Intensive Labor

It's hard to believe that summer's over already!

The season passed in a whirlwind for me and Francie, club hopping, weekends in the country, frat parties downtown...An endless stream of young bucks with hard cocks.

Frankly, after some of the adventures we've had I'm surprised we're still walking!

But then we gals do keep in shape.

And we pick up our share of playmates while doing it, too.

Don't think Francie and I are fading away with the summer. Oh no, we plan to keep the fires burning all winter long, but it's still sad to see the summer end.

Before it does, though we headed to one last pool party at the frat house.

Those boys love us. We hadn't been there five minutes before we both had a drink in our hands and a devoted boy on each arm.

Francie disappeared at some point, but I was doing alright on my own. Some cute college boy had backed me into a corner got his hands under my skirt... I felt so dirty getting fingered right there in full view of everyone.

And then returning the favor, too. I jacked him off till he shot a load into the potted palm next to us on the patio. I'm certain someone saw, but nobody minded.

It was just that kind of a party.

After awhile I realized my cell phone was dying and wandered off for a place to plug it in.

Stumbling into one of the canbanas, I was not surprised to find Francie half naked and playing with a big blond boy who was visiting from Oklahoma.

"Shut the door and come over here, Lucy," she said. "I'm gonna need some help with this one."

I forgot all about the phone....

Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson!

"Every woman needs her Mrs. Robnison moment," Francie said to me.

We were sitting at black wrought iron table for two at one of those big city night clubs, loud music pumping through the place and crazy flashing lights all over. One turned Francie's fance mauve, then green as it pulsed to the music.

As she spoke, she pulled out her silver mirror and re-applied her bright red lipstick to her lush, full lips.
Francie wore a sheer, strapless gown in a light gold color that clearly showed her black strapless bra and thong panties underneath. Looking at her, I had to admit that even now she is still a goreous, vivacious, sexy woman.

Me, I wore blue. My dress was also see through, but I was not as bold as Francie, yet. I wore a slip beneath mine.

But I had put on my favorite stockings and garter belt. Both the dress and the slip had slits at the side that clearly showed the bare skin of my legs above the stocking tops. I can't wear heels much anymore, not a night out that's going to involve alcohol! But I wore my favorite silver wedge sandals and painted my toe nails a metallic blue to match the dress.

I felt like Cinderella at the ball, done up so fancy with my hair done and contacts in instead of my usual glasses, and silky naughty underwear we'd ordered me off the internet, you know the kind of stuff you used to have to buy from France!

A ball was exactly what I was going to have, too-- or a pair of them at the very least. Francie was set to make sure of it.

I was so nervous, though. I hadn't touched a man since Donald, and never a man so much younger than myself! I wanted it, craved it, burned for it, but I still wasn't sure I could pull it off. So Francie had brought me out to the club to "get you wet," she'd said. Somehow, didn't think she'd meant my feet! And now as we sat there, dressed up and ready to go she gave me one last pep talk to calm my nerves and build my confidence.

I sipped my martini. "I understand, Franice, but it seems to me your "moment" has lasted quite awhile now."

She laughed. "It's a vocation now. By the time I get done with these young bucks they're way ahead of the curve for their age.I'm doing them and all their future girlfriends a favor."

I smiled. She was right. If my husband Donald had known half of what Francie taught these boys...

But Donald is gone now, God rest his soul, and I believe he'd want me happy, so here I was, ready to become the latest in a long line of Mrs. Robinsons!

"Cougars are part of the natural order," Francie continued. "In cultures all over the world older women see it as their duty to help younger men learn the 'art of love.' We're not doing anything criminal or even unnatural. We're not predators, just hunters, merely continuing the species by culling our prey."


She eyed the dance floor. When we'd walked in she'd immediately picked out our targets. The two she'd chosen stood together inthe far corner, one tall thin and blond, the other a bit more solid and a few inches shorter with is black hair in a tight crew cut. The blond was mine.

