On the Monday I spent another rather boring day at the college trying to get to grips with the spoken Arab language. To be honest, I could hardly concentrate at all; my mind was full of the great sex I’d had with Mrs. K the day before, and the delightful thoughts I had imagining my next time with her, which was thankfully to be that very evening.

Try as I may at my task, my head was just filled with thoughts of her: her charming warm personality, the way she made me totally and utterly relaxed, and her full, ripe mature body, those big heavy breasts topped with massive nipples, her soft creamy skin, her full round ass. But, maybe most attractive of all was her huge sexuality. I was enchanted by her; totally enveloped physically and mentally in our affair. With her, I was experiencing a level of sexual hunger and fulfilment that I would have previously thought impossible.

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I woke up after a short sleep of an hour or so. My head had moved from its resting place against her big soft breasts and was now against her tummy. Mrs K was stroking my face; it felt good. Better still was my memory homing in on what had happened.

“Hello sleepyhead, looks like I wore you out,” Hazel said, laughing, and then smiling broadly.

“Hello my beautiful lady,” I replied.

I wriggled up her body and we shared a deep kiss. Then I gently nibbled her ear-lobes, kissed her neck and moved my mouth down over one of her huge pink nipples and sucked. It hardened beautifully in my mouth. As I feasted on her, Mrs K resumed stroking my face. I felt my cock press hard against her leg, and I ran my hand through her lustrous, thick, dark pubic bush and teased my fingers over the increasingly slippery wetness of her pussy. We lay like this for a while.

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This is a story relating the beginning of an affair between a young Englishman and a much older widow. Apart from the names, it is true.

Do you find that in this sometimes painful sometimes wonderful world of ours that life’s pleasures are best enjoyed when they come unexpectedly? I do. That’s how it was with me and Mrs Kellerman. Unexpected, and fine, very, very fine.

I met Mrs K when I was staying at my aunt’s house one summer. At the time immediately before I met her, I was in a kind of down-hearted frame of mind. Shortly after I met her I was flying high on my own personal cloud. Now, I have a precise, precious memory of this beautiful, curvaceous woman of, I’d guess around her mid-fifties (it is rude to ask I’ve been told), with a warm smile and a kind heart, not to mention a ripe full figure and accommodating wet and warm mouth, pussy, and asshole.

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