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Reintroduction to Sex

At 1:30 in the morning a weary-eyed writer sat at the keyboard of his computer contemplating of the crap he'd written over past months – well, not altogether crap as some of it was meritoriously written, even if he'd say that himself. But then he was a professional journalist quite capable of exercising critical judgment.

The journalist was comfortable knowing he'd produced from his heart and mind to the best of his ability and to hell with the critics, though the constructive ones served a useful purpose for which he was thankful.

He thought about themes and characters in those forty-nine short stories and was aware he'd written to appeal to readers who apparently like firm-breasted women and broad chest males who can ejaculate in unison. That's fine, but surely one of those stories should have projected the life of an everyday character trying to cope with life and her changed circumstances.

This, then, is the story of Mavis Jones and hopefully it will touch a responsive cord of someone.

ONE

Fifty three years old Mavis Jones was too young to be a widow, but with Rex dying with a massive heart attack the decision of whether widowhood was timely was taken out of her hands.

Rex was buried with due ceremony. Relations came out of the woodwork and Mavis's three children flew in to be with her in this time of grief; they then flew back to their new homelands leaving her to vegetate in loneliness.

Mavis thought that was her fate, too. But fate does tricky things.

'Gentlemen' began calling – old Mr Collins the proprietor of the West City Antique Shop, Fred the plumber, Bishop the secretary of the West City Golf Club, her lecherous neighbor Mr Fowler and her filthy accountant Mr West who was already married!

Three months later Mavis had decided none of those men were suitable as a suitor and concluded she really wasn't interested in having a strange man or even a familiar man in her bed.

So her social life revolved around women and she simply assumed her previously much-used sexual organs would fossilize in due course through non-use.

Then one day Mavis was backing out of her park at the supermarket and ran straight into the rear of a reversing vehicle.

The two drivers shouted and waved arms, blaming each other for the damage to their vehicles but in the end decided to be responsible for their own repairs. A week later Mavis received a letter:

Dear Mrs Jones. I was so impressed at the way in which you initiated us to put hot-heated emotions aside and agree to be responsible for our own repairs to our vehicles. I would like to celebrate your leadership by inviting you to lunch with me next Wednesdays at noon at Briscoe's Waterfront Restaurant. If the time and place is unsuitable or other reasons prevent you from accepting this invitation, I shall understand. I am quite used to eating alone.

Mavis's pulse rate rose as she re-read the letter, the nearest she'd had to a love letter in a great many years. It wasn't a love letter of course, but nor was it a bill. It had been twenty years or more since a man who was not a member of her family or a professional adviser had written a letter to her.

She put the letter under her pillow and slept on it.

The next morning she withdrew from her golf match on Wednesday, forfeiting her chance of making the final of the bronze championship. Mavis was aware she could play golf every day, but at her time in life the opportunity to lunch with a dark handsome man were decidedly in ascendancy if not off the agenda completely.

Miles Wilson rose from his chair as Mavis approached his smile completely open. Mavis could see his hair was more greyer than dark and weather ravages on his facial skin strained credibility to term him as being handsome. But she had no reason to be finicky.

"I thought it was a fifty-one chance to forty-nine that you would come, and thank God that some women are opportunists, though I mean that in the nicest possible way – perhaps I should have said - oh, I don't know what I am saying, I'm making a right cock-up of this."

"Perhaps you should order me a drink." said Mavis, trying not to take charge.

"Oh yes, of course. What may I order you?"

"A gin and tonic please."

The waitress came and Miles ordered two champagne cocktails, telling Mavis that she ought to live a little.

TWO

Three months later Miles and Mavis decided to marry, causing ructions within both families.

Ilam, Mavis's youngest daughter came racing home to sort out this artful seducer Miles but was captivated by his charm and the courteous way in which he regarded and treated her mother.

Miles' three sons arrived en masse to extricate this money-grubbing widow from their father's side, only to find she was as least as wealthy if not more wealthy than their father, a divorcee.

The wedding was held before a marriage celebrate, attending by the children of both former marriages. It was a harmonious and gala occasion, absolutely one for the memory box.

Bride and groom left that evening for Hawaii.

They did not consummate their marriage by working through fifteen positions of the Kama Sutra; they had not had sex since meeting. True, they'd pushed it along, certainly, but no further than Miles sucking Mavis's breasts and pushing a hand down her pants for 'a feel' and once Mavis had his cock out and actually kissed it, but not stroking it.

So, the wedding night was almost like a night of awakening for two middle-aged reincarnated virgins.

They sat on the sofa on their deck, overlooking the sea and across to Diamond Head.

Miles parted the front of Mavis' night dress and a 38D breast fell out – there is no other way of describing it. Mavis grew up big and suckling children had ensured she was fully endowed up top – far too much endowed, according to Mavis.

