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My name is Jenny Harris. One day a couple of years ago I sat drinking a cup of poisonous university cafeteria tea and mulling over the lecture on Rousseau’s “Social Contract,” I had just attended. I decided it had been a good lecture because I now had some idea of what the old Gaul had been going on about.

I was fifty-nine years of age at the time, and two years ago my beloved Alf had died. I grieved for my loss, especially my bed time loss, because Alf and I had been lovers almost from the time we first met when I was eighteen and he twenty. We stayed lovers until the time of his last illness. “We might not have been as hot as when we first started,” I thought, “but we certainly kept each other entertained.”

Of all my anatomy, Alf had celebrated in my breasts. When they first developed in puberty, I had hated them. I thought them large and ugly, but Alf taught me otherwise. They are still large, and having had no children, they have retained a good deal of their firmness. I often see men, even young ones, eyeing these mammary glands of mine with lascivious eyes – if only one of them would handle them again as Alf used to…

Alf and I had wanted children, but try as we might, they never happened. “Mind you,” Alf would say, “We have a lot of fun trying.”

Once starting to recover from my grief over Alf’s death, I remembered something I had heard about university lectures. For a small fee, people were allowed to sit in on the lectures. They were not allowed to participate in the tutorials and there were no exams or essays, but the lectures were open to them.

I lived within walking distance of the university and often in the past, as I walked by its buildings, I would say to myself, “One day you’ll be there.” So, when the opportunity came, I decided I didn’t want the full course, but would enjoy participating in the lectures, so I selected Political Philosophy and paid my fee.

Now, as I sat in the cafeteria there were groups of young people who had been at the lecture sitting all around the place, chattering about what they had heard. I caught odd snatches of the conversations and felt a little envious. I wished I could join them, but didn’t feel I could just butt in. I began to regret the tutorials I was not permitted to attend. “Be great to talk things out,” I thought.

We were about halfway through the first term and I had a sort of nodding acquaintance with a few of the students. There was one especially who always sat next to me, and with whom I exchanged brief greetings. I had heard the other students call him “Garron,” and now Garron came over and seated himself at my table.

“You always sit on your own,” he said. “Why not join some of the others?”

“I don’t think they’d want an old woman pushing in,” I said.

“They might think it interesting to have an older person’s point of view,” Garron replied. “And you don’t look all that old. I haven’t seen you at any of the tutorials, either.”

“I can’t go to the tutorials, I only pay for the lectures.”

“Ah, your one of the people who just sit in the lectures? Pity because the tutorial are really quite interesting.”

“I thought they might be, but there you are…”

We spoke for a while longer then Garron had to be off to another lecture. “See you again, he said cheerfully,” and departed.

“Nice young chap,” I thought. I had been especially flattered by the comment; “You don’t look all that old.” “Young liar,” I said to myself, but hoped he wasn’t.

In the following couple of weeks, Garron made a point leaving the lectures with me and we went together to the cafeteria for our cup of poison. One morning Garron said, “I’ve had an idea. You are not allowed to attend the official tutorials, so why don’t we have an unofficial tutorial just for you.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, I could talk to a few of the students – the one’s who are keen on the subject, and we could meet and talk over various points. What do you say?”

“It’s a lovely thought,” I said, “but I don’t think you’ll get many takers.”

“Well let’s find out, shall we?” Garron said. “How many people do you think? And where and when?”

Starting to be influenced by Garron’s enthusiasm for the idea, I said, “Oh, no more than eight, and what about my place? I only live ten minutes walk from the university. And how about a Friday night?”

“Leave it to me,” said the cheerful Garron.”

I loved the idea, but held out little hope for its success. However, the following week Garron came bouncing into the lecture room wreathed in smiles.

“Done it,” he crowed. “Got eight. Six guys, two girls and me. What time on Friday?

We settled for seven thirty, and I gave him my address.

I had been lonely since Alf’s death and was excited at the thought of company, and young company too. I went to considerable lengths in preparing for the evening, including some maintenance work on myself, and plenty of eatables.

My guests (if that is the right word) arrived more or less on time and Garron Beylikdüzü escort made the introductions. The first step was to plan what we would study and prepare for future “Jenny tutorials” as they came to be called.

