Montana and the Mature Pussy Ch. 01

He lowered himself onto her, supporting part of his own weight.

"My God, I never expected it to be this good."

She nibbled on his ear.

"You have to be going. My husband will be home soon. When are you coming back?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Come back? Gosh, I don't know."

"How about tomorrow morning, 9:30?"

"Tomorrow? It's Saturday, won't Harvey be home?"

"Shit. Of course, guess I lost track of time."

"How about Monday morning, 9:30?"

"Monday? That's three days. You still have the same number? Maybe I can figure something out and call you."

"Yeah, still live with my mom, same number."

They got dressed, Margie made the bed, as Montana made a quick exit.

Harvey was coming in the kitchen door within minutes. He hugged her, a peck of a kiss on the lips.

"Hi honey. Finally friday. Glad I'm done for the week. How was your day?"

"Oh, you know, same old, same old."

"I know this is date night, but I thought we might go out for pizza and a few beers first. What do you think?"

'Date night' was their expression for sex. They had talked about it that morning, but then Montana showed up, and her mind was...someplace else the rest of the day.

This was not good. She had tried to tidy up down there, but no time for a douche rinse like she should have done. Montana's fuck stick was so far up inside her, all that jism, it was still draining down. She could feel a wet spot on her panties already. She could wipe that up and change panties, but she knew there would be more. No matter what, she couldn't hide that from her husband. Cock, fingers, or mouth, he would know she was wetter than normal. She could say she was using a new lubricant. But he often made her wet with his mouth first. That is why they decided to start using an edible, flavored, lubricant. If he did that, how would she handle things. It was not like he did not know the taste of another man's cum. That had been years ago, still... What could she say, that she decided to try a cum flavored lubricant? Like he would believe that. They probably did not even make such a thing.

She had to postpone date night, without making him suspicious. So with a little encouragement she had him drink too much beer, eat too much pizza, and save date night for Saturday. Crisis averted.

The weekend came and went, Montana never heard from Mrs. J, knocked on her kitchen door Monday morning, 9:30.

"Hello Montana, we need to talk."

This was not the hug and kisses he had expected, had been anticipating.

Awkward moments as they sat at the kitchen table.

"Listen, I haven't jerked off since we were together. The last two nights I went to bed with a hard-on, thinking about you, but I saved it until we could be together."

Mrs. J started to talk. She rambled on about their encounter being a mistake and then the clincher.

"While you were in bed with a hard-on for me, I was letting my husband fuck me. I don't know if you can handle that.

You will find someone younger, and leave me. I don't know if I could handle that."

"I am not a stupid kid. I know you will still be sleeping with your husband. I don't need that to change, as long as he is good to you."

"You probably don't even remember, but a long time ago when I was sitting at this table having a cup of tea, waiting for Donnie and Bobby to get home, you told me a little about Zen. I started looking into it, bought some books at a yard sale, went to the library, stuff like that. Hegel did not study archery to learn archery. Others don't study flower arranging to become a florist. They did these things for enlightenment."

"My time with you on Friday was a spiritual experience, for me. When I lay awaken with an erection thinking about you, it is more that your wonderful body, or sweet kisses from your mouth, that I am thinking about."

"Sex with you is my vehicle to enlightenment. I do not want sex with you just to have sex, you have become my spiritual sensei."

"I get the age difference issue. When you agreed to marry Harvey, you didn't say 'Oh, some day you will want someone younger, so we can't be together', of course not."

"We both live in the Now. No past, no future, the only reality is now."

"Montie, I just don't think this is a good idea."

"Before I leave here today I am going to savor your succulent honey pot, or, your husband will be seeing those photos before he gets home. Your choice."

"No, would you really do that to me?"

"I understand how you want to play this. If anyone ever wants to know how you could let something like this happen, assure them I would do just that. I am hoping that won't be necessary."

"Well, shall we go upstairs then?"

"Can I get a hug and kiss first?"

Margie thought a moment, then smiled and answered.

"Just let me clean up some of the dishes in the sink first."

Margie turned her back to Montana and stood at the sink, cleaning up some dishes. This was an invitation to foreplay, and it did not escape Montana's notice.

