The Lady Golfer

She called me into the dining room just after eight o'clock. The table was gleaming cherry wood and was set with silver cutlery and white napkins; three candelabra provided intimate illumination. I was famished, which was just as well because Sandra Roberts wasn't the world's greatest cook. It didn't help that she'd tried to go beyond her ability. But on the whole it was edible and I answered her anxious queries with assurances that it was excellent. Oddly, this failing only served to make me feel a deeper warmth for her.

She wouldn't let me help clear away and tidy up so it was back to the television and listening to the background clatter as she rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. Eventually the kitchen and hall lights were switched off and she came into the lounge with the last of the Chablis. Then she went round turning off all the occasional lamps except for one next to the floral-patterned two-seater settee where I was sitting. By this time I was in a state of some considerable arousal: I'd had a semi-erection for most of the evening fuelled by erotic thoughts of what was to come and by my frequent groping and the smell of her scent, which lingered on my shirt. But, as she sat down next to me, I sensed a nervousness again so, instead of grabbing her, I thanked her for the meal.

'You're very kind, Michael,' she smiled at me. 'But I'm under no illusions about my cooking. I was silly to suggest that I cooked but I thought... oh, I don't know what I thought. It didn't help that I'm nervous.'

'Don't be. It'll be fine. You look wonderful and I feel honoured that you want us to share intimacy.' It sounded to me a bit like bullshit, but I meant it.

'You are a kind man, Michael. It's me that should be honoured, that a young man like you wants to spend time with a middle-aged lady, and a plain one at that.'

'You're interesting, and you're interested in me that makes you good company. I enjoy our golf very much and I feel attracted to you,' I added. 'So come here and let me kiss you.'

She shifted sideways and came into my arms and our lips met and our mouths opened against each other and I put my arms around her and felt her arms go around me and we kissed for a long time, stroking each other, me revelling in the silky feel of her dress and her slim shoulders beneath it, savouring her scent and the taste of her tongue and her saliva, feeling her heartbeat against my ribs. She gave herself completely to me in that kiss, perhaps for the first time, and I responded and my erection hardened and became uncomfortable in my underpants.

Eventually our mouths parted and we looked at each other. 'Are you really attracted to me?' she asked, quietly. 'You're not just saying that to get me into bed? I couldn't bear that.'

'Yes,' I said slowly, trying to put every ounce of sincerity into it. 'I am attracted to you.'

'Then will you take me to bed, please?'

I rose and held out my hand and she stood and took it and we went upstairs to her bedroom where, through the big bay window, there was still a mid-summer sunset glow in the sky, great red streaks over the trees in the front garden. 'It's beautiful,' she whispered as we stood watching. 'Let's not put any lights on.'

'No,' I agreed, knowing that she was nervous about exposing herself to me.

'What would you like me to do?'

'I want you to undress for me.'

She paused for a few seconds and then reached behind herself and undid the zip on her dress, pulling it slowly over her head, sliding her arms through the sleeves and laying it over the back of a chair. She looked at me and I looked back. 'You're beautiful,' Sandra.' And she was. Long, long legs in black nylon stockings, black satin panties and garter belt around her slim hips and flat, taut stomach. A matching bra above, her shoulders smooth and shapely, her arms slender and long, her face in shadow and her red-brown hair, lit by the sunset, falling in a cascade over her shoulders like some painting by Titian.

I stepped forward and unclasped her bra and she shrugged it to the floor and I saw her breasts for the first time: small and pertly upturned, with surprisingly big nipples. I leaned down and sucked one into my mouth and Sandra moaned softly and put her hands on the back of my head. God it felt good sucking and licking her nub. I switched to the other one then stood up. 'Would you get on the bed, please?' I asked, and she slipped off her high heels and crawled onto the big bed with its thick duvet, rolling onto her back, propped up by pillows.

'Are you ok?' I asked.

She nodded. 'Yes, very ok.'

I undressed myself, pulling my shirt out of my waist band and unbuttoning it. I went slowly, but not too slowly. I didn't want it to look like a striptease but neither did I want to rip my clothes off in an unseemly display of lust. Socks followed, then trousers and I crawled onto the bed, still in my Y-fronts, and lay next to Sandra, my arm out in invitation. She came into my arms and we kissed again in that dimly lit room with the fading red of the summer sunset reflecting on the brass bedstead. We kissed long and passionately and as we kissed I gently kneaded her breast and took a nipple between finger and thumb, squeezing lightly and feeling Sandra respond by pressing her nails into my upper arm and pushing her tongue deeper into my mouth.

