Moving into one’s 60s is a time in life that is both challenging and a bit sad. Recreational sex is no longer quite as available or quite as uninhibited. The man slows down, and he may need some prescription assistance; especially if he likes a cigarette and a glass of wine, both of which can trash one’s erection. He broadens out around the middle and no longer takes the eye of sexy young girls (not that he really wants to, unless he’s Donald Trump or Rupert Murdoch… but he does notice these things). He wants to take the eye of sexy mature women; his needs now are different. But women too, are affected by many things as they move into their 60s… not least the continuing ravages of hormonal activity. So, they too are challenged.
Years have been spent enjoying sexual pursuits and experiencing everything: one has seen it all. Plain vanilla sex is no longer all he may desire. The challenge is to find that mature age woman who is still healthy, in touch with her libido, and has moved beyond the intellectual strictures that might—for most of her adult life—have kept her being ‘the good girl’… ‘the pillar of society’. The challenge is to find the woman now prepared to succumb to her secret, inner filthy self.
I was lucky to meet Coral and to have her as a ‘girlfriend’ in all senses of the word. I was to get even luckier is our relationship progressed and I found just how dirty her libido could be. I think there is in everyone, a deepest, darkest, desire that most will never be brave enough to acknowledge. Some do though, and lucky the dirty man who meets one of these brave souls. It so happens that Coral likes to fart and has found that far from turning me off, it has quite the opposite effect. She now has no compunction about losing a sexy burble from her bottom when it’s just me around… including in bed! Her casual farting is so redolent of intimacy and therefore, sexuality. It turns me on and turns me into some kind of sexual lunatic, can make me rampant, and can lead to some stupendous filthy sex.
Coral had invited me to her place for a Sunday lunch and I was very pleased to accept – among all of her great skills she’s a wonderful cook. We were in the kitchen cleaning up the bench and loading the dishwasher. It had been a humid day and Coral was wearing a comfortable, voluminous kaftan.
Standing at the kitchen sink she emitted a healthy burbling fart. It sounded wet and enticing, and I had to respond… having made a noise like that, she would have been expecting it. I lifted the kaftan over her ass, noting with horny pleasure that she had no underwear. I ran my hand like a blade between her thighs, sawing gently between her moist labia and up the crack of her ass. She giggled… “That’s naughty”, squatted very slightly and farted again. The aroma was giving me a hard-on.
“Well, what are you gonna do about it, big boy?”
That was all I needed. I maneuvered her over to the couch and pushed her onto her knees on the cushions as I stepped out of my trousers and underpants.
“Get some towels… hurry!” Now I was really getting excited.
I rushed to the linen cupboard, grabbed some folded towels, and threw them on the floor behind her. I knelt behind her on the towels and gleefully nuzzled my face against her hairy snatch… my nose against her fragrant freckle.
She groaned, and her hips swayed from side to side as I sniffed her slit and reached forward to fondle her dangling tits.
She bent forward. Head on a scatter cushion and opened her legs wider. Her big, sexy ass and floppy stomach (I absolutely LOVE a mature-age mummy-tummy) sent a quiver to my very core. It’s like being with a woman with very small tits. I love it and am aroused when a woman forgets about how her body looks and just releases her inhibitions.
I paused. Then, slid a finger inside her, gliding in easily, engulfed in warmth. Another finger. Withdrew them slowly. My fingertips traced a light path around the edges of her opening. Everywhere I touched was glistening in warm moisture. My fingers glided all around. I loved her sticky wetness. Her ass swayed from side-to-side. I heard her moaning.
I wanted to go fast. To mount her and take her with abandon. Like a teenaged boy sowing his wild oats first time. But I resisted that foolish temptation… I was no longer a teenage boy. This should last. Go slow. Take your time. This filthy opportunity was too precious to waste by hot haste.
I fingered her soft opening and those most small, secret, only half-hidden pissflaps with my fingers. I quickly grew to love that. I inhaled her sex as more liquid coated my fingers. I found her clitoris. Played softly with it. Caressed it experimentally until I discovered what brought the best reaction.