She was wearing a flowered blouse and shorts. Montana went over and stood behind her, putting his hands on her waist. He stood a full head taller than her. Her curly brown hair rubbed against his chin. He could smell her. He tilted his head down to put his cheek close to her face.

"What if someone saw us, you touching me like this?"

"Would you mind?"

"I asked you first."

"I wouldn't mind, unless it were your husband of course."

"You shouldn't be doing this. I'm too old for you."

"Don't you mean you think I'm too young for you? I know you're not too old for me. I want you to guide me, teach me, help me understand the things a man needs to know about women."

Montana pulled her in closer to him, closed his arms around her, as if they belonged to each other. During their time alone together they did belong to each other.

"Are you going to unbutton my blouse?"

He unbuttoned her blouse. It was already loose around the waist. With each button he felt a slight rise of his cock. Being with her, something as simple as handling a button became erotic.

"Are you going to feel my breasts?"

He slid his hands under her blouse onto her breasts. First he rubbed them through her bra, lightly kneading them with his fingers. They were soft, in a word, mushy. He could feel Iace on the bra, and wondered if her panties were matching. He squeezed his fingers under the elastic of the cup holder, but it was not comfortable.

"I'm going to unhook your bra.", he whispered in her ear.

She neither encouraged not objected. Even her questions to him could have been been taken as encouragement, or apprehension, as if she feared that was what he intended to do. She continued the charade of pretending this was something she was forced to do, for fear of exposure.

As he undid the hooks she felt her breasts drop slightly. She wished he could see them when she was his age, so much firmer, too big to be perky, they were perky when she was 14, by 19 they were fully developed.

Montana had no interest in what they were like 30 years prior. His interest was in what they were today, now. They were as close to perfection as he could possibly expect, as close as he desired. He did desire them, almost to a fault. This was probably due to his insecurity, from knowing another man claimed her as his own.

Over the coming weeks she would reassure him that she was his, no less than her husband. Not with any words, but with all of her actions. She would never disrespect Harvey. What she was actually doing was showing her freedom to bond with each of them. She 'belonged' to neither.

She was bonded to Harvey through marriage - 'two shall become one'.

She was bonded to Montana, because, they were, one. Together, they were united. This was expressed most clearly in their intimate contact. Their sexual activity was the outward demonstration of their spiritual oneness. Their sucking and fucking was not a cause, only a manifestation. When she gave these things to her husband, it was different.

Harvey never understood Zen. Of course, Zen can not be explained. You get it, or you do not. Over the years she had discussions with him, on and off, gave him books to read, but no progress. With Montana, a simple comment while drinking tea, had led to this. She remember the event. It started and ended in much less time than it took to drink a cup of tea.

She did not realize at the time what had happened, the transfer of knowledge. It was becoming obvious.

They had completed two phases of their spiritual trinity. Only the cunnilingus remained.

This was not traditional Zen. A female as the teacher, unheard of in the classical writings. Transfer by copulation, also unheard of. Even when her first book was published, skeptics doubted, not without justification. She was accused of rationalization for her lustful activity.

Even when the student had been praised as the most influential guru of the western world in the 21st century, critics scoffed.

His hands found her breasts, his fingers found her nipples.

This would become a ritual between them. Not a precise ritual like the tea ceremony they would share together, but still, a ritual.

At a distant place, far, far away, when he was much older than she was now, he would visit her at her residence. He would request permission from the staff to be alone with his sensei. He would approach her from behind, put his arms around her, and feel her breasts, that were much lower than they were today.

"Is that you grasshopper?"

"Yes master, it is I"

"Why do you pester me?"

"I heard your life was too easy, so I came to make it more difficult."

They both smiled.

They would share the sacraments of the spiritual trinity, and she would leave with him, and go to live with his student, who had become a renowned guru in her own right. Margie and Margo would live out their lives with him, themselves forming a spiritual trinity.

For this time, it was just the two of them, still new to each other, and they had not even consummated their relationship with the third trinity.

Montana snuggled closer, and she could feel his erection in the small of her back. It was comforting, reassuring.