And as we kissed my hand slipped from her little breast and I stroked her stomach and slid my fingers slowly down over her suspender belt to her panties. I felt her shudder in my arms and she raised her knees and parted her legs in invitation. My palm slid over the satin of her knickers, cupping her vulva and squeezing gently, feeling her thick bush beneath the material. She shuddered again and seemed to grow tense. I stroked her and kissed her neck and cheeks and she relaxed and our mouths met again and I pushed my hand under the waistband of her panties and felt her pubic hair against my fingertips and then her labia, parted and slick with her secretions. She gasped and moaned as I slid my middle finger into her vagina feeling its heat and liquid stickiness. 'Oh Michael,' she whispered into my ear. 'Oh, yes.'

I added my forefinger and felt her muscles contract against me as I slid both digits in, to the knuckle, curling them to stimulate her G spot. Sandra raised her hips to meet my exploratory fingers and groaned louder. I started sliding my fingers in and out, slowly and deeply, using longer and longer strokes until I was brushing her clitoris and she was writhing and moaning. Towards the end I used my two fingertips to masturbate her and she came in a shuddering climax which crashed through her as I held her in my arms, leaving her limp and damp with sweat.

We lay still for some minutes as the sunset glow faded, echoing Sandra's passion. 'Are you ok?' I asked, eventually. Her face was a dark blob in the gloom against the white of the pillows.

'Oh, Michael, that was wonderful. I wanted to slow you down but I couldn't, it was just so... so intense!'

'Do you still want to...?' I asked softly.

'Of course!'

I rolled away from her and took off my Y-fronts; the crotch was soaked with my seminal fluid. Kneeling up I took hold of Sandra's panties and she raised her hips to allow me to pull them down over her stockings. Then she opened her legs wide, her knees bent, and I knelt between her legs and guided myself to her slit, rubbing the head of my cock up and down its wetness to lubricate myself. Not that I needed to; she was soaking wet and I slid in easily, taking it slowly in case I caused her discomfort. When she had my full six-and-a-half inches I leaned over, supporting myself on my elbows, my face inches from hers.

'Does that feel good?' I asked, softly.

'It's better than good.'

So I started fucking Sandra for the first time, with long, languid stokes, enjoying the sensation of sex after so many months of celibacy, thrilled that I was making love to a mature lady with such a wonderful body. I leaned down and kissed her and nuzzled her neck and cheeks and ears and Sandra responded by hooking her calves over the back of my legs and giving little thrusts of her hips to match my longer thrusts. And I felt her arms around my neck, her hands splayed on my shoulder blades, her fingernails digging into my skin.

As we rutted in that summer night our skins became slick with sweat. I started thrusting harder and she responded by clamping the muscles of her vagina around my penis. The feeling of grip was exquisite, as was the feeling that I was penetrating Sandra's natural shield of reserve and finding behind it a sensuous and sexual lady.

'Do it hard,' she gasped. 'Come inside me.' I was approaching the point of no return anyway, now I felt an unstoppable climax rise up and roar through my nervous system. My senses were dulled and all I was aware of was Sandra's fingers digging painfully into me and my cock pumping sperm into her sopping cunt.

The waves of pleasure subsided and I slumped onto the bed next to Sandra and she came into my arms again and we lay there as my heartbeat and breathing returned to normal.

'Was that alright?' asked Sandra.

'It was ok,' I grinned.

'Pig.'

A little later we got up to use the bathroom and Sandra peeled off her stockings and we got into bed and lay under a thin duvet, in each other's arms. And that was how we fell asleep, that first night. I woke some hours later and lay staring at the stars, wheeling slowly across the sky through the bay window. Sandra was breathing lightly next to me; I could see the mass of her hair on the pillow. I thought about that first meeting on the golf course and the journey we'd been on to end up here. And I thought about the future. The truth was that I had been becoming increasingly attracted to Sandra, regardless of her age and looks. Possibly because of her age and looks. Tonight, for the first time, I had seen her naked, seen what a glorious body she had and I'd made love to her and it had been beyond fantastic. But a long-term relationship? What would my parents say? What would hers say? They'd been suspicious of her husband, what would they think of me? I realised I didn't actually know how old she was.

