She Makes Hungry Where She Most Satisfies

I was twenty-two years old when the events I am about to relate began.

Unemployed and working as a volunteer just about summed me up at that time. Well, not quite. There is a bit more to me than that, but it is not for to me to boast about my virtues, except to say I’m pretty hot with a computer, but so are many other people, especially those around my age.

No one seemed to want to employ me to play with their computers so, I was a volunteer computer teacher of over sixties for a Church charitable organisation, trying to bring the oldies into the twenty first century. The oldest student I have had was ninety-three, and the poor old dear could not even see the computer, let alone the icons.

There were about a dozen other teachers and we all worked in one big hall, and because it was one on one teaching, we all sat at our computers with our single student, trying not to notice the smells of decay and urine.

The teachers, with a couple of exceptions (three with me), were also sixty plus. The couple of exceptions were Digby, a thin, white-faced fellow about my own age, and Karin.

Karin is in her fifties, and whilst not being a great beauty, is as fresh faced and smiling as a girl. In fact, she was more fresh faced and smiling than most of the girls I know of. She was plump and reminded me of a beach ball as she bounced around smiling and laughing. She was a glittering ray of sunshine amid the atmosphere of decomposition.

One might pass her off as a pleasant, fun filled person with no particular sex appeal, but for one aspect of her bodily presence; her breasts.

I make no claim to be a breast expert or fanatic, but even given my low-level qualifications in mammareology, I think I can say without fear of contradiction, that Karin’s bust is magnificent.

Her breasts swell out from her torso like twin mountain peaks. Unlike many female bosoms, they do not display as one continuous heap across her frontage, but whatever she wears, seems to sink into her deep cleavage to reveal in all their glory, the two-fold mountains of her beauty.

These centres of my fascination are, unlike other large breasts, unassertive, lacking in that tendency to aggression that frequently accompanies such large protuberances, and that often remind one of a medieval galleon in full sail. Nor do they suggest that with the removal of that intervening devise of the devil, the bra, they will collapse into blubbery flopping appendages hanging in quivering tribulation.

One might say that Karin’s breasts have a welcoming look. One could get lost in them for days without boredom or fatigue. They always seem to arrive long before the rest of Karin, and serve to a give notice of her drawing near.

I would be remiss in this brief discourse on Karin’s mammary glands, if I did not draw attention to their crowning grandeur, her nipples. These out-nipple any nipples that I have seen before.

My country, small though our population may be, is famed for its prowess in sport. It seems a pity to me that included in the Olympic Games there is not some sort of Nipple Competition. If such there were, Karin would undoubtedly be a gold medallist, thus adding further lustre to our national athletic fame.

Again, I must say that even the demonic bra cannot hide the sweet beauty of these splendid nubs. I do not say that they are either overly large or pathetically small, but they are long, and seem always to be erect, suggesting either:

1. She is in a constant state of sexual arousal, or

2. The weather is excessively cold.

I freely confess to you, dear reader, I was in love with Karin’s breasts. It was love at first sight. The first day she walked into our computating hall, I was a lost soul. From then on, I dreamed of her bosom nightly. It was the object of all my fantasies. In my mind, I abased myself before them, swearing eternal devotion and fidelity to them. Had it been possible, I would have fallen to my knees before them and begged their hand (nipples) in marriage. Now, as I view other breasts, I do so with a derisory sneer. Nothing, I assert, can match the flawless mammary glands that are Karin’s.

As for the rest of Karin, she stands about five feet four inches. She has unusually dark blue eyes, and her hair is a mixture of gray and blonde, worn long and most often held in hair band at the back of her neck to form a sort of plait down her back. Her mouth is wide and lips full.

Such was the first impact of Karin. Beyond that, lay further Karinanian delights. She is a very friendly person and her warmth extended to me. When Karin smiles she displays carefully tended white teeth all her own as nature had provided.

We discovered that we shared common interests in music, theatre and books. Not that I could afford theatre and so on living on the dole. Also not being sporty people, we both liked hiking, the beauty of nature and shared a love of art.

Added to her other virtues, Karin came from a certain European country, the language being such that, when the natives of that land speak English, they tend to render it harsh to the ear. It was not so with Karin. Her accent, soft and contralto, delighted the ear, and almost made me desert my first love, her breasts, and be unfaithful to them with her voice.

