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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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The Scavenger Hunt
by Mrs. Ruza (address withheld)
***
A young man overcomes his lack of confidence by using a
scavenger hunt ploy to introduce himself to widowed
mature women. (Fm-teen, inc, 1st, anal)
***
From the Journal of Damon Wentworth as Augmented by
Katrina Ruza
Prologue
The events of the year 1992 culminated with a birthday
party for Damon Wentworth at my home. In addition to
celebrating his 19th birthday that evening we were
marking the end of a one- year pact we three mature
women had with Damon. The pact came about through an
ingenious naughty mission this young man through a very
clever scavenger hunt. A third and unexpected event
occurred that night which was a decision we three women
made to operate as a private ladies' club. This club
became known to us as the Downtown Ladies' Aide Society
of Omaha.
This evening was the first time that all three of us
women who were in Damon's life in the past year got
together. It was at my suggestion that Damon ask the
other two women, Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Patel, to meet
with him and me. Damon was nervous about the gathering
idea but the women eagerly agreed to my suggestion.
They all accepted my outline for the program for the
evening.
Damon had recently confessed that he had from the
beginning kept a journal of his plan for his scavenger
hunts. For this special evening he would tell the
stories how he met each of us and then we three women
would add our own recollections of our initial
encounters with him. I, as chair pro temp, would take
notes and then combine Damon's version with each
woman's own remembrances to supplement Damon's journal.
Each of us women would get a copy but of course we
would keep it private. (The only way I can share this
story is through having made a few changes which I
can't tell you about.) This story is just the first
encounter of the three stories of encounter Damon told
that evening. It is special for me since I was his
first conquest as you shall soon understand.
We women were all giddy at first but, but soon became
relaxed as the champagne took effect. Damon, being
under age was given a non-alcoholic sparkling white
grape drink. Since I, Mrs. Ruza, was his first
"victim," I told my story first. Then Mrs. Johnson
followed and lastly Mrs. Patel. The first episode then
is what he told us that night with my complimenting it
from my own recollection. So here then is Damon's
story.
Damon's Story
Since I am going to tell you about others in this story
I better tell you something about myself. It is not
particularly interesting but these women have made me
see I do deserve some credit for a little imagination
having grown up in a small town. I was born in late
1973 in a small rural town near Omaha. I have not
changed much in physical appearance since that time.
I was active in sports especially basketball and
baseball in high school and have worked to keep my
shape. I don't have a weightlifter's body but it
doesn't have much fat either. I am 6' at 180 lbs with
dark brown hair and eyes. I am not handsome but not
homely either. I wore glasses for distance. I had one
little scar but it is hidden by the bridge of my
glasses. I did that falling on the corner of some
cement steps at home. I wear my hair then and still do
at medium length and parted on the left. I was on the
quiet side and still am. I didn't talk as much as other
boys thinking in this way I would seem more mature but
I was not.
I lived in a fairly Midwestern small town. My family's
two-floor home was white slate with green wooden
shutters. I was on the edge of town with our back yard
ended at a cornfield. My father was a hardware store
merchant and my mother was a homemaker. I had one
sibling- a younger sister. My mother was a quiet woman
who would be considered a feminist today.
Her philosophy was that "What ever was good for the
goose was good for the gander." In other words, what
was good for men was just as good for women. She was
good to her husband, my sister and me. She took her
turn being den leader in cub scouts and in 4-H. Her
main social activity was attending church functions and
Pythian Sisters' meetings. Pythian Sisters was a kind
of woman's social club.
But it was my father and the church in which I was
raised which gave me my motivation and ideas on how to
proceed in life. My father's contribution to my
thinking came from his belief that there were four
elements needed for success: first, set a goal and
don't lose sight of it; second, take action toward the
goal; third; make revisions as necessity demands; and
fourth don't give up. This worked for me, as you shall
see.
The other force in the shaping of my character was the
little Congregational church our family attended. The
ministers taught that we humans have two basic
identities –the spirit and the flesh - which are in
constant battle against each other. My parents-
especially my father- had the same perspective and
values as the church. So I was given a double dose of
moral training. On the one hand, I can blame the church
and my father for stymieing my natural instincts. But
on the other hand, I can give them the credit for
helping me develop the organized thinking and
discipline necessary to become the more worldly man I
later came to be.
I felt - and probably looked like - a contented
adolescent but beneath this facade I had been wallowing
in discontentment and discouragement about my lack of
success with girls. Actually, I learned much later most
adolescent boys were not progressing with women either.
However, at that time I thought I was the only one that
was a failure with females.
Just having turned 18 I did not have much of a social
group in my small town. The girls in my high school
were fearful that we boys would do something to that
would cause them to lose their reputations and have to
"visit their aunt in Kansas City for seven months." And
the very few that were not concerned were already
taken- and besides, my straight reputation would
prevent me from going with them anyway.
The one social group I was in was my church's youth
Pilgrim Fellowship. I saw the girls in that group
every. Thursday night in the meeting room in the church
basement for many years. I also saw them in school
everyday. They were so familiar that they were almost
like sisters which consequently left me with no
romantic or prurient interest in them.
