The summer evening by the lake was a painting come to life. The sun dipped below the horizon, its final rays setting the water ablaze in a wash of red, orange, and gold. Soft waves caressed the shoreline rocks.
My friend Thomas, his wife Mia, and I had arrived at their family cottage the day before for a relaxing weekend. The evening had been perfect—the air thick with the smoke from the grill, wine warming our throats, laughter echoing on the wooden terrace. It was perfect, that is, until Mia, a little tipsy, stumbled on the path to the sauna and badly sprained her ankle.
Thomas, the only one sober enough to drive, had to rush her to the hospital, apologizing profusely. We agreed I’d stay the night as planned.
Being alone didn’t bother me. On the contrary, the silence of nature was a welcome change. I decided to make the most of the Finnish summer, stripping off my clothes and leaving them in a small pile on the rocks before diving naked into the cool lake.
The water was a silken caress against my skin. I climbed onto the dock to air-dry, letting the gentle breeze whisper over my bare body.
The tranquility was broken by the low hum of an approaching car. A taxi pulled into the driveway, and before I could even register who it was, a woman’s voice called out.
“Well, Max! So wonderful to see you here!”
It was Rita, Thomas’s mother, a wide smile on her face. She swayed slightly as she walked, her voice laced with the tell-tale warmth of wine.
I was still completely naked, water dripping from my skin. I clumsily tried to cover myself with my hands. “Hey, Rita! This is a surprise,” I chuckled, my cheeks burning.
Rita waved a dismissive hand, a playful spark in her eyes. “Oh, don’t be shy. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I heard about Mia’s little accident and figured you wouldn’t want to be moping here all alone.” She stepped onto the dock, arms wide, and before I could move, she pulled me into a warm, wine-scented hug.
Her body pressed against mine for a heartbeat, the softness of her breasts imprinting against my chest through her thin top. My heart stuttered. I quickly pulled on a shirt, trying to hide the arousal that was already stirring.
Rita was no longer the sweet, cookie-baking mother figure I remembered from my childhood. At fifty-six, she was the epitome of a confident, sensual woman. Her red top clung to her like a second skin, accentuating full breasts that defied gravity. A hint of a black lace bra peeked out from the deep neckline, drawing my gaze like a magnet. Her jeans were tight in all the right places, hugging curvy hips and a round, firm ass that swayed hypnotically as she walked.
Her dark, shoulder-length hair fluttered in the breeze, and her fair skin glowed. High cheekbones and full lips were a captivating combination, but it was her eyes that set my pulse racing. They burned with something wild and teasing.
“Shall we head to the kitchen? A glass of wine will warm us right up,” she suggested, her voice velvety. I could only nod, already under her spell.
In the kitchen, the lake glimmered through the window, casting an intimate glow on the old wooden table. Rita poured wine with graceful movements, her fingers brushing the glass like a lover’s skin. We sat across from each other, and her gaze—warm, appraising, and deeply mischievous—locked onto me. The wine warmed my throat as the conversation flowed from old memories to the night’s events.
She leaned forward, her cleavage deepening.
“So, Max, what about you? Is there any special woman in your life?” Her lips curved into a smile, wine-red and glistening.
“Not right now. Enjoying the single life,” I replied with a grin. “What about you?” I knew she’d divorced Thomas’s father years ago.
She let out a soft scoff. “Those beer-bellied old men don’t interest me anymore. At my age, it’s hard to find a man with any real energy.” Her gaze drifted over my body, and a pleasant heat spread through my stomach.
“Maybe you should try someone younger. We have plenty of energy,” I tossed out, emboldened by the wine.
Rita tilted her head, a flame igniting in her eyes. “And what would a young man like you want with an… older woman like me?”
I met her gaze directly, my voice lowering. “Rita, you’re stunning. Your body is incredible—full, seductive, alive. And your confidence… that’s enough to drive any man wild. Myself included.”
Her smile widened. “Thank you, Max. Have you… been with an older woman before?”
I nodded, my heart pounding. “I have. And it’s been unforgettable every time.”
Her eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, her voice turning husky. “Why? Surely young girls are throwing themselves at you.”
“Experience. Confidence,” I said, the air crackling between us. “A mature woman knows what she wants, and she isn’t afraid to take it. That’s damn sexy.”
Rita took a slow sip of wine, her eyes never leaving mine. “Get us more wine,” she said softly, a hint of command in her voice.
As I stood and turned to pour, I suddenly felt her warmth behind me. She had moved without a sound, her breath tickling my neck. “You know, Max,” she whispered, her lips nearly brushing my ear, “you have my full attention.”
