Minnesota Mama

Hi there, my name in Diana Murdoch and I hail from Lakeview, Minnesota.

I've been married to Ben for over 40 years and, believe it or not, we are still very much in love. We're both retired now, but we were high school teachers for all of our working lives and it was how we met.

Ben is older than I by 5 years, but despite his seventy two years, grey hair and wrinkles, he is still as handsome as the day I first set eyes on him. He is tall, around six feet in his socks. Despite his age he manages to stay fit by hill walking and bike riding. He's never been one for weight training, but he doesn't carry much body fat.

As for myself, I'm a little shorter than my husband, by around four or five inches.

I'll be sixty eight in a few months and despite having mothered three children, I am happy to say that I have managed to retain my figure, even past the menopause.

My once blond locks are a mixture of gold and silver, when Ben tells me he finds more attractive than ever. I feel that I am a little small in my breast size, a B cup, but my husband says that it's always been enough for him.

On occasions when I have found myself studying myself in the bathroom, I have always felt proud that my bottom hasn't drooped much and I am have that I can still fill out a pair of tight fitting jeans or trousers.

I like to keep fit by jogging and Zumba and laughed out loud from Ben's reaction after the first time I wore yoga pants. Before you ask, I was wearing a thong, not panties and yes the pants did ride right up my ass crack. I presented myself in front of my husband and his jaw dropped open and his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. I bent over in front him, making sure he could see my ass and when I stood up again, I had a camel toe showing.

Well, the result of that was, I never made it to my Zumba class, that evening. I spent it riding my husband's thick, erect cock, while he fucked me to the moon and back.

Ah, but those were the days...

Neither of us knew that only a couple of years later, Ben would go for routine check up with our doctor, who told him that he had a dangerously enlarged prostate. After being referred to a specialist, the conclusion was that no amount of medication was going to work and the only course of action was to have his prostate removed.

Ben was understandably upset, angry and moody. But eventually realisation kicked in and he had the operation.

Of course, our sex life suffered. I was as understanding as I could be, but it was almost impossible to know what Ben was going through. The good news came when the doctor gave us the all clear.

The hospital gave us lots of literature about the procedures and implants that could be inserted into the penis to help facilitate an erection. The surgeon, responsible for performing the operation, sounded like he was addressing a seminar, rather than advising a patient. He describe procedures where by cylinders could be placed into the penis that could be positioned up for intercourse and down for usual lifestyle activities. There was one that involved cylinders in the penis and a pump bulb in the scrotum. The pump would be squeezed to inflate the penis and the penis would be bent to deflate it. The final procedure would involve three inflatable implants. All of these procedures guaranteed a certain level of erectile success, dependent on the health of the individual.

After trawling through all the literature, Ben decided that enough was enough.

"Diane," he said. "I am not going to make love to you with a bionic penis. It wouldn't feel like my own."

Reluctantly, I had to agree with him.

As a normal part of our foreplay, massaging his testicles always brought him to full erection. I had even been known to suck on his balls, before going down on him. I had to admit that massaging him with an implant in his sac would not have the same emotion about it.

Ben suggested that even though he knew he would never be able to satisfy me in the usual way, he would be more than happy to have oral sex with me and bring me off with his fingers. (His words, not mine).

"You know that I will always love eating your pussy," he said, with a wink.

We tried. Oh lord how we tried. He always knew what made me come. His fingers inside me, rubbing my G spot, while his tongued lashed across my hardened clitoris.

But there was something missing. Ben was the only man I had ever been with and his cock was the only one I had ever known. Now suddenly that was taken away from us.

He bought me a vibrator, without my consent. It was a monster. I would say about twice the size and thickness of his own cock. He was disappointed that I wouldn't use it.

"Di," he said. "I would have great fun watching you use it and coming on it."

The thought made me feel dirty. As part of our sex life, we had mutually masturbated each other and watched each other masturbate, as part of foreplay. I found that highly erotic and each time we did it. I came hard. But the thought of using a facsimile, one as huge as that, only served to make my skin crawl.

I decided that if I was never going to ride his penis again, I could do without the foreplay. We talked about it but Ben found it hard to understand why we had to quit having sex altogether.

Ben came home one day and told me that we needed to have a serious conversation.

My stomach suddenly flipped over. Was he about to announce that he wanted a divorce? Had he been thinking about having a procedure done?

We sat face to face on the couch and Ben took my hand and looked me straight in the eyes.

"Di," he began. "You know how much I love you."

Tears began to well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

"It kills me to think that we can never have sex anymore," he continued. "I know how much you are missing that closeness."

I opened to speak, but Ben held his hand up to silence me.

"Please," he said. "Let me finish. I have been thinking how to say this for a while now."

He continued.

"I want you know that a great deal of thought has gone into what I am about to say. This was not a simple decision to make, but it is one that I am able to live with."

"Are you leaving me?" I asked. My face was burning by this point and hot tears were pouring down my face.

Ben smiled, reached out and pulled me into him.

"Of course not," he replied. "I wouldn't know how to live without you in my life."

"Then what is this all about?" I asked, "What's the decision you have made?"

He inhaled deeply and exhaled, before he answered.

"It kills me to think that you will have to go through life unfulfilled sexually," he said. "We have enjoyed years of wonderful sex and I want you to continue enjoying sex."

I blinked through my tears, wondering where this was leading.

"So," he continued. "I want you to know that if you go out with your girlfriends and you see a guy who looks nice and you feel attracted to, you have my blessing to fuck him."

