Three Score Years and Ten

"I don't think this will be appropriate for the office, unfortunately," she said with a small smile, clearly gaining confidence.

"Of course, I still can't be sure," I said, "I think I need a closer inspection," and I made a small beckoning gesture. She walked around the coffee table and I thought she was going to stand in front of me, but she put her knees either side of my legs, sat on my thighs, and with her hands either side of my face kissed me, gently at first then with increasing fervour. I lifted my hands to her breasts and kneaded them gently, tweaking her nipples. They were so good to touch, heavy, soft and yet firm at the same time. She was rocking and rubbing her pussy over my erection, and I became aware I had too much on and needed to lose it.

But before I could do anything, she broke the kiss and stood up, took my by the hand and said, "I don't think you've showed me the bedroom yet." I led her through and at the foot of the bed, she put her arms round my neck and gave me another earth-shattering kiss. Then she pulled back and grasped the hem of my polo shirt and pulled it up. I took it from her and pulled it over my head. Another kiss, all the better for naked breast on naked chest. Then I felt her fumbling with my belt, and helped unhook the waist and lower the zip. She dropped to her knees and pulled jeans and underwear down to my feet. I lifted each foot in turn and she removed shoe, sock, shorts and jeans. She stood again and grasped my cock, kissed me again, and backed to the bed. Letting go, she sat and shuffled back on her bottom, then lay back and spread her knees wide. I couldn't resist an invitation like that.

I got onto the bed on my knees and was about to taste her inviting pussy, but she murmured, "Not now, come here, I want you in me..." Noticing my hesitation, she added softly, "It's ok, I'm on the pill, and I'm sure I'm clean."

I moved up and as I got close she reached down and gripped my cock again and steered it to her opening. She rubbed it up and down her slit a couple of times then positioned it and pulled me in with her feet behind my bottom. She was perfect, tight but not too tight, soft and wet, and I could feel her flexing her inside muscles and massaging me as I very gently and slowly pushed in and out. We were both breathing hard, our lips barely touching; it was very erotic. I hoped I'd last long enough for her to climax too.

"God, that's good," she murmured, "I so need this... a bit faster and harder..." I did my best to oblige, trying hard not to lose it. "Yes... that's it... keep going... are you close?"

"Yes..." I grunted, "so close..."

She rocked her hips harder against me and I felt her hand sneak between us to rub her clit.

"Aah... aah... yes... oh God!" With a wail she bucked against me, and I felt her spasming, and that set me off. We both cried out with the force of our release.

I collapsed on her and rolled to one side, pulling her so we were still joined, and we kissed more gently.

"Well," I said, "your body may be out of proportion if you say so, but it sure seems to work fine!"

...except that's not actually what happened. What happened was as I've written up to the point where she said,

"You'd see that I don't quite have normal body proportions if you saw me without clothes on. It's not weird or anything, just a bit... unconventional."

And I replied, "I guess I'll just have to take your word on that!" The rest happened when I let my imagination run wild later on.

WHEN I WAS IN MY FIFTIES, I was working on a project in the Netherlands. I made the occasional two or three day visit to Rotterdam to liaise with the project team there, and in particular with the Project Manager, a woman of probably early forties named Jessica. She was fairly tall, average build if with rather slight bust, a handsome face, and had dark hair always tied back severely. She was friendly but very business-like, and seldom came out with the rest of the team for dinner or drinks, preferring to stay in her hotel room and work. One night the whole team of four plus me, and minus Jessica, were having after dinner drinks at a bar and started discussing her.

It seemed that as far as they knew, she lived alone in a flat on the outskirts of Amsterdam, had no partner or children, and nobody had found out if she had any significant interests outside work. They'd tried to get her to go bowling, but she declined, saying she'd only been once before and it didn't strike her as her sort of thing. All they'd been able to find out is that she used to be a competitive swimmer in her twenties, to a decent standard, but seldom swam now. It was believable, she had a swimmer's athletic build and grace.

Mike, a rather fat middle-aged man with a Northerner's bluntness, summed it up.

"She's really ambitious, wants to be a Partner soon. It's all work, work, work. She's forgotten how to have fun. I bet she hasn't had an orgasm in years!"

