She Makes Hungry Where She Most Satisfies

For a while we dozed in each other’s arms, but Karin, waking up, said, “Come on Jason, a shower and something to eat.”

“Ever the hygienist,” I thought.

We showered together, giving particular care to each other’s organs of pleasure. This was followed by a cold meal that oddly seemed to have been prepared for two in advance. My arrangement with Karin had not included staying for a meal. But it had not included a number of other things either.

Towards the end of the meal Karin reverted back to her words, “Stay with me, Jason.”

“Jason, I meant, come and live with me.”

I saw complications in this. Age difference, for example, and all that this implied about seeing life and the world from the perspective of different generations. If her invitation implied, as it obviously did, that I was to be her ongoing lover, for how long could this continue? How if I met a girl I wanted to marry and have children with? What about Karin’s family, how would they look upon their mother taking a man half her age as a live in lover?

My hesitation must have been obvious, because Karin picked up the thread again.

“Jason, did you enjoy what we have been doing?”

“It was wonderful, Karin.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be doing that with me very often?”

“Of course I would.”

“Then I’m offering you the chance to do just that. Regarding accommodation and meals, you would be very much better off than where you are now.”

I had told Karin about my circumstances, that I lived in one room in a hostel, it being all I could afford with my dole money. Then an unpleasant thought struck me;

“Karin, I couldn’t afford to pay much board money.”

“You silly boy, you don’t think I’m going to charge you for living here, do you? My husband left me quite well off. I don’t need your money, but what I do need is your virility. I want someone young around the place, someone that still has some fire in them. I chose you very soon after you started teaching at the hall. It was only a question of how I could get you here to see what I had to offer. Look, if it doesn’t work out, you can always go back to the hostel.”

She was right. I could be very comfortable here, and also very satisfied, if you know what I mean. I raised some of my other concerns, but she said:

“Let’s deal with those when they arise. I’m not going to put a chain on you. If I have you with me for a month, a year, ten years, then I will have had that much enjoyment, and no regrets. Come and live with me.”

I girded up my loins and decided. “Yes, I will Karin.”

“Good, then let’s get back to bed. My turn to do some work this time.”

If I was puzzled about what Karin meant by doing “some of the work,” my curiosity was pleasantly overcome. I spent most of the afternoon lying on my back, while Karin moved between inserting her nipples into my mouth, letting me ejaculate into her mouth, and sitting across me for vaginal sex.

She had referred to my virility, but I was beginning to get the impression that it was nothing compared to hers. I lost count of her orgasms, and by late afternoon was not too sure how many I had experienced. Actually it didn’t seem to matter, because orgasm or not, we enjoyed each other’s bodies so much.

I moved in with Karin two days later. She did a considerable amount of charitable work for the Church, and I think fortunately for both of us, she was out quite frequently. I was also still on the hunt for the allusive job, and not having any luck.

Karin made our sex lives a constant joy, always seeming to have little surprises up her sleeve. For example, one morning, just after breakfast, she suddenly said, “I feel horny, darling, take me like this”. Pulling up her skirt and taking off her panties, she bent face down over the table. I took her from behind standing up.

Most of the time we proved very suited to each other sexually, but there was one occasion when I hurt her. It was when for the first time she asked me to give her anal penetration. I felt sure that with my size, I would hurt her too much for it to be satisfactory, but she was insistent.

“Arie would never do it with me, darling, so please, try. Just be as gentle as you can.”

I felt that her admission she was an anal virgin meant an even more painful penetration, so I carefully wiped her anus with some of her own lubricant and my pre-cum.

I began by positioning my crown against her anus, and pressed in gently. I could not enter, and told her so.

“Push harder, darling, please.”

I took hold of her hips firmly, and then dragging on them I thrust forward and burst in.

Karin screamed and bucked and her movement plunged me even deeper into her. She cried out to me:

“Darling, stop for a moment, please stop, it’s hurting me so badly.”

“Shall I pull out, Karin?”

“No…no darling, just give me a moment to get used to it.”

I waited for her to signal what she wanted, and after a couple of minutes she said:

“Move again now, darling, but slowly, please.”