A red mist suddenly descended in front of my eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I shouted. My initial sadness now turned to anger. "Are you actually telling me that you are okay with me fucking another guy?"

He looked surprised. Of course he did. He thought it was a perfectly natural solution.

"After all these years," I said. "Do you really think that I would be happy to go off and fuck someone else, just to satisfy my needs? What kind of a woman do you take me for?"

Ben raised his hands, now in defence.

"Woh! Calm down," he begged. "I thought that if you..."

"If I what?" I replied. "If I got desperate enough, that you would just let me go off and fuck a stranger?"

He sat there, in silence. Unable to respond.

"Do you realise just how fucked up that sounds?" I raged. "Do you think that little of me that I could just go off, when the mood took me and have sex with a someone else and feel good about it afterwards? The idea makes me sick to my stomach. Is that what all those years of marriage mean to you?"

I stood up and stormed off to the bottom of the stairs.

"You're fucking idiot!" I shouted. "You're sleeping in the spare room, for the duration."

---oOo---

After a fitful night's sleep. I awoke early. Around six a. m.

Wrapping a bathrobe around me, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen.

Ben was already there, making coffee.

I looked at him and all the previous night's conversation came flooding back. My rage and anger was tempered somewhat by my need for caffeine and I silently sat at the white, marble kitchen island, while he filled my mug with the hot, brown liquid.

Coffee, black, with a subtle hint of vanilla. Ben knew how to make my favourite coffee.

He set down the mug of steaming brew, in front of me and whispered, "Good morning."

As the mists of sleep that had fogged my brain, began to lift, the coffee burned its way through my body, to my stomach.

I began to wake up.

"Morning," I replied, croakily, not looking at him.

"Did you sleep ok?" he asked.

It was his way of gauging whether I was about to rip his head off. It would have been funny, had it not seemed so pathetic.

"No," I replied, "Not particularly."

"Me neither," he replied, pulling out a chair and seating himself across the table from me.

Long minutes passed between us. The kitchen clock, on the wall behind me, was ticking them away. Neither of us wanted to the first one to speak.

Finally, Ben inhaled and I knew that he was going to say something.

"I want to say I am sorry, for what I said last night," he began. "But I really don't think we can leave this where we did. We need to talk it out."

I tried to check my anger and spoke in the calmest manner I could.

"Last night, you told me that you were happy to let me go off and cheat on you," I began. "Why? I don't understand you."

Another long moment passed, as Ben seemed to be trying to work out what to say next.

"Okay, let me start by saying that everything I said, was said with love," he started. "I know you very well, at least I think I do. There will be a time, in the future when you will need to have sex. It's natural."

"You paint me out to be like a sex maniac that won't be able to live without a stiff cock inside me," I replied.

"That wasn't my intention," he replied, calmly. "I am sorry that it came across like that. But I do know you. You've never been one for vibrators or dildos. So buying one was, well, I wasn't thinking straight. I know you've always said the idea of shoving something artificial inside of you made you feel ill. I should've remembered."

"That's true," I replied. "But do you think I would feel any better, having a stranger's penis inside me?"

More long moments passed. Ben spoke again.

"Look," he began. "I'm not saying that you have to go out there and fuck the first guy you see. I'm not even saying that you have to do it regularly. What I am saying is that if you find yourself in the position, say you're out of town, for instance and a guy flirts with you and it looks as though might lead to something more, don't worry about me. Just do it."

As he spoke and I thought about it, in peculiar kind of way, what Ben was proposing didn't seem like a awful idea.

He went on to say that he didn't need to know the details of who, where and when.

But he did ask me to try and not develop feelings for whoever I was having sex with.

I said that I would think about what he was proposing.

---oOo---

You know it's funny, but even after Ben gave me his blessing to "fool around", quite the opposite happened.

I did find myself out of town, with my girlfriends, one weekend and was chatted up so many times by guys, but they all seemed as old my eldest son, Kyle and to me that felt icky.

My oldest and closest friend, Rita, told me, "I didn't know you were such a MILF."

"A what?" I asked.

"Have you now heard that term?" Rita asked. "It's an acronym. It stands for Mother I'd Like to Fuck."

Rita was my age. Her long dark hair was actually dyed and believe me when I say that I had considered dying my hair back to my natural blond colour. But in the end, I decided to grow old gracefully. Rita was a little vain.

On this particular night, she was dressed to impress and on the prowl for young flesh. A knee length, red silk dress, no pantyhose and matching red stilettoes.

I must point out that Rita was divorced, after having been married almost as long as I. It was one of her "night's out" that brought about her divorce, when her husband suspected her of cheating, he hired a detective to document her affairs. It appeared that she had a taste for younger studs.

She once told me, "The younger they are, the longer they can keep going."

I was shocked. Believe it or not, MILF was not a term I was familiar with.

"I would have eaten him up, in a heartbeat, if had asked me," she said, still talking about the young man that had tried to chat me up.

I came back from that weekend away, not feeling deflated that my sexual needs had not been satisfied. Rather a sense of relief that I had not succumbed to the temptations of younger flesh.

---oOo---

A few months after our conversation and my trip out of town, my eldest daughter, Caroline and our son-in-law Richard, came to visit and sleepover. Caroline was pregnant and not far from blessing us with our first grandchild.

One evening, after dinner, she disappeared upstairs and returned with thick, leather bound book.

"We stopped off at Grandma's on the way and she gave me this photo album," she announced, as she sat next to us on the couch.

