The key to seducing older women is stealth — one has to be careful, methodical, and secretive. A woman can smell seduction — especially an older woman. No, better to weave a spell smelling of flowers and friendship and keep your dark intent hidden. This is the story of how I seduced Kate — a mature lady — one of many I have pursued, seduced and bedded. During the writing of this story, I have changed the names of the people involved and used poetic licence to spice up the narrative. However, it is a true account and like all true stories, it starts off slowly. The wait is worth it as Kate turned out to be a very naughty girl.
Women of a certain age come in two flavours — there are those that are shy and submissive. They would never stray far from the beaten path. These women are easily spooked, yet if one takes the time to slither beneath their defences, all manner of things are possible. The other type is more overt — more sexual — and more readily coaxed down the honeyed path — but don’t be fooled into thinking that they are easy — for any student of seduction runs the risk of discovery and a slap or worse for their troubles.
Kate was the former type. I first met her on my walks around the village located in the northwest of England. She was walking a dog — a small West Highland White Terrier – the sort of dog that barked at every dog and stranger that passed by. In fact, it was the barking that introduced me to Kate because little Toby (as I was soon to learn) reacted as if it he had been stung by a bee, launching into a tirade of snarls and yaps as if I was the devil incarnate. Perhaps he was right? Maybe he sensed something and felt the need to protect his mistress? In that estimation he would be correct, because I could see that Kate was a handsome woman even beneath the down coat and woolly hat.
“Oh I’m sorry’, she said apologetically, “he’s like this with everyone.”
“No need to worry,” I replied in my most charming tone, “he’s just doing his duty.”
She smiled again and carried on walking. A naughty thought creased my forehead as I wondered what lay behind that smile.
It wasn’t until the next week that I saw her again. It was one of those crisp winter lunchtimes that we see so infrequently, and happily for me it brought the dog walkers out in droves. I say happily because two in every three dog walkers were women, which for someone like me, keeps the mind eternally young as you will find out. In short, I enjoy the pursuit. I recognised the white dog straining on the leash from a distance. Every passer-by was confronted with a deluge of growls and snarls followed by a hurried apology from the lady I was going to pursue. When she reached me, she stopped and pulled to the side.
“I’m ever so sorry. He gets so enthusiastic.”
“No need to worry, I used to have a dog just like him,” I lied. “The problem is that he thinks I’m the enemy. He’s picking up on your body language and thinks he needs to protect you.”
“Oh dear, I never thought,” she said, noticing me properly for the first time.
“Yes, if he got to know me, he would probably calm down.” I had no idea if that was true, but I wanted to find out. The thick coat hid her features, yet I could tell that the dog-walking had maintained her hourglass figure. Beneath the downy exterior I could see two firm mounds that spoke of other things. I’m not good with women’s breast sizes, but I imagined they would be quite pendulous and would stand to attention if given the right coaxing.
“Oh do you think so?” she asked. Her face was genuine astonishment. This woman was ripe for the taking I thought — trusting and good natured.
“Yes, he’s already started to calm down.”
This was true — he had sat down next to his mistresses’ feet, eyeing me uneasily, growling quietly to himself.
“He really is a handsome dog,” I said, “he reminds me so much of Mindy.” Mindy was the first name that popped into my mind. I hoped that this admission might buy me into her affections.
“You had a little terrier too?” she asked, more interested now.
“Yes, until she passed away, I still haven’t got over it”, I said. This was a stretch as I had never let the death of a pet affect me so, but it seemed to find the right chord in the woman
“Are you from around here?” she asked, now more casino siteleri curious.
“I walk this route every lunch time when I can get away from work.”
“Hmmm,” she paused, “I think I’ve seen you before. You always wear that bright blue jacket. My name is Kate by the way.”
“Luke….nice to meet you.”
We exchanged pleasantries and after a few minutes continued our walks. I hummed to myself pleased that I had made first contact and plotted my next steps. Now it’s important to understand that having seduced many women, I’d learnt that one cannot rush this process. When walking in the bright afternoon sunshine, one does not have the advantage of alcohol or a convivial atmosphere to sow the seeds of passion. No, this is a delicate matter, where just as with mating spiders, it’s easy for the male to end up as the prey. Pushing too hard and overstaying one’s welcome only invites an abrupt termination of the relationship. In my opinion, it’s better to let the lady lead. My job was to contrive a path built on beautiful deceit and let her stumble down the road to desire. So, with this in mind I continued my walks and as I had hoped, in the weeks to come, we bumped into each other on a regular occasion. The depths of dreary winter eventually gave way to spring, and on each meeting we would exchange a few words here and there. Kate would inevitably end each conversation but I was making slow inexorable progress. By mid-spring even the dog had given up its apoplectic barking fits when I approached.
