Mature Man & Maiden Maureen Ch. 03

Mark, a much older man, invites Maureen to stay with him.

Continued from Chapter 02: Mature Man & Maiden Maureen

Then, I thought about Michael Douglas with Katherine Zeta Jones. They have a 25-year age difference, the same as Maureen and I. What was the attraction there? Surely, it wasn't the money. She didn't need his money. She had her own money. She could have had married nearly any man.

I thought about Tony Randall fathering a child at 77-years-old and a second child at 78-years-old? I thought of Al Pacino fathering a child at the ripe, old age of 83-years-old. What a role model they are for us older gentlemen in helping to keep the possibilities of love and sex with someone much younger alive.

Suddenly, the image of the late Anna Nicole Smith with her now deceased, 90-year-old husband, J. Howard Marshall, did not bode well with my confidence of winning her affection. Suddenly, I felt like Arte Johnson, the incorrigible dirty, old man of 'Rowan & Martin's Laugh-in,' making a pass at Ruth Buzzi. I felt a bit ridiculous deciding, instead, to take it slow, while hoping that it would happen naturally with time.

After all, if it was meant to be, a much older man with a much younger woman, it would happen. Maybe, now that her boyfriend is out of the picture and she's coming to my house to live with me, I have a chance to romance her. Maybe, now, at the very least, she'd give me rebound sex. I laughed at her fucking me day and night with rebound sex.

Boy, I only wish, what a way to die? Only, I wanted more than just sex. I wanted love. I wanted her to be with me forever as my friend, my lover, and my wife.

Chances are she'll stay overnight and will be back together with her abusive boyfriend tomorrow. Chances are I'm going through something, a delayed middle-aged crisis, perhaps, with the one year anniversary of my girlfriend leaving me. Chances are she'll break my heart. Realistically, what are my chances? I didn't know. I had no idea. Nonetheless, I had to take this opportunity that was presented before me and make the best of it.

# # #

It was a short drive to my house. I live at the end of a cul-de-sac where the trees that surrounded my property afforded me a level of privacy to walk out on my back and front porch naked, if I so wanted, without anyone seeing me. Not that I would walk out on my porches naked, who would want to see a 50-year-old man naked? Maybe, a 50-year-old woman would want to see me naked, but surely, not a 25-year-old, beautiful woman.

Most of what she had were clothes, old clothes, nothing new or special. With her a lowly special needs teacher, she didn't have very much. She moved in with her boyfriend from her parents' home after college and he had everything that she needed: furniture, appliances, and dishware. Even the television set was his. At least, she had a car, an old Honda Civic, and could get around herself without being dependent upon me for transportation, although, if it meant her staying with me, I'd chauffeur her anywhere, anytime.

I made her comfortable in the guest bedroom, which was at the end of the hall. Not having to share a bathroom, having her own, it was as if she had her own suite, which by her reaction to the accommodations was a favorable one. The arrangement afforded her a level of privacy, if she wanted it. At this point, I'd accommodate her in any way that would make her comfortable, happy, and make her stay. Hell, I'd give her the master bedroom, my bedroom if that persuaded her to stay longer.

Almost giddy with delight, I was off the floor with happiness that she was here with me in my house and in my little world, which now suddenly expanded to include her and her dog. I never knew how alone I was, until her presence filled my life with conversation, laughter, and joy. Now, I looked forward to the little things that became big things when living alone.

Now, I had someone to watch television with, play board games with, and go places with. Suddenly, I wanted to go everywhere and do everything with her. Wanting to make them all envious, I wanted to show her off to my friends. I wanted them to see how young, beautiful, and sexy she was.

Yet, I dreaded the inevitable fall from this temporary high, when she left, one day, maybe sooner than later. Knowing that it would come eventually and hit me hard, when it did. In the meantime, I decided to live in the moment and not to think about tomorrow and her leaving.

# # #

Mature Man & Maiden Maureen, Chapter 03:

"May I sleep with you," she asked?

She stood in my bedroom doorway clutching her pillow up to her chest. From what I could see of her sticking out either side of the pillow, she was naked. Maureen wanted to sleep with me while she was naked.

'Oh, my God! My sexual fantasy has come true,' I thought.

