Sitting in the late afternoon sun, leaning back against the wall of the pub, Caroline looked absolutely in her element. not because of the location, but the presence of the sun and her burnished skin. It's the sort of thing doctors advise against these days; we're all supposed to wear a hat, slap on some factor 75 and hide from the rays. Caroline was from a generation that grew up without such fears. With her black hair and easily-tanned skin, she was a sun-worshipper who liked to get as brown as possible during the months when the English climate allowed it. This sort of treatment, along with the fact that she was in her late forties, had given her a rather leathery look and her frank and fearless top layer looked dry and weatherbeaten, but that just added to the impression of a woman who could handle herself, and that was what Steve saw.
Steve was twenty-five and a bit of a lad when it came to girls. That was another thing that was rapidly going out of fashion, this time because of political correctness. Steve had been reading about men like himself in disparaging terms. They were criticised for doing what young men have been doing since the dawn of the human age: finding women attractive and seducing them. Not that many needed much seducing, because they came into the world wired for sex too, and it was just a case of making a connection via personalities and then taking it into the sexual realm. Steve had never broken down any doors. He might have leaned on some persuasively from time to time, but as far as he was concerned he was operating within the boundaries of decency and kindness.
In the case of this woman sitting in the sun, looking like some kind of burnished goddess, he saw someone with the same amount of power he had, which was important if the "power imbalance" he kept reading about was a bad thing. This woman wouldn't be afraid of him; no woman had reason to be, anyway, but this one could take care of herself.
Caroline was wearing a deep turquoise cable-knit cotton jumper and a black cardigan, both sleeves pulled up to three-quarters to reveal brown, freckled forearms, where proper muscles lurked. She wasn't toned and fit but naturally well made, substantial rather than doll-like. On her lower half was a pair of black something: tights? Leggings? Whatever they called them these days. Not outrageously tight but snug, and as far as he could see she was fairly trim. Caroline was a good-looking woman, however you wanted to frame it.
She had been talking to a man about her own age, an ordinary man-next-door type who might have been her husband, her brother or indeed the man next door, but he had now left with friendly salutations but no kissing or touching. Caroline seemed perfectly happy to be sitting there alone and didn't appear conscious of Steve in any way. She was neither performing for him nor avoiding him. She was just there.
Steve tried not to look at her. But then he thought, why not? That was how things started in plenty of relationships: two people find each other attractive, and they show it by looking at each other. That or one of them completely blanking the other, which was usually the woman's tactic if anyone's. It's a mystery to men, but so are a lot of things.
Steve had to make the first move just to see if he got a response. So he looked at Caroline. Gazed at her, in fact. It wasn't a stare, because staring could have an element of menace. He gazed at her as if he might have a beautiful view or a work of art. And to him, she was a work of art. The ultimate art installation: attractive woman outside pub, it might have been called. Or something clever and sophisticated. Athena at the fountain, maybe. The kind of thing you'd have to look up to understand what the artist meant.
So, he gazed at her with occasional breaks to alleviate the tension, if there should be any.
Caroline noticed immediately. Maybe she had been hoping for this. She must have been aware of him sitting there and may have been grateful he hadn't started the gazing while her male companion had been there. Regardless of whether she and the other man had any romantic connection, it's embarrassing when someone else looks at you if you're with someone else. It prevents you from responding normally.
She flicked her eyes at Steve and then away, into the distance. Then she glanced at him again and a faint smile played on her lips. Her eyes crinkled. Your move, Sir.
Steve stood up and walked the few paces to her table.
"Would you mind if I sat here?" he asked. "There's no umbrella over there and I'm getting baked."
"Sure," she said, and gestured for him to sit down.
They struck up a conversation about the weather, that universal icebreaker, then moved on to beaches and swimming, which they both enjoyed. And then Steve offered to buy her a drink and she accepted, casually and happily. It was confirmed: they were now acquaintances and on the way to becoming friends. Half an hour later, Steve was confident that milestone had been reached. They were comfortable in each other's company, and that was all it took. Now, he couldn't invite her out for a drink because they were already out for a drink. How about a meal?
"What are you doing for dinner?" he asked. She shrugged and shook her head.
"You know the French place around the corner," he suggested. "It's good. Have you been there?" She shook her head. "Would you like to?" he asked, more gently than he had even meant to. He was going soft on this woman already.
He's quite sweet, she thought. Thinks he's a stud, maybe, but he's not as confident as he'd like to be. And a bit of confidence was nice, anyway.
Now, to dinner and the more in-depth mutual discovery. He was a local journalist. She recognised his name from the paper, and he couldn't be bad, because she noticed that kind of thing. She was a secondary school English teacher. Steve was suddenly struck by the thought of how many adolescent boys - and girls - must have drooled over her and fantasised about her.
She liked the way he could keep a conversation going, a result of his interviewing skills, she presumed. And he was genuinely interested in her.
He liked the way she did her bit in the talking. There was nothing worse than a one-sided conversation; it's disrespectful. But Caroline asked him questions. Intelligent questions about his work. She was interested in him.