One must also remember that during this first getting to know you period, I had many irons in the fire so I was neither worried nor particularly perturbed by the slow progress. In fact, I had already determined that if this was as far as it went, then so be it. Kate was a fine looking lady, and that in itself was recompense. Furthermore, over the course of our encounters I’d been able to confirm my initial suspicions. Her boobs were spectacular for a woman of her age. They were pert and upright and voluminous. My breath caught in my throat thinking about them which inevitably gave me a hard on. On more than one occasion, I was almost betrayed by my lewd imaginings as I have a tendency to drift off into an absentminded reverie in the depths of such thoughts. Still she never said anything, and our fledgling relationship continued to grow until one day everything changed.
“Oh he seems to have quite taken to you,” she said on one occasion. “Perhaps Luke isn’t as scary as you first thought Toby?”
Toby looked at her adoringly but said nothing. Perhaps I wasn’t as scary as he first thought, but I could tell he still didn’t fully trust me either, and as well he might for dogs are good judges of character – there were things I wanted to do to her mistress that he definitely wouldn’t approve of.
“Which way are you walking?” she asked unexpectedly.
“Oh any way, I don’t really have a destination,” I answered, surprised at this new turn of events, “do you want to ‘walk and talk’?”
I was hoping that this cliché would make my request more casual, less easy to detect the subtle subtext that simmered below.
We walked side-by-side and I took the opportunity to examine her more closely. The bleak winter chill had been replaced by the first warm afternoon of spring, and with the sap rising, I casually let my eyes rove over her body. She wore a waist length coat, blue denim jeans and a white blouse beneath a tight jumper. The jeans revealed shapely legs and what I suspected was a nice backside, but the real money was on the blouse that struggled to contain a good pair of tits. It wasn’t that the blouse was particularly tight — it was more that the breasts were keen on escaping and wobbled delightfully as she walked. She seemed totally unaware of my attentions and chatted without stopping until she came to a pretty terraced house. It was a quaint cottage with climbing roses framing the door and spring bulbs tentatively poking out of the ground.
“Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?” she asked.
“I’d love to,” I answered. My heart skipped a beat. How had this shy retiring woman become so bold? Then it struck me that what she probably meant was just that – a cup of tea — not sex or a blowjob — just a chat in more comfortable surroundings and no more – to me though we had güvenilir casino made significant progress in our relationship.
She opened the door, removed her coat and showed me into the living room. A wave of hot air carrying the smell of dog assaulted my nostrils and I noticed that the very first thing she did was to lean over to light some scented candles. With her back turned I could really admire her arse which was as I had hoped — firm and round and with a fluted waist. This lady had kept herself in good condition. She disappeared and a few minutes later returned with the tea. She sat in a leather armchair, and I sat opposite her on a matching two seater couch. The room was small and dark with a single wooden framed window that cast the afternoon light on her. She seemed small and fragile, and as if picking up on her vulnerability, Toby jumped up onto her lap.
“Bad boy Toby,” she chided, but the dog took no notice, forcing her to pick him up and put him down. All the time I admired how her breasts wobbled beneath the thin fabric of her blouse. Two pale dimples betrayed the impression of her nipples and I felt my cock growing hard. I’d known Kate for the best part of 3 months and I felt now was the time to subtly move things on. Whilst I was wary of saying anything too direct, I knew that body language could act on so many levels without scaring her off, so instead of crossing my legs to hide my erection, I reclined on the couch and let my legs naturally fall apart. Kate though gave no indication that she noticed the huge bulge in my pants and carried on in her lilting English accent as was her way.
“Well, this has been lovely,” she said eventually after an hour or so, signalling the end of our conversation, “but I have to be getting on. I need to pick the grandkids up from school and drop them off at Wendy’s, that’s my daughter.”
We said our goodbyes, and as I walked home, I wondered whether that was the end or the beginning.
I didn’t see her for the rest of the week which was unusual as we had somehow synchronised our walks so that we met most days that we were out. Perhaps she had noticed my erection and now had pangs of guilt? Or perhaps she had been hoping for more when she invited me in, and being disappointed, had decided it wasn’t worth the effort? I ruminated on these thoughts, eventually dismissing the latter — if she had been up for a bit of fun she would have made her intentions clear?
The following week came and went without a sign of her, and so did the next and the one after that. In fact, spring merged into summer with no sign of Kate and I began to give up any hope of seeing her. Her absence made my walks a little insipid and I wandered rather aimlessly until one blazing hot day I heard tapping on a window.
“Is that you Luke?”
I turned round and saw Kate in a red mini.
“Hi Kate, I didn’t expect you?” I answered somewhat surprised by her sudden appearance.