Moving my thumb across her clit, then back down. That worked. Sighs. Shudders. Coral moved one of her hands back to the slight bulge of her mons and her pubic hair. She began caressing herself there, just above my thumb. We were in tandem. Heavier breathing. More shudders. Another small fart, the gentlest of puffs… almost involuntary rather than because of any presence of intestinal gas.
My two fingers were still inside her, moving in and out slowly. My thumb up and down on her clit. I let my thumb slip up to her ass crack. Found the opening to her anus. Small, moist, oily. Rubbed my finger around it. Pushed on it a little. She was breathing heavier now. My thumb, fingers – all moving in a steady, slow rhythm, in and out, back and forth, pushing into both her openings. All in one back-and-forth motion. Slow. Over and over again.
“Oh, fuck, that feels good. Put your cock inside me!”
I stood, leaning against her, placed my palm under my dick and slid into her. The feeling of her warm vaginal passage massaging my stalk, aided my tumescence. OK, so maybe plain vanilla sex can still feel pretty good.
I leant into her; pushed my thumb as far as it could go and felt that she was packed inside as my thumbnail pushed into her firm, fecal content.
I was thrusting my cock gently (I don’t pound anymore), as she farted again against my thumb and the pungent odor rose to my nostrils. Suddenly I realised why the demand for towels. Urine started spraying from her around my penile piston, matting my pubic hair and flowing warmly against my thighs and legs.
I love the hot feel of piss and its smell. It hissed and splattered, and I was beyond joyful.
Coral made a noise that was somewhere between a low, guttural grunt and a long groan. It was the sound of submitting to release. Of giving-in. The pressure on my thumb grew more insistent and her poo began to push out around it. It was mesmerising. I could feel its warmth along the length of my thumb, and I removed it… the better to hang onto her hips with both hands.
Almost immediately, her freckle blossomed and a long, steaming turd slid out and along my cock, mashing against my pubes as I thrust into her, before sliding off and dropping onto the towel. More followed, and then more, and I just looked down and watched, hoping it would last as long as possible.
I could feel Coral’s fingers rotating against her clit. She was breathing heavy and getting close.
“Fuck my cunt! Fuck your cock up my cunt! Fuck my poos, you dirty bastard. Oh fuck… oh fuck… you’ve made me shit myself!” The thing about Coral, is that when she defecates during sex, she has the dirtiest mouth and becomes a different person. Not that I’m complaining. Her orgasm grew and exploded upon her as I continued to thrust. A sequence of shudders and low groans. Stronger, convulsing. Pelvis undulating.
“Stop, stop… oh god… oh my god… oh your cock. That was delicious… your cock was so fat!” Smirk… I’ll accept a pat on the head anyway I can.
She pulled away from me and I slipped out of her… still semi-hard. My penis, my pubes, and the front of my left thigh were smeared with her pungent excrescence. The shit smell hung heavy. I was lost in lust. I scooped some of it up, laved it around my cock, and began to masturbate. Shit flew off my pistoning hand as Coral turned around and sat on the couch. Reaching toward me with both hands, she mashed her shit against my pubes, lower stomach, and my balls (that felt sublime!). With her free hand, she pushed mine away, and—continuing to shit-fondle my balls—she took over masturbating me. I leant forward, resting my hand on her shoulders and looked down… I was about to cum, and she could tell. Her mouth opened, and she held my cock in front of it. She was getting a healthy dose of her scat odour, and not seeming to mind it. I thought, “Fuck… she’s going to suck my shitty cock!”
Nup… no suck. But she took my sperm: two rapid-fire squirts and the rest oozing onto her dirty hand as she finished me off. Only then did I realise her filthy right hand had stopped fondling my testicles and was now between her thighs, fouling her vagina, with rapid, rotating strokes.
I was utterly sated. We repaired to her shower, and by way of future encouragement, I nuzzled my face into her malodorous thatch. As her hand-shower sluiced the shit from her fanny and my face, I flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue. She held my face against her, a leg over one of my shoulders, and shuddered again.
It’s ok to be in your 60s.