In the growing intimacy that flowed between us, I learned that she was the mother of three and the grandmother of five. She was a widow whose dearly loved husband, Arie, had died of heart problems three years before I met her.

You may gather that, despite my youth, I was much smitten with Karin. I had experienced the charms of a number of females roughly of my own age, and found them wanting. They seemed brash, coarse and lacking in sensitivity. That I should find female excellence in someone so much older than I may seem to the uncultured, ludicrous, but it was not the first time I had been drawn to an older woman. If the age gap troubles, then I will let that be your problem and not mine.

Mind you, all this was in my head. Although we talked much, I had no thought that Karin considered me as anything more than a young chap she met while teaching computer to the aged. That is, until one happy day.

It chanced that Karin’s student did not turn up one day. I was teaching a poor old chap, who could not remember from one week to the next, what I had taught him about a particular programme.

I sensed that Karin was standing behind us, because, as I forgot to mention before, she has a particularly pleasant aroma. It was redolent of cleanliness and general hygiene, and assailed my nostrils so as to arouse my male predatory lust.
At the end of my vain endevour to instruct my pupil, and after his departure, she said, “Jason, I have got that programme on my computer, but it confuses me. Could you teach me how to use it?”

I began to explain that I had full load of students, but I would try to fit her in if we sacrificed our lunch break. Karin interrupted; “Jason, I didn’t mean teach me here, I mean at my place.”

The thought of being alone with Karin was exciting, even though I held out no hopes for anything special happening, but at least I would be close to her physically and would be able to wallow in her delicious aroma. So, suitable arrangements were made for me to go to Karin’s house and teach her.

Arriving at the house on the appointed day and time, starting at the front gate, all was in keeping with the rest of Karin. Everything seemed neat and tidy, yet it was unlike many neat and tidy places that seem cold and rigid, this place felt warm and welcoming.

Opening the door to me, Karin welcomed me with a big smile.

The inside of the house continued the theme begun outside. All was clean and tidy and furnished with excellent taste. It appeared to one in my impoverished state to be rather expensive.

Did I want tea or coffee? Was the first question. I elected to have tea, being an addict of that brew.

I examined her computer, which could be ranked at the top end of the market, with all the “bells and whistles,” as they say. I did not normally get my hands on a machine of this quality, so along with the delight of being in Karin’s presence, I had the added satisfaction of having this excellent toy to play with.

Tea drunk and biscuits munched, we settled down to her lesson. Quickly something struck me as odd. Karin had said that she did not know how to use the programme I was teaching her, but she gave all the signs of having at least some basic knowledge of it. Once people have the basics down, they can usually manage on their own, so I began to wonder why she had asked me to teach her.

I was sitting very close to Karin, and the proximity of her breasts and the aroma of her body began to have their effects on me.

Now I have to admit to something that is a source of both pride and embarrassment to me. Perhaps I can best explain this by using an illustration.

I have already indicated that I had engaged in sexual activity with an older lady. The first time we stripped off in front of each other, she looked wide eyed at my genitalia and said, “My God, your hung like a young stallion.”

I actually derive from a country town, having come to the city in a vain search for work. Yet despite my rural background, I had never seen how a stallion, young or old was hung, but I took the lady’s comment to be complimentary. Indeed, she seemed delighted with my equine qualities, once I began to penetrate her. We continued our liaison for nearly two months, and ceased because her husband grew suspicious and she didn’t want to endanger her marriage.

The down side of my stallion-like attribute is that the damned thing will make itself felt and seen at often inappropriate times. It sticks out like an interstellar rocket for all to see. One ploy I have is to tuck it under the waistband of my trousers, but often there is no time to perform this operation in the presence of other people.

Now was one of those embarrassing moments. Karin made the situation worse by moving even closer to me, and touching me as she talked. Her eyes were very bright and dilated; she seemed to be shaking and kept moistening her lips with her pink tongue.

The talk had all been about computers, but suddenly she changed the conversational direction.

In a voice that sounded as if she had a piece of apple caught in her throat she asked, “Do you like me, Jason?”

