Tim , Peggy Ch. 01


Last weekend my wife and I went out to a supper organized by some friends in a local restaurant. It was to raise funds for a charity they are involved with and our friends took over the restaurant and filled it with people they know. We arrived later than most of the others and were invited to sit at a table already occupied by a couple. We introduced ourselves and immediately hit it off together, they were in their late 50’s so just a few years older than us, but both were attractive and a bit flirty, which I started to enjoy. Being a Friday evening, I was feeling quite horny with the expectation of a weekend of great sex with my lovely wife. We rarely have sex during the week but enjoy making up for it at the weekend, either at home or away in our motorhome.

Our two children are grown up and no longer live at home so we have the house to ourselves. That gives us the freedom to have sex whenever we wish and that has truly kick-started our sex-life and been liberating for my wife especially. She has been vanilla throughout most of our marriage but in the privacy of our home or our camper van she has begun to re-invent herself sexually and is slowly getting more uninhibited. For example she’s become a lot more vocal when we’re fucking, and now enjoys joining in with my dirty talk, which I’ve always loved. She has come to love deep, hard penetration and now even likes me to clean her out after I’ve cum inside her. She has always enjoyed cunnilingus but is now much more demanding about what she likes me to do when eating her out.

Bear in mind that my wife is a typical conservative middle-aged woman. I’m the only person she has ever had sex with, and when we were dating 30yrs ago she didn’t agree to have full sex until we’d committed to marriage and got engaged. Her appetite for sex has always been less than mine and I’m ashamed to say has meant I’ve strayed at times and looked for no-strings sex away from home. I’m 54 now but as I approached my 50th birthday I started to experiment with things I’d long wanted to try but had never had the chance. I did it with escorts to begin with, and subsequently with swingers. I had quite a bucket list, ranging from all sorts of bedroom fun my wife had never wanted to try, to sex with different types of small groups, mainly MMF, but also MMFF and a few gangbangs. I discovered my bisexuality and that too was very liberating, and all of this extracurricular activity gave me much greater sexual confidence. Much of it I’ve written about in my other stories.

I’ve brought this newfound knowledge and confidence back to the marriage bed and, though it sounds two-faced, I like to think it has helped me become a more attentive and imaginative lover for my wife. I’ve also discovered I fancy the type of woman my wife is more than any other. I’ve always had a thing for mature women and now my wife is 54 I find her more sexually attractive than ever. She’s 5’7″ and a UK size 14. She has short grey hair, pageboy style, which leaves her neck very available for me to kiss, and she’s very sensitive there. Her breasts are a 34B and they are as firm as they were when she was 24, the first time I got my hands on them. She has a lovely round bottom that I have trouble keeping my hands off when she’s in her tight jeans. Her thighs are firm, her legs are nicely shaped and she keeps them beautifully smooth. She has small feet that I love playing with and painting her toenails. She doesn’t have any cellulite or stretch marks on her body. Her tummy has inevitably increased a bit over the years but it’s very soft and curvy and I’ve come to love holding it. Her skin is soft and velvety and she is the original natural outdoorsy woman, doesn’t wear makeup or dress up that much.

Sorry for that diversion but I thought it worth setting some sexual context about us; it may help later in the story. Back in the restaurant, we were just getting into the starters when another couple arrived late and a bit flustered, it turned out they had difficulty finding somewhere to park and were worried about being late. They came and sat with us, the woman was fretting about disturbing our meal and her partner seemed a bit on edge and was walking with the aid of a stick. We felt sorry for them being so stressed and concentrated on settling their nerves and welcoming them into our small group. They introduced themselves as Peggy and John and we realized that we’d met Peggy before at our host’s home over a year ago. In fact she and my wife had got on quite well at the time and the recognition helped to relax everyone. Before long we were all deep in conversation and enjoying each other’s company.

As the meal progressed I found myself talking to Peggy and John while my wife chatted easily with the other couple. She and I invariably move among different groups at a party, and then enjoy re-claiming each other at the end of the evening and comparing notes on the people we’ve met and the gossip we’ve picked up. In a previous career I had to host numerous official cocktail parties and my wife and I used to circulate separately at these functions simply to do our job as hosts. We’ve never lost the skill and görükle escort whilst it’s never sexual, I think we both like flirting mildly when we’re apart from each other at an event. We’ve never discussed it but we invariably have great sex afterwards.