As I said, my folks had rural Protestant Midwestern
values of the era. For example, they put their six pack
of beer in the back of the refrigerator so we kids
would not see it. They did not talk of sex and assumed
it was for marriage. The only action close to sex was
my mother was a believer in enemas as a solution to
ornery children. Under the cupboard in the bathroom
there was a dark maroon rubber bag with a large black
nozzle. About a few times each summer my mother dressed
in a bra and panties would close the door to the
bathroom and put a cotton diaper on her lap. Then she
would remove my briefs lay me over her bare knees. I
did not like this at first but had just begun for some
reason I began to enjoy the sensation.
She stopped when I was 14 saying I was not so squirmy
anymore. However, if her mother in law – my grandmother
- was visiting she allowed her to have the duty saying
it was okay for someone other than the mother to give
enemas. Grandmother was a still good-looking brunette
with high cheek bones. She was on the slim side but
bosomy. When she gave me an enema was in her underwear
and her bra was too small for her.
She also wore panties which were light beige so they
were nearly transparent. Unlike my mother she had no
black hairs escaping, because she was shaved. I learned
later that was unusual for the time. I thought it was
very intense but not quite erotic because I was just
before my hormones kicked in. However, I did begin to
realize then females were different.
My grandmother would look at my lower half and make
comments such as "I wish my lady friends could see what
my grandson brings to the table." One time she said
this she had put her hand under the cotton diaper
before she laid me prone across her lap. The first
time, I seeped pre-cum (I did not know that is what was
then) into the diaper she said, "It was good to get rid
of all fluids in an enema."
She made me hold the water in until the last second.
She then pulled out the black plug and watched me
rushing to the stool as the diaper dropped. Only then
did she leave the bathroom. It was years later I
grasped the meaning of some of her comments. My sister
received an enema only about once a summer from my
mother and she refused to let Grandma give her one.
As for seeking knowledge of sex, it was first from
reading freely at the local Rexall drugstore such
magazines as Modern Romance to find words like "breast"
or "passion." Then I quickly graduated to Hustler then
Playboy. Although my folks were conservative
Christians, my dad had a cache of magazines, books, and
a few porn tapes hidden in a cedar chest. I am sure my
mother was not pleased with them but it was accepted
that men were "that way." These provided me with my
education and greatest pleasures in my adolescence.
My parents would have been shocked if they had known
that I had discovered them. My favorite books were
Gyneocracy and In Praise of Older Women. Actually, it
was the video tapes that gave me the most admiration
for my parents and especially my father. My parents
were not only kind and nice small town people but they
were human and not as strait laced as I thought.
As I said, my physical contact with females was
practically non-existent. At the girl's annual Rainbow
Dance, I got to hold Carol Ann Addington close when I
danced once. She was the girl with the bad reputation
who talked about sex and wore more than the usual
amount of make up for girls her age. When I arrived at
the dance she was snuggling in the corner of the dark
hall with her boyfriend getting some new "hickies"
planted on her neck.
My mother told me to dance with many girls. So when
Carol Ann and her boyfriend finally got around to
dancing I cut in for a dance. Dancing with Carol Ann
once was the most shocking action I took in my youth. I
explained to others that my mother said I should try to
dance with many girls. It was worth the stares to put
my boner to Carol Ann and not worry that I would be
slapped or left on the dance floor.
I did have a glimpse of my mother coming out of the
shower once and going to the chest of drawers. She did
not know I was in the bedroom. But I was so young and
it was such a fleeting glance, I can't even recall a
clear picture of it other than a black bush between her
legs. I saw my sister nude a couple of times- once by
chance when I walked in on her while she was changing
into a bathing suit and one other time when I looked
into the keyhole while she was in bath tub. What I saw
was a pair of dark red knobs on cup cakes. That was too
risky so I did not do that again.
My aunt was a hugger when she came to visit and leave.
She did let me see her cleavage with large beautiful
sagging breasts when she bent over to put her boots on
once. She gave me a smile. That smile and the wondrous
snapshot of her cleavage is still the most erotic
picture I have kept from my childhood. But this was
about it for my actual experiences with sex. I was a
virgin with no bona fide sex event before my 18th
birthday.
Masturbation was called self-abuse the. Each time I did
that I had a fear that something bad could happen to me
and was left with a mild depression. For a while I
panicked about the white lines on my scrotum. I finally
realized they came from the roots of the hair follicles
being pulled while I examined myself for residuals from
the act.
The Story -The Plan
So it was several months before my 18th birthday that I
had decided to finally take action to save my mind from
further anxiety over the creeping doubts of my
masculinity. I did not feel I had a problem in the
vital organs since I had seen other males in the shower
and found that my genitals were larger than all other
boys my age except one fellow named Eddy. I remember he
said when his girl friend kissed him at the end of the
date she put her hands in front of her crotch so she
could cop a feel. I was envious.
I had been blaming my failure for sexual progress on my
church upbringing and small town conservatism. No
longer would I allow that mind set keep me from being
imaginative and becoming assertive in entering the
world of female sensuality. I began to devise a plan,
which I promised myself that I would carry out. The
goal was to have a fulfilling sexual encounter with
some female within one month after turning 18.
Before dropping off to sleep each night, I spent an
hour lying in bed thinking of a plan for that first
event. I thought of all kinds of activity such as
simply bumping into a woman in the mall and grabbing
her breasts as she fell. I decided that was crude. I
also thought I could phone females from a pay phone
implying I was calling a girlfriend about a rendezvous
and that I got her number by a mistake. I must have
thought of a 100 of such scenarios.