I was struck dumb for a moment, but hoped I knew where things were heading. I strove to reply, and it felt as if I had tried to swallow the whole apple. Eventually I strangled out, “Yes, I like you a lot, Karin. I think of you as a friend.”

“A friend!” she mused dolefully. “What is it you like about me?”

The damned rocket was pulsating wildly as if about to take off into outer space.

“I…I…er…I like your personality.”

She echoed me again; “Personality!” “Anything else you like about me?”

“Well…we share…er…common interests.”

“Common interests!”

“You’re very neat and clean.”

“Neat and clean!”

“Er…yes.”

“You are not telling me the whole truth, Jason.”

“What…?”

“I’m not blind. I’ve seen how you look at my breasts.”

I was trapped, so I thought a partial confession might get me off the hook.

“I think they look nice.”

“Look nice?”

“Yes.”

“Jason, I can see your erection sticking up like the leaning tower of Pisa, so don’t give me ‘nice’. I think, in fact I’m sure, you want me like hell.”

“Yes, Karin.”

“Yes, Karin! Then for God’s sake let’s get on with it, Jason. I’m soaking my knickers over you, so let’s get to the bedroom.”

With shaking legs, I was led by the now obviously quivering Karin, into her bedroom. The most important piece of furniture, the bed, was of huge dimensions. One could luxuriate and spread oneself upon it, beloved maneuvering beloved into the most desirable positions when engaging in coitus.

Our first move before we entered the bed was to kiss. With our open mouths still clinging to each other, I began to undo the shirt she was wearing. My longing was to see her wonderful breasts, naked.

I got the shirt off and moved back from the kiss, and stared at her stupefied. I had been prepared to take off her bra, but she had none on. “My God, it’s all her,” my bewildered brain registered.

Karin followed my thoughts and said, “I never wear a bra. Too damned uncomfortable. Don’t need one anyway.”

She was right. Her twin mountains stood out firm and proud, a soft ivory colour, and the long nipples pink and set in deeper pink aureoles. Never before, and I suspect never in the future, had I seen such gorgeous breasts. They were all they had promised to be and more.

I reached out to touch them, running my hand from the base of the breast up to the nipples. Firm as they were, they also felt yielding and inviting. I wanted to bury my face in them, to suck on her nipples.

During this preliminary erotic skirmish, Karin had commenced undoing my belt and removing my trousers. I stepped out of them and she set about getting my underpants off. This achieved she surveyed the result.

“Dear God in heaven!” It was her turn to be astounded.

“I thought it was big, but not as massive as…as…this.” Her hand closed round my shaft. Her hands are small, and her fingers did not reach all the way round, but they were soft and caressing. “Heaven help me, I’m going to enjoy you, Jason.”

We completed undressing and stood for a moment reveling in each other’s nakedness. Karin certainly did not adhere to the so-called “ideal female figure,” as presented by the media. She was plump and curvaceous, and as with her breasts, so with the rest of her, one could happily be lost in her for an eternity.

I saw the little marks at the top of her thighs and the slight wrinkling of her stomach, which were the marks of childbearing. Perhaps it will seem quirky to you, but I found this enhanced, rather than detracted from, her sex appeal.

I noted the absence of pubic hair, and Karin, once more following my thoughts, said, “My husband didn’t like pubic hair, so I had it permanently removed. Do you mind?”

“Er…ah…no, of course not.” I was not really sure whether I minded or not because I had never seen a woman without pubic hair before.

She came to me and pressed herself against me in another deep and lingering kiss. Her breasts were pulled against me, and her lower abdomen was rotating over my penis. She seemed to want to draw my shaft between her legs, but she was too short and I too tall for this to be comfortably successful.

She lay on the bed, spreading her legs to expose her genital region to me. It was the first time I had gained a full view of her cleft, and must admit to a slight feeling of disappointment. The absence of pubic hair gave it full exposure. It seemed to me huge. Starting on her lower abdomen and passing out of sight towards her anus, it was plump, seeming almost swollen. It made me feel that even my more than adequate equipment would be lost in there.

I need not have been troubled. Karin was lying on the edge of the bed, her feet drawn up, legs wide apart. I decided it was an invitation to pay my dutiful respects to her sex organ. Kneeling before the entrance to paradise, I parted the outer lips to discover that they gave a false impression.