# # #

Now that she was here temporarily staying with me, I realized that there was so much I didn't know about her. There was so much that I needed to know about her. It's the little things that suddenly became so important, especially when they're missing from one's daily routine, daily thoughts, and conversation.

Does she drink coffee or does she drink tea? Maybe, she doesn't drink either and drinks soda. What does she eat for breakfast? What time does she go to bed? What time does she get up in the morning? What does she look like in the morning without makeup?

There was so many things to learn about her. Which programs does she enjoy watching on television? Does enjoy watching sports? Does she like watching baseball, the Boston Red Sox? What about football, the New England Patriots? Basketball, the Boston Celtics? Hockey, the Boston Bruins? It was then that I realized that I needed to get a life, instead of living my live vicariously through the lives of professional, sports athletes.

My quandary about her private life and personal choices continued preoccupying my mind. Even after all of the conversations that we had while walking through the dog park, it was nothing but surface conversations. When I thought more about her, I really didn't know her at all.

What's her favorite color? What's her favorite food? What kind of music does she like? What's her favorite game? What does she like to do? What's her favorite movie and television program? Not that I'd be sleeping with her in the same bed but, which side of the bed does she prefer? Does she sleep in pajamas, a nightgown, or in the nude?

'Oh, my God, my pulse raced when imagining her sleeping naked, completely naked, and totally naked.'

# # #

Something else for me to masturbate over, I could only imagine the image of her sleeping in the nude. Okay, the last two questions, I admit, are premature, but maybe, if it was to come up in conversation, in readiness of her sleeping arrangements, I'd make special note of her night time preferences. Suddenly, I imagined her in her bra and panties in the way that I saw her at the park. I imagined her topless. Then, I imagined her naked.

'Wow,' I thought! 'I can't believe she's here in my house living with me, if only temporary.'

I helped her with her things, moving what she needed me to lift and carry. As if she was staying longer than just a day or two, I helped her arrange the empty closet in the guest bedroom. No one has been here since my girlfriend moved out last year and before that, my twin daughters stayed with me, until they got their careers going.

I was not only excited about having a roommate but also, I was sexually excited about specifically having her as my roommate. If nothing else, an understatement, it was someone to talk to on a daily basis. It sometimes gets lonely living alone and without having a woman in my life. As much as I hated to admit it, I was just beginning to get used to the quiet, emptiness that my life had become.

I had to make a conscious effort not to stare at her, she was just so damn beautiful, and I was so damn sexually attracted to her that I couldn't help myself from staring. Afraid of ruining this temporary arrangement by making her feel uncomfortable, continually, I told myself not to stare at her but to play it cool. Only, inside, I was dying. I was dying to touch her, to hold her, and to kiss her. She consumed my every thought. I was falling in love with her.

# # #

She grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from her suitcase and came over to me and turned around.

"Would you do me the honors?"

It had been a while, since I've been with a woman and, at first; I didn't know what she wanted me to do. Then, she pointed to the back of her dress. I unzipped her dressed and was rewarded with a view of the back of her bra. With her boyfriend ripping open her dress, I had already seen her in her bra and panties.

Frozen in place, and feeling so pathetic, I stared at the back of her huge brassiere in the same way that I had stared at the front of her brassiere. Instead of having the normal one or two clasps, she had three clasps to fasten her bra and hold her huge breasts in place. More than just the back of her brassiere, I had a view of the top of her white panties, too.

I imagined taking her in my arms, and cupping her huge, bra clad breasts in the palms of my horny hands from behind. I imagined showering her neck and her back with kisses. I imagined turning her around and kissing her, French kissing her. Then, awakening me from my sexual fantasy, I couldn't believe it when she leaned down and forward, pulled up the hem of her torn dress, and lifted her dress up over her head and off.

'This is unbelievable,' I thought. 'Maureen is in my spare bedroom in her bra and panties. Unless she was topless or naked, my life doesn't get any better than this.'

In the way that I stared at the back of her bra, I stared at the back of her panties, too. Then, with her full of surprises, she shocked me and sexually excited me when she turned to face me. As if she wanted me to see her in her bra and panties, she smiled. There she stood not three feet away from me in her low cut, sexy, lace bra and her white, sheer, bikini panties. As if she was standing before me fully clothe, she talked to me as if she was fully dressed.