I could not think of anything that I was comfortable
with until the night my parents were going to a party
(which was a rare event.) As they were leaving they
said they were meeting some friends for a scavenger
hunt. I asked them what a scavenger hunt was. They
explained that it was a contest in which small groups
of two to four people visit homes searching for items
on a list. The group which returned with the most items
by a deadline would be the winner. The items could be
anything such as a wooden clothespin to a Farmer's
Almanac.
The light went on in my mind, "A scavenger hunt is my
entry to the world of women!" Once I had the concept my
brain went into overdrive imagining a way that would
get me not only to first base but also to the home
plate with some woman. The challenge would be to do
this without my losing my reputation or worse - getting
arrested.
First, I realized for confidentiality I would have to
do this in Omaha which was the big city not far away
from my hometown. I certainly could not chance being
recognized.
My first desire was to target only older women who
would be experienced with sex and would be less likely
to laugh at my missteps. Besides, the picture in my
mind of my aunt's glorious pendulous breasts was at the
forefront. And, I must admit that I fantasized
sometimes about my aunt and my grandmother.
The next concern was "How could I be just a party of
one in the scavenger hunt and knock on a woman's door?"
It came to me that if I would say my mates of the game
had decided we could cover more territory by splitting
up.
For props I figured I should make two lists of items
for my scavenger list. "List B" would have nearly all
neutral objects such as the wooden clothespin, a Bic
ballpoint pen, or a sock with a hole in it. But "list
A" would have some more provocative items on it. This
list would include a Barbara Cortland romance novel, a
Playboy with a black female centerfold, women's panties
with a hole in them, or a porno video with Kay Parker
in it. This "bait" would allow the woman to enter the
contest where she would be most comfortable.
The Cortland romance novel would be for the woman with
soft sex. The Playboys would require searching through
several centerfolds to find a black playmate. The
panties were for the woman who could get physical fast.
As for Kay Parker, you probably do not know her- she
was a mature star of porno films. She was a brunette
which high square cheekbones. She had voluptuous body
with large breasts which were sagging but normal for
her age. Kay Parker's straight acting and her body made
it my favorite in my dad's collection. So with these
items at different comfort levels I hoped to hook a
mature woman.
My procedure would be when a woman who came to the door
did not have a striking appearance and demeanor I would
pass on. She would get the "B" list with the neutral
items. I would pull that list I from my left pocket.
But with the sexy mature woman I would pull out my "A"
list from my right pocket.
So how would I find these women? A random door-to-door
search, I thought, would be too time-consuming plus
many would have husbands. I decided to read back issues
of the Omaha World Herald newspaper and focus on new
widows and divorcees. I would record the addresses of
these women whose ages I decided must be between 45 and
55. They would be the more experienced and forgiving of
my lack of finesse in romance.
A month later after listening to a friend talk about
his divorced parents I decided to eliminate women who
were divorced less than six months because they would
be angry at all men. That was a waste of about eight
hours of my research at the town's Carnegie library.
The whole plot finally came together in a few months.
On my 18th birthday I had the stage set. After my
parents and sister sang "Happy Birthday" to me and we
dined on the traditional birthday cake I told them I
was going to Omaha to see a movie. As I drove off in my
old Chevy the folks had given me, I looked at my legs.
I felt they must be shaking but the movement was barely
visible. By the time I got to the targeted residential
area in Omaha it was just getting dark.
The Story - Mrs. Ruza
I focused on the first mature woman who met my
requirements- a Mrs. Ruza on Farnam Street. She had
lost her husband from a heart attack six months ago.
The obituary implied that her husband must have been
about 50 years of age so she would be within my
guidelines. I felt that enough of her grieving period
surely had passed that she could begin to enjoy life
again with a male - hopefully even a young one such as
me.
I did not know until much later that women who are most
recently post menopausal are the best target. They have
the best age of physical maturity, are most
experienced, enjoy sex, no menses, and best of all - no
birth control. This was before the AIDs era.
Although highly anxious, I parked my old Chevy down the
street from her house. I walked to her address and went
up the steps to a one story red brick home and front
porch. On the third ring, the door opened wide enough
that I could see she a nicely coiffured short dark
reddish hair. She had high cheekbones, dark eyelashes,
large dark eyes, and a narrow handsome face. She had
her hair pulled back but a few strands flayed out on
both sides.
I was wondering if those strands were not secured on
purpose or whether she had just missed them. She was
strikingly beautiful. My guess she was in her late 40s.
I left the neutral scavenger "B" list in my left pocket
and out of my right pocket I pulled the provocative "A"
list.
"Good evening, I am Damon Wentworth. My fraternity is
having a scavenger party tonight. Could you see if you
have any items on this list?" (Actually, I was not in a
fraternity and would not be entering college until the
fall.)
Mrs. Ruza: "Where are the other students with you,
Damon?" Her saying my name in her soft voice transfixed
me. Her sexy accent, I learned later was Hungarian.
I stammered but recovered, "Our team's strategy is to
spread out on our own and meet later. The winners get
to choose the sorority house to date for the upcoming
dance plus have them cook us dinner that night. I would
like to win because I have not had much luck in the
dating department since coming to college. Here is the
list I was given."