Exposed to me were the sweetest, most delectable pink inner lips I had ever seen. They were like rose petals wet with dew, and they covered a tiny entrance into her womanhood. I even feared I might not be able to gain entry, so small it seemed.

I paid my homage with kisses and licks, tasting her fluid she giving little squeals of delight as I gently nibbled on her clitoris.

Things seemed to be moving in the right direction, and although my activities in and around her vaginal orifice were pleasurable, I longed to fasten my attention on my first love, the ravishing pleasure domes.

I eased her over to the centre of the vast bed, and began deep kissing again. At the same time, I fondled her breasts, gently squeezing them and giving little pinches to her nipples.

I bent over Karin’s breasts and began suckling them. Karin meanwhile had taken my penis into her hand and was playing with it. This went on for a couple of minutes as I distributed my focus first on one nipple, then the other.

Lurking in the wings was a pleasant surprise for me. Suddenly Karin ceased toying with my shaft and began to quiver and give little moans. The shaking grew more agitated and her cries progressively louder, becoming begging and pleading; “Don’t stop, darling…please don’t stop…”

I had to hold on to her tightly to retain her nipple in my mouth, and her cries became a long, wailing scream.

It was the first time I had ever experienced a woman having an orgasm through breast stimulation alone.

I stayed with her until I felt the shock waves of her climax had diminished to the point where she would not feel I had left her “hung up.”

Her legs were already drawn apart and she was flooded with her lubricant. I came over her and she guided the crown of my penis to her entrance. I hesitated for a moment, recalling how small her opening had seemed. Then, very gently I pushed, and my shaft slipped in without apparently causing her any discomfort.

From the moment of entry, it was as if I was no longer in control. Karin seemed to suck me into her, engulfing my length in a soft, warm and wet milieu. “Dear God,” I thought, “she’s all woman”. She was welcoming, receptive, drawing me into her and flexing her vaginal walls round my shaft. The ‘Great Earth Mother’.

My own experience had led me to the conclusion that older women are more giving, more satisfactory, than the brassy young girls that play sexual games without the experience to give the luxurious gratification a Karin can fulfill.

I was in that wonderful world of dilemma wherein one wants to complete the sexual act, yet dreads the tragedy of its finality. My testicles, filled with the juices of love, were impelling me to discharge their contents into the delectable fields of heavenly bliss. Yet, I knew that such ejection would presage the end of my union with Karin.

I fought the battle for as long as human strength would allow, then detonated into her, pouring the fluids of love into her responsive passage.

I was both amazed and exhilarated when, as I reached my own climax, Karin again began to vibrate with orgasmic passion. We clung to each other, sobbing our love and desire for each other, until the climatic moment passed, and we were gasping in each other’s arms.

I lay within her, unwilling to disengage from that which had given me such completion, yet dark thoughts crept into my mind. Would she now declare that I was but a moment’s gratification, a toy she had played with?

She had opened the gates of bliss to me, would she now close them again, laughing at my callow attempts as a lover?

She answered my qualms almost as soon as they assailed me.

“Oh Jason, that was magnificent. Stay with me, my love.”

Since my penis was still in her vagina, I took this to mean that she wanted it to remain there for a while. Previous experience had suggested to me, that withdrawing from a woman as soon as ejaculation is achieved can seem rejecting and even cruel, to the lady involved.

I sought to reassure Karin. “I won’t withdraw, Karin.”

Given our situation of post-coital bliss, Karin’s response seemed a bit snappish.

“Don’t be so obtuse, Jason. I didn’t mean…Oh never mind, we can discuss it later.”

This was just as well, because although my space rocket had initially started to diminish, it was now in a state of resurgence. I began to feel in sympathy with Shakespeare when he wrote of Cloepatra, “Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where she most satisfies.” For “Cleopatra”, you may read, “Karin.”

With a slight contorting effort, I managed to begin kissing Karin again, while fondling her breasts. The rocket was now eager to go into action as it throbbed on its launching pad, but this time I was able to maintain a controlled take-off that extended over half and hour. The amazing Karin managed three climaxes in that time, and by the time I had once more shot baby making juice into her, we were both in a highly relaxed condition.