After the main course John left the table to chat with some male friends he had spotted, leaving Peggy on her own with me. I found her such a warm and open person and we were getting along well. As so often happens when older people get together, the subject of age cropped up and Peggy told me she had recently turned 60. I expressed surprise having assumed she was around my age. She was natural, wasn’t wearing makeup so was like my wife in many ways, with a similar figure, height and build. She had a lovely friendly face, nice soft wrinkles in keeping with her age, and her lovely naturally fair hair was cut short in the sort of bob I adore. Her neck looked very attractive and she was dressed in black trousers and top. She had that lovely way of placing her hand on my arm briefly to emphasize a point and I found her eye contact with me very arousing.

However she was clearly not pleased about being ‘an old woman’ as she put it, and I tried to reassure her she didn’t look or sound it, and that it was all in the mind. She didn’t seem convinced so I tried humor instead, teasing her about how she could at least now get seniors rates on the bus. That made her giggle and she started to relax about her age as we exchanged age-related jokes, even becoming a bit flirty with each other. I decided to push my luck a bit and squeezed her arm, telling her I’d always had a thing for older women. Without hesitating she tossed it back to me and said I could be her toy-boy, which we both laughed at.

The conversation changed gear as my wife re-joined us and we got onto discussing our pet animals. For some reason we got around to the subject of having them neutered. I told Peggy my story of taking the cat to the vet to have his bits removed; the circumstances at the time were quite amusing (I’ll spare the details) and the three of us were laughing about the poor cat. We were discussing the difference in personality between neutered and non-neutered male animals and the conversation was getting more risqué. My wife looked at me with mock severity and said she was off to have a more grown-up conversation on another table, leaving Peggy and me on our own. Peggy turned to me, edged her chair slightly closer and looked thoughtfully at me.

“I know it’s a different operation but do you think a vasectomy changes a man’s personality?” she asked, giggling.

“Well, speaking from personal experience, no.”

I laughed, thinking how totally different the two procedures were. We joked about it but I could tell she wanted to ask more, so I seized the initiative and explained why we’d decided I should have it done and what was involved. I told her I’d had the snip in my late-30’s and hadn’t regretted it.

I thought how ironic it was that she should have raised the subject, as one of my wife’s female colleagues at school had asked something similar only a few weeks ago. My wife had cheekily told her colleague that it had been responsible for a marked improvement in our bedroom activity at the time.

Peggy said she’d never knowingly met a man who’d had the operation and so had no experience of it. She asked me a few questions about the mechanics of the op and then paused, trying to find the right way to form her follow-up question.

“Did it affect your, um, physical activity?” she asked in a quiet voice.

She blushed and apologized for asking such a personal question.

I dismissed her apology and assured her I wasn’t shy in talking about it.

“We found it liberating.”

I naughtily gave her just a simple answer in the hope she would follow it up.

I was enjoying having this lovely older lady to myself and by now I was feeling quite an attraction towards her and figured that if she came back with more questions, that in itself might be quite revealing, though I hadn’t expected quite the response she gave me.

Our hands were underneath the table out of sight of others, my wife was out of earshot talking with people on another table and Peg’s husband was at the bar deep in conversation with other men. Peg gently rubbed my hand with her cool fingers and looked at me meaningfully.

“What do you mean, liberating?” She murmured.

I took one of her fingers and squeezed it softly.


“Yes please,” Peg replied, almost in a whisper.

I noticed that her décolletage now had a lovely pink glow, which made the gorgeous little ‘crows foot’ wrinkle that older women often have at the top of their cleavage look even more appealing. I thought how lovely she looked.

I told her it had kick-started our sex-life after the children, not having to worry about pregnancy. We’d had a few scares in that respect and without thinking I found myself blurting out to Peg how we’d re-discovered the intense pleasure of bareback sex.

“Sorry, that’s probably too much information,” bursa escort bayan realizing what I’d just said.