Mrs. Ruza: As she looked over the list she said, "Step
in... I don't have any almanacs. Playboys? I tossed
those after my husband's death. My husband, Duane, died
six months ago. By the way I am Mrs. Ruza."
"Glad to meet you Mrs. Ruza, my voice was lower and
clearer. "I am so sorry to hear that. I will leave- I
don't want to bother you in your grief."
"I'm all right now but it has been hard. I still miss
him.... Come on in to the kitchen and let me look at
your list under better light." As we walked into the
kitchen light I could lower my eyes to see an hourglass
figure. She has a white frilly full blouse on top and
extra large hips with an abnormally narrow waist. I
wondered if she used a corset, diet, or was just
naturally thin in the middle. Although bordering on the
odd with her shape she was very attractive. She
refocused my attention when she looked at the list and
said, "Barbara Cortland ...she is not an author I read.
Used panties- I don't wear them." After looking at the
list longer she said, "Who is Kay Parker?"
My voice choked again because I was still envisioning
Mrs. Ruza without panties. I learned later she came
from a family of nudists in Hungary and that was a
carry over from her upbringing. With my anxiety rising
so did my voice. I responded, "Oh, I heard one of the
girls who helped make up the list for this hunt say Kay
Parker was a star in adult movies. I don't know about
that stuff."
Mrs. Ruza: Well my husband had a collection of those
movies. I got a little tired of them because it gave
him too many ideas. Actually some of the ideas were
creative-- it was just that too often I was too sore
the next day." She stepped back and smiled as she said,
"Oh, I shouldn't be telling you this. How old are you?"
Me: Blushing, "I'm 18 today. It's my birthday."
Mrs. Ruza: "Happy birthday! 18? Well, I guess you are
old enough. I don't have anything that is left on your
list: I had wooden clothespins but I see you have
already have them crossed off your list. Well let me
see if my husband's video collection has any with any
...who is she again? ... Kay Parker? He did have a
large collection. Shall we look?"
I thought I saw a twinkle in her as she turned. As we
walked to her bedroom my heart was racing with that
question and her enticing smile. Her dress covered her
wide hips. I could not believe this - my first try on
my scavenger hunt strategy and we were going to look at
her deceased husband's porn collection.
When we got to her bedroom she pulled a suitcase out of
the closet, she said, "This is a little embarrassing to
look at this with someone who is even younger than my
own son.... Here they are. Oh, there are no covers to
the videos. I think he wore them out. So I guess you
will have to look at them to see if Ms. Parker is in
the credits. Go ahead and take these into the living
room and look at them and don't worry - I can rewind
them later and put them away. I don't want to slow you
down in your contest. .... Please lock the door on your
way out. I go to bed early so if you find one you can
return the video later in the week."
My heart was fluttering and I was sweating in what I
felt like must be torrents. The suitcase was full of
XXX rated videos. The second one I looked at was Taboo!
I knew Kay Parker was in that movie because my parents
had the same video and it was a favorite of mine.
However, I did not want my search to end this fast. So
I reached for another video instead, Boys of Summer,
and started to watch. Mrs. Ruza excused herself to go
to the bathroom.
I had been in physical discomfort by the time I had
driven to the Mrs. Ruza's home but now after this
intriguing conversation with her my testicles had
become ready to explode so I tried not to think they
were part of me. Like all older adolescent males I was
aware of the phenomenon of "blue balls." I did what I
could with Mrs. Ruza out of sight, and quickly
rearranged my pants so my member could straighten and
my scrotum could have some room.
I turned up the volume on the TV just loud enough to be
sure that Mrs. Ruza could hear the love making sounds
from the bathroom but not so loud she would think I did
this on purpose. After a few minutes I then put in
Older Women and Younger Men. Once again the intimate
sounds went out in all directions. I was hoping that
one of these videos would hook Mrs. Ruza's interest and
she would come into the living room. But she did not.
Finally, when I heard the doorknob of the bathroom door
move I quickly inserted Taboo! with Kay Parker and
shouted, "I found one!"
Mrs. Ruza opened the door and entered the living room
wearing a thick blue cotton bathrobe that was closed
with a wide belt. She was holding the top shut but when
she sat down she let it go and I could still see most
of the top of one breast with beads of water on it. A
beautiful grapefruit sized globe sagged. It then
occurred to me that her breasts must be almost the size
as Kay Parker's. As I looked back at the TV I almost
missed her comment, "Wonderful! Oh, so is that Kay
Parker? .... She has a nice body for her age. Look at
those full breasts.... What is she doing?"
I could not talk for what seemed like a full minute.
Afraid to look away from the screen I finally
stammered, "Oh, I think she wants the boy to get into
her bath." I did not want to say it was her son.
Mrs. Ruza: "My God! ...Oh, well it is only a movie....
I do miss my husband in that department too.... Oh, my
look at the boy's penis! His is bigger that my
husband's."
I gulped and said nothing. After another minute of
staring at the screen I reluctantly said that I must
return to the scavenger hunt search.
Mrs. Ruza: "Well it was good to meet you Damon and I am
glad to have helped you. Just return the video when the
contest is over. You don't have to return tonight but
later in the next couple of weeks would be fine. You or
your wife or girl friend could pick it up."
