Part One
“Is that you, Michael?”
The female voice was from the distant past but it still had a familiar ring to it. I was about to sit down at the table with my friend Carlson when I heard my name. Carlson and I always attended the monthly charity breakfast at the local chapter of the Royal Canadian Legion. Occasionally, we would encounter people we had not seen in years. This was certainly the case on this Sunday morning. The person asking me to verify my identity I had not seen in 24 years.
The well-dressed woman in her mid-thirties did not wait for my confirmation; apparently, she was in no mood for talking. Instead, she immediately hugged me and gave me a lengthy and passionate kiss on the lips. I had to crouch slightly because of our height difference. The kiss startled both me and Carlson. When the attractive woman finally pulled away from me slightly, Carlson jokingly asked me, “Is she a friend of yours, Michael?”
“I guess you could say that,” I said with a smile. “Carlson, this is Carol Dunsford. I use to tutor her about 25 years ago—when I was approximately the same age she is now.” I paused before adding, “Wow! Time certainly flies!”
Carol was no longer embracing me, but she was still holding my hands very lovingly—just as she often did at the turn of the 21st century when I tutored her every Tuesday night at my house in English and math for about 3½ years. She was staring at me with such great affection that this time I took the initiative to lift her, wrap my arms around her, and kiss her just as passionately as she had kissed me seconds earlier.
“Hey, Michael!” Carol eventually said. “Where was that back in the year 2000 when I was so totally in love with my handsome tutor? I would have done anything for a kiss like that in the old days!”
I laughed and reminded Carol of an important statistic: “You might recall that in the year 2000 I was 36 years old and you were 11. That would have created a bit of a problem, Carol, don’t you think?”
“Our age difference never crossed my mind back then,” Carol said with the same cute giggle that I had first heard years ago. She turned to Carlson and said, “I was always pawing, caressing and hugging him during our lessons. I just loved him. Michael was unfortunately a true gentleman, though. He’d always smile and say something like, ‘Thanks for the affection, Carol, but we really have to finish reading this chapter. When our 60 minutes is over, I’ll give you a friendly hug.’ He always did—and that was it. I didn’t want him to let me go. I adored him.”
“Do you want to join us at our table, Carol?” I politely asked her.
“No, I can’t, Michael,” she said. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m dining with four friends at a table on the other side of the room. When I saw you, I just had to come by and say hello. They’ll be wondering what on Earth I’m doing over here passionately kissing a 60-year-old man. If you are at next month’s breakfast, I’ll look for you, and maybe we can share a table then.” Then she promptly turned around and walked to where her friends were sitting. I was still looking at her when she sat, so she gave me the same cute little wave she used to give me when our tutoring sessions ended.
When Carlson and I sat down, he looked at me with a grin on his face. “Was that beautiful brunette as cute as an 11-year-old as she is now?” he asked me.
“Cuter!” I insisted. “If I had been in her class in elementary school, she would have been a major distraction. Carol was full of life and affection back then—and she was probably the prettiest preteen girl I ever tutored.”
“She isn’t full of life now?” Carlson asked. “Based on that kiss she gave you, Michael, I’m tempted to woo her myself. I think she’s a doll.”
I did a quick calculation. “You are seven years younger than I am, Carlson. That would make you 18 years older than Carol.”
“Michael, Carol isn’t a child anymore. She and I are both well into our adult years. The vice squad wouldn’t be a concern.”
“I suppose you are right, my friend,” I conceded. “It’s always startling to see that my old students are now adults. I should be used to it by now. Carol certainly matured nicely.”
Carlson said to me, “So, why don’t you pursue Carol? I get the strong impression that she’d still love to be affectionate with you. I mean really affectionate! I realize you are a confirmed, lifelong bachelor, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the charms of younger women, Michael.”
I just laughed at the idea of having any sort of relationship with an ex-student. That would just seem so weird to me. Carlson and I chatted as we ate slowly. About 25 minutes later, Carlson noticed that Carol was now sitting by herself, her friends having left. She had pulled a notepad from her purse and was busily writing something. Carlson mentioned that and said, “I’ll bet you one dollar that Carol is writing a sexy note for you!”
“I’ll take that bet!” I instantly said.
“Be prepared to lose, my friend,” Carlson announced. “She is coming toward you at this moment with a slip of paper in her hand.”
Indeed, Carol came up behind me while I was seated, hugged me as best she could, kissed me on the cheek and put a note in my hand. She ignored Carlson altogether. “I look forward to hearing from you, Michael,” she sexily whispered in my ear. Then she kissed me on the back of my neck.
She headed out the door before I had a chance to read the note. It said, “Michael, here is my phone number. Call me if you want to get together to reminisce...and to fuck! I’m not 11 anymore.”
I immediately opened up my wallet and gave Carlson a dollar. I showed him the note. He enthusiastically gave me a high-five.
“So, are you going to phone her?”
“Immediately,” I replied, “if not sooner.” Suddenly the thought of having a romantic get-together with a former tutee was quite appealing to me.