I now had to prepare short papers along with the other participants, and ended up paying particular attention to, of all people, Locke and Karl Marx.

I found these gatherings very exhilarating and Friday night became the high point of my week.

I had expected that after a few sessions, some of them would lose interest, but they seemed to enjoy it as much as I did and I began to feel that I had gained some close friends.

Weeks passed and my sixtieth birthday approached and as it happened it was on a Friday. The Friday prior to my birthday I announced that there would be a “little bit of a party for my birthday next Friday, and anyone who would like to stay after the tutorial would be very welcome.”

During the week, I bought some celebratory type food, including four bottles of wine.

On the birthday Friday Garron arrived early bearing a bottle of wine and a small gift. Others followed, also bearing gifts and bottles of wine. It was rather touching because as each gave me their gift they also gave me a kiss. I had not been kissed since Alf.

The tutorial that night was rather scrappy as the interest was on the food and wine awaiting them in the next room. Looking at the bottles of wine, I was a trifle apprehensive. It now came to more than one bottle per person and that could amount to a fair degree of inebriation. I shrugged off my unease with the thought; “It’s only once in a blue moon, so why not?”

By nine-thirty, the party was going well, with everyone at the relaxed stage of intoxication. At ten o’clock the two girls and two of the boys, excused themselves and they departed followed by knowing looks from the rest of the company.

One of the remaining boys said, “That leaves four guys and one girl.”

I was, like the boys, at that cheerful stage of inebriation when the inhibitions are loosening up. It has been said that, “A little alcohol can elicit a lot of truth.” In other words, under the influence of alcohol thoughts and feelings normally repressed can come surging out. We say and do things when tipsy which at other times we subdue.

That’s how it was now at the party. Everyone began to loosen up. As often happens in these situations, the conversation got bolder and bolder, especially regarding sex.

I was saying things like, “If I was thirty years younger, you fellows would have to watch out.”

One of the boys responded, “My dad always says, ‘the older the fiddle the sweeter the tune’.”

Other comments followed, picking up the theme of younger men wanting older women, and those older women knowing how to “give a guy a good time in bed.”

Being in my cups, I’m afraid I got a bit boastful, and claimed I knew how to “give guys a good time.”

At some stage in the proceedings I got up and crossed to the drink table. Someone came up behind me and put his arms round me. It was Garron, and he whispered, “Let’s really enjoy ourselves, shall we, Jenny?”

Not understanding the implication of what he was saying I responded, “Yes, let’s.”

I felt his hands starting to undo the waist shirt I had on. I started to protest, “Garron, stop that…” but he was so gentle. He was kissing me on the nape of my neck as the buttons came undone, and was still talking softly.

“It’s all right, Jenny love, we’re not going to hurt you. You haven’t had a man for a long time, but we know you’d still like to, so tonight you shall, with all four of us. Just relax, we won’t be rough with you. We just want you to enjoy yourself, and we want to enjoy ourselves.”

I think it was his gentle way of talking and undoing the buttons that stopped my protest.

I felt his hands undoing my bra, and as he pulled it off my breasts came tumbling out. As they stood out naked, I heard one of the boys say, “My God, they’re beautiful.”

Garron’s hands were softly caressing my breasts, stroking up and down and squeezing my nipples. He was still kissing the nape of my neck in between talking in his warm loving voice.

“Just taking it easy, sweetheart. We’re going to give you a lovely time, and I promise you won’t be hurt.”

Garron began kissing me over the shoulders and other hands undid my skirt. It fell to the floor and as I leaned back into Garron, willing him to go on kissing my shoulders and fondling my breasts, my panties were removed.

Fingers were entering my vaginal opening and pushing in and out. I was in a terrible state. My inner thighs were saturated with my lubricant and I was screaming inside, “Fuck me, Garron, fuck me,” but aloud I was murmuring, “Oh don’t Garron, please don’t do this to me, you’re driving me mad.”

“Hush,” he whispered, “It’s all right, we’ll take care of you, love. You’re with friends. Just let yourself go.”