Me: "Oh no. I am not married and I don't have any
girlfriend."
Mrs. Ruza: "You mean after all the activity of the hunt
and viewing these movies you have no where to get any
release tonight? Well, this may sound forward but if
you want to return the video tonight I will leave the
back door open. I will be asleep by then but just
quietly wake me up. I will have a birthday surprise for
you, Damon!"
After I cleared my throat I said, "Thank you, Mrs.
Ruza. I will try to return the video tape tonight."
Mrs. Ruza: "Wonderful, Damon. There is a key under the
mat at the backdoor. "
The peak in my pants made it difficult for me to get
off the chair. Mrs. Ruza helped me up and then
accompanied me to the front door. As I reached out to
shake her hand I saw that her take a step which exposed
her below her waist. I was already in a daze but when I
saw that she was shaved I almost hit the door jam. She
winked at me: "Please park your car a block a way
because I don't want the neighbors to get any ideas....
being a recent widow. Good luck with your scavenger
hunt, Damon!"
I could barely walk back to my car because both my
groin and my head were throbbing. I drove about a mile
away and parked my car. I adjusted the level do I could
lay back in the bucket back to rest. But rest turned
out to be impossible. The images of what may have been
a wink from this beautiful full -figured Hungarian
woman flashed on and off in my brain.
I turned on the radio to try to calm myself but the
songs were all about love so I switched to station WHO
for a farm program. Outside it grew darker. The cicadas
in the trees were making their loud incessant noise to
impress a mate in the area. I kept looking at my watch,
until finally an hour had passed. I started the car and
turned on the lights. I returned to Mrs. Ruza's
neighborhood and parked a block away from her home.
Fortunately my testicles no longer ached, but it was
still a slow walk toward her house and then up the
steps. I quietly walked pass a pine tree which had
reflected the moon light on the needles. I smelled the
pungent sweet sap of the tree. Reaching down and under
the mat, I did not find the key – could this have been
a dream? Then relief – the key was at the far corner.
My shaky hand found the key hole and I opened the door.
I went in and walked slowly into the hallway - took off
my shoes and set them aside. I shuffled quietly through
the house guided by the nightlight bulb which turned
out to be the bathroom. The moonlight through a window
also helped me find my way. All I could hear was the
ticking of a grandfather clock from what must have been
the living room.
I came to a bedroom with an open door and saw the
moonlight on an outline of a lump under a sheet. I
heard shallow breathing. I removed my clothes being
careful so the belt buckle would not make a sound. I
put my watch in my shoes and placed them under the bed.
I then put my shirt, pants and worked by briefs off my
erect penis. As I lifted the sheet I could see the back
of a nude woman lying on her side facing away.
The figure was like an hourglass with the hips so big.
It offered the most beautiful black and white picture
that would ever register in my brain. A smooth deep
gully ran from her neck and ended near the top of her
buttocks. I moved under the covers and put my head on a
pillow and waited. I tried to control my breathing
because I was so nervous. I was actually afraid that I
would stop breathing. After several minutes the body
next to me moved and I heard a very soft voice, "Duane
-is that you?" I was startled with the question
addressed to Duane. After some quick thinking mumbled
"Yeah, hon."
I continued to lie there. There was no further movement
just the sound of the ticking of the grandfather clock.
I thought, "What am I doing? I did not know this woman
at all. But I could not change my course which was
developing better than I had ever imagined. What should
I do next?" After what seemed like a long time but
probably was only five minutes I rolled over to her
body and flipped my rock hard penis on what must have
been the flesh of a thigh or buttock.
There was a moan, then a quiet "Duane, I missed you."
The form rolled over and Mrs. Ruza faced me but did not
open her eyes. "Mmmm -come to mamma." With those words
a warm soft hand traveled from my thigh, over my
scrotum up to the tip of my penis. Seconds passed but
the grasp of the fingers and thumb did not change. She
just held the tip and did not move. Most of my semen, I
feared, had already leaked out from the time I saw the
videos to the time I was in the car. But my penis could
not hold back a second longer.
As my legs and groin muscles went into a spasm a
reservoir of semen repeatedly shot into the cup of her
hand. She glided toward me and leaned forward still
with eyes shut and kissed my chest. She then inserted
the hollow rod into her. After a few minutes, she
pulled back and my stiff prick pulled out. She rolled
over and went back into a deeper level of sleep.
I was depleted but in state of complete pleasure. I
wondered if she was disappointed in my –or Duane's
reaction. But then I thought the tender way she had
planted a kiss on my chest seemed as if she was
content. My brain and body were now exhausted but my
mind would not let me sleep. It must have been a half
hour later that I did finally fall asleep.
I was awaked by a hand flop on my chest and then heard
the grandfather's clock strike twice. I waited for few
moments and there was no further movement from my
bedmate. Still nervous as I waited two minutes then
counted to three and reached over and pulled my lovely
partner's shoulders close to me. I pulled some more
until both her globes flattened onto my chest. I could
feel that her nipples were firm. I did not know what I
should do next.