She opened the book to reveal that it was in fact a very old photo album.

"Mum, did you know that our family originated in Norway?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied. "Your grandma used to tell me stories all the time about the ancestors she could remember. She never visited the country, but she is old enough to remember your great-grandfather, who emigrated here."

She turned the page to reveal an old man, seated on a chair, by a roaring fire, smoking a cigarette.

"This is my great-great uncle Ole," she said. "Grandma told me all about him."

I had not seen this photo before.

"Grandma told me that he owned a farm, somewhere near Bergen and that the farm still exists today."

"Really," I replied, studying the old man. My great uncle Olav.

My studying was interrupted when Caroline placed her hands on mine.

"In about six months, our lives are going to changed forever, by the birth of your grand son or daughter," she said. "I was wondering if, as a last great adventure, before the next adventure begins, could you and I go to Norway and find that family farm?"

"I am not sure," I answered. "I mean it's expensive to travel these days and it's a long way to go. What if you need an doctor?"

"I had a check-up, a week ago and everything is fine," Caroline replied. "She even gave me the all clear to travel."

Caroline dug into her handbag and pulled out sheets of A4 paper, with writing on it.

"I did some extensive research about the farm," she said, excitedly. "It's still a farm and still in the family. It's owned and run by Olav's descendants. his great-great grand children. Our cousins, despite being somewhat distant relatives."

I read some of the information that Caroline had printed from the computer.

"I even took the liberty of emailing with Erik. He's the owner of the farm," she continued. "He was very surprised to receive my email. but once I emailed the photo of Ole, he realised who I was and suggested we visit and stay with his family."

I still had misgivings about the trip, but both Richard and Ben assured me that money would not be a problem.

So over the next few weeks, we arranged flights, an overnight stay in an historic hotel, mid way between Bergen and the place where the farm was. The plan was to fly to Oslo and catch a connecting flight to Bergen. We would stay in the city for a couple of nights and enjoy the city. A train would then deliver us to a town, about an hour away from Bergen, where we would stay a couple of nights. So much to see and experience. After that, a train would deliver us to final destination, where we would be collected by Erik and his family and driven to the ancestral family farm. After that, we would take the train to Oslo and from there, fly back home

---oOo---

The flight to Oslo and the connecting flight to Bergen was uneventful, but the train journey to the place where we were to stay a couple of nights, before visiting the ancestral farm, was stunning. I had googled it before we started to travel and the whole journey, either way from Oslo to Bergen, or vice versa, was described as the most stunning scenic rail trip in Northern Europe. The weather didn't disappoint either. The sunshine shone continuously in a cloudless sky. The train was quite comfortable and pretty quiet too, not too many passengers.

The train wound its way through gorges and valleys, close to huge fjords and high sided mountains.

After an hour or so, we finally arrived at our overnight destination. The beauty of our hotel booking was that the platform was right next to the hotel, so we didn't have far to drag our heavy suitcases.

As we checked in, the very sweet receptionist informed us that breakfast was from 07.00 to 10.00 and the restaurant was open from 7pm for dinner. If we wanted to reserve a table, we could just ask the maitré d.

It was 4pm when we arrived so we booked a table for 8pm and decided to unpack a little and rest up before dinner.

We had booked a double room and the room came with two single beds that could be separated or put together, depending on the need.

At 8pm, we arrived at the restaurant and enjoyed a delicious dinner of locally farmed lamb, with all the trimmings and a delicious bottle of red wine that accompanied the meal perfectly.

After we had eaten, I suggested that we have a drink in the bar. They had a piano player performing in the front of the bar and I had heard him playing, as I passed by earlier, on my way to the toilet. I wanted to hear more.

Caroline said she was tired, but I said I would stay for a drink and listen to him for an hour.

The bar room was spacious. The bar backed up to a wall, with a staircase that led into another room, like a winter garden. White marble tiles adorned on the floor. The walls were pastel yellow painted, with historical paintings and photographs mounted on them. At the front of the room were several large windows, which looked out onto a large veranda. the view from the window was one of a huge lake and snow covered mountains, beyond.

The piano player was sitting at his white piano, which was in a corner to the left of the room. Two large speakers provided the volume for us to be able to hear his performance. He had great talent.

I didn't sit in the room, where he was playing but instead I chose to sit closer to the bar. I ordered a glass of white wine and occupied a vacant table, which gave me a clear view of the piano player.

Quite a handsome fella he was too. I put his age at around late fifties, maybe even early sixties. His almost silver grey hair confused the issue. He had a tanned complexion, but I doubt he spent hours under a sun lamp and so I deduced that he must have been born that way. He wore black, thin metal rimmed spectacles, which sort of enhanced his attraction. He was dressed in a black polo shirt and dress trousers. Smart casual, you might say.

His musical selection was eclectic. His playing was soothing and familiar and his singing voice had the ability of calming you. You almost felt as though you had known his for years. At least that is how I felt.

My train of thought was suddenly derailed by a gruff voice, which sounded like a mix of Irish and American.

"Are you travelling alone, ma'am?"

I shifted my gaze, temporarily irritated by the question.

I looked to where the voice had come from, to see a middle aged man perched precariously on a bar stool, nursing a half filled beer glass. He clearly had not given any thought to his choice of clothing. He looked as thought he was about to give his car a service. He wore old, faded jeans and green V neck sweater, under which I was able to see a white t shirt. His shoes were heavy boots. Everything about him seemed faded and worn. His speech was a little slurred, so I assumed that he already had a few glasses inside of him.

