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My name is Helen Cox. I’m sixty-two years old, widowed seven years and living in a continuous care retirement community in a small, independent living, cottage. My husband, Herb, became dysfunctional as he aged. I made due as best I could and he died happy.
I think I’m reasonably attractive and still have something to offer. I’ve gained a few pounds over the years and my breasts have enlarged proportionally. I take care of my body as best I can and I still think the package is worth unwrapping. Unfortunately, life in a retirement community doesn’t offer much in the way of unattached unwrappers. The ratio of men to women is somewhere between seven or ten to one and those men that are single are unable to muster the strength or dexterity to undo the knot and the rest are closely guarded by their respective significant others or claimers.
However, I do have a story to tell. Bear with me. This is my first attempt in relating my experience and I’m working on reconstructing more than just my physical responses.
One of the other ladies, I wouldn’t call her a real friend or confident, suggested that after seven years, I was equivalent to a virgin and that I should advertise. Maybe throw myself a re-virgin party, similar to a proprietor having a grand re-opening after a store refurbishment. I thought her suggestion was disrespectful and improper but, unimaginatively, I found myself considering it.
At least until I looked up one evening at dinner in the common dining room and saw him. I immediately changed my thinking from celebrating virginity to preventing it.
He was sitting at a table across the room with three other gentlemen, all-older than he was. I had never seen him before and I immediately concluded that he was a new resident. I put the idea of a party on hold and set out to meet him and hopefully more. Timing was important. I wasn’t the only single female on the lookout for an unattached man. The competition could get sticky.
As dinner broke up and people began to leave their tables, I lingered until I saw him readying to leave. I got up quickly and maneuvered behind him as he started down the hall leading to the community center exit. Walking closely behind him, I opened my purse and then dropped it. I hesitated just long enough for him to turn around to see what the noise was about and accidentally bumped into him as I bent to pick up my purse and the things that had spilled out of it. I led with my right breast and it contacted his left arm just above the elbow.
He knelt alongside me and helped recover my things. He handed me my reading glasses, wallet and car keys and watched as I put them back in my purse. He took my elbow and helped me to my feet, all the while effusely apologizing for the inappropriate body contact when he turned around.
I eased his concern with the appropriate appreciation and confessed that my breasts were always getting in the way of something and his arm was just the latest in a long list. The reference to my breasts caused him to glance down at them to verify my assessment. His gander dwelled on my breasts just long enough for me to confirm that the bait, and hook, were in the water.
We stood in the hallway for several minutes making small talk. I learned that his name was Sean and he had just moved into an independent living cottage that morning. With the other residents trying to avoid us in the hall, I suggested we have an after dinner drink in the café and lounge just down the hall. He accepted and I did a mental fist pump.
Sean led me to a table on one side of the small lounge, held out a chair for me, asked me what I wanted to drink and left to get the drinks from the counter. I admired the gentle nature of his demeanor as I watched him walk away. Real gentlemen are a rare breed today and he measured up in every way. I was impressed and determined not to let him escape untouched.
Sean returned with a snifter of Madeira for me and a beer for him. As he sat across from me at the table, I thought the beer took some of the polish off his gentleman status but not much. His refusal to allow me to pay for my drink restored some luster. He was certainly an old school gentleman.
We began to exchange personal information and after an hour and two drinks, he knew about my thirty-one year marriage and seven-year celibacy. Sean shared his experience with monogamy at an early age and his foreswearing of a repeat performance. He was fifty-nine, divorced for thirty years and chose moving to an independent living environment as the best living arrangement with all the included services he could find.
The time we spent together was delightful. We discovered that his cottage was immediately next to mine and we walked home together. On the way, he asked if I would go to dinner with him on Saturday.
“Are you asking me for a date?” I asked.
“I guess I am,” he responded. “So, what do you say?”
“I think I would like that very much,” I answered.
“Somewhere not here, but not too far away,” canlı bahis he suggested.
“Pick the place. I’ll be ready.”
“Deal. Seven pm okay?”
That’s how one of the slowest losses of virginity in modern history began.