She did not wait for me but shoved her right forearm
under my pillow and used it to push my face down to her
left breast. With my face flatted to her global cushion
I remembered the delicious snapshot when Mrs. Ruza's
bathrobe had opened as she had walked me to the door
earlier. That photo eventually was replaced with the
white large pendulous breast of Kay Parker from the
video collection. My body reacted as if I had just put
a wet finger in a light socket. I rolled my right hand
over her shoulder and on to the back of her neck. I
felt some of the wisps of hair. I said nothing and did
not move except for my fingers softly stroking her
skin.
She grasped my hand and lowered it to her smooth shaved
mound. Her hand led mine in a counter clockwise motion
around her clitoris and nudged its base as she guided
me. She then moved my hand away and found my cock. She
slid her hand down the shaft as she guided it into her
crevice. I could feel the vagina tighten around me
while her hips ground into mine. Six months without a
penis in her box and the circling of her love button
must have let the gates of the dam break.
She commenced a slow thrusting which turned into a slow
crescendo of speed and force. I just did the best I
could to by placing my hands behind my buttocks to hold
my place in the bed. The climax turned into a pounding
which was almost painful. I felt her mound grind into
my pubic bones as if trying to squeeze out every drop
of love juice. She only paused to let her tongue sweep
to dislodge mine and then she seemed to try to swallow
it. I held off preventing a shot of whatever semen was
left.
Her words "Duane, Duane" were soft at first but became
louder with her faster movement until finally there was
last shout of "Duane!" Her body convulsed around mine.
It was more of grunt "Hon!" than a word as I expelled
the air from my lungs and my semen started spurting
inside Mrs. Ruza's cunt.
Her vagina synched with a milking action as I gasped
for oxygen. After the last peristaltic movement of our
organs our minds as well as our bodies were now
emptied. We both said nothing – we did not have the
energy to speak or move. She immediately drifted off
into a deep sleep and I must have followed not long
later. The image I dozed off with once again the black
and white shiny photo of the hourglass body lying on
the bed and the Kay Parker full pendulous breasts.
In the morning, I opened my eyes to some rays of
sunlight coming in below the shade. My body felt like
it had just had two Japanese massages-the kind where
you are close to screaming. It did not want to move. I
was afraid to look to my side fearing I had been
dreaming. But I slowly opened my eyes and saw the dark
hair and part of an hour glass back of my dear Mrs.
Ruza. I was in a state of total bliss. A minute later I
saw two notes on the nightstand that Mrs. Ruza must
have penned sometime in the night. I reached for the
one which said "Read this now" and left the other which
said "Read later":
"Damon, dearest, I hope you liked your birthday
present! When you left I watched some of the movie. I
am not Kay Parker but we are at least about the same
age and 'design.' I had at first thought you were my
dear husband but I realized it you must have accepted
my invitation to return. You were a very satisfying
consolation."
"Damon, you are still a boy so if you regret what we
did you can leave quietly and I thank you for a
wonderful time. However, if you want to finish with
some additional pleasuring an older woman who you
returned to the world of humanity please continue with
these instructions. I don't know if you will ever
return after you have had a chance to sort this out so
I would ask you to provide some activity that my
husband refused me. As I said, in confessing about
seeing those videos when you left I was impressed with
some rear entry. I wanted Duane to try but he wouldn't
because it was too distasteful for him.
"I don't think any thing can be bad about the human
body. (My family in Hungary was naturalists or as is
said in this country nudists.) So, my dearest boy, if
you think you could find it in your heart (or other
organ) to do me a favor I would appreciate it. Please
be gentle because even I can have a first at my age. I
will be tight. Use 1/3 of the tube of K-Y here for
lubrication by anus and another third for your
wonderful tool. Try to make it last at least a half-
hour before you release your juice so I won't be fully
awake. You are getting my entire love dear boy, Mrs.
Ruza."
This letter opened the final act in a night which was
better any adolescent boy could dream of. There was a
tube on the night stand which had the label K.Y. I
pressed some on my finger then more as I recalled she
said to use a lot. I quietly slid back into bed and
lifted the sheet to look for the spot she directed me
too. There was more light now from a rising sun to help
me fix on the target. It was readily accessible since
she was once again on her side facing away from me.
It was this picture that I have carried with me –this
hourglass body in this light with shadows. I know that
most young men think the breast of the woman is the
most beautiful part of a woman. Although the variety of
the shapes of the globes, sizes, aurelea, and nipples
are beautiful and drive us young males nearly insane, I
personally don't think there is a view anywhere in all
God's creation that is awe inspiring as the view of the
back of a woman. There you see her neck, the curve from
her shoulders, and the ravine of the spine which goes
along from the neck to her tail bone. There is nothing
more alluring to me than that line.
If any male (or female for that matter) could have seen
the back of Mrs. Ruza's shape on her side they would
have agreed with me. Another major lesson I have
learned that night and confirmed later on that year it
matters not if a woman is 45 or 55 years of age and
that they may need more time to apply make-up but the
body under those clothes has skin as soft and smooth as
a baby's. It makes no difference if the skin is white,
brown or black.
The typical young male does not know that older women
offer a gold mine for the young man: she is
experienced, her body is more developed, and her
breasts are larger from giving birth and the sucking by
babies, husbands and lovers. And of course, if it is
after menopause begins there are no contraceptive
barriers to separate you and her from ecstasy.
