Every young man knows the feeling of fancying the mother of one of his friends. It’s as natural as masturbation, which of course is what it leads to. These women are in their thirties or forties at most, and if they notice the doe-eyed apprentice who turns to jelly when he sees them, they are grateful but usually not inclined to take him in hand because it’s too complicated and they’re busy enough being a mother, without giving free sex lessons on the side.

There are other stories on here about a thirty-something man and some fifty-something women – I know, because I wrote them and most are called Mum’s friend so-and-so – but the tale of senior shagging I’m about to regale you with goes much further than that up the ladder of age.

Mona was well into her seventies. She was the mother of Fred, a guy I knew on the Caribbean island of Anguilla. For some reason, Mona had the hots for me from day one. She had dark skin, but not as dark as many, and it had a dusky tinge. Her hair was short and curly, and her breasts were full; time and gravity had them hanging low. She wore scruffy t-shirts and black trousers, usually with no shoes.

Local women in such places are careful not to get a reputation for getting laid by white men, because people like me are regarded as undesirables, rich, middle-class, entitled ponces, and it’s bad enough that we breathe their air and swim in their sea. They certainly don’t want us taking their females. Fred knew Mona liked me but laughed it off; she was an eccentric old dear, and anyway, your own mother doesn’t get involved in sexual shenanigans. He just seemed not to believe it.

Mona and I would have quiet, urgent chats when we were with a group of people, and she once told me, “I haven’t been with a man in thirty years.” I nodded and said what a shame that was and then she started talking about how I didn’t fancy her because she was too black.

“I love black women,” I whispered into her ear. “Show me the blackest part of you, and I will kiss it.” Then Fred came over, and we were obliged to stop the flirtation.

The next week, a group of us went to Fred’s family’s secret beach, an inaccessible place, miles down a bumpy, sandy, meandering track. There were six of us, including another woman, and we all swam while Fred donned a mask and snorkeled and took his speargun in, to get some fish that we would cook over an open fire.

Mona had no swimming costume but went in fully clothed and made no fuss about if afterwards. She just sat on top of the ice box that held the beer, while the sun evaporated the water from her outer clothing and gently steamed the rest. When we were swimming, she had floated on her back with her legs spread, her crotch pointing at me, and no one seemed to notice. She was an eccentric old bird, and the two adjectives did for the others what her status as his mother did for Fred. Mona could indulge in this blatant display, and only she and I understood that what could have been going on actually was going on.

A few days later, I was out just driving around and I popped into a supermarket for an ice cream. Who should I meet down by the freezers but Mona. She was wearing long baggy shorts and a man’s shirt and she looked more attractive than usual. That’s not to say I didn’t always find her attractive, but this day she looked like an old film star. We got chatting and she told me she was going down to the beach for lunch and was just picking up some snacks. Could I give her a lift? Of course, I said. She moved along past the freezers to a chiller and put half a big sausage in her basket. I put two peaches and a tub of yoghurt in mine and we stood close together at the checkout before getting into my car and heading off down the bumpy, sandy track.

“I could get lost down here,” I said.

“Easily done,” she replied, straight-faced. “So could I. Turn right here.”

I did as she said, and we bounced up a track where the sand was studded with bricks. At the dead end was a derelict cottage.

“So we’re lost,” I said.

“No, we’re found,” Mona said. “Don’t you want to be in the middle of nowhere with me?”

She got out and I followed her round to the back of the ruined building, where a wild patch of grass might once have been an attempt at a lawn.

Mona took a blanket out of her backpack, spread it out, and sat down. She reached up to take my hand, and I sat next to her.

“No one will find us here,” she said contentedly.

“You don’t want to be found?” I asked.

“Do you?” she retorted. “We can check out of the world for a while. Take some time off. Get back to nature.” She looked at me expectantly, took the sausage from her shopping bag and slowly bit the end off.

