How I Snared a Toyboy and Never Looked Back
As I was preparing to deliver one of the most delicious blow jobs of my life I ignored the voices screaming in my head, ‘What are you doing? You are older than his mother!’
But I didn’t care, not any more…
My (second) ex-husband and I had recently parted company. I’d been saying ‘I think we should separate for a while, I need some space’… as we know, this is code for, ‘I can’t stand the sight of you any longer but can’t bring myself to actually tell you’.
And so that I didn’t encourage any unwanted attention in the bedroom department, I’d morphed from being quite a hotty totty into Miss Frosty and Frigid. I’d made bloody sure my knickers were greyer than grey belly warmers, and as for my bras, well they could deflect bullets.
I wasn’t dressing for action, I was dressing to get absolutely NO reaction. I’d done it successfully for years and separate beds inevitably led to separate lives.
So when I was finally free and single, my lady bits were REALLY rusty. Yes, they were all but seized up and I knew it was going to take someone pretty special to get a party started in my knickers again.
So how did I, a 50 year old Granny, get to be lying naked with a hot young man half my age, on a bed that had obviously been unmade for weeks?
I first saw him when I was walking my dog, and wouldn’t you just know it, my dog decided that he wanted to go on that particular walk every day for the next month or so.
Still, the scenery wasn’t bad so I suffered it and found myself chatting to this fit young bloke nearly every day into the bargain.
Then he casually suggested that I popped round his for a drink one night. And silly me, I thought that’s what he actually meant.
Okay, I didn’t imagine we were going to discuss world events, or play Guess Who, and so I’d located my one and only bra with matching pants and shown my legs to a Bic razor, just to make myself feel good more than anything else. However, the rest of me was staying firmly ‘au naturel’. I wouldn’t be getting my bits out anyway, so what did it matter.
But my pants were off within 10 minutes of walking through his front door.
My GOD he was good. He was slightly built and had long thick dark hair. It was like having Mowgli from the Jungle Book swinging through my bush.
So there I was, on my knees, looking up at this young Adonis and I thought to myself ‘if I were his mother, I’d demand a refund from the guy who’d circumcised him.’ The shaping wasn’t really G spot friendly, and the stitching left a lot to be desired.
Yet desire him I did.
I knew I was a lot older than his mother, but her son was about to help me get back on the shagging bike and I didn’t give a fuck about her; although soon after that thought crossed my mind I did give a fuck… and very good it was too.
Because suddenly there he was, on top of me! OH FUCK!
He was all over everywhere all at once. My ankles were saying ‘Hello’ to my ears one minute, and we were playing wheelbarrows the next. I was thrown around the unmade bed like a vintage rag doll, and let me tell you, as a Granny, it was very surreal watching someone young enough to be my son contentedly sucking on my breasts. I fought off the urge to pat his back afterwards…
I was so out of practice. No way was this anything like a married three-minute duty shag. For someone so young, he was surprisingly passionate and intense one minute, and the next it was if his prick was connected to the mains and he kept flicking the stop start button with amazing self-control.
Yes, he just kept on going and going.
When I told him I was on fire, he just threw a glass of wine over my lady garden to cool it down and then he licked it all off.
OH MY GOD!
It won’t surprise you to know that eventually this little bed time story had a very happy ending, and we both went to sleep wearing nothing but a smile.
The next morning, I all but skipped back out of his front door. Had it been raining, I’d have probably done the infamous Gene Kelly dance, but as it wasn’t, I sang all the way home with a ridiculous smug grin on my face.
At the time I’d been asking myself ‘what the hell are you doing? Your children will kill you if they ever find out.’ And eventually they did find out. And if I’m honest, one hundred lashes would have been preferable to the venomous tongue lashing I got. Because unbeknownst to me, my new sexy toyboy had been in the same class as my daughter at school. Oops!
But it had been worth it.
I’d been shriveling up in a no sex desert for years. I’d lost my mojo, felt unattractive, and at 50 I actually thought that nobody would want to get down and dirty with me ever again.
But, this lovely little diversion just happened out of the blue; there was no agonising decision to be made about the rights and wrongs of it. This one was just for me, nobody else.
So if you are feeling a bit like I did, remember to keep an open mind. Unexpected encounters do happen, and, as the brilliant song goes – ’If you see a chance, take it’!
That could have been the end of the story, but what I didn’t know then was that there were more chapters to errr… come!
(Note from the editor: Many thanks to Libby Doe for being a house-guest! read more about Libby here. or check her out on twitter, here)