Fucking Mrs. Shrewsbury

As a happily married guy, with a wife who is amazing in every respect, I find it sad looking around at the number of women who once they hit their forties, just let themselves go. Of course, retaining your looks is part genetics, but it is also what you eat, and how you exercise. Stick with pizza, do your workouts on the sofa, bicep curling non-diet sodas to your mouth, and, male or female, you will soon cease to be an object of desire.

My wife and I both work out, running and at the gym, and while we can enjoy the odd blow out when we will eat more than is good for anyone, most of the time we stay with a sensible, balanced food intake. At a little over fifty, which I am, and just below, which she is, we still pass for a couple not yet forty.

The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. My wife gets hit on at the supermarket by guys no more than thirty. But then, she would. She has a great figure, slender, with wonderful breasts, long, curling black hair, and a face that would certainly sink a few hundred ships, if not the full thousand. But this is not about my wife. It is about another wife, also around fifty, who I got to enjoy when I was in my early twenties.

I was working as a pool guard in the south of France. It was a Hilton, and the pool was open air, and open all day long and into the warm, balmy night. Guests paid for the right to soak up the sun's rays and cool off in the water, or enjoy an evening swim, whenever the mood took them. The pool closed at eleven, and opened again at six each morning. When it was open, it was attended by a pool guard without fail, just in case of accidents.

There were three of us, and we worked shifts. The other two were Tino, an Italian, and Marisse, a French girl, all of us in our early twenties. The shifts moved around, but a basic principle was that if you worked the first shift, you were done by two, evening you would not start til four, and the mid-afternoon shift, because it was so short, meant you also took over when the other guys needed to take a break.

Being pool guard meant you got to sit and watch from a ten foot high guard seat, or to walk around and check out anyone and everyone one you wanted to. You also got to get a pretty amazing tan, and since we were all pretty fit, all three of us found ourselves being checked out by the guests. Obviously the male guests checked out Marisse, with a few who were that way inclined checking out Tino and myself. But it is not just guys who like to look at a well toned body, or who wonder what it would be like to get to know that body intimately. Tino and I found ourselves checked out by female guests, as, in fairness, so did Marisse.

We checked out each other too. At that age, hormones control your head and cock. We did more than check each other out. Both Tino and I got to fuck Marisse, who was slim, nice breasts, olive complexion that turned nut brown over the summer months while we were there, jet black hair, except on her mons which she kept smooth and free, even of stubble, and which she liked to share, not just with the two of us, but with other staff as well.

Fraternising with the guests, of course, was strictly against hotel rules, but that is not to say it did not happen. It was while working at the Hilton that I learned that women of a certain age can be more enjoyable to fuck than girls in their twenties, who are still practicing their technique.

Mrs Shrewsbury was a prime example of this principle. She was English, holidaying with her husband. He was in his sixties. She was fifty something. They both enjoyed the sun, and they both clearly took pretty good care of their bodies. He mostly wore standard issue black or dark blue swimming shorts, and still had reasonably muscular chest and arms, even if his chest was covered with silver hair, and his head had none at all.

Mrs Shrewsbury wore bikinis, the kind few women of her age can get away with, that had nothing more than triangles of fabric where they were needed, and string ties to hold the fabric right where it should stay. She had a white bikini, one in black, and one in red, all cut identically as if they had been bought together, same make, style and size, but just in different colours. It meant, as I was soon to learn, that her tan lines were consistent. Her breasts, mons and butt stayed white, while the rest of her turned golden brown.

While she was in great shape, Mrs Shrewsbury did not deny her age. Her hair was turning silver, mixed in with black, cut in a bob that framed a strong face, her nose aquiline, her cheek bones high, and her lips full. Her eyebrows were already pure silver, and her eyes were as blue as the water in the pool. She wore spectacles to read on her lounger at the pool, the kind that darken in the sun, with steel frames that matched the colour of her hair, and that gave her the demeanour of a teacher, which it turned out was pretty close to what she actually was.

There was a pattern to the Shrewsburys' appearances at the pool. They would both lie out for two hours before lunch. She would reappear at two, alone. It seemed her husband had hired a bike and liked to explore the countryside each afternoon.