The next evening, we finished at the office relatively early, so Jessica agreed to meet in the hotel bar at six for a drink before dinner. She had a small G&T and told us, "I'll have to be away by about twenty to, I've got a conference call with Jim Hatherton at seven." Jim was the Managing Partner of our business division. Serious stuff.

So we got half an hour of conversation which eventually we all managed to steer away from work issues and onto pastimes. I asked Jessica,

"The guys tell me you used to be a swimmer. Have you ever used the hotel pool?"

She smiled. "I used to really enjoy swimming. I think that got wrung out of me after I spent five years getting up early to train, swim five miles, weights and so on. I realised I'd never quite make the national team and decided to give it up and get a life! And no, I haven't used the pool. I did take a look at it when we first moved in here, it's ok, an indoor pool, not exactly Olympic standard but enough for gentle exercise and relaxation."

"What was your event?"

"The longer distances, 800 and 1500 metres freestyle."

Impressive, that needs serious stamina.

"Ever thought of swimming the Channel?"

She laughed. "I bet I could with a bit of training, but I'm not sure why I would. I don't need to prove anything to myself, and it's a lot of hard work and body stress just to tick a box."

I could see her point.

"Do you swim?" she asked me.

"I do ok in a non-competitive sense. I quite enjoy it, but I wouldn't want to try to take it that seriously!"

One of the girls, Julie, then embarked on a long swimming pool story from a recent holiday to Thailand, involving mistaken identity and a wardrobe malfunction. My mind wandered halfway through and I missed the details.

A month or so later, we had a major project milestone with the client. Jessica and I had to assemble and make a presentation to their management team which would be the deciding factor as to whether to make a further investment involving another larger project stage. This was a big deal for Jessica, as it was a clear demonstration of whether she could deliver what it took to make Partner.

I was over for the whole week, building up to the presentation on Thursday afternoon. We double and treble checked our plans and figures, did practice runs, had 'what if' brainstorms to try to anticipate any sort of question, and by Thursday I reckoned we were in good shape.

The presentation went pretty well, I thought. It seemed to me that the directors present got all they needed, and one, a lady by the name of Joss van Beer, asked us for a private chat afterwards. She was our main client contact and reported to the director who 'owned' the project. She told us she was pleased with how it went and the reaction of the big brass, and we spent a bit longer talking over how we'd ramp up the project if it went ahead, and a bit of logistics about office space and access to IT resources. By the time we finished, it was well past seven in the evening.

Jessica drove me back to the hotel, and on the way called Jim Hatherton to let him know how it went. In those days you could use a mobile phone whilst at the wheel. Jim was pleased, she said. She sounded in good spirits, probably still on an adrenalin high.

As we pulled into the hotel car park, I said,

"I think after that I could do with some exercise to burn off the tension. I wonder if the pool is still open? That would be perfect, especially as it seemed so warm in the boardroom."

"I agree! I think I'll join you, if we are not too late."

We got back to the hotel about a quarter to eight. The desk told us the pool closed at eight, so we agreed to dash back to our rooms, drop off the laptops and papers, grab our costumes -- I'd kept bringing mine with me to Rotterdam and taking it home again unused -- and meet at the pool.

We got there with about ten minutes to go. There was no-one on duty, it was a case of getting changed, clothes in locker, take key with you. The pool area was also deserted. Three or four minutes later I was in the pool, and Jessica barely a minute behind me.

She looked amazing. She had a proper professional swimmer's one piece costume, high cut on the thigh, and you could tell she was still in trim -- her legs were fantastic, she had not an ounce of fat on her, and even though she had very little by way of a bustline, it still looked great on her.

I used to think I could swim pretty well. I learned at a young age and was comfortable in the water thereafter. When I saw Jessica cream past me with a crawl that ate up the distance, with hardly any splashing, and then a lightning fast tumble turn at the deep end, I knew I was well outclassed. We swam up and down a few times and then met at the edge, just inside our depths.

