Last year when my husband passed away, I had to return to the workforce. He left a modest insurance benefit and we had some savings, but not enough to sustain me and my son, Mark, who had moved home when he lost his job. My name is Sandra and I am 55 years old. I never went to college, but I am nevertheless smarter than your average bear and one special talent I had was twisting men around my little finger. Don’t misconstrue that to mean I am a bitch because I am quite the opposite. I just learned young that the way to a man’s heart was through his penis. A man who gets his cock sucked regularly, can fuck when he wants to, and feel free to explore a few of his darker desires is more times than not a happy, attentive, and loyal partner.
My husband, Jon, and I had lived a good life together. We rarely fought, much less quibbled, and I attribute our success in marriage to ensuring he had his morning blow job at least 5 days a week. To keep him sated, I even watched countless blow job, hand job, edging, deep throat and other orally focused videos on the porn sites. I learned more than sucking techniques. I learned that men love women who love their cum. Love it in their mouths, on their tits and pussies, in their asses, their faces, and drooling down from the corners of their mouths.
Basically, I learned how to worship my husband’s cock and then give him the pleasure of me wearing it or drinking it or slurping it up from his belly. We also fucked a lot, though mornings were reserved for cock worship. Jon loved the feeling of his cum pulsing into my pussy and sometimes he sucked me afterward, which was a huge turn-on for both of us. But what he loved most of all, other than me sucking his cock, was fucking my ass. In fact, I cannot recall a fucking session that did not include his cock alternating between my two holes.
I am telling you this because I want you to know that a married couple can have an awesome, kinky, mutually satisfying sex life. monogamously. But I am no longer married and don’t foresee becoming married, given my age, but my sexual urges are still present; in fact, they have grown since Jon died because I wasn’t having any sex other than masturbatory release. As well, during my marriage I had put away the desire to be with other men, for the sake of our marriage.
I did try Adult Friendfinder for a while and met a several men, but all but one was lay-a-abouts looking for a woman to support them. The one exception was a young man, the age of my son, who was nervously seeking an experience with an older woman. He was unsure of himself, but nevertheless mustered up the courage to put up an ad and meet older women. I sucked him off in his car after we had drinks the first time, and the second time I let him fuck me, again in his car. He lived with roommates and couldn’t afford a motel and I wasn’t going to fund his fun with me, but two times in a car were enough for me. I prefer the comfort of a bed and the freedom to move around. He understood. I told him maybe down the road we could get together if he got his own place or if Mark moved out; so, we stayed in touch through emails and text.
When he heard I was looking for a job, he encouraged me to apply at an office supply company that his father owned. He told me they needed a sales and customer service agent out in the field and suggested I had the perfect personality to succeed at that kind of work. The short story is that after two interviews, one with the father, I was offered the job and I said yes. But more about the job later.
Jon had died from a heart attack. It was unexpected. I was sucking him daily and we fucked pretty much every day and then wham, he died, and suddenly I had no husband and no sex life. My reaction to this went beyond masturbating more often, which I did. I compensated for the lack of sex life but dressing sexier, more provocatively, when I went out shopping or to the bar, but also in my own home. I loved the attention I got while perusing the cucumbers or while tippling on some Chablis at the Keg’s bar down the street. To be honest, though, I had not even thought about what effect dressing this way would have on my son.
Mark grew up in a normal household and in all the years he lived with us after he turned 18, never once was there any hint from him or me about anything sexual. There was nothing taboo about our relationship; I need to make that clear. I know a lot of people have incest fantasies and I have no doubt there are mothers who intentionally seduce their sons and daughters and vice versa, but I was not one of those. Incest was repulsive to me. It was wrong and immoral. It was the last thing I would ever do.
I was naive to think that wearing a teddy down stairs in the morning would not change how Mark looked at me. I should have been more mindful. I may be 55 but if I may be honest, I have one hell of a body. My tits are big, my waist is small, and my hips and ass are respectively curvy and firm and round. I have long legs, pretty feet, and I was pretty, with big dark eyes, classic lips, and a smooth complexion. When I wore a teddy, my tits were half visible as were the bottom curves of my ass. I did wear a thong, but I think that just added to the allure for my son.
For a month or so, he never said anything. He never gawked at me either, though I am sure he enjoyed a lot of natural looks at my body. I did notice he hung out with me more, but I figured he was just being kind to his widowed mother. Once I got the job, he would see me leave each morning dressed like a saleswoman who knows that showing skin and being made up perfectly added to the bottom line.
On the morning of my final interview with the owner, I was nervous and tried on numerous outfits and modelled them for Mark. He asked me what dressing for success looked like for me, and I said, “I want him to know I will do just about anything to land a sale.”
At the time I was wearing a business suit that was rather conservative. Mark looked at me up and down, ran his hand through his hair a few times, his signal for being tentative. “Go on,” I said. “Be honest.”
“Well, mother,” he said softly. “Do you want to…” He paused and then continued. “Do you want him to be aware of all of your assets?”
I still hadn’t clued in. “Assets?”
“Gee, mom, you are making this hard.”
“Just say it, Mark. Please.”
“Okay. Do you want him to get a clear picture of what you have to offer physically, you know, as a woman?”
I was catching on now and I blushed. “Do you mean do I want to dress provocatively?”
Mark nodded. “If you do, that business suit is not an option.”
I walked back into my bedroom and searched my closet. Several minutes later I returned wearing a tight black knit dress that rested at mid-thigh and was rather low cut, revealing not only my ample cleavage but a portion of my white bra.”
Mark smiled. “Do you have a black bra?”
“Well your white bra looks kind of, err, sloppy, mom.”
“Oh.” Time was passing and I felt the pressure to make a decision and head over to the interview. I turned around, lifted my dress and unfastened and removed my bra. I was so nervous, I didn’t really think about the view I was affording my son of my big, firm ass that was covered only by the thin cloth of my thong. I lowered my dress and turned around. I looked down to see my hard nipples pressing out through the thin fabric. “Oh my.” I said.