"No," I replied, tersely. "I am travelling with my daughter."

"Ah," came the reply. "I guess she's gone to bed then, seeing as how you're sitting alone."

"Yes," I replied, sharply.

Without any invitation and clearly oblivious to my tone of voice, the man slid off his stool and walked over to me, his hand extended in greeting.

"My name is Jeffery. Jeffery Reardon," he stated. "That's spelled with a J and two ff's. Who might you be?"

"Diane, " I replied, reluctant to add my surname.

"And a fine young woman you are too," he stated. I detected a slight Irish lilt to his voice. "Dare I say," he continued, a broad grin creasing his lips.

I nodded silently, accepting his compliment, although I had absolutely no intention of continuing this conversation and decided to move into the bar to listen to the pianist, some more.

As I got up to leave, I said, "If you don't mind, I would very much like to listen to the musician."

I prepared to move seats and Jeffery followed me, saying that he would join me and keep me company.

Damn! I couldn't shake this guy. I didn't want to seem rude, but I felt as though it would be the only way to dissuade him from further conversation.

The room was arranged in two tiers and I chose a table with two chairs, in the upper tier. As soon as I was settled, Jeffery dropped into the seat beside me.

I studied the pianist for a few minutes, trying to ignore Jeffery's attempt at chatting me up.

Sitting closer made me realise just how good looking the pianist was. I found myself entranced by him. It seemed that he put as much emotion into every word of every line of the song he was singing. He drew me in with each performance and it wasn't until Jeffery touched my arm, to get my attention, that I realised how much I had forgotten he was still sitting there.

Part of me was very annoyed with because until that moment, I'd had fantasies running wild in my head about this musician. Jeffery, yet again, derailed another train of thought and sent it clattering down a siding to oblivion.

Jeffery was blissfully unaware and asked me if he could refresh my drink. I declined, explaining that Caroline and I had an early start and I was heading upstairs to my room and to bed.

He actually had the cheek to ask me if I would like him to accompany me to my room. I declined politely, again, stating that I was a big girl and could take care of myself.

I stood up and Jeffery did as well. He leaned in, I assumed, for a goodnight kiss, but I disappointed him by shaking his hand and saying goodnight.

As I walked away from that side of the bar, I glanced across at the pianist and gave him a little wave. He returned the gesture with a cheeky wink and a smile.

I looked around for Jeffery and, not to my surprise, saw him trying his charms on another female guest.

A bullet well dodged, I thought to myself, as I walked into the elevator.

---oOo---

The following day was cool, I thought. Caroline and I bought tickets to ride the cable car up to the top of the highest point of the town. The car was spacious, but with three paragliders and their backpacks as well, space was at a premium.

When we reached the summit and alighted from the cable car, we followed a trail, walking a rocky path that led us to a viewpoint. It was both incredible and exhilarating. A glass bottom platform had been built, rather like the one in the Grand Canyon, only a little shorter, I think. But from there we could see for miles and with the sky so clear, it added to the exhilaration of it all.

Once back at the hotel, I suggested that we took a nap. Caroline agreed saying that her impending pregnancy woke her a few times in the night and she was tired.

I also suggested that we went out into the town for dinner. For one thing, the price was cheaper than the hotel and I had seen a steakhouse that I wanted to try.

I heard no argument from Caroline on that subject.

The meal was terrific. I ordered wine by the glass, because Caroline wasn't drinking. The wine I chose was so tasty that Caroline had me cut off, I drank so much. I didn't feel drunk, but I was happy.

When we returned to the hotel, I could hear the dulcet tones of the piano man and told Caroline that I wanted to stay and listen a little. She said that she was tired, despite the nap earlier.

"I hope you don't mind having only one grandchild," she said. "I don't think I want to got through this again."

I reminded her that the fun really begins once the baby was born. Midnight feeds, nappy changes.

"If you think you are tired now," I said. "Just wait. You'll forget what sleep is."

She gave me a peck on the cheek and begged me not to be too late coming to bed.

---oOo--

I bought myself a beer and found a seat close to where I had sat, the day before. I looked across at the piano man and he smiled in recognition of me. I raised my glass to him and he winked.

He announced that he was taking a short break and stood up from the piano. He was dressed in a pastel green, short sleeved shirt, tanned Chinos and tanned leather shoes. It was his Chinos that caught my eye, as he walked passed me. He appeared to have a sizable lump in the front of the trousers. I felt a slight twinge in my pussy, upon noticing it.

Damn! Was I horny now?

As he returned to the piano, I tried to attract to his attention. He was about to sit down, but decided to stand and walk over to me.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, smiling.

"If only you knew," my brain was saying to me.

"What is your name?" I asked. "Mine is Diane, but those who know me call me Di."

He held his hand, for me for me to shake and replied, "My name is Alan and those who know me, call me Alan. Very nice to meet you."

As I held his large, warm hand, I asked, "What time are you playing to tonight?"

"I'll be done by eleven o' clock," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if I could buy you a drink and we could have a chat," I explained.

"I would be fascinated to hear about your job."

He agreed to the drink and said he would join me after he was finished working.

Alan made a point of letting me know that he preferred whisky over beer and that the bartender knew his preference of which brand.

After his last song, Alan uncoupled his microphone and tablet from their respective cables, put his microphone in a zip up pouch and walked over to my table.

We were completely alone. The bartender had closed the bar over half an hour before and all the guests had long since gone to their rooms.