Part Two
I waited about ten minutes after I got home to telephone Carol. She picked up on the second ring. She obviously had call display as she said, “Hello, Michael. What took you so long to call me?”
I said honestly, “I was slightly nervous about phoning the most beautiful girl I ever tutored for a fucking date.”
“You are still so much the gentleman, aren’t you?” Carol replied. “You know it’s not against the law for a 60-year-old to screw a 35-year-old?”
“My friend Carlson pointed that out to me at the breakfast,” I noted.
“Michael, I first wanted to hop into bed with you when I was ten years old. That desire has never gone away. If you still live at the same address as you did in 2000, I could be at your place in about 15 minutes. That way I can remove ‘Give Michael Ellswood a good fucking’ from my bucket list.”
“You were always a very straightforward girl, Carol,” I said between chuckles. “That was an endearing quality of yours. Yes, I still live at the same address. I’ll tell you what, Carol. I’d love for you to come over for an afternoon of reminiscing. Please give me at least 30 minutes to get my place tidied up before you drop by.”
“What about fucking?” Carol asked worriedly.
“I figured on five percent reminiscing and 95 percent fucking. Does that one-sided ratio sound okay to you?” I asked her.
“It sure does!” Carol stated. “I would have settled for 95 percent reminiscing and five per cent fucking. I can’t wait to do what I’ve wanted to do for a quarter century. However, I guess I can wait half an hour more.”
Part Three
Carol was certainly eager. She arrived slightly early, just 27 minutes after our phone conversation ended. She came in the same side door she had last entered in June of 2001. I was eager, too. When Carol’s car pulled into my driveway, I was already aroused just by the mere thought of fucking her. Five seconds after she came through the door, Carol had jumped into my arms. She was about 5’4” inches while I was 6’1”. She was in no hurry to let go of me, so I literally carried her down the flight of stairs into the rec room—the same location in my house where all of our tutoring lessons had taken place. Remarkably, very little had changed about the room since the last time Carol was there.
“It’s exactly the way I recall it was!” Carol insisted. “Okay, that’s enough of our reminiscing, Michael. Let’s fuck! I recall that couch opens up to become a pull-out bed.”
“How did you know that?” I asked her, knowing for certain that I had never converted the couch to a bed anytime while Carol was present for tutoring.
“I asked you once,” Carol replied. “I was planning for the inevitable day when we’d be sharing it. I didn’t think it would take a quarter century, though!”
As I opened the bed, it occurred to me that our tutoring sessions had ended abruptly in 2001. Our last session was just before school ended in June. I had expected Carol’s mom to renew our Tuesday night timeslot once school resumed in September as she had in the past, but she never did. I asked Carol about that.
“I can tell you exactly what happened,” Carol began. “I was going to mail you a steamy love letter that summer. I had written 80 percent of it, but my mom found it before I finished it. I told her that my fondest desire was to have a long, romantic fuck with you. One line of the letter said, ‘I want you to put your penis deep into my vagina and fill me with a gallon of your sperm.’ That kind of shocked my mother. I told her truthfully that you had always been professional with me and hadn’t done anything wrong, but she thought that we’d better stop the tutoring sessions just to be on the safe side. That’s why my mother didn’t renew your services.”
That mystery had now been explained to my satisfaction. Now it was on to the sexy business Carol had come to my home for. I was eager to provide it.
I moved directly behind Carol and wrapped my arms around her slim waist. She had kept herself in good shape—and I complimented her for it. Then I slid my hands upward to caress her breasts. They were still concealed by the brown blouse she had worn at the breakfast. “You’re quite a bit bustier than you were in 2001, Carol,” I informed her.
“I better be!” she exclaimed.
“Let’s see for sure,” I said as I unbuttoned her top. It fell to the floor, exposing a plain white brassiere that definitely helped Carol’s figure. I cupped her cups and told her that I loved female breasts no matter what size, shape, or age. I put my hands inside the cups as Carol undid the brassiere’s clasp. When it fell to the floor on top of her blouse, I enthusiastically began fondling and fingering her lovely tits. They had fairly large areolas and hard nipples once she was sexually aroused. I spun Carol around so that she faced me. I lifted her off the carpet so I could more easily suck on them. “What a delightful treat!” I told her.
After about two minutes of passionate tit-licking, I set Carol on the bed. I began to disrobe while she removed all the clothing below her waist. I picked up her sky-blue panties and kissed the crotch area. Carol asked me, “Why waste your time doing that when you can kiss the body part?”
“Good point!” I agreed.
Carol slid up the bed as far as she could, put a few pillows under her head, and spread her legs wide. She had a hairy vagina but that didn’t stop me from licking it just as passionately as I had licked her breasts a few minutes earlier. Actually, I think I enjoyed it even more! I know Carol experienced great pleasure. She said between gentle moans, “Michael, don’t you dare stop licking me down there until I’ve had an orgasm!”
“Yes, ma’am!” I replied immediately. I used the middle finger of my right hand to augment my oral work, sliding it in and out of Carol’s inviting pussy. A series of rapid penetrations with that digit put Carol completely over the edge. Watery discharge squirted out of her. I tried to lap up as much of Carol’s love juice as I could, but much of it soaked the bedsheet beneath her.
