About 20 years ago, my wife became involved in our local
amateur dramatics group (or “AmDram” as they referred to it) in the small town
where we then lived. They would put on a couple of plays every year and I have
to admit that the social side of the group was excellent. It also gave me a
couple of rather excellent adventures.
One such play, the name of which now escapes me, was set
during the 2nd world war and revolved around a family living through
the Blitz of London. Every so often I
would get roped in to assist and, for this particular play, I was tasked with
trying to source some authentic 1940s clothes. I rang a few costumiers and fancy dress
outlets and, through one of these, was referred to a woman called Helen.
I was told Helen had an extensive wardrobe of clothes from
that period; indeed, she tended to dress in that style most of the time. I was
given her telephone number and was told by my contact that she was an “interesting
character”. I rang Helen who said she would be delighted to help and arranged
to visit her to see what stuff we could use.
Upon arrival at her house, I was immediately taken with her
appearance. She was a woman who appeared, at first glance, to be in her early
60s. I subsequently discovered she was, in fact, 70, and had been a teenager
during the war. She was immaculately
dressed in a red velvet dress which was cut surprisingly low, and I had to pull
my eyes away from her milky-white breasts that pushed against the fabric of her
clothing. She had blonde hair and was wearing the brightest red lipstick. When
she turned to let me in, I guessed she was wearing stockings rather than
tights, because they had a seam running up the back.
She made me a cup of tea, served in bone china, and started
to tell me that the 40s were the time of her life. She asked about the play the
group was doing – she seemed to know it – and said she hoped I’d be pleased
with her range of clothing. She then
took me upstairs
I had anticipated that she would have a room set aside for
her collection and was surprised when she led me into what was obviously her
bedroom. One wall was completely taken up by a mirrored wardrobe and she opened
it to show me that it was full of dresses that seemed old in style but appeared
relatively new. She later told me that she had had most of them made with the
help of a friend who created patterns from pictures found in books and
magazines.
I was spoiled for choice – I only needed four dresses and it
was clear from Helen’s slim build that her dresses would only fit two of the
four women in the cast in any event. She picked three or four from the rack and
held them up for me to see. All looked perfect for the play.
Helen then said “Let me show you what they look like on”
and, before I could say another word, she turned her back to me and asked me to
unzip her. As she did so, she pushed herself back into me and the feel of her
arse against my groin got me immediately excited. I undid the zip and she wriggled out of it
whilst saying “I hope you are not the bashful type, seeing an old lady in her
underwear”
I don’t know quite what I was expecting, but I was very
surprised to see that she was wearing a white thong instead of panties. I had been
right about the stockings, though, and they came complete with suspender belt. She
put on the first dress and again turned to ask to be zipped up. I have to admit that she looked fabulous in
it but still could not stop thinking of her figure. Besides a slight belly
(which I always find a turn-on anyway) she had the figure of a woman in her
mid-30s.
As I finished pulling up the zip she said “It’s been a while
since I’ve had a man to do that for me”. I remember thinking “I bet it isn’t”. She then
leaned right back against me and moved her hand around to my crotch and said “I
see I still have the power to seduce” and my cock got even harder as she rubbed
me over the material of my suit trousers.
She turned to face me, dropped to her knees, and unzipped
me. She immediately took me in her mouth and, even today, I can still remember
the sheer pleasure of that experience. I
was also getting turned on by the fact that I could watch her sucking me off in
the mirrored wardrobe.
After a few minutes, she stood up and started to undo my
tie. I hurriedly helped her undress me
until I was now stood naked in front of her with a massive hard-on. She reached
behind her, unzipped her dress, and let it fall to the ground. She then undid
her bra and her heavy white breasts fell into my hands. I started to caress her
tiny nipples as she leaned in to kiss me. A full open-mouth kiss and we were
soon tonguing each other.
She then turned away, leaned over the bed, and pulled her
thong to one side. She reached behind me and guided my cock into her very wet
cunt. I have to say that I was expecting her to bea little dry, taking into
account her age, but that was not the case. Far from it, in fact!
Again, I took great pleasure in watching myself fuck her in
the mirror.
After a while, I pulled out and pulled her thong down. She
collapsed onto the bed and turned over to face me. Her skin was pure white and
she had the most beautiful shaved pubic area. This time I sank to my knees and
started to lick and suck at her clit. When
she started to come, I stopped and started to fuck her again. We ended up fucking in several positions but
I eventually came when she was astride me and pinning my arms to the bed as she
bit at my lower lip.
Over the next three years, until we moved away, Helen and I
became regular lovers. I grew very fond of her, in fact, and discovered I was
not the only one. It appeared that she had an extremely active sex life with a
number of men in her village. It saddened me greatly when I learned, about ten
years ago, yjat she had passed away
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