"Alone at last," I said, as I handed Alan his whiskey.

He raised his glass in toast and said, "Here's to good company."

Over the next hour, we talked about all sorts of things, including the recent departure from this world of his wife, to breast cancer. I say recent, but it was in fact three years ago. But it was clear to see that the pain was still fresh with him.

I told him about my husband and our situation. I even told him about the proposal he had made about me having sex with other men.

However, I was put right on the spot when Alan asked, "If your husband is unable to get an erection, that must make sex difficult."

"Impossible, actually," I replied. "The doctors offered mechanical alternatives. Implants that could be inserted in order to help achieve an erection, but my husband was having none of it."

Alan downed what was left of his whiskey.

"In his own words," I continued. "He said if he couldn't fuck me with his own cock, then he certainly wasn't going to fuck me with a bionic one."

That statement almost caused Alan to cough his whiskey back up into his glass.

He placed the empty glass on the table and stared at it for a moment, as if he was trying to work out what to say next.

"So," he said, inhaling. "Di, when was the last time you had sex?"

" I really can't remember," I replied. "Before Ben was diagnosed, I realised something was wrong, because he would shy away from any form of intimacy. I thought he wasn't in love with anymore. But it was because he didn't want to admit his erectile disfunction."

I tried to calculate, but my memory was a little hazy.

"That was more eighteen months ago, I suppose."

Alan was slumped in his chair, but he now sat up and straightened his polo shirt.

"So let me see if I have this straight," he began. "Your husband is unable to have sex. He loves you so much that he actively wants you to have sex with other men, when the mood takes you, but you are either too scared to follow through or not attracted to the men on offer. Am I right?"

I nodded silently.

"But correct me, if I've misread the conversation, you would like me to take you to bed... is that right?"

Slowly, I nodded, again.

"I am fine with this," he said. "But I am a little curious why?"

I inhaled deeply, trying to formulate a response that made sense.

"Well," I began. "You are right. The guys in my neighbourhood aren't the kind of guys I would want to give myself too. They don't go out of their way to inspire trust. Ben told me that it was okay, but he didn't need to know when or who I had slept with. The guys back home would take great pleasure in telling him, if they saw him. That would hurt him and I don't want to do that. I would rather risk being celibate than hurting him that way."

"I guess it helps that I live several thousand miles away then, " Alan replied. "But just so you know, if you were to meet me in your neighbourhood, I wouldn't reveal anything about what we would get up to. So no one here will know about it either."

"That's why I am asking you," I replied. "You seem to have a demeanour that inspires trust."

He thought for a moment.

"So I guess the next question is, where? Yours or mine?"

"It would have to be yours," I replied. "Caroline is asleep in our room."

He told me that discretion was paramount and so to make sure no one knew of our liaison, he would leave first. He would go to his room, via the elevator. I was to wait a couple of minutes and follow.

"I'm in room three one one," he explained, "Take the elevator to the third floor and it's directly opposite. I'll leave to door off the latch, so that you don't have to knock."

He got up and shook my hand. It was part of an act. He bid me goodnight and walked towards the elevator, carrying his tablet and microphone pouch.

I waited two full minutes, which felt like a life time, before I made my way to the elevator.

---oOo---

I realised that I was trembling, as I pushed open the door to Alan's room.

He was standing in front of the window, the drapes were drawn. The bathroom was immediately to my left, as I entered the room. Two single beds, pushed close together to almost form a double bed, were against the wall to my left. A coffee table, in the far left corner, next to window, had an electric kettle, two mugs and a tray which had coffee and tea pouches on it.

The only illumination in yhe room came from two, small, brass bedside lamps. The sundued lighting gave the whole situation a warm and cosy feel to it, making me feel comfortable.

"Come in," Alan said, smiling. "I don't bite, unless you want me too."

I could feel my vagina tingling, in anticipation to what we were going to do.

I smiled, as I walked towards him. I surprised myself by taking the initiative. I put my arms around him and pulled him into me.

Our lips mashed together in a passionate kiss. He had such soft lips. So kissable. I opened my lips to allow his tongue to enter. As our tongues danced around each other, I thought I could feel his erection hardening against my stomach, which caused the tingling in my vagina to increase and I could feel it begin to moisten. This was something I had not felt in a while.

Alan undid the buttons of my blouse and pushed it away from shoulders, causing it to fall away and land on the carpet. It was a sheer delight to feel his hands massage my breasts, over my bra. My nipples were as hard as pebbles and pressing painfully against the material. I begged him to unclasp it.

He stood behind me and unclasped the garment. My bra joined the blouse, on the floor. He turned me to face him and kissed my neck and throat, which turned me on even more, saturating my panties.

He kissed his way down to my breasts and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. I begged him to nibble my nipples. This action caused my juices to flood into my panties, soaking my gusset and driving me crazy. My breath became laboured and a knee trembling orgasm spread from my ankles to my tummy.

I put my hands under is chin and manoeuvred him up to eye level again. I reached down between us and closed my hand around the thick, hard lump in his trousers.

As he attempted to undo the button, on the waistband of my jeans, I stopped him and knelt down before him.

"My turn," I said.

I pulled open his belt, popped his button and yanked his trousers to his ankles. He was wearing black, microfibre boxer shorts and his erection was visible against the material. He looked huge, much longer than my hubby and thicker too.

I licked my lips in anticipation, as I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled his boxer shorts down to join his trousers.