We'd been counting their rounds of drinks, tracking who's turn it was to go to the bar each time. Their drinks were just about empty. In a few minutes it would be the blond's turn to go to the bar again and I would make my move.

The plan was for me to already be at the bar when he walked up and to start a conversation while he waited for the drinks. It looked like it was time. I stood up on slightly wobbly knees (it was nerves but hopefully anyone looking would think it was the booze...) and took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never. Then I panicked! Suddenly I couldn't remember as single one of those sexy, clever
lines I'd been practicing in the mirror all week!

Francie smiled encouragingly. She discretely slid a white business card across the table. I picked it up. In her handwriting it read "girls suck, women swallow. I act my age!" I laughed.

"Put it in front of him and walk away."

Card in hand, I turned and headed for the bar, ready to bring home my buck!

Horny Old Ladies

Many years ago there was a tv skit that went something like this:

Two little old ladies are sitting on the porch on a lazy afternoon.

The old lady on the left suddenly says to her friend, "do you still get 'urges'?"

(For you young folk. "urges" is what we used to call getting horny.)

The old lady on the right says "yes, I still do."

"Oh," says the lady on the left. "What do you do about it?"

"Oh, I suck a life saver," says the lady on the right.

"Oh," says the lady on the left. She's quiet for a moment, and then she says
"who drives you to the beach?"

The other lady looks at her, very surpised.


Well, she couldn't have been suprised as I was When I found out what was going on next door!

I have known Francine Luckett for nearly 40 years. We moved into this neighborhood as
young married wives, full of hope and promise and looking toward the future.

That was 1974, the war was over, the turmoil of the 60s was behind us, and it was time to
go back to living a normal life.

Although, I did feel maybe I'd missed out on the "free love" thing. I sometimes wondered if
the other neighborhood housewives felt the same.

Francine certainly did! But she's making up for it now!

Granted, I'd noticed she had a lot of young male visitors, but then she'd alway been
generously maternal.

And sometimes a young man who came over to do chores on a Saturday afternoon, didn't leave
till Monday morning, but I put it down to Francine and her warm, giving spirit helping someone
down on his luck!

Ha!

Then last year I finally really started paying attention. Sometimes I caught her leaning
a little too close to one of her young fellas in the fancy coffee shop. A few times I saw
her fondle one of them righ through their jeans out in the yard.

Then last summer I spotted her down in the bushes by the irrigation ditch. She was down on
her knees with her top open and her bra off, some young buck's cock in her mouth up to
his belly, and Francie sucking away like her favorite vacuum.

Well, I backed away slowly, found and spot near the start of the path and settled in to wait.
When Francie came out she was a mess. Her clothes were nothing but rags, her stockings
were a maze of runs, her make up was smeared and there were leaves in her hair. She
grinned and staggered like a drunk.

Drunk on sex, was what it was.

I stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of her. She jumped about a foot then smiled
at me.

"Francie," I said. "What were you doing down there?"

Well she told me. All of it!

I was never more surprised in my life! Or more hurt! Here I had been struggling with my own
frustrations and fantasies for years and my best friend had never once let me in on her
little game.

Well, that soon changed. She laughed when I told her and said she was thrilled to know
we were so alike.

"You should have told me, Lucy," said she. "I'd have let you into the game long ago."

No matter. We made up for lost time in a hurry.

After two months worth of dirty weekends together I was happier than ever. But something
still troubled me....

"Francie," I asked her the one day. "These weekends are great, but what do you do during
the week when the boys are all at work?"

"Well," she said, "That's what I have Niteflirt for."

"What's Niteflirt?"

She smiled. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee, Lucy... We need to have a looonnnggg talk."

And we went off down the street to that fancy coffee place, arm in arm, giddy as a
pair of school girls.

Mrs. Marzetti Knows

Yes, I know you want to be a good boy.

And I know how hard it is.

I know those nasty thoughts you can't help having in the back of your mind.

And I know what they make you do.

You can't shock me. I've heard it all before.

Cum tell me about it.

We'll make it all better...