Miles began licking and sucking and getting his face between both tits and making sexy noises.

In turn Mavis felt her vagina pulsating, a sensation she'd not known for some time; she resisted digging her fingers into it, knowing that would be taken care of shortly.

"Grab my cock," Miles panted hoarsely. Without hesitation the new bride dug deep down and through into his night shorts and her fingers encircled a thick and warm hunk of living flesh.

"Oh God, do you think this will fit into me," she gasped.

"Yes, all of it and three of my fingers – perhaps my whole hand," enthused Miles, triggering Mavis into her first orgasm.

It was the first time Mavis had really noticed Miles' beer belly with its three 'tires' in the vicinity of his navel. She also had a belly bulge but finding Miles was not perfect made her feel a little more comfortable.

She'd also found his thighs were shrinking towards pea-sticks whereas hers had accumulated excessive poundage, and that discovery that neither of them were in physical prime made her smile and to hope his penis would be long enough to cope with her somewhat bloated physique.

At this point Mavis wonder if she really wanted to be reintroduced to sex. Some of her memories were it was messy and left her exhausted and feeling almost battered: what was there to look forward about that?

Miles snaking two fingers into her vagina changed that indifference.

Pow!

She was hooked, squirming as the fingers churned around inside her in a growing tide of liquids.

Pow!

His tongue snaked inside her mouth and their tongues entwined and Mavis felt she wanted to open her legs wide and offer herself to the nation; that was stupid, of course, but that's how she felt. She'd forgotten the impact of the arousal of sexual activity.

She was puffing and heaving despite having done very little, such was the power of arousal. She wanted to shout "Put it into me!" but held back, realizing Miles appeared to know what he was doing.

Blam!

His mouth slammed against one of her nipples and a large piece of breast as well and his hands squeezed both tits and she squealed, though decidedly not in pain. She could wait no longer.

"Miles, dearest. Darling Miles. For goodness sake ram it into me."

Mavis lay on her back, her legs outstretched but nowhere as high as she could clear them when in her youth. Mouth open, she was panting, eyes slightly bulging and her face was aflame.

Miles came shuffling on his knees, his purpled headed cock in his hand, and looking like a serious-faced surgeon about to operate. She felt liquid running out of her pussy and on to her thighs and down her crack.

Christ, this was depraved, she thought; it's not the activity for a self-respecting fifty-plus woman.

However, she raised herself on her elbows and watched the inflamed circumcised penis enter her vulva, penetrate the outer labia and slide in like a beast of prey. It went in easily; such was the extent of her secretion of juices.

Mavis was delighted that her reintroduction to sex would be via the tried and proven Missionary position, her accustomed position; though way back in the past she'd tried others, including some requiring almost the skills of a gymnast.

Miles began prodding her with long, even strokes and she tried to be a little animated, pushing up as he came down so their pubic areas smacked together, though not painfully.

A couple of minutes later Miles pulled himself up further, so high he had his elbows dug in over her shoulders: she shrieked as his downward thrust slid down against the nub of her clit.

It was awesome. She did not cry out again but she was panting like a dog after chasing a rabbit.

Miles slowed and then stopped, bending on to her and kissing her deeply. Mavis's response was to try to suck his tongue out by the roots; she was 'hot'.

As Miles pulled out of her Mavis was about to protest when she was roughly flipped over and her ass pulled up into the air.

Oh no, not the Doggy position, she grumbled to herself knowing that it precluded kissing.

Mile's cock slid back into her pussy, now slopping noisily about and she thought the bed would be soaking with her slops. Miles adjusted his position and she felt his penis hit an area where she could not recollect feeling she'd been fucked before: the sensations being created were taking her to the edge.

Mavis gripped the sheets with both hands and bit deeply into the pillow to silence her screams.

Barely aware that Miles had a couple of fingers up her cunt as well as his cock, and liquid was flowing everywhere, she did register those fingers withdrawing and suddenly one was dancing around her asshole, trying to enter.

Their lower bodies seemed to heat up and Mavis could hear a voice she recognized as he own shouting, "I'm cumming, oooooh, ooooh, oh fuck how heavenly!"

Miles was thrusting furiously and Mavis didn't want him to miss out, so working instinctively she ran a hand to the side of their bellies that were pounding together and found his balls, which she squeezed, quite firmly.

"Waaaaaaagh!" bellowed Miles.

Mavis thought she felt a string of cum shoot inside her then she heard Miles' cock pull out with an obscene suction sound. Immediately she felt two wads of cum land on her back.

"Oh Christ, you're so fucking good," panted Miles, in a supreme accolade.

Minutes later Mavis had fallen asleep in his arms with a proud smile on her face.

ENDS

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