Tino got there first. Tino, being Italian, had jet black hair, dark tan, multicoloured speedos, waxed chest and stomach, and he loved to fuck.

I saw him talking with Mrs Shrewsbury after lunch one day, helping her move her lounger to angle it directly towards the sun, just before he left his shift. Half an hour later Mrs Shrewbury was nowhere to be seen. Her towel was still there, as were her books, lotion, and glasses, but she had gone. An hour or so later, and she reappeared.

"Fica bellissima!" he grinned when he next saw me.

I understood 'bellissima' but had to ask him what was meant by 'fica'.

"Chatte," he said in French. "Such a wonderful cunt! She fucks like a tiger!"

"Okay," I said. "Who?"

"Your Mrs Shrewsbury," he said. "Elizabeta. She is one hot momma. Dio! This woman likes to fuck!"

"What do you mean, my Mrs Shrewsbury?" I asked him.

"Haha," he said, wagging his finger. "I have seen you looking. I think you would like to fuck her too!"

He was right of course. He might well have seen me looking. I had noticed her, and I had wondered what it would be like to fuck a woman of her age, maybe thirty years or so older than I was then.

I got my turn. Mrs Shrewsbury liked to fuck while her husband was out cycling. Two days later I was on morning shift, finishing at two. She and her husband were there from ten thirty to half past mid-day, and she appeared again just before I finished for the day, asking for my help to adjust her lounger.

Her bikini was unsettling. This was the white one. The fabric holding her breasts allowed the two inch wide, dark circles of her areoles to show their dark shade beneath the white, while her nipples moulded the fabric around their thick stubs. The tie sides of her bikini bottom were several inches of nothingness, the front covering her mons, but not much more, the back cupping her buttocks, but leaving the sides of her hips bare.

"Are you finishing now?" she asked.

I guess she had got to know the rota system. Maybe Tino had explained it to her.

"Yes," I said. "Today I will."

"Would you like to join me in my room in half an hour?" she asked.

She was mature enough to know exactly what she wanted, and to ask without embarrassment. I was not the speedo wearing kind of guy, but she still looked me right in the crotch of my swimming shorts. I felt the blood flowing to my cock.

"Sure," I said. "I'd be happy to."

"I'll be expecting you," she said.

True to her word, Mrs Shrewsbury opened her bedroom door in a silver, buttock skimming, silk, kimono-style gown that matched the strands of silver in her hair. She let me in, then led the way to the bed, letting the kimono fall to the floor as she walked. Her back and legs were golden. Her butt was pure white, the tan lines of her bikinis as sharp as if they had been stencilled onto her.

The bedding was neatly folded on an ottoman, with only the bottom sheet, and the pillows, remaining on the mattress. She climbed onto the bed, turning to me, seeing my slight hesitation, and put me at my ease.

"I think you should take off your things and join me," she said, her voice warm, but confident.

I slipped off my shirt and shorts. My cock was already eager to get started.

"Lick my cunt first," she said.

Like I said, this was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

She turned onto her back, splayed her legs, and I moved between them. Another triangle of white beckoned me, much smaller that the white of her butt. The pubic hair of her mons had been trimmed, maybe waxed, leaving only a one inch wide strip pointing the way to her slit, with its protruding lips of soft pink.

I had licked pussy before. I knew where to go with my tongue. I knew that at the apex of her labia, nestling between them, would be the protuberance of her clit. I grazed at it gently, tenderly for several minutes. She tasted good. Between her labia, she was already wet, and her cunt had that distinctive flavour of fresh pussy secretions. I lapped softly.

"You can do it harder," Mrs Shrewsbury said.

I did as the lady asked. I used my tongue more forcefully, pushing it against her clit as I licked at it. I even used my teeth, softly masticating on the delicate labia, open mouthing her cunt, sinking my teeth hard against the vulnerable flesh, play nipping her clit.

She gasped, but she did not pull away or squirm. Instead she pushed with her cunt, demanding more. I obliged. What the lady enjoys, the lady gets.

Meanwhile my cock was rock hard, waiting.

"Fuck me now," Mrs Shrewsbury said.

I moved up her body, kissing her breasts and sucking on the thimble nipples as I moved higher. Her hand moved to my cock, guiding it. The mushroom head that I knew to be wider than most, opened her with ease, her cunt warm, wet, and willing. The rest of my cock followed as the head pushed on, widening her vaginal tunnel, tight enough to enjoy, but not so tight as to bring me off sooner than I would have wished.