"I wonder how long we'll get," I said. Right on cue, we heard the door go, and a man and a woman chattering away in Dutch and obviously tidying up. Where we were, tucked under the lip of the pool edge and with a poolside table and chairs alongside, we were almost certainly out of sight of the staff. There was a fair amount of chat going on, plenty of laughter, and I felt the tone was a bit insistent on the part of the man and a bit defensive on the part of the woman. Jessica held her hand up for silence, she was obviously listening. I knew she spoke at least some Dutch.

After a flurry of exchanges of rapid Dutch, sounding as though they were moving away, suddenly the slamming of the door and the lights went out. We both burst out laughing.

"I guess they closed the pool," said Jessica drily.

"I think they were concentrating more on their conversation than on the job," I replied.

"I was trying to follow the conversation, but my Dutch isn't good enough to get it all. Suffice it to say the man was trying very hard to chat up the woman, and she was resisting!"

I looked around. At first everything had gone black, but as my eyes adjusted, I could see there was enough light from background city glare coming through skylight windows near the ceiling to make out general shapes.

"Are you ok Jessica? I think I'm starting to be able to see enough to get out, but we'll need to find the switches."

"I'm fine," she said, "It's a little like sneaking into somewhere you shouldn't be for a midnight skinny dip!"

"I'll take your word for it," I said. "I've never gone for a skinny dip."

"Then you ought to find out what it's like -- everybody should try it at least once!" and with that I could see in the gloom that her dark swimsuit was being pulled off her alabaster shoulders. She reached under the water and after a moment held the costume high in one hand and threw it onto the side. She then set off up to the end and did a couple of laps. I could see her pale back and the pale orbs of her buttocks breaking the surface from time to time. I was mesmerised. Then she started to swim slowly back towards me, breaststroke, and I realised I hadn't made a move as she stopped three or four feet away.

"Not going to join in?" she asked.

"Um..." I said uncertainly. I fumbled with the waist ties and slipped my shorts over my legs and feet and lobbed it onto the ground behind me. I could see enough that she was smiling. She reached towards me under the water and I felt her take my hand. "Let's go for a swim," she said.

We both gently paddled to the deep end and back, and into the shallows. Then she stopped a couple of feet away... and stood up. The water now came up to a little above her navel. Her small breasts were crowned by dark small nipples, clearly visible in the gloom.

"Sorry, there's not much to look at," she said. I realised I had been staring.

"Jessica, you've got a fantastic figure. You are lithe, athletic, big breasts would be all wrong on you. Thank you for sharing that with me." I paused. "Besides, I think small breasts feel so much firmer and nicer."

She smiled and she came closer. "Do you think so?" She reached for my hand and placed it on her breast. "Does it feel firm and nice?"

I felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I moved my hand a little bit. "Oh yes, it does indeed."

She put her arms around my neck and pulled me close for a kiss. It was a firm kiss, almost immediately her tongue pushed into my mouth, and I found my other hand on her other breast without having been conscious of moving it there.

I realised I had a rock hard erection when I felt her belly pushing it against mine. I moved my hands from her breasts to her buttocks and pulled her against me. I heard her murmur encouragingly without breaking the kiss. I backed her to the side and said, "Sit on the side." She turned and with a half turn and a jump was sat on the edge. That's a manoeuvre she was obviously practised at.

I moved between her knees as she spread them. I lifted her legs and said, "move forward a bit." She lifted herself on her hands and moved her bottom closer to the edge. I put her thighs over my shoulders so I had free access to her sex. It was shaved bare, and I could see even in that dim light that her lips were puffy and the inner lips protruding. They were quite prominent and I bent forward and started nibbling them and then pushed my tongue inside. She tasted a bit of chlorine but the taste of female arousal was stronger. It was heady and inviting. I tongue-fucked her for a moment and then pulled it up and over her clit. Her small moans became a hiss of pleasure. She dropped back onto her elbows and pushed her cunt into my face. I redoubled my efforts, and she writhed and moaned. I was starting to get a bit tired, and I pushed first one then two fingers into her whilst continuing to lick and suck. The results were most satisfying as she bucked and cried out, "Yes! Yes! Keep doing that... Aah... Aaaagghh!" I felt a gush and her jerking peaked, then she sagged back down. "Enough! You'll wear me out!"