“With my sausage and your peaches and cream we can have a feast,” Mona said. “But first…” and with that she unbuttoned her shirt. She looked into my eyes. “You said you like black women. But old black women? That’s different, is it?”

“I like you,” I said, and as I leaned towards her, she swung us to the ground, pulling me on top and pulling my head to hers. We kissed as if we had never expected to kiss anyone ever again. Mona took my right hand and put it inside her shirt, and I felt her big, heavy, tired breasts. I pulled her shirt wide and descended on her chest, where I sucked her nipples with abandon, and she writhed with pleasure. I pulled the shirt off and raised her left arm. As I licked her clean but deodorant-free armpit, she squirmed.

“Ooh!” she said. “You are a naughty one. In case you’re wondering, that isn’t the darkest spot of my body.” She thrust her hand into my shorts and took my enthusiastic cock in her hand. “Thirty years,” she said wistfully. “It’s not right.”

“Do you want to suck my cock?” was all I could manage.

“Suck my cock, suck my cock,” she said. “How many times have I heard that? No, I don’t want to suck your cock.” She gave it an affectionate tug. “I want to be adored,” Mona said. “Doesn’t an elderly lady deserve to be adored?”

“I do adore you,” I protested weakly.

“I know you like me,” she said, squeezing my balls. “What did you say about my darkest place? I want you to find it and kiss it.”

I undressed Mona and myself, and we both lay quietly for a moment, enjoying the sun on unfamiliar parts. Then I began a long, slow journey from her lips down her chest and belly until my face was between her legs.

“It’s dark down here,” I said.

“It was pink the last time I looked,” she rebuked. She lifted her legs, slowly and awkwardly as her ageing bones struggled to accommodate the wishes of her younger self.

“Get on your knees,” I said.

“That is something a Caribbean woman hears too often,” she said.

“Maybe,” I said, stroking her flank. “But I’m not asking you to do anything for me. I want to do something for you.”

“Like what?” she said, half suspicious, half happy.

“What is your darkest place?” I asked. She didn’t respond. “Your arsehole,” I added helpfully.

“Yes, my aaahshole,” she mimicked.

Mona got into position, settling her creaking knees until she was comfortable. I placed my face behind her and took in her bum smell. It’s something that even inveterate rimmers tend to gloss over, but it’s a major part of the whole experience. I licked her and then began a voiceover like a British nature programme.

“I’m here on a Caribbean island, naked in the afternoon sun, with an elderly native woman who has invited me to lick her arse.”

“Not so much of the elderly,” Mona interrupted. “Just lick my ass. Do you think you can give me my first orgasm this century?”

“Do you think it’s heading that way?” I asked her seriously.

“It feels very nice,” she replied. “I don’t have any experience in this.”

“I thought Caribbean sex included anal,” I said.

“Guys like to stick their things in there,” she said. “But I never had anyone express an interest in doing it with their tongue. You giving me a new impression of English people. This popular over there?”

“Not really,” I admitted in between long, sensual licks. “But I love doing it to you.”

“Keep it up,” my septuagenarian lover said with a tremor in her voice, so I knew she was on the way.  Then she went quiet and her elbows slid forwards so she was even more exposed to me. I licked her anus gratefully. People don’t understand what a privilege it is to be admitted to this inner sanctum of a woman you desire, but to me, it is an honour, and it turns me on like nothing else.

A cat appeared through the bushes and watched, seemingly fascinated, as these two naked humans did uncivilised things, the white one licking the hindquarters of the black one. Then it sat down and licked its own arse.

“If only she knew,” Mona said. “Now I’m afraid I’m going to scare her off.” With that, she began to tremble, and then, suppressing the urge to make a sound of ecstasy, she gave a low growl as she collapsed on her chest.

“Do you feel like you’ve been with a man again now?” I asked, fishing for compliments.

“I feel like I’ve had my privacy invaded,” she said flatly. “In the most delightful way. Now let’s go to the beach.”