He removed his shirt, leaving him completely naked, in front me.

As Alan stepped forward, leaving his clothing on the floor, I gazed at his penis, as it wafted in front of me. It looked to be about seven inches long and around two inches around the girth. It was clear that he was uncircumcised and his foreskin was rolled behind his shiny, plum sized head. His penis also had a thick vein running along one side of his hard shaft. His scrotum contained to large testicles, that looked a though he had quite a lot of semen stored inside them.

The thing that stood out more than anything was that his pubic hair was completely shaved off.

I heard him gasp as my lips passed over his crown and I sucked him into my mouth. His cock felt warm and I relished the salty flavour of his pre-cum, which oozed profusely from his tip and flooded onto my tongue.

After sucking his manhood and licking his balls for a few minutes, Alan sucked in a sharp breath and said, "Jeez, Di. I'm going to let go in your mouth, if you keep this up."

I ignored him, continued to suck harder on his glans, until he placed his hands on either side of my head. I heard him grunt, felt his cock twitch and then tasted the first of several jets of his creamy cum as he ejaculated down my throat.

I gave his member a gentle kiss, letting it slip from mouth, as I swallowed down the remainder of his ejaculate.

"I always like to get the first cum out the way," I explained. "It means that when I have you inside me, you will last longer and with a cock this big, I wanted you to last as long as possible."

I ordered him to lay on the bed.

As he lay there, stroking his manhood, I undid the button on my jeans, turned away from him and bent over, as I rolled my jeans to my ankles. I could feel his gaze on my panty clad bottom, which helped to dampen my panties even more.

I climbed onto the bed, straddled Alan's body and slid my sodden gusset along his thick shaft.

I leaned forward, moving my hips back and forth. Alan reached up and rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, causing me to flood my panties. My natural juices, mixed with his copious pre-cum, provided a great lubrication and the action of riding his cock with my panties on, pushed the garment up into my soaking slit, rubbing against my clitoris and causing me to come, harder than I expected.

My pussy was overflowing, as I slid further up his body. My panty covered crotch was now directly over his mouth and Alan was not backwards at coming forwards. I shuddered as I felt his finger hook around my gusset, gently brushing against my slippery sex. He pulled my gusset to one side, revealing my dripping cunt.

Unlike Alan, I have kept my pubic hair, although I like to keep it trim and I do shave the hair that grows around my vulva. I knew that when he peeled my gusset to one side, he would be staring up at a hairless vulva and my glistening labia.

I cupped my own breasts and tweaked my hard nipples as Alan was sucking at my pussy, through the soaking gusset of my panties. I begged him to stick his tongue inside me. I was desperate for him to eat my pussy.

I shivered in anticipation when I felt his fingers of his left hand pull my panties to one side and the fingers of his other hand spread my slick, wet pussy lips.

My labia are thick and tend to hang down a centimetre or so. They were dripping juices, as he began to nibble on them and when his tongue entered me, I closed my eyes and saw stars exploding before me. Tiny electric shocks tore through my body as I experienced the biggest orgasm of my life. Until that point, I was kneeling, high up over Alan's head. But when that sucker hit, I lost all control in my knees and sank onto his face, smothering him and drowning him with my juices. On instinct, I moved my hips back and forth, over his mouth and nose, not without giving a single thought as whether Alan was able to breathe or not. My need to come was so strong that I pushed harder into his face, demanding that his tongue find places hitherto unexplored depths of my vagina.

As he licked my most inner parts, Alan's hands rested on the cheeks of my bottom and he began to pull them apart. It felt very nice what he was doing, but I had no idea what he was actually doing, until I felt his fingertip graze and massage my anus. Not even my husband had ever touched that part of my body, We just didn't think of it as a sexual area. As he Alan slid a the tip of his index finger inside me, I realised that it felt very nice.

"The finger is fine," I said, "But if you're planning on putting anything else up there, you can forget it."

After I said that, I half expected him to remove his finger altogether. But quite the opposite happened. Alan pushed his finger deeper inside that most intimate of places and moved it in a circular motion. All the while, he was doing that, his tongue was lashing against my soaking pussy and producing a string of micro orgasms that almost reduced me to jelly.

I decided I needed more. I wanted to feast on his cock again.

I climbed off of Alan and told him not to move. I took a moment to look at him. His face was a wash with my emissions. I leaned over and kissed him on the lips, tasting my own juices as well.

I stood up and turned around.

Bending over, I began to roll my destroyed underwear off my hips, along my thighs and down to my ankles. I could almost feel his eyes on my ass. I knew he was watching, taking in the plump bulb of my glistening vulva, between my thighs. I think he must also have seen the way my soaking gusset clung to my pouting lips.

Kicking my panties across the floor, I climbed back on the bed, kneeling astride Alan's head once more, only this time, I faced away from him and looked toward his feet. I bent forward and presented both my bottom and my pussy to my lover.

I could see that his cock had deflated a little and so I lifted it with my hand, noting how warm and heavy it felt against my palm. As I licked his bulbous head, I felt his fingers part my labia and the soft intrusion of his tongue in my vagina. He also reinserted his finger into my anus. As his tongue fucked my pussy, so his finger fucked my ass.

I slid his thickening shaft into my mouth and sucked hard on it. I enjoyed the warm saltness of his pre-cum which poured onto my tongue and slithered down my throat. I cupped his testicles and gently massaged them. With his penis firmly ensconced in my mouth, I parted his thighs a little and coaxed him to bend his legs at the knee. Still sucking his cock, I stuck a finger into my mouth and lavishly coated it with my own sputum. I held apart the cheeks of his bum, with two fingers and inserted the wet one into his anus. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, as we say.