Before I could respond, she turned me around and pressed her lips to mine.
Her kiss was hungry, her full lips tasting of sweet wine and forbidden fruit. They were soft and moist, and as she pressed them against mine, a jolt shot down my spine. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, dancing and exploring, and I responded eagerly, pulling her closer. Her scent—vanilla, wine, and a deep, feminine heat—was intoxicating. Her soft body melted against mine, her breasts a searing heat against my chest.
My hands roamed her back, sliding down to her perfectly round ass, which filled my palms. I squeezed it greedily, feeling its firmness through the denim. Rita sighed into my mouth, her hips pressing against my hardening cock, which throbbed against my jeans, ready to burst free.
She tore my shirt off, and I pulled her top up, revealing the black lace bra that fought to contain her massive breasts. They strained against the fabric, pushed together into a deep, inviting valley. They were heavy, full, mature, her nipples hard against the lace, teasing me.
With trembling hands, I unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down slowly, savoring every inch of revealed skin. Her thighs were full, smooth, and sun-kissed. As the jeans fell to her ankles, she stepped out of them, leaving her in nothing but that scrap of black lace.
My gaze locked onto her panties—sheer, revealing a neatly trimmed dark mound and the tantalizing outline of her pussy. My mouth went dry, and my cock gave a hard twitch.
My hand slipped inside her panties, my fingers meeting thick pubic hair and slick, wet heat. Her cunt was slick and welcoming, and as I traced the line of her slit, Rita sighed deeply, her hips jerking against my hand.
Her hand found my crotch, her fingers wrapping around my hard shaft through the fabric, squeezing my balls and my length until lust erased all thought.
“To the living room,” she whispered hoarsely, giving one last squeeze before turning. I followed, admiring the sway of her hips, the way the lace panties framed every perfect curve.
In the living room, I grabbed her from behind, pressing my rock-hard cock against her soft buttocks. I kissed her neck, tasting her salty-sweet skin as my hands came around to cup her breasts. I squeezed them through her bra, feeling their weight and softness. Rita moaned loudly, her body trembling.
I unhooked the bra, and her massive breasts spilled free—heavy, soft, and perfect. I caressed them greedily, teasing her rock-hard nipples with my thumbs. Rita shivered, her breathing ragged. When I pinched them lightly, she cried out, her hips grinding back against my erection.
Gently, I pushed her into an armchair and knelt before her. There she was—the woman of my fantasies, spread out before me, eyes glazed with lust. “God, Rita… fuck, I want you so bad,” I groaned.
Rita leaned back, breathing hard. I took her thighs and spread them wide, her crotch opening to me like an invitation. Her plump pussy strained against the lace, its wet, feminine scent filling my senses. I pressed my palm to her mound, rubbing gently through the fabric, and kissed my way up her inner thighs.
I slid the lace aside, and the sight stole my breath. Her pussy lips were swollen, pink, and glistening. Neatly trimmed dark hair framed a cunt that pulsed with heat. Her clit was a swollen pearl, begging for my touch. “You look so fucking good,” I muttered, and pressed my mouth against her.
I started gently, kissing and teasing her clit, licking her swollen lips. Her taste was intoxicating—sweet, salty, all woman. I moved my tongue up and down her slit, pressing deeper, and Rita moaned, her hips bucking. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as her thighs trembled.
I took her clit into my mouth, sucking greedily, and slid two fingers inside her. Her tight, wet heat gripped them as I moved them rhythmically, curling them to hit her G-spot. Rita cried out, her voice deepening with raw pleasure. “Just like that, Max… don’t stop!” she gasped.
I added a third finger, stretching her, and fucked her with my hand, hitting that sensitive spot over and over. Her moans turned to cries, her hips rocked against my mouth, and I felt her pussy pulsing as her orgasm hit. “Ahhh!” she screamed, her body shaking as warm fluid coated my fingers. I kept sucking her clit, drawing out the pleasure, her cries filling the room.
But I didn’t stop. I wanted more. I pressed my tongue deeper, licking every inch of her, focusing again on her clit as I slid my fingers back inside. Rita was on fire, her thighs clamping around my head. “Fuck, Max, you’re driving me crazy!” she screamed as a second orgasm rocked her, her cunt pulsing against my tongue, hot and wet.
I crawled up beside her, my cock throbbing painfully, but I gave her all my attention. Rita looked at me, her eyes sparkling with gratitude and lust. “You’re something else, Max,” she panted, pulling me into a kiss that tasted of her own arousal.
We both knew this was just the beginning. The fire in Rita’s eyes promised so much more. What this woman would unlock in me, I couldn’t have imagined.
But that’s a story for another time.