He gave my mind an orgasm and then he fucked me.

This a true story. As many of you know, I became a widow at fifty-five years old. I had been married since the age of nineteen, and this year would have been our thirty-seventh wedding anniversary.

I had always thought that if I ever became single again, I would never want anything to do with men, that I would be happy alone. That lasted about two weeks and I was going stir crazy. So, I did what most lonely people are doing and joined a dating site.

Here I was, a fifty-five-year-old woman, looking for a man to make me feel alive again. I filled out my profile and added my picture. Then the doubts flooded my mind. Before I saved the profile, I sat with many thoughts running through my head.

What I had been seeing on other forms of social media platforms was that men of all ages were leaning more toward the more mature women. Pursuing them. I thought, “Yeah right, sure.” What man is going to look for a more mature woman over a younger woman with better, sexier attributes?

However, according to the men on social media, they found mature women less complicated. They didn't play games. They knew how to be sexy in their skin and they didn't look for attention from strangers on Snapchat by sending nude snaps. Whatever that meant.

I thought, “Well, I'm mature.” I still loved sex. I could write sexy erotica. I used a vibrator daily. But, I'm not a size two. I have stretch marks, large breasts that aren't perky, and flesh that no amount of dieting will magically make disappear. What fucking delusional world was I living in.

Men wanted a woman who was tiny, young, and with perfect breasts. I was actively setting myself up for disappointment and hurt. I should just delete this app and go get a damn cheeseburger.

Honestly l was more scared of being rejected than I cared to admit. Rejected by strangers who looked at my picture or read my profile and in their minds thought, “Yuck,” and would swipe, sending my online dating profile into the abyss never to see the light of day.

What the fuck? It was either hit join and release my profile or be resigned to having solo orgasms in the dark in my bedroom. I’ll never be the perfect woman but maybe, just maybe, it could be a good hour over breakfast. One date. I just needed one date to build my confidence.

“Fuck it,” I said, and hit the join button. I watched as my profile was uploaded with my picture. It was official. At fifty-five, a widow with sagging large breasts, I was on a dating site.

I laughed out loud. It was my first laugh since my husband died. Was I pathetic or what? I didn’t know what would happen, or if any men would ever swipe yes on my profile. So, without anything else to do. I started hunting men, reading profiles, and swiping yes or no. I didn’t have a type.

But I do like a man who’s not skinny, still has teeth, and has facial hair. And is taller than me. I love a man in boots and a hat, usually a cowboy hat. They just stand out to me. I would take a man in cowboy boots and hat over a three-piece suit any day. But, if that same man had boots and a hat… Fuck me, that is sexy.

As I was swiping, I came across one man’s profile that made me stop. I read his profile and looked at his pictures, looked at him. I don’t know if it was his eyes, his smile, or the words in his profile, but I found him incredibly hot. I swiped yes. He must have been online at that moment because I got a heart back saying we matched.

Call me old-fashioned in an age of instant gratification, but I believe a man should make the first move. He should take the lead and be the alpha male to my alpha female. I had matched with a man named Terry, a very gorgeous man who took the lead. He sent me a text, I responded, and after a few messages back and forth, he asked me out.

No way! Really? I was shaken. We quickly exchanged phone numbers and started texting. That was on Wednesday. Our date would be on Saturday. We planned a no-pressure, breakfast date. I gave him my address and he picked me up right on time at nine o’clock.

He had told me during our phone conversations that he would want a hug and a kiss. I thought, that’s fine in theory. But what if he didn’t find me sexually attractive? Then what? Would he fake it?

Let me be clear. He didn’t fake the kiss. Or the kiss when we got to Cracker Barrel. He opened the doors for me. Held my hand and then kissed me again after breakfast. Neither of us wanted the date to end. So, he drove us around for nearly an hour. We talked about everything, which eventually led to sex.

I could tell he was getting horny. As he was driving he reached over and started playing with my breast. I couldn’t help myself. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the attention he was giving me. But touching wasn’t going to satisfy him.

“I need to taste you,” he said.