Sean was indeed the ultimate gentleman. No door was too difficult or inconvenient for him to open for me. No step was too low or high for him to offer his arm for support. No bill was too large for him to pay in full, refusing all attempts by me to share the cost. He always had small gifts for me each time we met. Flowers, candy and mementoes of our time together accumulated. But I knew nothing of that on our first dinner together. At the time, if he had asked me to fuck his brains out instead of going to dinner, I would have been just as enthusiastic and accommodating. Fucking would have to wait until the gentleman was confident enough to bare all. I was always ready.
That first dinner date was perfect, if frustrating. Sean took me to a French fusion restaurant I’d never heard of. It served classic French cuisine blended with Vietnamese dishes. Each course was a work of art and I was reluctant to destroy the beauty of the food in order to eat it. The sommelier offered perfectly paired wine with each course, including, incongruently, one from California. Sean never told me how much it cost and I never asked.
The drive back was quiet as we each enjoyed the after effects of a great meal and thought about what came next. It was too soon in our relationship for me to understand that my hopes and expectations were significantly different from his. Sean parked in his carport and walked me to my door. He held my hand in both of his hands and, before letting go, asked if I would like to go to a movie Friday night after dinner. When I agreed, he released my hand, gave me a huge smile and walked across the lawn to his bungalow.
Not even a quick kiss on the cheek. I can’t say I was disappointed. I was beginning to understand the strict gentleman code Sean lived by, but I was frustrated. That night, for the first time in several years, I fell asleep with an adult toy in one hand, a tube of lubricant on the floor and a puddle of my own creation on the bed sheet.
The movie Sean chose on Friday was a perfect blend of romance and action. About twenty minutes into the movie, he reached out and took my hand. He held it for the rest of the show. I moved our hands to rest on my thigh, hoping but not expectant. He did squeeze my hand several times during some of the more amorous scenes but that was all. At my door, he held my hand as before, and thanked me for another delightful evening. When he started to leave, I took a chance, and instead of letting go, I held on, pulled him toward me and gave him a quick, gentle kiss on the cheek. His smile broadened, his eyes brightened and lit up the whole neighborhood. I watched as he almost danced across the lawn to his cottage.
His presence was having an effect on me and I searched for my dresser drawer toys again before going to bed.
Our second movie date was more of the same, a perfectly chosen movie on a Friday night. I was determined to move the relationship in a slightly different direction, if not emotionally, then physically. I tried the armrest between our seats and discovered it could be lifted up, removing the barrier between us. I pushed it up without comment from Sean and moved closer to him, pinning his arm uncomfortably between our bodies. He moved it from between us and around my shoulders. So far so good.
Sean’s arm rested across my shoulders and hung in the air above my left breast. It was clear he was too much of a gentleman to let touch my breast, even accidentally. I did what I could to correct the situation. I lifted my shoulder in an attempt to move my breast closer to his hand without success. Every time I lifted my shoulder to move my breast up and out, his arm lifted with it and increased the distance between hand and tit. My frustration grew as did the discomfort of the hard plastic seat arm pressing into my back. I moved aside to relieve the pain. I hoped he wouldn’t take my movement as an indication of my lack of interest. To counter that possible reaction, I took his hand and placed it on my thigh and, when I was sure he would leave it there, I placed my hand on his thigh.
We watched the rest of the movie that way. I can’t explain why I left my hand on his thigh without squeezing or rubbing it. In the past, if I had the opportunity to rub a man’s leg and approach rubbing his more enticing parts, I grabbed it, sometimes literally. Somehow, Sean’s gentlemanly demeanor caused me to resist my urge. This guy would make Sir Walter Raleigh seem like a sexual predator. I wanted to stroke his package and have him run his hand up under my skirt and discover my dampness but it didn’t happen. Maybe my respect for his gentle nature kept me in check and extremely frustrated. He was an old school courter and I didn’t want to damage his interest in me.
Later, at my door, bahis siteleri Sean lingered just long enough for me to think he remembered the quick kiss I had given him a week ago. I took advantage of his hesitation, to put one hand on his chest and give him a fleeting kiss on his lips. We parted, him happy and me happier but still frustrated. In bed I squeezed my own breasts and imagined it was his hand and not mine.