I heard him moan as I pushed my finger deeper into his rectum, onward until I felt his prostate. I massaged it gently and his body stiffened, before I felt his immense release. Rope after creamy rope of hot semen filled my mouth and I attempted to swallow all that I could.

As his orgasm subsided, I slid along his body until my pussy was resting along his erection. I moved on a little further, gripped his phallus and pointed it towards my soaking pussy. Leaning back, I felt his cock slide into my vagina. My God, he felt huge inside me. He stretched me in ways I could never have imagined. As I sank further onto this thick staff, I felt his cock head push against my cervix. He was so deep inside me and there was still an inch or two to go.

Completely aware that Alan had a clear view of my rear and especially my anus, I bent forward and moved my hips back and forth along his rigid pole. I took a sharp intake of breath as I felt something brush against my most personal area. I turned my head and looked to see that Alan was rubbing his thumb over my puckered hole. Curiously, I liked the feeling. I began to ponder my earlier statement about putting more than his finger up my bottom. I never knew how sensitive this part of my body was. I watched as Alan stuck his thumb into his mouth and coated it with his saliva. Then he pressed the dampened digit against my anus and pushed. He was up to the first knuckle and moving his thumb in and out. What surprised me next was that he soaked his other thumb with saliva and pushed that into my bottom as well. Both thumbs moved in opposite directions, massaging my rectum and stretching it. I sat up, still pushing my bottom out to Alan and slid my hand towards my soaking pussy. As he continued my internal massage, I frantically rubbed my clitoris, moving inexorably towards another colossal orgasm.

When it hit, I felt my anal muscles clench against his thumbs and my vaginal muscles grip his stiff cock. I flooded his balls, cock and pubic area with my juices and he gasped.

I asked him, as we came down from my orgasm, whether or not he had ever engaged in anal intercourse and he told me that he done it only three times in the last 25 years. I asked him if he fancied trying it with me and he replied only if I really wanted to. I replied that I would like to try but that we would have to take it slowly.

I climbed off of him and lay in his arms.

"How would like me to do this?" he asked.

I was surprised by the question, because I was of the opinion that there was only one position in which to do it. From behind.

"Yes, that is the normal way," he explained. "But you can do it in the missionary position and I could also lay behind you, kind of spoon you and slide in that way."

I told him that we could try first from behind. Once I had gotten used to his size and felt comfortable, then we could explore the other positions.

I rolled on my stomach and thrust my bottom into the air.

Alan sat up and manoeuvred himself so that he was kneeling up behind me. I felt his hands on the cheeks of my bum and pulled them apart. I shuddered when I felt his hot breath on my cheeks and in his tongue rimming me. He licked and spat saliva onto my anus, working it inside me with his fingers. I moaned when he moved his erect penis along my butt crack and down towards my rosebud.

He wiped his cock up and down my soaking pussy, coating the head with my thick juices. He rubbed his cock around my rosebud and then said, "Just relax."

I winced when I felt the head of his cock press against my anus. I tried to relax my muscles to receive his member. As he slid passed my anal sphincter, it hurt a little and but soon the pain ceased and all I felt was incredibly full. The thickness of his shaft stretched my alimentary canal to its limit and I felt something I was not expecting. The head of Alan's penis was rubbing against my clitoris, only from the underside.

Once I had adjusted to his size, I asked him to stay still and I began to move my hips back and forth allowing his cock to slide in and out, slowly and gently.

"How does it feel to be inside my bum?" I asked him.

"Tight," he replied. "Almost as tight as your pussy. Don't go too fast. I might come and I don't want to do that."

I told him that when he was ready to come, I wanted his come inside my pussy, not my bum.

"How does it feel, having a cock in your ass?" he asked, as I began slow movements, sliding his shaft in and out of my rectum.

I felt his balls slap against my vulva, every time I pushed backwards. When he slid inside me, there was a certain pressure as well.

"I feel full," I replied. It felt as though I hadn't been to the toilet in days. But it's a pleasant feeling."

I started to move a little faster and I reached beneath me and to stimulate my clitoris.

His hands gripped my hips tightly as he took over and began to thrust his meat pole in and out of me. The combination of his thrusts, his cock head rubbing on the underside of my clitoris and the stimulation of my little love button, brought about an explosive conclusion as I came harder than before. I soaked his thighs and testicles with my emissions as a fountain of my pussy juice erupted from my silken depths. My anal muscles gripped and squeezed his hard shaft and I heard him moan. That meant it was taking every ounce of his will power not to come.

He pulled his cock out and rolled me onto my back. He held my legs in the air with one hand and pushed his cock back into my ass once more, with his free hand. He pushed his cock upwards, toward my clit area, pushing hard and causing my clit to break free of its little hood. My pussy was running with juices and he used them as lubrication, as they dribbled into my bum crack. He continued to fuck me this way for quite long minutes, rubbing the underside of my clit and sending me into hyperspace on the tail of yet another monster orgasm.

I was now ready to receive his semen and asked him to fuck my pussy.

Switching holes seemed like an easy task to him and he slid his cock all the way into my pussy and began thrusting hard and fast. He made me come three more times before he exploded inside me. He roared as he came and I felt his cock jerk and shoot rope after rope of his hot cream deep inside my pussy.