But to return to that early morning, I lifted the
blanket to see the contour of Mrs. Ruza's backside to
the completely shaved labia visible between her
buttocks. I leaned over her hips to see on the full
flaps of the labia. On them there were some glistening
streaks of dried cunt juice. I steadied myself and drew
my face closer and sucked in the air to register the
scent. I remember thinking, "So this is the scent of a
woman in passion. I will never forget it – it will be
the Holy Grail for the rest of my life."
After, I had the view of the body front and back, I lay
back down. I then separated her buttocks for a look. I
would have to follow Mrs. Ruza's instructions and aim
my circumcised beet -red organ to pierce the pinkish
constricted hole. Looking at that spot it dawned on me
that is what the lubricant must be for. How else would
this now thick penis, which was the size of a narrow
cucumber, fit in there? After taking the cap off K-Y
jelly I found it was cold.
Mrs. Ruza had asked me not to wake her so I thought it
would be good to rub the clear jell between my palms to
warm it up first. (I later learned that women nearly
always appreciate this small step of consideration.)
After I greased my prick I then again separated her
taught but smooth cheeks and liberally smeared her
little orifice. The application was done slowly and
with circular motion - now and then softly dipping into
the vortex a little to relax and grease its muscles.
One of her legs slid down the other a little as she
seemed to be stirring. The hole was well slathered with
glistening lubricant. I then centered my rejuvenated
penis and began to slowly work it between her buttocks
into the prepared anus. Moving in at snail's pace with
a little back and forth motion took my arrow in.
Fortunately the feeling in my penis had returned and I
felt fullness in my sack.
Our bodies stayed locked as I continued to cup her
globe. I drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time
when I woke I gave a slight thrust sending a message
from my brain to thrust my pelvis and penis forward a
few millimeters. The tight vagina did not loosen its
grip. After the hour my eggs of my scrotum were
becoming too painful again.
I could not hold off any longer and with the many short
hard thrusts I spent each time like a dying echo in a
very long and deep canyon. Our body movements were
accompanied by loud grunts from me but soft sighs from
my partner. I felt like I was on a cloud of cotton when
I felt two soft hands cupping my balls. She dozed off
some more. To this day I have never had such a
combination of pain and pleasure with any other woman.
I got out of bed, hurriedly dressed, took the other
note off the dresser. I walked back on wobbly legs to
down the block to my car. After getting in, I found I
had put my T- shirt on backwards and my pants unzipped.
I read Mrs. Ruza's note. "Damon, if you want to stop
back in the future, my rear entry (the door of the
house not my rear) will be left open every Wednesday
night after my bedtime of 9:30 PM. The key is under the
mat.
Also, if you should want to return for regular visits
on Wednesdays, please visit my gynecologist, Dr. Gina
Andretti, at her office phone 567-XXXX. My husband
complied with this monthly check up with her and her
nurse every six months. He said it was pleasurable so I
think you will enjoy it too. I want to keep myself and
you, my lovely boy, healthy and safe."
Epilogue and Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Patel
It was Damon's habit of keeping a journal which
resulted in this story. This is an unusual romantic
characteristic for a young man has provided pleasure to
us women. What I will do now is to tell you a little
more about me and some of my perspective. I wrote those
notes he found on the bed stand in the night after he
left my house with the loaned video. Of course I hoped
he would return that night and if he did I did not want
to get up in the middle of the night to give him
further instructions. So when I woke up early in the
night I put the notes on the stand near him.
As said in the story, I was born in Hungary and grew up
in a family of six. Our culture –at least in the region
my family was from - was so different than in America.
On our summer holidays in August we always went to
nudist camps and were frequently nude at home during
the year. We loved to show off our bodies- young and
old, male and female.
When we came to America we found that cultural and
religious hang ups with sex were so stilting to the
character of the American people. In the part of
Hungary sexual intercourse was considered a normal
biological act for boys and girls 16 years and older.
Semen was just another body discharge with whom you
were to share with others except for immediate family
members. Of course mothers showed their children how to
use prophylactics. Anal sex was normal in the region of
Hungary I was from. It was wonderful to finally
experience it again this time as a widow.
But enough about me and Hungary. I will describe
briefly the other two women with us that night for the
party. The other two who entered Damon's life that year
through his scavenger hunt were: Mrs. Johnson a 38 year
old full bodied black widow who was six months pregnant
when Damon knocked on her door. She was the youngest of
us women. She was depressed at the time after losing
her husband then finding she was pregnant this late in
her life. Her other children were grown and long gone.
Damon was a god send to her.
Damon described her having large torpedo shaped
breasts. He said her bra size was DD even before she
was pregnant. She was full bodied in the truest sense
of that phrase. Her husband had retired from the Air
Force and then became a mid-level administrator at the
Union Pacific Company headquarters. Her interests were
spirituals and opera which Damon said she would often
play during their fun time.
She appreciated a lad like Damon and said that although
black men may have larger equipment than young white
boys these white boys can keep stiff longer. She said
she did not like to see her men slack. Damon fit her
bill for race, size and youth. Her Hispanic 16 year old
paperboy who had impregnated her was lanky, dark and
quiet. He would fuck daily alternating with her and his
15 year old girlfriend.