Next to me Sandra stirred. 'Are you awake,' she asked.

'Mmm, a bit.'

She came to me and we hugged and I kissed her. Her breath was faintly stale, I guess my was too, but I felt the tendrils of arousal and desire start to worm through me. I took one of her nipples in my mouth and sucked on it and licked it, then I gently bit down on it and she gave a little cry and twined her long fingers in my hair. My hand found its way down to her pussy and discovered that she was wet and ready so I rolled on top of her and she opened her legs for me and I slid my full length into her.

We made love for a long time. The intense passion had been spent earlier, this was restrained and sensuous. I went slowly, coming halfway out at each thrust of my hips and pushing gently back in. I don't think I've ever felt so close to someone as I did to Sandra that night. Not just physically but emotionally as well. We were almost one organism, touching, whispering, feeling each other tenderly and lovingly. Yes, lovingly. I think that night that I began to understand that I was, at least to some degree, in love with her.

As I slid in and out of her, and as she wrapped her arms and legs around me and whispered 'yes, yes, yes,' into my ear, the numerals on the bedside clock went from two-forty-three to three-twenty. Eventually I felt my climax approach and I increased my pace and Sandra sensed this and bucked her hips harder against my pelvis and kissed me hard, her tongue in my mouth, her saliva running down my chin. The orgasm, when it came, was long and muted. I groaned into Sandra's mouth and gave a few hard thrusts as I ejaculated into her. Then it was over and we were lying together, watching the light grow outside the window, heralding the summer dawn.

We fell asleep again just after sunrise and woke at seven. At least, I did. Sandra must have woken earlier because the bed was empty her side. I was thinking about going to look for her when she appeared in a dressing gown with mugs of tea. I thought she'd get back into bed and maybe we could have a kiss and a cuddle and maybe more, but she sat on the side of the bed and sipped her tea.

'Would you still like to go for a walk? It's a beautiful morning.'

I stretched. 'Yes that sounds good. Maybe we could have lunch in a pub.'

'Yes, that's what I was thinking. Then I thought maybe we could come back and have a bath together.' The bathroom might have been dated but it had a whopping great corner bath with plenty of room for two.

'And then?' I smiled at her.

'And then open a bottle of champagne and go to bed.' This really was a less reserved Sandra. 'If you'd like to that is...' I made a grab at her but she evaded me and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

It was a perfect mid-summer day. After breakfast we drove a few miles into the Wolds and changed into walking boots. The paths and byways across the English countryside were dry and almost empty of people. We stopped to kiss under the shade of mighty oaks and walked hand in hand where the path was wide enough.

'Does it feel funny to you? Us, I mean,' she said as we took a break to have some coffee, sitting in the grass of a meadow.

'You mean our age difference?'

'Mostly, yes.'

'I don't actually know how old you are.'

'No,' she laughed. 'You were very gentlemanly when it was my birthday. You never asked.' She paused. 'I'm fifty-one. What about you?'

'I'll be twenty-nine in September,' I said, surprised. I'd thought she was older.

'Only just over twenty-two years between us then. That's less than the French President and his wife.'

'Or Joan Collins and her husband,' I added.

'There you go then.' She suddenly went serious. 'Do you want to have a relationship with me? I mean after last night you know pretty much all about me.'

I thought for a few seconds. Her expression became anxious. 'Yes, I said at length. I do.'

'It'll be difficult, sometimes,' she said. 'People will judge us.'

'I'm more concerned about your parents. And mine.'

'If they see we're happy together they'll be fine.'

'Weren't you happy with your husband at first?'

'Not like this,' she said simply and I kissed her. 'My parents didn't like Jeffrey right from the start. Turned out they were right.'

The pub, when we reached it, was almost ridiculously pretty. A long, thatched building set in a clearing in some woodland. They'd just opened as we arrived and it was cool and dark and empty inside. We drank beer and ate sandwiches and trudged happily back to the car in the early afternoon.