I began a slow movement up and down in her, at the same time reaching round to her vagina to stimulate her clitoris. She seemed to settle down, and after a while said:

“Move faster now, my love.”

She began her vibrating movements that presaged the arrival of her orgasm, and I was right on the edge of mine. Then our culminating moment arrived. We howled and cried out our words of love and lust for each other, I felt my sperm thudding into her, as time seemed to stand motionless.

I began to emerge from my climax slowly. I was still inside her, waiting for her to subside, which always took a while. As I felt the last waves of her orgasm pass away, I withdrew. To my horror, I saw a smear of blood on my penis.

“Karin, darling, I’ve hurt you, you’re bleeding.”

She did not seem particularly disturbed by this, only cryptically commenting; “All of me will be there for you now.”

It seemed that no great damage had been done to Karin because a week later she asked me to give her anal sex again, and this time it went forward with much greater ease.

One side of our living together that troubled me was her family’s response. Her children and grandchildren came to see her, of course, and at first there was clearly suspicion about what I suppose among themselves they referred to as, “Mother’s toy boy,” or some similar pejorative phrase.

It took nearly a year before they became reconciled to my presence in their mother’s life. It was Wendy, her eldest daughter who made the peace with me.

“Look, Jason, the family have asked me to have a word with you. At first, we thought you were just some young guy on the make, but we can see now that you have some genuine fondness for mum, and certainly, she has for you. You’ve made a big difference in her life. She’s always been a…a…a” She struggled to find words that would convey her meaning without actually speaking those that would make it plain.

“Mum has always been an…an… emotional person,” she finally burst out with. “We’re glad to see her so happy and contented. She even looks younger. If you leave her, Jason, do it as gently as you can.”

I suppose the thought of my leaving Karin at some time was related to the big age gap between us (over thirty years). Yet strangely, the longer I lived with Karin, the less I noticed the age difference. She was giving me everything I could ever want in a woman, except, of course, children. But no thought of parting from her had entered my head, and I told Wendy so.

One pleasant bonus that came out of my talk with Wendy, was a job. It was one of those situations were Wendy’s husband had a friend who had a friend, who was looking for someone with my sort of talents. It was really a two-fold sort of job in which I had to carry out the rather boring task of keeping the stock lists up to date on a computer, and unsnarl other people’s computer problems. This work gave me the chance to begin to make a realistic financial contribution to our joint lives.

It was some time in the second year of our co-habitation, when I first began to notice a subtle difference in our relationship. To begin with, we could hardly bear to be in each other’s presence without having sex. We could not leave each other alone so enamoured were we of the other’s body.

By the second year, the first flush of our passion having calmed a little, Karin seemed to take on a mothering role in addition to the lover role. It did not mean less sex, nor did it mean less fervour in that sex, but imperceptibly at first, the change took place.

Perhaps I can best describe it by saying that when we made love, it was as if Karin was a tender, loving mother, seeking to show a beloved son her devotion to him and her ardour for him. At times I had to lie prone, completely relaxed, while Karin took total command.

Occasionally there was no penetration of her at all. She would fondle my penis, then with her fingertips cupped over the crown; she would gently but quickly run them back and forth over it. Then suddenly she would thrust the foreskin back hard, producing an exquisite pain.

All the time she would keep up a sort of running commentary: “Darling, I’m going to make you feel so good. I’m going to go on doing this, and I won’t let you come. I’m going to give you some lovely torture…”

And so it goes on until I beg her to finish me, which usually meant taking my penis into her mouth as I begin to ejaculate.

I have wondered from time to time if the fact that Karin can have an orgasm when I simply stimulate her breasts, has something to do with this mothering aspect to our lovemaking. I have further wondered if my own fixation on her breasts says something about a need I have for a mother figure.

If this should be the case, then I can only be thankful that we have found each other, and complement each other’s needs.

As I write, we have been together for three years. Neither of us has shown any desire to part company. We are still passionate lovers, always seeking to expand the frontiers of our sensual pleasure.

I suppose many people would look with derision on our relationship. On the other hand, I feel rather sorry for the young men who have not had the benefit of a loving older woman.

Being realistic, I suppose the time will come for us to part, but that is not in the near future. But then, who can guarantee the future of any relationship?