Old woman in internet cafe

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

At the time, I had just graduated from university in a big city far from home. After a few years, I wouldn't say I'd achieved anything significant, though I did buy a mediocre car, and I was still renting an apartment. Because I moved frequently and lacked a sense of belonging, I didn't buy a computer or get internet access. I often went to a nearby internet cafe, and that's how I met her.

She was one of the shareholders of the internet cafe, in her forties. She seemed reluctant to talk about her age, and I later learned she was a full twenty years older than me, but I couldn't tell at all. She maintained a great figure and dressed very appropriately, though she had some wrinkles and heavy eye bags. But she still had a certain charm, spoke fluent Cantonese, and looked a lot like Yang Zhenning's wife, Weng Fan—a typical Guangzhou native. Later, I learned that her husband had died in a car accident three years prior, and she was raising a daughter alone. When I asked her why she didn't find another man, she said she was too old for that; good men all wanted younger ones, and she didn't like the less sophisticated ones, so she remained single. That's when I started to have feelings for her. I often advised her to find a man, explaining the benefits of having a man by her side—it would help her age faster, it would be good for her health, and so on. Deep down, she knew this. So I started constantly asking her out to dinner, but she never accepted, always politely declining or making excuses. The more she did this, the more itchy I became, vowing to win her over at all costs.

I don't know what happened that day, but I invited her out for a foot bath, and she actually agreed. We chatted while soaking, and even the two masseuses were curious about our relationship, though they didn't ask. When the time came, as we were resting, she said she had something on her lower back and asked me to check. I lifted her clothes and looked, but there was nothing there. I then hugged her tightly. She seemed to have expected this, letting out a warm, gentle laugh, like the genuine, forgiving smile of a kind aunt seeing a naughty child. I suggested we get a room, but she refused, absolutely refused, without giving a reason, just saying we should chat there. But I was already on the verge of success, what should I do?

Then she suggested we go to my place, and I said it was a mess. She said she'd tidy it up for me. When we got to my room, she exclaimed in surprise, "It really is a mess!" She muttered as she started to clean it up, clearly a typical virtuous wife and loving mother. Watching her bend over to tidy up, I couldn't resist anymore. I grabbed her waist, expecting her to object or struggle, but instead, she turned around and asked, "Do you have any condoms?" I felt dizzy, so incredibly happy. So I took out the condoms I'd prepared beforehand.

I gently placed her on my messy bed and pressed myself against her. She laughed again, like watching a greedy child, and then personally took off her pants. When she couldn't undo her bra, she said she'd do it herself. Then I pulled down her underwear. It was so beautiful, perfectly matching my aesthetic standards for a woman's genitals. Clean and pristine, only a slit was visible, with some short hairs covering the mons pubis. I was incredibly excited. This was the vagina of a 48-year-old woman, a mature, healthy woman giving herself to me without reservation. And her vagina was as clean and alluring as a young girl's. I gently parted her legs, then lightly separated her labia majora. The inside was equally perfect; the labia minora were small and slightly dark. The vaginal opening was fully open, pink and tender. I told myself, this is my paradise. I didn't dare lick it; I still felt a little awkward. I deliberately made a sound, and she asked what was wrong. I said nothing, just that it was so beautiful. She laughed again and said she hadn't been with a man since her husband died, telling me to be gentle. I didn't quite believe her then, but I did when I entered her.

I couldn't wait any longer; I quickly pulled down my pants and put on a condom. In the standard position, she was a little nervous during penetration, her eyes closed, her face flushed with a girlish blush. Well, I could only thrust into her with all my might, pumping in and out of her mature, healthy, standard vagina. Of course, I just wanted this woman, who hadn't had sex in years, to enjoy herself. But I didn't see her orgasm. When I asked her, she said she did, and even said I was amazing. I think she wasn't telling the truth; maybe she was just trying to save face for me. The real reason was probably that she was genuinely too nervous. After we finished, we cleaned up. She used my towel to wipe my sweat. It felt very warm.

Then I drove her back to the foot massage parlor (her electric scooter was there; she wouldn't let me pick her up near her house, afraid of running into acquaintances). I was already completely limp from pleasure, and in the car, I even touched her vagina through my pants, and she just smiled as always... However, afterwards, I felt a little uncomfortable, even a little disgusted, after all, the age difference was too big.

[The End]

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Old woman in internet cafe

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