We lay there for a moment, his cock still hard and inside me. But as I felt him soften inside me, he pulled his cock out. His semen begin to leak out of me. He must have been storing this up for weeks. There was so much.

He rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom. I heard running water and when he returned, he had a damp face cloth in his hand. He pressed to my vagina to stem to flow of his spunk. I held in in place and gently rubbed my pussy, trying to clean myself up.

"Wow," I said, climbing off the mattress. "It's been a long time since I have had sex like that."

"Will you be telling your husband about this?" he asked.

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "We made a pact, a long time ago, that if anything like this happened, that he would rather stay ignorant of it."

I picked up my sodden panties off the floor. "I don't see any reason to amend that pact, do you?"

"I guess not," he replied.

As I dressed, I screwed my destroyed underwear into a ball and put them in my handbag.

I couldn't help notice that even in a flaccid state, Alan's penis was still impressively large.

"Does it ever go to sleep?" I asked, motioning to his manhood.

"Only when I do," he replied, smiling.

I checked my phone for the time, It was two a. m.

"Shit!" I exclaimed. "I need to get back to my room and grab some sleep, if we're to meet the train, to my ancestral farm."

Alan walked towards me and put his hands on my shoulders. He pulled me in and our lips met in a final kiss. I could feel his cock pushing against my thigh and I was in two minds to say "fuck it" and try for round two. Had we not had to get up early, I maybe would have done just that.

Last kiss over, I opened the door and walked out into the corridor. Alan whispered goodbye and wished me a safe journey.

Before I walked out of his room, I reached into my handbag and pulled out my panties. I handed them to him.

"A memento of a memorable night," I said and kissed him softly on the cheek.

---oOo---

As I made my way along the corridor to the elevator, I was distinctly aware of some soreness coming from my pussy and my rear.

Once in the room, I went to the bathroom and stripped again before heading to the shower.

I turned on the faucet and turned the heat down to cool. Squatting, I aimed the shower head at my pussy and anus. The cooling sensation of the water and massaging effect of the jets, as they struck my genitals and anus, was delightful.

I held it there for what seemed like ages, but in fact was minutes. The throbbing from my anus and the soreness of my pussy began to fade.

I turned off the faucet, dried myself off and made myself ready for bed.

I dressed in a grey coloured t-shirt and a clean pair of black, cotton panties

As I climbed under the duvet, I pictured Alan's hard cock in my mind and felt a tingling in my nether regions, but I resisted the urge to masturbate. However, I was sure that I would replaying this over and over in my mind, in the future.

---oOo---

The following morning, I was awoken by Caroline running the shower.

I sat up in bed and retrieved my phone from my nightstand. Bleary eyed, I scrolled through the latest post from friends and family on Facebook and read some news pages.

The bathroom door opened and out stepped Caroline, wrapped in a white bath towel and another towel wrapped around her head.

"Ah, you're awake," she said, when she saw me. "What time did you get last night?"

I told her I wasn't sure,

"Well it was after two A. M," she said, irritated. "I know because I had to get up to pee in the night and your bed wasn't slept in. What were you up too?"

Trying not to look at her, I replied, "I was chatting to the piano player. He was a very interesting person. We had a nice long chat."

Caroline clearly wasn't buying my explanation.

"Is that all you did?" she asked. "He must have been something else to have kept you up until two o'clock in the morning, Mom."

There was a silence and then the penny seemed to drop for Caroline.

"My God Mum, you slept with him, didn't you?"

I tried to deny it, but she wasn't giving in that easily.

"I can't believe you've cheated on Dad," she said, upset. "I am disgusted."

I put my phone down. I wasn't going to get out of this without telling her everything. So I asked her to sit down on the bed and listen. I explained about her Dad's operation and what the result of that was. I told her about Ben's proposition and that until last night, I had never followed through.

At first she didn't want to believe me. She said she would call Ben and ask for his confirmation. She had her phone in her hand, as if to threaten me into changing my story. When I told her to go ahead, she stopped for a moment. She then realised that everything I had told her was true and she sobbed into her towel.

"Are you and Dad planning to get divorced?" she said, sniffling back her tears.

"No, we don't plan to split up at all," I replied, climbing out of bed and sitting beside her.

"How long do you think Dad will be able to take this, before he can't anymore?" she asked, as I lay her head on my shoulder.

"You're forgetting that it was your father who suggested I do this," I replied. "He wouldn't have suggested it, if he didn't think he could handle it."

"Are you going to tell him?" she asked.

"One of the stipulations of this arrangement is that I don't tell you Dad," I explained. "He wants me to be happy, but he doesn't want to know the details."

Caroline calmed herself down and suggested that I get in the shower, while she go dressed.

"Breakfast ends in under and hour, so you'd better hurry up, Mom," she said, with a smile.

---oOo---

I found Alan's FB page and sent him a friend's request, but he never answered and to be honest I wasn't surprised.

After the trip was over, I was happy to be home again.

Ben asked if we had had a good time and I told him that it was memorable. He didn't as for details and I didn't offer any, except for the trip to the farm and our overnight stay there.

The experience I had in that hotel was one that stayed with me for a long time and I am nor ashamed to say, fuelled some very nice day time and night time fantasies.

But more importantly, it helped to break the ice.

I'm not saying that I turned into a cum-hungry slut who yearned to hard cock all day, every day. But if the occasion arose and I liked the man I was talking to, well let's just say I had a new found confidence to deal with it.

I even experimented with women as well...

But that's another story for another time...