“No, I love the way you’re so open, especially about something so personal.” Peg seemed relieved that I was comfortable in being open with her. “It’s unusual for a man,” she added.

“Well, I guess I’m trying to say how surprised we were at the time how such a simple op had turned us both into rabbits.”

She giggled, leaned in ever so slightly towards me and whispered,

“Are you and your wife still like bunny rabbits then?”

She was still stroking her finger against my hand and looking at me intently with her lovely grey eyes. I checked discretely that no-one was watching us, then returned her warm smile.

“Well, now we have an empty nest we’ve become very active naughty little bunnies.”

“Oh Tim, you’re so lucky,”

Peg looked at me directly with her lovely grey eyes. She went quiet again and after a few moments pause added

“I’m so envious, I’m not getting any, haven’t had any for months.”

She said it quite plaintively and by now our voices were only just audible to each other.

“Oh Peg, I’m sorry”

I struggled to find the right words. I couldn’t imagine why her hubby wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. I decided to play it generally and let her follow up with specifics if she wanted to.

“I think it happens a lot in long-term relationships, our bedroom pleasure has waxed and waned over the 30 years we’ve known each other and we’re lucky that right now it’s wonderful, but we’ve both had to work at it.”

I’d had similar conversations with other women in recent years and recognized the signs of sexual frustration in Peggy.

“Yes, but we’ve only been married 10 years, John’s my second husband, my first died from cancer and John was a family friend who rescued me from my grief. He has wonderful qualities but I think I have to accept he doesn’t have the same appetite as I do.”

She explained how John’s job meant he had spent a lot of time overseas and that she had gone for long periods without any physical contact.

“He’s just finished his overseas contract but as soon as he got home 6 weeks ago he decided to have his long-awaited hip operation at the local private hospital”. She continued,

“He’s doing well but isn’t interested in me at all, despite my encouragement”.

I squeezed her hand again and tried to reassure her.

“Once he’s healed and you’re into a new routine, you’ll soon find he’ll be all over you.”

“Hmmm, I’m not so sure,” said Peg. She paused, looking deep in thought as if wondering how much more she should say, then having made her mind up continued,

“As I get older my desire for sex gets greater, but John’s seem to be slowing down and I worry that we’re just growing wider apart sexually. I maybe sixty but I still want an active sexlife,”

“and it’s costing me a fortune in batteries,” she added, giving me a wicked look.

Wow. I was conscious we’d been talking in a deeply personal way for longer than was wise in such a public setting and that we needed to gather ourselves and move on. I released our soft finger-hold under the table and placed my hand gently on her knee,

“We’d better wind up this conversation but I do know what you mean about mis-matched appetites in a relationship, I’ve been there and come out the other side with our marriage strengthened. My wife and I are having better sex than we’ve ever had, and if you want to know how we’ve achieved it I’d be happy to talk more another time”.

Peg looked at me with teary eyes,

“Oh God, yes please, let’s find a way to get together. I know I can have a grown-up conversation about it with you. John just refuses to talk about it and says he’s too old”.

At that point the raffle was about to be called and we were joined by my wife and by John, thankfully neither of them looking at us any the wiser. We spent the last hour in the restaurant talking as a foursome and enjoying each other’s company. At the end of the evening Peg asked if we’d like a lift home. In conversation with my wife she had already established that we’d walked to the venue and that we lived on their route home. My wife looked at me to decide as she invariably does and I said we’d gratefully accept a lift if Peggy and John came into ours for coffee. They all agreed to the idea with enthusiasm.

Once home the four of us got comfortable and I lit the wood burner and made coffee while my wife showed the other two around our house. We’ve recently completed its total refurbishment and she loves showing people around. While I sorted out coffee and brandy she was in deep conversation with John in the laundry room, answering his questions on underfloor heating and Peg had popped to the bathroom.

As Peg came back to rejoin us and realizing that I was alone she discretely slipped a small folded slip of paper deep into my back pocket.

“That’s my mobile number, please text me next week during working hours and we can arrange to have that chat.”

My stomach bursa escort flipped as I realized she’d prepared this already and that it wasn’t a completely impulsive act on her part.