"How long do we have, until he gets home?"

"I have to get some work done, so he is not suspicious. If you left by two o'clock that would give us four hours, and still enough time for me to do a few things, and make supper."

He nuzzled his cheek into her hair and the top of her head as she spoke.

One hand left her breast, down her tummy, and under the waist band of her shorts. She sucked in her tummy to give his hand more room. His fingers felt the top of her pubic hair, then went a little further, into the thick of it, but well above her slit. He enjoyed the feel of her thick, curly pubic hair.

She had two free hands, so she unbuckled her belt, undid her shorts, and pulled her zipper down part way, to give his hand more freedom.

He slid his hand down until his middle finger could feel the split of her pussy lips. He rubbed her whole furry patch with his fingers. This was the first time he ever touched a pussy, not counting three days ago when he had the pleasure of fucking his friends mother. So yes, he had his dick in her, but he did not get to finger her, or taste her. He had virtually no first hand experience with female anatomy, but that was about to change.

"How will I know what to do?"

"Trust your instincts, more importantly, remember your Zen. Become one, with my pussy?"

"What? How do I do that?"

"Don't ask how, just do it."

"But..."

"Don't over think this. You've seen pictures, diagrams. You know the basic anatomy. Think of the clit as the head of a penis. Think of the lips as wrapping paper. The outer lips are the protective layer, not very sensitive. The inner lips are like tissue paper, sensitive. Remember our deep kisses. Use your tongue, lips, all of your mouth. Be receptive to my body's reaction, I shouldn't need words to let you know how you are doing. If you are really off course, or totally in the zone, I may say something, it just shouldn't be necessary. Enough talking."

Margie turned to face him, and they kissed. One long kiss, tongues exploring and dancing. Each enjoyed the sweetness of forbidden fruit, as prelude to sharing the most intimate experience either of them had ever experienced.

As they finished, Margie shook her hips and her shorts dropped to her ankles. Montana bent over as she stepped out of them, and held them for her, as she started towards the upstairs steps.

As he followed her he admired her cute ass and black lace panties, and yes, the ripples of cellulite on hers thighs. They went up the stairs and he followed her into her bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed and removed her blouse and black lace bra. As he watched he kicked his shoes off, removed his T-shirt, and took his jeans off.

Clad only in her panties, she smiled at him, and separated her knees as an invitation. He was momentarily spellbound, his eyes fixed on her breasts. The size of small grapefruits, that looked larger on her small frame. Her brown areolas with nipples still soft.

He felt like a child looking at a Christmas tree surrounded by gifts. She was sharing herself with him, inviting him to share himself with her. Like a child, he yearned to have it all at once. To hold her breasts, to suck on her nipples, to kiss her lips, to remove her panties, to insert his cock in her pussy, to hug her, and hold her close to him, to touch her tummy, her thighs, feel her legs wrapped around him, to be on top of her, and under her, and in her.

She broke the silence.

"I'm waiting."

She spread her legs a little more. He could see pubic hair at the edges of her panties.

She could see the bulge in his jockey shorts.

The sound of her voice broke the spell, brought him back to the here and now.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, as if she were a goddess. She was only flesh and blood, like him, but she was able to grant his every desire. In these moments he had no desire for materialism. His only desire was to please her, and thus to be pleased himself. The Self was beginning to melt away.

He put his hands on the outside of her legs and thighs, his cheek on the inside, and lightly kissed the inside of the other thigh. He nuzzled his nose against her crotch and lace panties and slid his hands up to the elastic waistband, and started to pull them down.

Margie leaned back on the bed and raised her ass so he could slip the panties down, over her hips, thighs, knees, calves, ankles, and off, casually dropping them to the floor.

She sat back up, now fully nude, and allowed her young lover to gaze at her. She no longer felt like an older woman who was self conscious about the effects of age on her body. The Self had disappeared. The were becoming not only equals, but one existence, one being.

She twirled around and centered herself on the bed, lying on her back, her head on a pillow. She bent her knees and spread her legs, refreshing the invitation.

"I am waiting."