A third movie date followed two weeks later. It was almost identical to the last movie date. On my doorstep, I placed my hand on his chest and offered a lingering kiss on his lips while I squeezed his pectoral muscle. He returned the kiss but not the squeeze. He left happy and me still frustrated. I ended the evening with my toys and my imagination.
Saturday, at lunch, Sean tracked me down and asked if I would join him to watch a movie at his place Wednesday evening. The chance to spend time alone with him in a non-public place was an opportunity I thought was too long in coming. I accepted immediately and then canceled my weekly visit to the chiropractor. I was determined to change the dynamic between us on Wednesday night.
Wednesday afternoon, I rented a recent movie with lots of action, and even more sexual tension, including frontal nudity. I found it in an adult boutique next to the highway and endured the questioning expression from the young lady, I use the term loosely as I’m sure she was both young and loose, who rented it to me. I removed the cover art when I got home.
After dinner, I rushed to my cottage, bathed, carefully cleaned every nook and cranny and applied just a hint of fragrance wherever I wanted a nose to contact. I selected a short skirt, longer than mini length but several inches above my knees, with a side zipper. I added a vest like top with a front zipper with an over large zipper pull and left it untucked. It was just tight enough to pull my breasts together and create a chasm deep enough to hide even the largest of penises. Hair down, little makeup and no underwear. I slipped into my best flip-flops and walked next door with the movie in hand. If Sean was unable to sense, and accurately interpret, the signals I was sending, then I was prepared to give up the chase.
When Sean opened the door, I knew I had hit my target. He visibly stiffened, stared a fraction of a second too long at my cleavage and took a half-beat pause before he found his voice to greet me. I took advantage of his discomfort to put my hand on his chest and give him another kiss. One of his hands went around my waist and the other around my neck and the quick kiss lingered just an extra second and the greeting turned into our first hug. Better than I expected and I felt the increased dampness in my crotch. I hoped he could sense the pheromones I was generating as easily as I sensed the aroma of his light sweat mixed with my feminine fragrance.
When he recovered, he greeted me as upbeat as I’d seen him. “Hi. Welcome. Right on time. Whatcha got there?” he said too quickly.
“Oh, just a movie. You know, this and that, him and her, in case we got bored or wanted to watch a double feature.”
“Nice,” he replied but drew it out as if wondering how much this and that, him and her, the movie contained.
“Come on in,” he suggested. “I was just getting a few things together to snack on during the movie.”
I followed him into the living room. He had the largest television set I’d ever seen mounted on one wall and surrounded by at least a half dozen speakers next to the TV, behind the sofa and hanging from the ceiling.
“Nice equipment,” I said while trying not to look at his crotch.
“Thanks,” he answered. “I just got it all set up and balanced this weekend. Tonight’s the first time testing it all together.”
I put the movie on an end table and followed him into the kitchen. He had a large bowl of buttered popcorn, a cheese board with several types of cheese and three kinds of crackers and a bottle of red wine breathing on the counter. I carried the popcorn and cheeses into the living room and Sean followed with the wine and two stemmed crystal glasses. We put everything on the low table in front of the sofa.
Sean turned on the television and stereo system and handed me a movie to inspect.
“Is this ok?” he asked.
It was a romantic comedy with, if I remembered correctly, more romance than comedy. “This is fine,” I said.
“We could watch your movie if you want.”
“No, this is perfect. We can watch mine later if we have time.”
He put the movie in the player, grabbed the remote, dimmed the lights and sat next to me on the sofa. He started the movie and put his arm up on the back of the sofa as I moved closer to him. His arm rested on my shoulder over my breast. He leaned forward and brought the bowl of popcorn up on his thigh where we could reach it easily. Unfortunately, it blocked access in both directions although I don’t think that was his intention.
We nibbled on the popcorn as the movie started. bahis şirketleri The movie was better than I remembered. The comedy was mostly sexual in nature and, within the first twenty minutes, there were several scenes involving nudity. One of the male star’s rear end as he walked away from the camera and others of the female’s breasts and nipples. As the movie progressed, I knew the bowl of popcorn had to go.