Where could we go? To be honest, I was hoping he would have pulled into a cheap-name motel, but those are hard to find. We ended up at a closed-down bowling alley. He pulled his black truck around to the back. We got out in the cold, and he immediately pulled up my bra and devoured my right nipple.

“Let me taste your juicy pussy,” he said.

I unzipped my jeans and reached between my legs to gather the clear sweetness he was craving. He sucked my fingers clean. Then we kissed some more before leaving the deserted parking lot.

He drove me home, and as a perfect gentleman, he hugged me goodbye. That was the best breakfast date. I had no idea if he would want to see me again or not, but I hoped he would.

The next day was Super Bowl Sunday. We chatted on and off the whole day and I'm not going to lie. I wanted him in the worst way and I was hoping the next date would be mentioned.

Once again our conversation turned to sex. I told him how I was hoping we would have happened by a cheap motel. I think he was surprised by that.

Then it happened. “Find us a hotel for Friday,” he said.

Challenge accepted, Sir!

Monday morning I started doing searches. I knew we had bad weather coming in so I wanted it to be somewhere in the middle for both of us. I found a hotel, booked the room, and sent him the confirmation. Then it dawned on me that it would be on Valentine's Day. I didn't say anything to him about it, but I hoped he would remember.

We spent the week talking, texting, and building up the excitement until, finally, it was Friday. He didn't know it, but I had booked us a king suite with a hot tub.

Around four pm I checked in. He was working and would meet me around seven. On the way, I had stopped at the store and bought some treats and a few sexy items, namely massage oils, candles, chocolate kisses, and a new perfume. I wanted to make sure he knew exactly how much I wanted to be there with him.

Around six-thirty he texted me. “I'm on my way, gorgeous.”

Strangely, I wasn't nervous. I was horny and ready to fuck. He was such a great kisser and attentive that I just knew the sex would be amazing.

I watched out the window, waiting for his black truck to pull into the parking lot. I wanted to see him. When I saw his truck pulling in, my pussy contracted. He gathered his bag and I could see he had bought me flowers. Tears formed in my eyes. This was the first time a man had bought me anything for Valentine's Day. Ever!

Quickly I wiped the tears away and impatiently waited for him to come to the room.

We had discussed how the meeting should go. He wanted me dressed normally. We would kiss, he would shower, and then I would change into my red nightie.

He walked in and immediately pinned me against the wall with his mouth on mine. His hands roamed all over me. I didn't have a bra on, and, when he found my naked breasts, his strong hands squeezed and teased my aching nipples. After the long hot kiss, he went to shower.

I was looking out of the window, wearing this super sexy, lacy, and very revealing lingerie. He quietly walked up behind me, lifted the lingerie, and gently rubbed my ass as he kissed and bit my shoulders and neck. Reaching around, he massaged my big tits. My nipples were already hard in anticipation. He whispered in my ear. “Sexy isn't lingerie, body size, tits size, or hair color. It's attitude and you, my sexy woman, have 'tude. The other things enhance your 'tude.”

He turned me into his chest and lifted me so I was looking into his eyes. “I have been fucking your mind all week getting your body primed for me to fuck all night, sexy. I want to eat your juicy fucking cunt.”

To be honest I think I blacked out a few times. I don't remember moving from the window to the bed. He was the painter; I was his canvas. His deep sexy voice brought me out of the darkness. “Wendy, you are a woman who has a vivid imagination, a hot and sexual attitude, willing tits, succulent clit, super sexy fucking cunt, wet asshole, and likes her body kissed.”

I moaned. My nipples got even harder and my clit swelled. My body was being primed to be fucked.

He kept the sexual erotic dialogue going. “You are a fucking machine and a woman who needs controlled fucking. Answer me.”

I squeaked out a whispered, “Yes.” His foreplay was better than any man I had ever been with. He took his time. He made sure my pussy was well primed for his cock.

In the flicker from the candles, he looked into my eyes. “Sexy, my dick wants to kiss your cunt lips.” He kissed my pussy lips with his cock, then pounded into me hard. “Fuck me,” he kept telling me. “Fuck me, you slut.”