“That was just the way I thought it would be. Michael—both today and all those years ago,” Carol noted. “Let’s change places and let me do you now.”
I took my spot in the middle of the now wet bed—but I hardly minded that slight discomfort. In fact, I found lying on the evidence of Carol’s erotic squirt to be very sexy. My phallus was pointing straight upward—not bad for a 60-year-old. Carol was obviously experienced at giving hand jobs and blowjobs, because she knew exactly what to do with my stiff dick. When she began kissing my testicles while jerking on the shaft of my penis, I advised her to stop because I wanted to come in her pussy—if that was alright with her.
“That letter I got partway through writing you all those years ago is still valid, Michael,” Carol stated. “I absolutely want you to shoot a big load of cum in my vagina. I’ve taken the proper precaution. Poke me with your hard dick, Michael, and fire away!”
I didn’t have to be told twice. I quickly shifted positions to mount Carol. I placed my penis where it needed to go and drove it inside my bedmate with not much subtlety. Carol seemed to like it that way. I grabbed her by her waist and thrusted away to my heart’s content. The sight of Carol’s breasts jiggling in front of me was a real turn-on, so I momentarily stopped fucking her to focus on more tit-licking for a few seconds.
“I like the fucking better, Michael,” Carol said. “Once you’ve come, though, you can suck on my tits all afternoon.”
“You drive a hard bargain, my dear,” I told her. “So, I’m going to drive you hard!” Shortly thereafter I resumed my fucking with great gusto. About two minutes later, I erupted inside my former pupil with a geyser of cum. It wasn't quite the gallon Carol had requested, but it was the most pleasurable ejaculation I had ever had in my life—and I knew why. I continued sliding my dick up and down Carol’s love channel for at least two minutes after I had shot my load. Eventually I pulled out. A glob of semen was drawn out with it.
“This can’t go to waste!” Carol announced as she scooped it up with her fingers and put it in her mouth. “Mmm. Tasty!” she told me.
“I aim to please,” I replied.
We spent about three hours that Sunday afternoon cuddled up on that pull-out bed. I was fondling Carol’s lovely tits the entire time.
“Not bored with them yet, Michael?” she asked me.
“Hell, no!” I said. “As a matter of fact, this old penis of mine seems to be revived. I’d like to fuck those gorgeous tits, if you’ll let me.”
“Jeez!” Carol exclaimed. “No boy has asked me for a titty-fuck since I was about 15. If it turns your crank, Michael, go for it.”
I did. I straddled Carol’s torso and positioned my surprisingly hard phallus between her two goodies and began thrusting. Carol remembered enough from her teenage years to do her part. She squeezed her breasts together while I slid my manhood back and forth between them. After about five minutes I came for the second time that afternoon. This time the ejaculate was nowhere near as sizable as the load I had deposited into Carol’s pussy, but for a sexagenarian, I was pleased with my overall output for the day. Most of the cum ended up coating her tits, leaving a shiny glow on them. A few wayward drops of jism landed on her chin.
“Thank you, Carol, sweetheart. That was lovely of you to allow me to fuck your tits. I enjoyed it very much!” I kissed her gently on the forehead.
“Oh, come on, Michael! You can kiss me better than that!” Carol insisted. Accordingly, we spent the next 45 minutes kissing—with my hands fondling her breasts throughout the entire show of affection.
We actually did reminisce while we relaxed in bed. Carol recalled things I had long forgotten from our tutoring days—and vice versa. Many laughs and smiles were exchanged.
After a while Carol said, “I have a confession to make, Michael. You are still a handsome and vibrant man for being 60 years old, but while we were having sex, I was fantasizing about you as still being in your mid-thirties. That was a real turn-on for me. That’s largely why I had an orgasm while you were licking my pussy. I pictured you doing that to me in the year 2000.”
I said nothing for a moment or two, then I told Carol about what was going through my mind during our coitus. “I might as well be truthful, too,” I said. “When I was fucking you, my dear, I also was pretending it was the year 2000. I’m sure that naughty fantasy was why I filled your pussy with the strongest cum shot I’ve ever had in my whole life.”
“So, it seems you’re not such a gentleman after all, Michael!” she said after guffawing. “Shame on you and your underage fantasies—but I loved having your dick inside me.”
I offered to take Carol out to dinner. She accepted. As we got dressed, a naughty smile engulfed her face. Carol asked me if she could make a phone call. I said certainly. As she pushed the buttons on the phone, I stood behind Carol and resumed groping her tits because I enjoyed them so much. I heard a voice at the other end of the line say hello.
“Hi, Mom!” Carol said excitedly. “You’ll never guess where I am and what I’ve been doing. I ran into my old tutor Michael at the charity breakfast today. We went to his house afterward and...”
Carol stopped in mid-sentence as her mother had interrupted her.
Carol turned toward me with a surprised look and said, “Well, what do you know? She easily guessed what we’ve been doing! She must have remembered that steamy letter to you that I never finished.”