Damon learned to appreciate opera through her. She
tried to tie her love-making peak to scenes such as in
the famous chorus scene in Turandot. Damon liked the
triumphal march in Aida and she liked Aida because many
of the characters in Egypt were black. What Damon
enjoyed especially was watching her belly grow and the
experience of fucking her through the advanced stages
of her pregnancy. Mrs. Johnson recommended letting his
girlfriend watch him and her fuck so his girlfriend
would understand what she would look like when she too
became pregnant. So from the seventh month on they
would have a three some.
Mrs. Johnson encouraged his sucking her milk after she
gave birth. Although the baby was brown all would have
thought it was the product of her white husband and her
but she told Damon it was more likely from her Hispanic
paperboy.
The other woman, Mrs. Patel was 48 year-old petite
golden skinned woman from India. She had recently been
divorced by her husband, a gynecologist. She said that
he divorced her because she was a product of an
arranged marriage by his parents. He felt he was now a
full American and dumped her. The other reason was that
he had lost his interest in sex after having to look up
women's vaginas all day. She was the most beautiful and
seductive of all of us three, I have to admit it. It is
the brownish red skin and large dark eyes. When she
wore native sarongs she would attract every man's
glance.
One contribution of Mrs. Patel's that Mrs. Johnson and
I appreciated was her providing Damon with a "Nair
pouch." She had him lie down then coated his penis and
testicles with Nair – commercial depilatory. She then
placed a handkerchief sized sheet of plastic over them
and shone aimed a desk lamp light at them. This warmed
the cream and thus allowed it to spread over his penis,
scrotum and down through his buttocks.
After about 15 -30 minutes of the treatment Damon's
genitalia were smooth and hairless. Damon said he liked
the feel of this but the negative aspect was when he
was walking he had to often adjust his balls since they
slid over each other so often. Besides, he said he was
glad to do it since we women liked the style. Mrs.
Patel allowed us to each give him this treatment - but
only once. She reserved if for herself. She kept him so
he always glistened. I never asked her if this was a
custom of India so I still don't know the answer to
this today.
I was grateful that Damon felt I met the standards of
his "plan A" when he knocked on my door. I also was
happy that he put me in the class of these other two
beautiful women. We women admitted that we benefited
from this clever boy's plotting. All three of us were
older widows who were leading lonely, dull lives until
Damon became a catalyst for our new existence. (Mrs.
Johnson had a small exception with her pleasures with
her paper boy.) Damon helped us get over the grief from
the loss of our husbands. We will never forget that he
allowed us to return to the sensual world with even
more enthusiasm.
Damon learned what older women have to offer. Likewise
we mature women need to be aware of the degree of
unnecessary pain older boys and young men go though
with pent up testosterone and semen. We need to create
opportunities for their release and take advantage of
the pleasure they can offer.
We unsuccessfully tried to coax Damon to combine our
stories we told that night with his notes and write a
book for us. He deferred saying that he just did not
have the time to take away from his college education.
He felt he had neglected his schooling due to his
exhausting schedule with us and also his need for the
excitement "to be on the hunt" again.
We women had agreed that for our dear Damon to continue
to grow as a young man he must move beyond us and
eventually seek women closer to his age. He had learned
what each of us had set out to teach about women and
lovemaking in the year. We were a little disappointed
that after the year with us he would continue his
scavenger hunts. We felt we had taught him everything
he needed to know how to bed any female. However, it
must have been the exhilaration from "the chase" that
kept him the game.
***
Damon did not return to our group after that year but
did agree to tell each woman about the story of each
encounter. Consequently, the Downtown Ladies Aide
Society of Omaha added a new member each year and
released one boy each year for several years. We had to
work to find just the right boys and young men. That
would be an interesting story too but this story must
end.
A few years later, Damon eventually gave up the hunts
and married a young Bohemian-American woman he met at
the Bohemian Café in Omaha. I like to think that is
what may have attracted him to her was that she
resembled me in some ways in that our native countries
bordered each other. On the other hand it may have been
the enchanting and voluptuous Mrs. Patel. ...Oh well.
I let Damon's story stand as he told it with a small
smattering of fill and tweaking here and there. The
points I added were for continuity of the story line
plus some incidents I believe I recalled them better
than he did. But the main point to share is that for a
virgin he was very satisfying that night. A mature
woman will find she can mold most any 16 to18-year-old
male into a treasure. They have the sex drive of a lion
who mate for several days in a row with little break.
They can be broken in with the love making technique a
woman appreciates.
There should not be any secrets for boys or men about
us mature women. We want you to shower first, talk to
us, listen to us a little, caress us for a few minutes,
take your time with the foreplay, avoid rubbing the
clitoris too soon, and stay and chat some after
release. Oh, with some of us you may lie just a little.
Encourage us to share and explore our fantasies. We
will make your time worth it and earn your praise. You
can always go bareback with most of us because we are
beyond childbearing. Our experience, mature bodies and
willingness to instruct with gentleness will make it
worth your while.
So this was Damon's story of his scavenger hunt and how
The Downtown Ladies' Aide Society of Omaha was borne.
The mission our club adopted that night was to educate
one young man each year on how to please women. Damon
and the other two ladies gave me permission to publish
their stories (with pseudonyms of course) but not for
ten years. If there is interest, someday I will also
incorporate the notes of Damon and the other two women,
Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Patel, about their initial
encounters during his scavenger hunts that year.
Mrs. Ruza
Omaha 2002
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 50