She was widowed a couple of years ago, boating accident. He was single. Had had longish relationships but they had not gone the distance. He lived around here. Not just around here, but upstairs from the restaurant. That made it easy for him to suggest going to his place when they had finished their meal. It also made it easy for her to accept. She felt safe with him and there were people down here anyway. She lived on the seafront in a detached house that was quite unusual in the normal landscape of terraces. It was only a ten minutes' walk, so if things didn't go so well at Steve's place, she could be home in no time.
Steve was surprised at himself. He had found himself marvelling at her as a person, rather than feeling compelled to get in her knickers. He certainly wanted to do that, of course, and tonight if possible, but he wanted to talk to her as much as penetrate her. And even when it came to that - if it came to that - he wanted to kiss her all over and bask in her womanliness rather than poke her and leave.
They sat together on the black fake leather settee and Steve found himself holding Caroline's hand. He was gazing into her eyes and finding them lonely in the middle of that tanned, wise, experienced face. She put a hand on his leg, subconsciously keen to shake him out of his lovesick trance. It was bizarre, she thought. You waited a long time for a fine, confident young specimen to come along and just when you were ready to have your clothes ripped off and be shagged, he had turned into a fawning amateur, overawed by what he clearly saw as her feminine charms. It was flattering, of course, but...
She would have to take the initiative. She moved closer and, by the power of subliminal suggestion, enticed him into a kiss. They revelled in that for a full minute while he stroked her gently on her arms. She looked him in the eye and her stab of a stare spoke volumes.
She slipped out of her cardigan and pulled the jumper over her head. Steve felt a waft of warm air that smelled faintly of her, or at least the products she used, the deodorant and body wash and perfume, with a slight but thrilling touch of her underarm sweat.
He suddenly became aware of an enormous erection straining at his underpants and it stirred him into action. On autopilot, he reached around her and unhooked her lacy black bra. Her breasts were full and pale, with sun-kissed brown shapes at the top and matching nipples that stood up and beckoned him. He fell upon them like an 18th century sailor back from a year at sea, sucking and licking and caressing the tits of the girl he had left behind.
Without leaving her breasts, he reached down and unzipped his chinos. His cock was already peeping over the waistband of his pants, but he pulled it out further. To his delight, Caroline immediately took it in her hand and then, shrugging him off her chest, she went down on him. She did it with practised ease, confident in her ability, but it was more than that. She was sucking his cock because she wanted to, because she enjoyed it, loved it. She wasn't trying to impress him with odd twisty moves, as many girls did. She was perfectly at home doing this, licking him in a leisurely way up his shaft and around his thighs.
Then she pulled his trousers and pants right down and off, so he was sitting there exposed. She stood up and undressed for him. Her warm, welcoming thighs sent greetings across the space between them, the short, breathless distance between a willing woman and a man who had now pulled himself together and was about to fuck her.
But first, now naked, she sat on the edge of the settee and beckoned him between her thighs. She was natural down there, a beautiful wilderness with that essential oasis at the centre. Steve found his way through the bush and planted his tongue as far up her vagina as it would go. It always struck him as unfair that he couldn't push all the way in. He wanted to lick her right up inside, to tickle her ovaries or whatever he found along the way.
She was gushing juice, bathing his face in it as he sucked her clitoris and piss hole. Somehow she wriggled down so she was flat on her back with her legs in the air and that silent suggestive power of hers communicated again. He moved his face down and licked her bold, hungry anus. She quivered and moaned in ecstasy, so he did it some more. She clasped his head to keep him there, but he wasn't going anywhere anyway. He felt he had arrived home where he belonged, with his face in this wonderful woman's undercarriage.
Caroline was happy now that the young man had relaxed. She didn't really understand why the older woman thing was so popular, but one couldn't complain. The alternative was to be ignored, so you were either inordinately admired and lusted after or unjustly overlooked. On the open market, that was. A middle aged woman cast adrift on the sea of potential relationships at least had a chance of getting some satisfaction these days, even if it was with a kind of over-enthusiastic breed of lads who called her type "cougars", a term she disliked, and who thought she and her sisters wanted to be unceremoniously banged rather than made love to. And yet here she was with this exception, this nice young guy who, if anything, was a bit too respectful. She hoped he would crank it up a bit and give her the good shagging she was in the mood for.
And there, gentlemen, is the conundrum. You never know what they're thinking and as the old song goes, you can't please everyone, so you've got to please yourself. Treat a woman with respect but don't forget they like to be pursued, within reason. Most of them enjoy being desired. Oh hell, it's a minefield.
With this thought nowhere in his mind but animal instinct driving him, Steve gave Caroline's arsehole one final, loving lick and manoeuvred her into a more convenient position, whereupon she grabbed him for a deep kiss. He knelt between her wonderful legs and thrust his cock into her vagina. She gasped and for a second kind of leant back with her arms out wide as she enjoyed surrendering what was left of her decorum. Then she wrapped her arms and legs around the young man's strong, eager body and they fucked each other. They fucked for their mutual pleasure and their own selfish desires, and yet both of them injected a tinge of love into it.
Soon Caroline was overtaken by an internal tidal wave and she screamed with pleasure as she came. Steve gave up the battle against his own urge to orgasm and he gave everything to the woman: his energy, his semen and his heart.