And then my stomach flipped again as she pressed her face into my back and kissed me briefly through my shirt, squeezing my hips with her hands before moving out of the kitchen to join the other two. I quickly took the slip of paper and hid it in my wallet. When they all returned to join me in the kitchen I stole myself to look at Peggy and noticed that the pink glow had returned to her neckline.

Over coffee and brandy and chocolates, always a good combination, the four of us got to know each other and chatted long into the night. I enjoyed one further glimpse of Peg’s perkiness before they left. She was commenting on one of the paint colours we had used for an accent wall and asked my wife what it was called.

Peg laughed and said “it’s my favourite colour, I often use something similar on my toes, look!”

at which point she whipped off her black socks and held up her feet.

I have something of a foot fetish and hers were lovely, dainty, pretty feet with the nails beautifully manicured and painted in a bright green/blue shade. We all collapsed in laughter at her cheeky gesture and as she put her socks back on she looked across at me and I realized she knew I’d enjoyed seeing her feet.

As they left to drive home, we hugged each other goodnight and all agreed to meet again soon. John suggested we come to them for supper next time. As we prepared for bed my wife commented on what lovely people they were and how she’d like to get to know them better. My mind was racing, I knew she wasn’t thinking what mine was and all I could think of was getting Peg on her own for a few hours and picking up where we left off.

Over the course of the weekend I found myself thinking about Peg a lot and got very horny. My wife was just as keen for sex and we spent Saturday and Sunday mornings in bed fucking ourselves silly. I hadn’t cum all week and early on Saturday morning I filled her pussy with two lovely big loads. In our afterglow I cuddled into her and started to suck on one of her nipples. She responded wonderfully and gently pushed my head down towards her tummy. I knew where this was leading, it’s her way of telling me she wants to be eaten out and brought to a massive climax.

I placed a pillow under her bottom and she spread her legs wide for me to gaze at her pussy. It was still gaping from the hard pounding fuck we’d just enjoyed, her outer labia all swollen and pink, and her trimmed hair around her cunt all wet and matted with her fluids. I began to play with her using my fingers but she groaned and told me impatiently to use my mouth instead. As I went down on her I told her what a mess she was in and asked her outright if she’d like me to clean her up.

“Oh fuck, yes,” she grunted, “I love it when you leave a big mess inside me.”

She groaned again as I told her there was a bead of thick cum just appearing between her inner labia and she cried out as I inserted a finger in her cunt and scooped it, wiping it onto her tummy so she could see.

“Oh fuck, use your tongue, please,” she whimpered.

We spent ages like this, me scooping cum out of her with my tongue and keeping her on the edge for as long as I could. She joined in with my little commentary and told me she loved how I was managing to avoid her clit, adding that she wouldn’t be able to last as soon as I started on it. I began to insert a finger to massage her g-spot but she was having none of it. She asked me breathlessly to run my tongue along the full length of her slit, from perineum to clit and then into her vagina. She started moving her body in time to my tongue in order to get as much pressure on her cunt as possible. She loves these movements and soon I had my whole face buried in her gash, my tongue rasping quite hard between her gaping labia and my nose pressed against her clit.

I could feel my face getting glazed with her fluids and she groaned again when I told her how much was leaking out of her. This talk was clearly getting to her and she placed both hands behind my head to press me harder into her open and very wet cunt. She loves fucking my face hard like this and by now she was getting very vocal, begging me to lick her clit. I slipped the tip of my tongue under the hood of her clit and probed as softly as I could, trying to extend her pleasure, but by now she was on the finishing strokes. Only one thing was on her mind and that was her final huge climax.

I pushed my tongue firmly up against her clit, now a lovely hard little nub and so recognizable as the centre of her pleasure zone. She really is a clit girl. I like to alternate between several different oral treats on her clit in these final few minutes, all of them learnt over time with other women and then brought back to our bed for my wife’s pleasure. I apply a firm pressure with my tongue on her clit, then I draw it gently between my lips and suck quite hard on it, then I rasp my tongue over it before leaving it alone for a few seconds to give her vagina some tongue action. She’ll invariably urge me back to her clit, sometimes by pulling on my head to redirect me so she can climax. At this point we’re effectively having a silent negotiation about when I’ll give in to letting her climax.

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