They both smiled, and Montana positioned himself between her legs in his knees, and looking at her face before giving his full attention to her womanhood. Her breasts were no longer sagging down, but were sliding to the side. Just as lovely, he thought.

He moved forward and bent down to kiss each nipple. To take each breast into his mouth one at a time, to suck on them, then move his mouth away and let them plop out.

He started a trail of kisses, down past her navel, over her tummy, to her muff box. He kissed the inside of each thigh, the pillars to her temple.He

His arms were soon under her legs, his hands on her waist from behind, her thighs on his shoulders. Her back was on the bed, but from the waist down she was in the air, supported by him.

He put his face in her muff, tongue sticking out of his mouth about an inch. He moved his face side to side, until his tongue parted her slit, then up and down, slowly working his way into the honey pot. The feel of pubes gave way to flesh. His tongue found the valley that separated the outer lips from the inner. One side, then the other, up and down. He turned his head slightly, so his lips could grip the outer lips. He nibbled on them, careful that his hard teeth did not touch them.

Next his attention moved to the inner lips, using his tongue on the inner and outer side of each lip. In his mind's eye he realized how close he must be to her clit, and carefully avoided it. He wanted to taste the lotus flower, but not yet. He used his mouth lips on her pussy inner lips, as he had the outer, lightly nibbling on them.

His tongue probed into her vagina, and licked from just below the clit bud to the bottom.

He felt her hands, on his. She was pulling his hands up, to her breasts. He had been thinking about that, not sure they would reach. He dug in, and scooted forward, until he was holding her tits, and still had his face in her pussy. This told him she was anxious for more stimulation.

His tongue quickly located her magic button. He licked it, softly, tenderly, and traced circles around the base. He licked the other tender flesh that surrounded it, as his hand kneaded her breasts, and his finger tips played with her nipples.

She was making soft moaning sounds. No definable words, just sounds of pleasure.

He started using his tongue to stroke her love button, first lapping it, not unlike a kitty lapping milk from its owner's finger. Then he kept his soft tongue tip on it, slowly moving it up and down.

Her thighs started pressing against ears, squeezing his head. Was she trying to stop him, r slow him down, because she was too sensitive, or prevent him from withdrawing, because she wanted more, he was not sure.

"Close...don't stop."

He could barely hear her, but he kept the same tempo, following her instructions.

He regretted he could not see her face, he had to imagine it. Her eyes were closed. If there were two of him he would put his cheek next to hers, nibble her ear lobe, kiss her lips, taste the inside of her mouth.

He remembered his hands, they had stopped moving as his concentration was centered on her clitoris. They renewed their efforts at massaging the soft milk sacks, his thumbs rubbed back and forth across the nipples. Her hands were on his, squeezing them, and her tits.He

There was one, final, hard squeeze of his head by her thighs, a very clear "Oh Montana!", and he felt her hands on top of his head, in his hair, holding, then pushing it down, out of her love box. He placed adoring kisses on it, as if he were saying goodbye, and allowed her to pull him up next to her.

They laid face to face on their sides, hugging, looking into each other's eyes, smiling.

"I'll do better next time."

She smiled before saying, "We'll see that you get lots of practice."

"I want to fuck you."

"And you shall, but not right now, I'm too sensitive. I think maybe I should have a taste of you."

Her one hand had moved down between them, slid down his very stiff cock, and was feelings his balls. Her other hand joined it, but lingered on the love shaft. She used both hands to explore his privates as they kissed.

He was becoming addicted to her kisses. He did not want to give them up. She certainly enjoyed them too, but now it was his pecker she wanted to 💋.

She slid down, still laying on her side, until his cock head touched her lips. She kissed it, sucking the precum off of it.

Her one hand still caressed his balls, her other hand went up towards his face, he held it, and brought her index finger to his lips, kissed and put it into his mouth, sucking on it.

He raised a leg and brought it up over her torso, and locked it behind her back, as if making her his captive.

She continued to use her lips on his cock head, kissing, nibbling, then putting her tongue under the head, then sliding it along her tongue. She was treating it more like a sweet treat than a meat treat.