# # #

"You have a beautiful home, Mark," she said stepping into her blue jeans but leaving them unzipped and unbuttoned.

I was so tempted to reach my horny hand down the front of her and inside of her panties to finger her red, trimmed pussy. I'd love to masturbate her in the way that I'd love for her to masturbate me. I'd love to eat her in the way that I'd love for her to blow me. Yet, too much, too soon, not wanting to ruin things by rushing things, I needed to be patient.

"Thank you," I said.

I continued telling myself not to stare at her semi-naked, underwear clad body, but I wasn't listening to myself. I stared. I continued staring at her bra and I continued staring at her panties. While wondering what lay beneath those oh so thin and oh so sheer silk and satin pieces of material, I continued staring as if I was staring at the most beautiful woman in the world.

Boy did she ever have a shapely and sexy body. She had a Playboy magazine body, but without the phony tits. Everything about her was real, genuine, and sincere. Just as I thought that, unable to help myself, I realized that I was putting her high up on the pedestal, as I did with my ex-wife, and as I did with my ex-girlfriend.

You'd think that I'd have learned from the bad experience that I had with my ex's that I needed to stop doing that. No doubt, she's just like me, human with all of her foibles, yet, indeed, she was worthy of that lofty pedestal position. She was perfect. She was so perfect. Only, one of the things that made me horny and sexually excited was seeing a shapely woman in her bra and panties, and she was certainly as shapely as she was sexy.

Careful not to muss her hair, I watched her put her t-shirt over her head. I continued staring at her while watching her pull her t-shirt down over her huge, bra clad breasts. Then, she zipped and buttoned her jeans. The impromptu bra and panty show was over. Yet, for the rest of my life, I'll never forget seeing her in her bra and panties, first at the dog park and, again, in my guest bedroom.

"I'm sorry," she said laughing. "Did I embarrass you?"

I returned her laugh with my laugh.

"No, no, not I all," I said, while thinking that she sexually excited me rather than embarrassing me were more the words. "I have to sit down before I pass out," I said.

Suddenly hot, I waved my hand in front of my face, while discreetly making an adjustment to the position of my growing penis.

"Actually, yes, you did embarrass me," I said. "I'm not accustomed to seeing a woman undress and dress in front of me," I said with a laugh. "My wife and ex-girlfriend were modestly private."

She laughed, too.

"I've never harbored any sexual inhibitions, especially when it comes to nudity," she said with a shrug while laughing, again. "That was one of the things that drove my boyfriend nuts," she said shrugging her shoulders again. "For an artist, he was such a prude. Yet, as much as he was a prude, he was a pervert, too."

# # #

I figured from my first assessment of her that she was a very modest and private person. Now, that I knew her better, I was wrong. Already, the pedestal that I had placed her on had a crack in it. Yet, I preferred a woman, who didn't have too many inhibitions and was more open with her feelings, especially with her sexual feelings. Yet, she admitted that she was comfortable being naked.

When, I watched her as she wiggled her round, panty clad ass in her jeans, something that I'd never forget, I remembered seeing her sheer, white panties at the dog park. Having already seen her patch of red, pubic hair through her panties at the park, I knew that she was a natural redhead and not a dyed redhead. Also, I knew that her pussy was trimmed instead of shaved or bushy. I had a difficult time removing from my mind what she looked like topless and/or naked.

"Prude? I'd more like to think of your ex-boyfriend as an asshole," I said with a chuckle.

She laughed, too.

"He was quite the asshole," she said. She looked up at me with as much shame as she looked at me with embarrassment before flooring me with her confession. "All of his friends have seen me topless and/or naked," she said with a shrug.

'What? All of her boyfriends friends have seen her topless and naked,' I couldn't believe it.

She surprised me that she even told me such a thing. I imagined her forced to strip naked in front of his friends. I imagined her being gangbanged by her boyfriend's friends. I imagined her sucking their cocks and them cumming in her beautiful mouth. Not wanting to believe all that I had imagined, I looked at her stunned.