She pushed herself back upright and bent forward to kiss and lick around my mouth, and then her tongue pushed inside my mouth and she seemed to want to drink in as much of her own juices as she could. Then she stopped, still breathing hard, forehead resting against mine a moment, then pulled away and stood up. I felt a mite disappointed, surely that wasn't it?

But she walked a short way along the pool and then slipped back into the water where it was chest deep. The water lapped around her small breasts, alternately hiding and exposing her nipples. She crooked her finger at me and I waded up to her.

"I love sex in the water," she said in a sultry voice, and putting her arms round my neck, lifted her legs and locked her ankles behind my back. I instinctively put my hands under her buttocks to hold her up, and of course she was much lighter with buoyancy taking much of her weight.

"In me, now..." she ordered. I was still as hard as ever, and with one hand reached down to position myself at her entrance.

"Yes," she hissed as the tip nuzzled her folds, and I could feel her lowering herself onto me. She was hot, slippery and tight, and she started to bounce herself on me. I could feel her pussy muscles massaging me. She clamped her lips on mine, abandoning herself to the moment. After a moment, as we were both gasping for breath, she eased off so that our lips were just touching, and panting, murmured "So good, yes, keep it going... I'm going to come again... come with me... fill me up..."

And with the water churning around our humping bodies, and her breath on my face and lips brushing mine, and the warm close-fitting milking sensation of her passage around my cock, there was only one thing going to happen. I cried out as I pumped out my fluids, and I could feel her responding with cries of her own.

My legs wobbly, I shuffled a step forward until I could lean her back against the pool wall and put a hand on the side to steady myself. She stayed hugging me close with legs behind me and moving just slowly and slightly, until my diminishing cock slipped back out, and she put her feet back on the floor. She gave me another warm, soft kiss.

"I guess we'd better see if we can find the light switches. Normally I'd really look forward to bawling the hotel out about locking us in like that, but I think they really did us a favour."

I could only agree. She continued,

"I could do with some dinner, but I'm not sure I feel ready for the dining room after that. What do you say to room service and a chance to take a closer look at that lovely cock in the light?"

...except that's not actually what happened. What happened was as I've written up to the point where she said,

"It's a little like sneaking into somewhere you shouldn't be for a midnight skinny dip!"

And I said, "I'll take your word for it," and started to climb out of the pool. The rest happened when I let my imagination run wild later on.

WHEN I WAS IN MY SIXTIES, I was working on a contract in London at a relatively small retailer helping to install and set up a new e-commerce website. I'd been working with a delightful lady who was their marketing department all by herself, sorting out what was needed, getting approval on designs and functionality from the board, and managing a couple of coders to implement it all.

Her name was Valerie Beckham, no relation to the former Spice Girl or her footballing husband, but of course everyone called her Becks. She was tall, only a couple of inches short of my six feet, and very curvy -- not fat, although she was well built, but her main features were her large breasts. She also had a pretty face and long blond hair, but you would never say she was a bimbo -- she was bright, articulate, witty and with a great sense of fun, and I really enjoyed her company. She was also great to work with: I was teaching her how to manage the website, configure products and look after customer data, and although she didn't have much of an IT background she picked it up quickly.

Our work days were productive but also a lot of fun. I found that she was single, in her early forties, loved singing and cooking, and had a lot of problems finding a boyfriend. She tried speed-dating meetings and reported back how she'd got on.

"Seriously, all the men there were absolute losers!" she said once. "One looked as though he might be ok, dressed like a businessman, a bit overweight but not bad looking, but when he got his five minutes with me, he just stammered and had nothing to say. I'm not surprised he hadn't got a girlfriend! Then another had BO, there was a bald chubby guy with his dinner down his tie and bits of beard he'd missed when shaving, another guy had a real big opinion of himself and spend the whole time I had with him telling me about his accomplishments, I never got asked about myself... It's crazy, all the men on these sessions seem to be so sub-optimal you'd be frankly astonished if they did have a partner!"

"Well, I'm frankly astonished that a nice, attractive, intelligent, witty, kind girl like you doesn't have men falling over themselves to get your attention!"