus had declined, assuring her that her approach would go no further. He was about my age (early sixties) and it turns out that the blonde, while happily married or attached or so the ring on her finger said, liked older men, as was born out by her hubby/partner being around fifty or so.

Now I am or was reasonably fit but still with the build of a middle aged man complete with a small gut (accent on “small” I reckon – but I might be biased there). What she saw in me was baffling, except for the fact that I was an older man. Her partner was slightly over weight from memory, no, make that downright overweight – although, to be fair, I was looking at her at the party, not him. What she saw in him I will never know. Maybe he had a big dick.

My mate looked at me over his coffee and said that his job was to give me the phone number; the rest was up to me. Bless him, he knew that I was seeing a woman and had been for some time but that we did our own thing as she had kids from a previous marriage that kept her busy and my mate knew from our younger days that I would root an old boot or a knot hole in a tree or paling fence given half the chance, such was my randiness. He wasn’t far behind me in that regard from memory but as I said he was happily settled down now.

Next to the phone number on the piece of paper was a time of day that I was to phone, which was during the week and while she was at work and hence to avoid the partner from overhearing I guessed. I stewed over it for a few days, tossing my guilt around about considering rooting a married woman who seemed so happy and engaged with her partner/hubby. I sort of felt for this hubby who I didn’t really know but then again she was the one who had in effect propositioned me and so, after throwing all of that up in the air, my dick finally made up my mind and I phoned her.

She sounded pleased to hear from me but then said something strange. She reminisced about our last meeting until it dawned on me that she had me confused with someone else. This woman obviously spread herself around and there’s nothing wrong with that as I used to do it myself at her age, given the chance. Make hay while the sun shines and root yourself silly until it feels like your dick (or pussy in her case) was going to fall off should be the philosophy of anyone that age, because you are a long time dead! Looking back, unfortunately there wasn’t anyone to tell me that back in my past and so I missed out on so much quim back them that it almost makes me cry now. I was so stupid and downright dumb when I was younger. There are those who would say not much has changed. Still ignorance is bliss I guess.

After we had cleared up who I was and she offered some feeble excuse to try to get out of the hole she had dug for herself. we changed the subject and discussed what she proposed. It seems she does indeed like older men and she found me attractive as such and so wanted to get together for a root and stressed that it was to be strictly a no-strings arrangement. If after the initial root she wanted a repeat then that would be up to her. She was a good negotiator and definitely in control and I accepted that as I could still imagine those tits and their roundness and I really wanted to get my hands and mouth onto them as soon as possible.

She suggested a motel that she had used in similar situations. Obviously a well worn path. Maybe she got a discount or frequent flyer points! A week or so went by and we found ourselves at the door of this motel room. She opened the door and I followed her in, ogling her fine arse covered by a tight pair of fairly short shorts, which I couldn’t control my hands from feeling up. She put her flimsy material shoulder bag down and turned to face me as I closed the door behind us. A few words of general un-tit related conversation were exchanged as I felt up her breast through this knitted type top with tassely things hanging off the waist and arms. Her belly was bare, her tits holding the top out to dangle down not touching her stomach; such was the size of these melons. I felt like looking up under the front of the top to see if I could see her bra or tits, as it turned out, there wasn’t a bra. She pushed me back to sit on a kitchen chair and I leant on the table beside it, as she stood like a giant toy or gift in front of me – MY TOY! To unwrap, YES!

I ran my hands down over the silky skin of her waist and onto her hips. She took hold of the bottom of her knitted top thingy and lifted it up to flash her tits at me briefly before covering them again, tormenting me as she chuckled to herself before lifting the top once more, resting it on the top of her fantastic and gorgeously full breasts, the white of the top contrasting against the tanned colour of her melons and smiled a cheeky smile so typical of a person of her age. She thrust out her chest, chuckling a little as she looked at me for approval of her gorgeously full, rounded tits, knowing that she was tantalizing this lecherous old man as he sat there enjoying the eye candy being doled out in small quantities to excite him just as much as was needed but nothing more than that. She turned around and shook her lovely arse at me, her tits still dangling down naked, briefly looking back and giggling, before wiggling around her short shorts, inching them down with her thumbs hooked in the waistband as she rocked her hips from side to side to expose her lovely knickerless arse, letting the shorts drop down her legs to the floor, before kicking them off. This arse was so lucky as I dearly wanted to grab it and lick and bite it all over. I controlled myself, I don’t know whether she wanted me to or not. My caution or ineptitude must have cost me so many opportunities in my life. Sigh.