'Was my beautiful Goddess a whore instead of morally, modest woman,' I wondered?

"What? Really? All of his friends have seen you topless and/or naked? How?"

Without a doubt in my mind, I figured her boyfriend forced her to strip naked in front of his friends. Yet, I was more excited by the prospect of her giving me pillow talk of all the times that guys have seen her topless and/or naked. I was more sexually excited about that than by the thought of seeing her topless and/or naked.

# # #

There was something about her that drove me mad with sexual desire for her. There's a glaring difference between a 50-year-old man and a 25-year-old man. Older men are content to watch and to savor sexual images from a distance, before jumping head first in the deep end of the pool, whereas the younger men always want to dive headlong without checking first for water.

More erotic in nature than pornographic, we older men appreciate the growing lust that colors our imagination and strokes our cerebral desire in time. Whereas our younger counterparts are more concerned with the physical aspects of satisfying their penis with sex now. Instead of savoring the moment with foreplay, long before their brain has had a chance to catch up with their cocks, younger men are always in a rush to get laid.

'What's the hurry? Take care of your woman first. Make sure that she has a sexual orgasm before you cum,' I thought as my personal message to younger men.

We older guys play it cool longer. We fan the flames of sexual desire to bring the passion of the woman to a warm, glowing ember before we sexually satisfy ourselves. Extinguishing the flames with just a blowjob, forgetting about the woman, young studs strike when their flames are highest, long before the fires of women have even been lit never mind stoked. Too quickly the flames of younger men douse, often times in a matter of minutes, while the fires of older men still burn brightly in our imaginations for years.

# # #

"They always had an excuse to come over without an invitation, especially when they knew my boyfriend was painting me in the nude. Sometimes, when my back was turned to them, not even realizing that they were there watching and ogling my topless and/or my naked body, I was slow to cover up myself. They got quite the show of my naked breasts, my naked ass, and/or my naked pussy," she said with another, embarrassed shrug.

'Having never heard her utter those words, naked breasts, naked ass, and naked pussy, she sexually excited me,' I thought while wishing that I could masturbate in front of her.

I stared at her shocked by all that she confessed.

'I wondered if she'd look if I exposed my erect, naked prick to her. I wondered if she'd watch me masturbate myself, if I stroked my cock in front of her. I wondered what she'd do if she saw me cum,' I thought.

Yet, not wanting to embarrass her, I certainly didn't want to pressure her for sex. Too much too soon, it was plenty enough that she undressed and dressed in front of me. She had already sexually excited me more in one day than my wife and/or my ex-girlfriend had in all the years that I had known them.

"My boyfriend threw them out time and again," she said.

As if looking to see my reaction to her boyfriend's friends seeing her topless and/or naked, she looked at me with those green eyes.

"Not bothering me as much as it should have that his friends saw so much of me, I guess I could have been a nudist," she smiled. "Actually, I thought it was funny. Guys are so easily aroused."

'What? Seriously? Really? It didn't bother her for men to see her topless and/or naked? She could have been a nudist? Wow! Who is this woman,' I thought?

Suddenly, I heard and imagined another, albeit longer crack in her pedestal. I hoped for my sake that she could maintain her balance and not fall from the lofty position that I had put her.

"Well, feel free to walk around me topless or in the nude," I said with a chuckle. "You're my guest and if you're more comfortable without your clothes, so be it," I said with a shrug. "Don't worry about me. I'll force myself to tolerate you walking around me topless and/or naked," I said with a laugh.

She laughed, too.

"I bet you'd force yourself to tolerate me walking around in front of you topless and/or naked," she said laughing. "Thank you," she said. "But I don't want to give you the wrong impression of me, at least, not yet," she said giving me a sexy look. "Maybe, after a couple glasses of wine, I'll sexually shock you," she said with a sexy smile and a naughty look.

# # #

As long as I live, I will never forget her sexy smile and her naughty look. After spending weeks with her at the dog park, that was her first look of serious, sexual interest that she had given me. Sirens and alarm bells went off in my head telling me that I had a chance of a love affair with my sexy, beautiful, redheaded angel. Her boyfriend was wrong about my chances with her. Having already moved her into my house, I'd say my chances of a love connection were good, very good.