Friday, 15 November 2013

Friday, November 15, 2013 -


by Paul Bailey
Published: Sep 24, 2013
Words: 26,273
Category: femdom
Orientation: F/M
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This story, based in the UK in the 1970s, is about a young man (well let's put him at 31) who lets himself fall under the influence, in more ways than one, of a 50 year old woman, who has not passed the flower of youthful exuberance and is still very much embroiled in eroticism.


We had been going out for a couple of months. Jo was lovely. Everything a man could ask for. She was tall (5'10 in her stockings), had a fabulous figure, with large well moulded and firm breasts (36D cup) and a full, rounded bottom. She was physically strong and fit (she worked out once a week) and was successful in business. She had long blonde hair, which she mostly wore loose down her back where it reached her waist, but occasionally it would invade her front, where, if she was naked, it tantalisingly attempted to conceal her ample, proud bosom. To cap it all she loved me and was a demanding and persistent lover. She was perfect for me, or possibly, if I dared to think about it, for most red blooded men. OK, she was 19 years older than me. OK, there were a few lines on her face, but they were mostly laugh lines and, in my mind, they made her more attractive. She did not look that older than me, certainly did not behave old, unless one counts dominance as a sign of age, and in any case what is 19 years between great lovers?

She had her own business, involving the distribution of fashion items within the fashion trade. It was a high powered enterprise, earning a good salary. But it also meant that she had to attend meetings or business lunches or dinners, and these would often impinge on our social life. But I was not worried by this. Being self employed she was able to take time off or adjust her schedule to suit herself.

She was very protective of her private life. There were strict rules by which I had to abide. I was not given a key to her flat. Whenever I was intending to visit her I would have to text beforehand. I was never to arrive at her flat unannounced and I could only visit her when she said it was OK to do so. "After all, darling," she had explained, "I may be involved in negotiating an important contract, and we wouldn't want you bursting in with your trousers down around your ankles and your willy hanging out!"

We both had our own flats in the town. Hers was spacious and light, with an entrance into a large, well decorated sitting room, which included a dining area. There was a well-found and modern kitchen, a large double bedroom and a small spare room. There was a separate bathroom, with a loo and modern shower. From both the sitting room and her main bedroom there were French windows leading out to an outside deck.