Back at Sandra's house she disappeared upstairs to run the bath and I wrestled the cork out of a bottle of supermarket champagne that we'd picked up on the way home. I set the bottle and glasses by the bath and went into the bedroom to find Sandra undressing. She was still a bit self-conscious so I tried to avoid openly staring as I took my clothes off. This was hard; I was seeing Sandra naked in full daylight for the first time and she was entrancing. Her figure was perfect, her skin flawless. Ok, her breasts were small but they were perfectly shaped and I've never particularly been a tit man. And her pubic bush was the same colour as her hair, that striking reddish-brown, nestling between her pale thighs. I went to grab her again but she skipped into the bathroom to turn off the taps.

The water was deliciously hot and she'd put bath foam in. We climbed in and stretched out, champagne flutes in hands and I wondered if life would ever get any better than this. We chatted and drank and played footsie until the bottle was half empty and the water had cooled to the point where we wanted to get out. I dried her with a big, fluffy white towel and she did the same for me, being very gentle around my genitals. I found the experience highly erotic and my penis rose to full strength as she dabbed at my balls and my buttocks.

Taking her hand I led her to the bedroom and we kissed before getting onto the bed. 'I want to touch you,' she said, and I rolled onto my back as she knelt over me. She reached out and circled my shaft with her long, slim, red-tipped fingers. Her touch was exquisite: gently stroking with one hand, using the thumb of her other hand to spread the sticky fluid leaking from me around the purple, engorged head of my cock. As I watched she lifted the thumb to her mouth and licked the secretions from it. 'Is that alright? Am I doing it right?' she asked softly. I gulped and nodded and she leaned down over me and took my glans in her mouth, her hair falling over my thighs and stomach so I couldn't see her lips around my shaft. But God could I feel them! A light, delicious suction that felt as though my psyche was being sucked out through my penis. I resisted the temptation to thrust my cock further into her mouth and, as she stroked and sucked me, I caressed her hair and her head, enthralled by the sensations and the faint slurping noise as she fellated me.

Feeling the familiar tingling in my testicles that signalled an approaching orgasm I gently lifted her head and drew her towards me, tasting my cock juices on her lips. I pulled her down beside me and we kissed and I kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple until she squealed with pleasure.

She smelt wonderful, warms and fresh from the scented waters of the bath, as I knelt up and parted her legs and knelt to use my tongue on her for the first time. The sight of her vulva with its thick, red-brown bush and neat labia was entrancing. Putting my hands under her knees I lifted her legs up and over to expose her more fully, exposing her perineum and her pinkie-brown anus, with its ring of fine red hairs. I lowered my head almost reverently and licked my tongue from the bottom of her labia to the top, feeling her shudder, hearing her little mewling noises as I licked more firmly, penetrating the outer lips, pushing my tongue into her cunt hole, tasting her juices, smelling the scent of her, a strong, almost meaty odour. I licked and sucked her labia into my mouth and teased my tongue over her clitoris and Sandra moaned and gripped the duvet cover and put her head back and cried out: 'Make me come, darling. Please make me come.' So I sucked her clitoris into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it and over the sensitive tip and Sandra came, clamping my head between her thighs, tears rolling down her cheeks, crying out in agony and ecstasy.

Before her climax had subsided I thrust into her, making her gasp. Then I started fucking her with long, hard strokes, aroused beyond anything I'd ever experienced. I leaned down and kissed her and she bit gently at my lips and dug her nails painfully into my upper arms until I took her wrists and held her arms down as I pumped into her and she writhed under me. 'Yes, hold me down,' she gasped and I came, jetting torrents of spunk into her, kissing her roughly, holding her thin wrists, her arms stretched wide.

'Your husband must have been mad to give up someone like you,' I said as we lay afterwards, drinking the last of the champagne.

'That's kind of you, Michael,' she said, giving me a small smile. 'But it was never like this with Jeffrey, even at the beginning. He only ever satisfied himself. And he was rough and.. and cold!'

'So where did you learn to be so sexy?'

'It's you, Michael,' she said quietly. 'It's you.'

I stayed until Tuesday morning, when we went to play golf. We made love five or six times, I lost count. We tried different positions: I took her from behind and held her hips as I thrust into her, entranced by the sight of her luscious red-brown tresses and the perfect curve of her shoulders; she straddled me and rode my cock to a groaning orgasm as she rubbed her clitoris against my pubic bone. And it was loving and giving and sensuous and I knew that I was starting to love Sandra very much, although I hadn't told her.