I was now succumbing completely to the hunger Beylikdüzü escort they had inflamed in me. A tongue was licking my clitoris and I was lubricating, as I never had with Alf. It was positively pouring out of me. Sixty I might have been, but I felt my body to be almost that of a young sexually aroused girl, soft and yielding.

Garron must have felt my surrender and said lovingly, “That’s right Jenny, just give way. Leave it all to us, you’ll be fine.”

I had hardly been able to notice what had been going on around me, but now taking in the room and boys I saw that the table had been cleared and cushions laid on it. The boys had taken off their jeans and underpants, and seeing them standing there clad in their shirts, I found myself deeply touched. Despite their erect penises and the pubic hair, they looked like little boys, very sweet and vulnerable.

Garron was not yet undressed, but clearly, he had precedence. He released me for a few moments as he stripped and the other boys waited, then once naked he said, “Over here, love,” and guided me to the table.”

Bringing me to the edge of the table he said, “Bend over on the cushions,” sweet.

I knew what to do as Alf had often taken me over the table so, with my feet apart on the floor I bent over the table so as to present my vagina for them to enter from behind.

I wanted Garron to be the first to enter me, and so he was. He brought the crown of his penis against my cleft, and then pulling apart the outer vaginal lips he sought my opening and entered me.

It was fabulous. It had been over three years since I had been entered like this, and a wave of exultation passed through me. I was a whole woman again and in heaven.

Garron and I were so worked up we were unable to hold back our orgasms. I think I started to come first. I began to shake and sob as Garron thrust in and out of me, seeking my depths with his manhood. I felt the approach of earthshaking vibrations that came roaring through and over me, engulfing me and wringing from me cries and sobs.

Part way into this overpowering orgasm I became aware of Garron’s intensified thrusting as he clung to my hips. I started to shriek, “Deeper, deeper, ” and I felt the first of his semen burst into me.

We were both howling and screaming now as we reached the climax of our union, and this must have had an effect on the other boys, because no sooner had Garron finished than the next one entered me thrusting so hard I thought he would burst through into my womb. Like Garron, he erupted into me quickly. I was still experiencing the aftershocks of my orgasm with Garron, and had no new orgasm.

The third boy was unfortunate, he came before he could enter me, and I felt very sorry for him.

The last boy was in a dreadful state of arousal. By now, my vagina was flooded with semen and lubricant. It was running down my legs and onto the carpet. The boy, trying to enter my vagina with his penis, it slipped and came into contact with my anus.

I had often had anal sex with Alf, so my anus was well enough open to take a penis without any problems. Having had two penises in my vagina I decided to encourage the lad to enter my back passage, so I said, “There, darling, put it in there.” He was dripping with precum so as he thrust against my little pink opening he slipped in easily. I squirmed back against his thrusts to force him in deep, and although I had not properly observed his penis, I think it was of more than respectable length.

My sexual experience had been limited to Alf, and of course the three boys who had just taken me, so this fourth lad’s method of ejaculating seemed a bit odd, but very pleasant. Instead of increasing the pace and intensity as he shot his sperm, he simply held my hips dragging him self in tightly to me, and stayed there while he discharged.

Once he had withdrawn, I tried to stand up. I was not tired or worn out, but my legs were shaking so much they would not support me. They started to buckle under me and Garron, seeing this, put his arms round me, picking me up carried me to the sofa and lay me on it.

“All right, Jenny?” he asked.

“Lovely, darling,” I replied. “And thank you all for a wonderful experience.” Garron looking a little embarrassed began, “Jenny, we wondered…we’d like to…to…do you think you could manage it all over again? I mean…if we just took you on the sofa?”

Looking round I could see that they all had erections again, so I smiled and said, “I think I could manage that, but let that boy who didn’t come into me be first.”

The sofa is quite a spacious one, and I lay back and spread my legs for the boy. I knew I was close to another orgasm, but decided this time to control and delay it. I wanted to give this lad a good long time with me, knowing that as he had already discharged semen, he would be taking a bit longer.

He was very sweet and gentle, and indeed he did last for some time before he gave a little gasp and pumped into me.