Just as I had in licking her cunt and clit, I started gently, moving slowly, not so much thrusting as slowly sliding deep, then out again, then deep. Most women need that gentle pace at first, at least from lovers who are pleasantly endowed.

"Harder," Mrs Shrewsbury said. "Fuck me hard!"

What the lady wants, the lady will receive. I slammed my cock hard into her, and fucked her cunt the way she wanted it, ramming my cock home again and again. She wrapped her arms around my back, kissing my shoulders on either side, crying out encouragement, meeting my thrusts with upward pelvic thrusts of her own.

It had been two days since my last fuck. That had been Marisse, while Tino was working on the evening shift. She had come on to me, but I had been happy to oblige.

In your twenties, you spawn semen by the bucket load, and without release the pressure builds. Slide your cock back and forth inside a nicely stretched cunt, and the tender, tingling, stimulating friction implodes the dam that holds it back.

Sensing that release to be coming soon, I realised that we had moved from bedroom door, to bed, from licking out her cunt, to fucking hard like this, so quickly, that nothing had been said about protection, or withdrawing before I came, or anything at all. I felt the dam bursting, and for just a moment wondered whether just to let it happen, or pull out.

"Just fill me!" Mrs Shrewsbury said.

The lady will have her way. So I relaxed the muscle that I was contracting to control the flow, and flooded her, hosing semen from my cock head, relishing the tingle as it spurted freely and unrestrained, while Mrs Shrewsbury shuddered beneath me in her own, wild and abandoned orgasm.

"Stay hard!" Mrs Shrewsbury said, once we had both finished.

Those were the days when that was more easily achieved than it would be now. My blood flowed hotter then, and all it took was a few clenches of that same muscle to keep my cock rigid in her saturated cunt.

"Let me turn around," Mrs Shrewsbury added.

So I withdrew, my cock slick and sticky with her secretions and my semen, and she turned over, getting onto all fours on the mattress, offering me her white triangled butt, the dark star of her anus, and the still open gape of her cunt, white cream trickling from within.

"In my cunt," Mrs Shrewsbury said, removing any ambiguity in where I should go with my still hard erection.

I moved into position, took her by her waist, and slid my cock back into her gaping slit. For a woman in her fifties, she looked amazing, great butt, slender waist, toned back, rib-cage and shoulders, and full breasts swaying beneath her. Only the colour, or absence of colour, of her hair, betrayed her age. If anything, the age difference between us gave fucking her an added frisson.

This time I just assumed that she would want it hard, but she confirmed it soon after my first few hammering thrusts.

"That's good!" she said. "I'll tell my husband how well you fucked me if you can keep that up."

I was not sure just how much I saw that as an accolade to look forward to, but at least I needed to have no concerns about the possibility of his finding out. Whatever their arrangement, he clearly was aware his wife invited other men to fuck her. So I did what I do best.

Having already come inside her, fucking her the second time around I could last for so much longer. Her cunt was a delight to fuck, wetter than before, my own semen seeping from it as I fucked her, and I gave in to instinct, using my hand to smack her butt, the resulting palm print half on the white flesh that her bikinis had sheltered from the sun, and half on the golden skin that continued up her back and down her side and thigh.

Mrs Shrewsbury gasped, but she did not complain, so I fucked her some more, and when I felt the same instinct went for the same sweet spot, turning the white flesh pink, and the sun-tanned skin a soft golden red.

I guess something about the way I fucked her must have got to her, because she came again, shortly after another of those thwacks at her upturned butt. My theory, developed over time and experience with other women, is that the position of the clit is critical. If it gets missed by the cock shaft as you fuck her, the woman needs another form of stimulation to help her come. But for the more fortunate women, the clit is closer to the entrance, and is gently grazed each time you push inside, and again as you withdraw, and just from the sexual friction of being fucked, she will reach her orgasm that way that Mrs Shrewsbury did right then.