In a few minutes, I started to come. “I feel you squirting hot cum on my cock,” he said. “I feel you, you fucking hot bitch.”

After I came, I wanted to taste myself on him. “Can I please suck your cock?"

He asked me to lick my fuck juices off his dick. I knelt beside him and licked his balls clean. “Oh yes, baby, taste yourself.”

By the way, I tasted fucking great. Then I started sucking his big-headed cock. He groaned and moaned. “You are fucking good at sucking cock, you sexy slut.”

Then, without warning, he fingered my wet cunt. I had an orgasm on his fingers while I sucked his cock. A few times he asked me to taste my cum. I fingered my pussy a little and put my fingers in my mouth. Fuck! I love tasting my cum.

He again fucked me hard, all the time telling me, “Fuck me. Fuck me, you slut.”

In a few minutes, I started to come. “You are a hot motherfucking machine,” he said, looking into my eyes while we kissed. “I have to eat your fucking wet cunt again.”

He buried his face between my legs. When his tongue touched my clit, I screamed. He bit my clit and nibbled my cunt lips until I squirted. He moaned. “I can't get enough of you, Wendy.”

That was one of many more rounds to come. We took a break and went out to Taco Bell, then came back to the room to watch a movie and eat our dinner. About an hour later, we were ready for round two.

We went to bed. He snuggled behind me with his hand lightly rubbing my ass. I moaned, and my mind engaged in fuck alert! He slid his hand between my ass cheeks, causing me to roll over on my back. His voice was raspy and sexy. “I’m hungry for your pussy. I gotta eat your cunt. Open for me.”

He lifted my shirt to expose my big fucking tits. He put his teeth hard on my tits and nipples as his other hand touched my pussy lips. His teeth caused a hot fucking sensation in my body and mind. He kept biting my tits hard. I had told him before that I like being rough fucked.

I watched as he crawled between my legs, juice already dripping from my cunt. His teeth nibbled my pussy lips as he finger fucked my cunt hard and deep. I screamed. The sensation had me spinning on this fucking sexual high. Then his tongue started fucking my cunt, and I started fucking his face, grinding against him. As I fucked his face, I started to come and I couldn't hold it back… I squirted. A lot. I saturated his fucking goatee and covered his face with my cum.

He slammed his cock into my wet cunt and I again squirted all over his cock and balls. “Lick your fuck juices off my dick, you slut,” he said, groaning in hot pleasure. So I swallowed his cum-dripping cock, then licked his shaved big-headed dick and balls. I was his whore in bed and I loved it.

Around midnight we both fell asleep. Near morning, I woke to him rubbing my ass which started turning me on. I rolled onto my back. He said he was hungry for breakfast. I asked him what he was hungry for.

“I’m hungry for your wet fucking cunt. I want to eat more of your pussy.”

I opened my legs for him. His fingers found my waiting, throbbing wet cunt while his mouth was biting my big tits. He put his face between my open legs and let out several moans as he lightly licked each pussy lip. He lightly tongue-fucked my cunt.

I screamed. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck… fuck me.”

He shoved his tongue deep inside my hot wet pussy, tongue-fucking me deeper than any man had before. Then I lifted my hips hard against his fucking face, squeezed my pussy hard, and came again with him moaning with hot sexual pleasure.

With his goatee soaked with my fuck juices and his mouth full of my pussy juice, he moved up beside me. We kissed hard. I sucked his cum-wet tongue and I licked my pussy juices off his lips and face. I was breathless. He looked into my eyes. “You were so helpless, so lost in your sexual high. It made you so fucking delicious for me.”

After we made love again, we cuddled in the darkness. The room smelled of fresh-fucked pussy.

From our very first conversations, he had begun fucking my mind. Guys, pay attention to this. If you fuck a woman's mind, she will become so hot that she will beg you to fuck every place on her body.

Oh, and friends, he's 72! Don't pass on those older men.

Every word in this story is true. It was the best night and morning of fucking I had ever had.

Happy Valentine's Day to me!