The next boy was the Escort Beylikdüzü one who had had anal sex with me and he too went the distance.

Garron, it seemed, was to be last this time, and it was with the third boy that I had my second orgasm. I almost frightened the life out of him with the violence of my climax. This, however, in no way deterred him from detonating into me with a flood of semen.

I was deeply disappointed when Garron made no move to enter me again. He was the one I had real affection for and wanted the most. He sat back, still naked, in an armchair, as the other boys dressed.

The other three came and kissed me goodnight, thanking me for the wonderful time they had had. I extended my thanks to them, distantly implying that we might try it again some time.

They departed, and still Garron made no move to dress and leave. We were both stark naked, and seemingly sitting around waiting for the other to speak or make a move.

After a while he spoke. “Jenny, can I stay the night with you?”

To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

“Darling,” I said, “that was a party thing we did, a bit of fun, if you like. Why do you want to go to bed with an old woman? Is it the mother image or something.”

The last words had been said carelessly, but immediately I knew I had touched a raw nerve.

“How…how… did you know?” he stuttered.

“Know what?” I asked, puzzled.

“That my mother and I…we…” He stopped.

I knew about mother and son incest, but this was the nearest I had ever come to it. I hardly knew how to proceed, so I said somewhat lamely, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Clearly, Garron had never talked to anyone about his relationship with his mother, but now it all came pouring out. A full account of our talk at that time belongs to another story. I suspect it is not an uncommon story, and in brief, it went like this; when Garron’s father died, his mother, with whom Garron had always been close began to transfer her sexual love to her son with the result that they did become lovers. At around the time Garron was due to enter the university, which meant living away from home, his mother met and eventually married a man. Cut of from the physical relationship with his mother, Garron felt bereft.

He was in fact at about his lowest point when, presenting a cheerful face to the world, he first spoke to me in the cafeteria. He saw in me something of a substitute for his mother. He had no intention at that time of there being anything sexual with me. It was simply a desire for the company of an older woman.

The sexual aspect arose because once the tutorials started, the boys had talked about me in the way young men do, weighing up my sexual possibilities. Their judgement was “Not a bad looking bird for her age.”

I had mentioned Alf occasionally, and it was not hard for them to work out that I was missing my sex life with him in fact, just missing sex. They thought it would be fun to fill up this gap in my life for a while, and the birthday party seemed to present them with a good opportunity.

Garron assured me that if I had put up any sort of real resistance, they would have backed off. Whether that was true, or whether they would have proceeded to rape me, I don’t know. The point was, Garron had enjoyed me so much, and as his preference was for older women (even one as old as I), he wanted more of me.

I tried to weight up where I stood in the matter.

Never having had a child, I don’t know if I would have been orientated towards incest. What I did recall was, that on seeing the boys standing waiting their turn for me in their shirts, I had viewed them as “boys.” True they were in fact young men, but at my age, eighteen or nineteen year olds can look almost like children. I had felt a sort of compassion for them, just as a loving mother might feel tenderness for her son. In short, I had sex with boys who could have been my sons, or even my grandsons.

Now I was confronted by one of those boys who wanted something more than a bit of birthday fun. What to do? I made my decision.

“All right, Garron, come to bed with me tonight if that is what you want. But before any of that, this room smells like a whorehouse (which I suppose in a way it had been), we’d better clean it up a bit.”

There was semen on the carpet where they had taken me over the table. It was also liberally spread over the sofa. I had been injected with lavish doses of their love juice, both in the vagina and anus, so I needed a clean up as well. Garron likewise, smelt of sex, so, cleaning up the room first, which was no easy job, we followed that with a shower.

I showered first and retired to my bedroom. I looked at the large double bed Alf and I had shared for decades and offered a silent prayer, “Forgive me Alf.” Actually, I think Alf would have laughed and said, “You can’t have me, so go ahead, love.”

I pondered on how I should dress or not dress for the occasion. Should I put on a nightdress, and if so what sort? Or should I go naked to bed? At the time I was not desperate for sex, having had so many penetrations. In any case, Garron had not said, “Can I have sex with you,” he had said, “Can I stay the night with you.” I settled for nudity and would await developments.

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