There was a distinct lack of underwear; there had been no bra under the white knitted top and no knickers under the short shorts. She had come prepared to tantalize the poor pathetic male that I was. She pranced around a little in her solid half high heeled shoes, doing a little dance, showing off her tits and her arse that was to die for. My hands just naturally gravitated to her hips and buns and she moved around to give me more access to them, until finally sitting down on my knee and then lap as I sat at the kitchen table. As we talked my hand plunged down between her legs for a handful of pussy. Without loosing a word of our conversation, she open her legs until my hand had clamped down on her deliciously plump vulva lips before closing her legs tight around my groping paw, as I squeezed, massaged and generally crushed her pussy. My other hand had found its way down to her arse and the side of her thigh, running it over the silky skin, savouring the shape of her leg as we had a lovely conversation about what I can’t remember and she wriggled about sitting on my still fully clothed cock. I’m sure she must have been able to feel the hardness of it up against her buns as she wriggled about, exciting me even more, prompting me to instinctively thrust up into her buns in a throbbing action, as I looked into her face.

Her nipples and areolas were right there beside my face. I took as much of a handful of her breast as I could get into my hand and sucked on her nipple. She had slightly darker areolas and the little pimply things (I think they are called Montgomery glands) dotted the areolas around her erect nipples. I ran my tongue around each areola in turn circling the nipple before sucking down hard, filling my mouth with as much of her tit as I could, pulling back with a smack as the suction released before I plunged back down on her poor little nipple again. She seemed to be enjoying it as she held my head to each breast in turn, moving it from one to the other, simulating some lecherous human milking machine. I was slobbering all over both of them. I could feel my own saliva as I squeezed each tit, squelching and kneading the soft texture of the delightfully round melons as I sucked furiously and slobbered almost desperately. Pathetic male!

I got up, stripped off her top, positioned her completely naked (except for her shoes) on the table and opened her legs to dangle over the edge as she reclined back supporting herself on her hands, once again with that cheeky grin of anticipation on her face, as to what I was going to do next. She was a wonderfully lovely sight. Her whole body (relatively) young and tight. Her breasts, still wet and glistening with saliva, jutted out proud and full, not so much pointy but more round and melon like, the nipples were erect and protruded out like organ stops. Such a horny sight! I was glad of the kitchen chair at that point; as I would have wrecked my back if I had to bend over and down to her pussy. You have to be comfortable when you are an old guy or you’ll pay for it tomorrow!

I sat on the chair, bent over, my chin almost on the table top and rubbed my face all over her twat a couple of times, blowing raspberries once or twice propting an “oooo” from her and then a giggle. I parted her vulva lips with my thumbs and sucked and munched on her clit. I could tell by the oooing and aaaaghing that she was enjoying it and licking her twat was bringing out the animal in me as I slurped away and fingered her hole while I was there, poking my finger in and out, in and out, feeling the warm slipperiness. Her thighs quivered, I could feel it on the side of my face as she opened and close her legs trapping my head and pulling my mouth harder on to her twat. The quivering was probably involuntary, but she was jiggling her legs up and down and fidgeting back an forth in some sort of twitching dance that also involved thrusting her box into my face in a rhythmic fashion, as she wallowed in her orgasmic pleasure, until she finally went all quiet before letting out a scream of relief as she orgasmed. The constant twitching ceased and was replaced by two or three final violent muscle contractions before she collapsed back on the table on her elbows and panted a lot.

We went on to root like animals for the rest of the day before she mercifully departed, leaving me to recover. I slept well that night; I was fucked in both senses of the word. I didn’t get a repeat performance. I left it up to her to contact me but I fear that I was merely an “older man” notch on her vagina.