“How are you?” she asked. She seemed pleased to see me judging from the smile on her face.
“Not bad,” I replied, “all the better for seeing you. It’s been a while.”
“I know, come on, get in and I’ll give you a lift.”
I got into the car and she started talking as she did in her precise English diction that revealed a private education. She explained that Toby had died and after that she had become quite lonely and depressed. I remembered the little dog — a bane to any would be suitor- and whilst I never really bonded with the little mutt, I felt an alien sense of empathy for Kate. Odd really as I’m not one for shows of emotion. Of course I didn’t understand the nature of her hurt — the dog meant nothing to me – but I saw the pain and sadness in her eyes and tears that threatened to brim over onto her cheeks. I felt a need to hug her and would have done so if she had not been driving. She soon cheered up though as we slipped into old way and I realised that she really was quite beautiful. Off-guard and momentarily off my game, I hadn’t noticed that she was wearing nothing more than a T-shirt and a tight pair of lycra hot pants. Normally I would have imbibed this information in an instant, but as I took a moment to take stock of the situation, it was plain to see that those hot pants were more than just a shocking shade of pink for they cheekily etched a little ‘v’ canlı casino between her thighs.
As if noticing my attentions, she said, “I’ve just been to a spin class. Now that Toby’s not around I thought I’d spend a little time in the gym.”
“You look good,” I said, and I realised that I meant it.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Was she flirting with me?
“Only the pretty ones,” I laughed. Again, I couldn’t believe how candid I was, but as I say, I was off my game which was just as well for perhaps it was this sincerity (again – never my strong suit) that made the comment a compliment rather than a seedy pickup line.
“So what have you been up to?” she asked.
“Oh, you know, not much really,” I said, “walking each day.”
We got out of the car and entered her small living room whereupon she lit the candles (although the scent of dog had gone) and disappeared off into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later with tea and cake. Her scent filled the room and again I felt my gland begin to swell.
“I was hoping that I’d see you, I was wondering what had happened.”
I sat back and her eyes glanced down to my crotch, but without skipping a beat she answered, “Well as I said, Toby died so that killed my interest in walking. I did rather enjoy our chats, and I did wonder whether you’d notice I wasn’t around. I should have said something, I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologise. So Kate,” I asked, “what did you do before all this, picking up the grandkids and helping your daughter?”
“Oh, that’s a good question; I used to be a marriage councillor. I tried to help couples having difficulties, help them resolve their problems, understand their problems.”
Her words struck me with a chill not least because I had used the services of a councillor in my own marriage and had found the interviews awkward. I rather suspected that the councillor had recognised my philandering ways but had instead — either through professional courtesy or perhaps a willingness not to hurt my wife’s feelings — had focused on more productive areas of conversation.
“Wow,” I said, “I could really have used that kind of help.” It was a statement of fact and I don’t know why I said it — I didn’t really want Kate to pry into my private affairs or even contemplate the presence of a dutiful wife in my life, but sometimes you reveal things in comfortable conversation that you wouldn’t otherwise.
Kate paused as if I’d struck a nerve and she leaned forward, “You want my advice?”
“No, not really, but sometime ago it might have come in handy.”
“How so?” she probed.
“Well let’s just say my wife and I have had our difficulties. We’ve grown apart — both spiritually and physically and one aspect of a relationship bleeds into the other.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, “you’re talking about lack of sex.” Kate was quite candid. “I’ve seen this all the time, normally though it takes several sessions to admit it. Clients tend to be in a state of denial when they first come to me, but it’s always the same — the bedroom dies and so does the relationship.” She smiled without a hint of judgement.
“You know, I think all relationships are derailed in the bedroom for one reason or another — infidelity, boredom, lack of effort. Humans aren’t like swans that mate for life, and when sex grows stale, the whole relationship grows stale too.”
Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “Start from the beginning.”
The next hour passed easily in her company. I had never really discussed my private life except when forced to by the councillor that my wife insisted that I see, but with Kate it was as natural as walking. Also being freed from the mental gymnastics of trying to maintain a believable story due to my propensity to lie, I relaxed and talked unfettered. When I paused for breath I noticed that Kate was different. She had sat silently without interrupting, quietly absorbing all I had to say — like the parched grass starved of moisture and when I finished she got up and gave me a hug.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said.
Her body was warm and her breath sweet in my nostrils. I briefly considered that Kate was too good a woman to be used for sex, but at heart I’m a weak man, and although I wouldn’t consider myself evil, I also wouldn’t consider myself to be a paragon of good either. We held onto each other for more than a brief moment, and then parted.
At the front door she asked, “Come by tomorrow and let’s talk again.” She gave me a small wave as I left and again I realised that I was a bad man for I what I intended to do.