During a scene where the woman on the giant screen was stroking her giant breast, I took a handful of popcorn and managed to drop several kernels that fell precisely where I intended, between my breasts where they disappeared.
“Shit,” I exclaimed.
“What?” asked Sean.
“I dropped some popcorn.”
“Can I help?” he asked as he put the bowl of popcorn back on the table.
“Where did it go?” he asked.
“In my top,” I responded.
“Oh,” he mumbled.
“I think I can get it,” I said as I began to unzip my shirt and search for the renegade kernels.
I poked around between my breasts searching for the missing popcorn. I moved things around even after I had found them.
“Ah, got them,” I finally said as I extracted my hand with the popcorn between my fingers. In the process, I left the zipper where it had come to rest, several inches below the bottom of my breasts. A good deal of my breasts was visible although the open shirt still covered my nipples.
Sean’s attention was focused and his mouth hung slightly open. I popped the wayward kernels into his mouth and licked the butter off my fingers.
“I’ve got butter where it shouldn’t be,” I said as I rubbed between my breasts with two fingers.
“Let me get something to help clean you up,” he suggested.
“Not necessary. This’ll do fine,” I said as I rubbed the flavored oil from my breast on to my fingers and put them into his mouth to clean. He licked them clean and I went back for more.
“This is awkward and slow,” I said.
“Oh,” Sean mumbled.
“I have a better idea,” I said as I got up on my knees next to him and pulled his face between my breasts. He got the idea and began to lick the butter from my cleavage. While he was focused, I finished unzipping my shirt and let it hang open completely. I also moved it aside so my breasts were completely exposed.
“I think I got it all,” he said as he came up for air.
As the scene before him came into focus, he gasped audibly. My breasts have always been my best attribute.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“I’m better than alright,” he stated.
“Then you approve?” I asked.
“I do. May I?” he asked as he reached out with both hands.
“You may.” I’ve never had the need to keep the girls to myself. I find sharing them to be the ultimate pleasure, especially with someone who appreciates them.
I got an endorphin rush as his hands came up under my breasts and lifted them gently. His thumbs began to rub small circles around my nipples and I closed my eyes and let my body relax. The way he touched me confirmed he was a gentle soul and my pleasure would be paramount in his actions.
I fell back on the sofa and Sean moved up to kiss my nipples and suck gently on them. He then moved up further and kissed me gently on the lips. One kiss led to another and then the next. Soon we were passionately kissing open mouthed with tongues and saliva moving back and forth. All the while, at least one of Sean’s hands was constantly moving on my naked breast.
When the opportunity arose, I said, “Sean, there’s so much I’d like to do to you, with you and for you but right now I’d like to get to the end result and work backward.”
He looked a little lost so I added, “I want you to fuck me right now.”
If he was shocked he hid it well behind an enormous smile. He got up off the sofa and began to undress. My skirt had ridden up around my waist and he could see me gently rubbing my clitoris between my open legs as his stripped off his pants and underwear in one motion.
I shifted slightly, one foot on the floor for support and the other leg over the back of the sofa for access, as he knelt on the sofa prepared to enter me. Using one hand, he rubbed the head of his cock up and down through the wetness between my labia.
As he leaned in, I said, “Be gentle. I’m a virgin.”
“What!” he uttered as he paused his teasing.
“It’s a joke,” I responded. “I’ll explain later. Don’t stop what you’re doing.”
He paused another second, torn between his ultimate gentlemanly demeanor and an erection at the entrance of a willing pussy. Fortunately, sex won over chivalry and he began to slowly slide his more than adequate erection into my over anxious and hungry body. Hungrily, I quickened his pace with both hands under his arms and one foot on his ass and pulled him deep inside me.
It felt incredible. Like nothing I’d experienced before although I’d probably forgotten. Every woman remembers their first time. My first time was nothing special, in the back seat of a ’49 Plymouth with a pimply faced boy named Robby, waiting impatiently while he struggled to put on a rubber inside out. Afterwards, he apologized if he had hurt me and all I wanted was to go home a take a shower.
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