This time I did not come. Out of consideration, I stopped fucking her until her spasms had diminished, and she had steadied herself again, still on all fours, ready to fucked some more. Anyone who tells you that a woman of her age is past, it has never met a Mrs Shrewsbury. This woman could take as much fucking as any man could give her. The next time that she came, the spasms and shudders of her body around my cock brought me to my own climax, and I spurted yet another flood of semen deep inside her delicious cunt.

This time we disengaged. Mrs Shrewsbury turned onto her back, and rested her head and shoulders on the pillows.

"That was pretty good," she said. She did not smile. It was more teacherly approval of a student's efforts. "Again, some time?"

"I'd like that," I said.

There was no more conversation, no need for polite niceties. She had wanted me to fuck her, and I seemed to have satisfied a woman with ten times my sexual experience, mission accomplished. I just slipped on my things as she lay and watched me dress, and then I left.

The timing, it turned out, was perfect. As the lift door opened for that floor, Mr Shrewsbury stepped out from between the parting doors, in his cycling shorts and top, and trainers. I stood back to let him pass, guest before staff and he nodded his appreciation with the customary politeness of the English gentleman, not knowing that I had just fucked his wife. I boarded the lift and descended to my floor, where the staff accommodation was, wondering if Mrs Shrewsbury would still be on the bed, leaking fresh semen from her cunt, when her husband entered.

"So?" Tino asked. "Why so sad? I am thinking you miss your Mrs Shrewsbury?"

Which was true. Over the following week and a bit, Mrs Shrewsbury had invited me to her bedroom four more times, but she and her husband had now left, and I had not had a decent fuck in several days.

"You mean the wife of the Medecin?" Marisse asked. The three of us were sitting at a table in the outdoor area of the bar. It was something after mid-night, and we were just chilling before hitting our beds.

"Of course!" Tino grinned. "I did not know that an English lady would like to fuck so much! Of course our amigo misses her. Even I would like the chance to enjoy her cunt again."

"You've both been fucking the Directrice as well?" Marisse asked.

My ears pricked up at Marisse calling her a 'Directrice', and also at the last two words she had just used.

"What do you mean, 'as well'"? I asked.

"Tino did not tell you?" Marisse replied. "I told him before that she asked me to the bedroom to play pussy licking games."

Tino shrugged.

"Why am I telling him about every pussy that you lick?" he said to Marisse. "Besides, you told me more than just you lick her pussy."

"Are you guys serious?" I asked. "You're telling me that all three of us were there? And what's this about her being a Directrice?"

"I think maybe you call it Headteacher," Marisse said. "You know, the Directrice of a school for girls. That is what she tell me. You know why men never know nothing? It's because they are just fuck pussy, thank you, leave. Women like to make connect. She say she is Directrice of some kind of high up school not by the state. How many times you fuck her and you not learn this?"

"So I've just been fucking the Principal of a private school?" I said. "I never thought I'd get to do that."

"Me too," Tino chipped in. "And you,..." he added, to Marisse, "you fuck the Medico also! Incredible!"

"She what?" I asked.

"She tell me," Tino said. "She is licking the lady pussy, the Medico come in. The lady have Marisse stay licking. The Medico, he gets on bed behind them, then he is fucking Marisse!"

I could picture it. I could also believe it. It was the kind of thing that Marisse would let happen. But I still asked.

"Is it true?"

Marisse gave a gallic shrug, pouting her lips to dismiss what had happened with them as just one more fuck. Tino laughed.

"How was he?" he asked her. "Grande or piccolo?"

"He was good," Marisse smiled. "And grande, if you need to know this thing."

All of which put a new light on the relationship between Mrs Shrewsbury and her husband. As long as they both were happy with it that was fine by me, and I was learning there is more than one way to be husband and wife of however many years, even amongst the so called professions.

That was more than thirty years ago, now a fond memory. Times change. Having worked at that Hilton then, I can now afford for us to stay there. It has been updated since, perhaps several times, but the pool is still the same size and shape, just with more modern tiles around it, just as busy, and with a new generation of pool guards watching over it.

As it happens, I now work in education, although at a university. In fact, my wife and I are both doctors, although my doctorate is in History, while hers is the medical qualification, and she has a her practice near the university where I lecture.

We are now roughly the same ages as the Shrewsbury's were then. I do not cycle. I play tennis, and the last time we stayed at the same hotel, I played regularly on the hotel courts from four to six.