In a few bumpy minutes, we were on the sand at the rocky shore.

“Never anybody here in the week,” Mona said, stripping off and gesturing for me to do the same. She pulled me by the hand into the shallows and we lolled about in the warm water. Mona wrapped her legs around my waist and poked my anus with her middle finger. I found her slit and ran my finger along it, then buried it in her vagina.

“No fucking in the water,” she said. “It gets in the way of the lubrication and makes me sore. At least it did fifty years ago.”

The water turned warm, as it does when you piss in your swimming trunks, and I realized this natural, untamed woman had urinated right next to my cock. I pulled her to me and kissed her hard.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“For being kinky,” I said. “I love it.”

“I’m kinky?” she replied happily. “You just licked my ass in broad daylight.”

”You want me to do it again?” I volunteered.

“You want to?” she asked, delighted.

“I would lick your arse five times a day every day,” I replied truthfully. She pulled me close, and we kissed like two people who had just declared their love for each other.

Mona exited the water carefully, her stiff, bulky body powering but stumbling through the water and over the sand. We dried each other lovingly and put our clothes back on for the short trip back up to our ruined den.

“Now,” she said, amused, as she stroked my swelling cock. “You want me to suck you, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Well, since you’re such a nice man,” she continued, “I will. But I don’t want no spunk in my mouth, okay?”

With a smile and a shake of my head, I promised to behave. I intended to give her my semen at some point, in some way, and felt sure she wanted it too. But she was enjoying being a lady being willingly defiled by a gentleman, and I decided she would want me to cum inside her at the climax of a conventional, loving bout of intercourse. And strangely, that was what I wanted too. There was a good veneer of romance over our uninhibited mating games.

She took my cock in her mouth, attempting to look blasé, but I could tell she was enjoying it. It must be frustrating for a woman when she is badgered into doing something that would be tender and beautiful if she were just allowed to do it off her own bat, in her own way. She licked and sucked my erect penis with a fascinated serenity that spoke volumes. She loved sucking cock, but she didn’t like being ordered to do it. She looked up at me with a shy smile.

“Was that nice?”

“Fantastic,” I said. “You’re a lovely woman.” This was clearly the kind of response she enjoyed, and she took another mouthful of white man’s knob to convey her approval. “So, are you going to lick my bottom again?” she asked with the shy smile still flickering.

"Yes, please,” I replied, and she was on her knees in a flash, her beautiful rump exposed to me. This time I sucked at her hole as if trying to get something from it, but confident that wasn’t going to happen.

“You are such a kinky man,” she said approvingly. “Where you been all my life?”

“Looking for you,” I said, and I wasn’t entirely joking. We were embroiled in a wonderful day of romantic depravity, a day I would never forget.

After Mona had her second anal orgasm of the day, she lay on her back and pulled me on top of her. My eager cock flew into her hot, slippery pussy, and we kissed passionately as we rocked and rolled.

Then she shrugged me off and got back on her knees.

“Not up my ass,” she admonished. “I want your penis in my vagina from behind.”

I climbed aboard and felt a series of little fleshy flying saucers on the ceiling of her tube. I launched my knob at each one and then the next, and every time she whimpered, I knew I had hit the target and given her what she wanted. She must have had ten little orgasms before she announced,

“Okay, you may come. Give it to me.”

I ground into her and unleashed a torrent of spunk into her seventy-year-old cunt and she cooed and purred like a young girl welcoming the seed of her first love.

We headed back to the little, unfinished bungalow which she shared with Fred, and as we got out of the car, a neighbour passed.

“Hey Mona,” the woman said. She was tall and well built, wearing tight shorts and a clinging red v-neck t-shirt. “You enjoy your day at the beach?”

Mona looked taken aback and said nothing.

“Got sand all over you, girl,” the woman beamed. “And the gentleman too. Naughty sand.” With that, she sashayed away down the road.