Led Astray…


When I look back over the years at my sexual encounters, I have discovered that some aspects seem to be common factors in many of them. Take age for instance. Quite a few of my experiences have involved older lovers. I have thought long and hard as to why that might be and have been drawn to the conclusion that this is probably because of one of the other recurring aspects… I am aroused by the notion of being led astray. This explains my attraction to more mature playmates, their experience and being less inhibited in their demands, manifests itself as them taking a very leading role in the encounters. Even in my last blog post, Emma, though the same age as me, took the leading role in regards inviting the other man into our play. Had she not done that, then it very likely wouldn’t have happened. She led me into accepting him.

We mustn’t forget the “forbidden fruit” component either… the tantalising reward, the lure. In my first blog post, Patrick seduced me. He implanted an idea which he knew I could not resist. Such is the intoxicating nature of the desires to fulfil what had only been fantasy. I genuinely believe that the only way we can ever manage this, is by allowing ourselves to be exposed. Rid ourselves of the constraints that convention shackles us with, and embrace new experiences. 

I ran this past my wonderful friend and confidant and she suggested that I was displaying typical “submissive” traits in this. I was taken aback at first. I had never considered that. I explained that I enjoyed the power that I felt in my giving pleasure, and she replied that this is a huge component in the submissive role and not to be fooled by the job title! It was becoming clearer to me that she was right. I was relinquishing the responsibility of “leading” the direction of play by permitting others to “lead me astray”.

My story today centres on an encounter that occurred when I was mid twenties. I was at my parents home during the Easter break from my studies. They were away on holiday and I was looking after the house for them. 

I had spent the day out climbing with friends and returned to the house around seven in the evening. It was unseasonably warm weather we were having, and even though the sun was going down, it was still pleasant enough to sit out. I got myself a beer and went out into the yard. It was a lovely evening and I decided to roll myself a joint to have with my beer in the setting sun. I’ve never been big on drugs but during university years I did mess around a bit… as everyone else did. 

As I sat in the evening light I could hear my neighbour, Mrs Moore, getting her two year old ready for bed. It was such a peaceful scene, starlings calling as they prepared to roost for the night. All was good. The joint was hitting the spot.

I was disturbed from my daydreams when I heard Mrs Moore calling my name. I opened my eyes and saw her walking from her kitchen into the garden to gather her drying laundry. “Can I smell what I think I can JIm?” She asked me, with a grin on her face. Flustered, I replied “I don’t know what you mean Mrs Moore”. “Don’t play the innocent with me young man!” She mocked me as she plucked clothes from the line. She smiled knowingly. I blushed.

I had always admired Mrs Moore. Her husband was always working away and when he was home he spent most evenings in local bars. She pretty much did everything for the child and held down a part time job as well. That aside, I had always found her an attractive woman. She generally dressed conservatively, but as a young man, her very womanly charms were not lost on me. She appeared at first rather plain, but there was something alluring about her. I would guess she was around her early forties or so, a little younger than my mother. Shoulder length brown hair, usually always tied up, and a olive complexion which revealed her Mediterranean roots. 

As she made her way back to the house I watched. She was wearing a button through summer frock which flattered her curves, which was unusual because she would normally have a cardigan concealing her figure. “So when the cats away the mice will play” she giggled. I smiled. She obviously knew my parents were abroad. “Fancy sharing some of that?” She asked. Taken aback “Really? Well are you sure?” I blurted in reply. “I was doing that when you were a twinkle in your mothers eye Young man!” She told me. “Let me get Toby to bed and I’ll open a bottle of wine”.

I was stunned. My mind was racing, unaccustomed to my neighbour being so forward. I had always seen her as quite reserved and rather staid. Almost matronly. 

About fifteen minutes passed until Mrs Moore appeared at her back door and waved me over. As I entered her kitchen I asked where Mr Moore was and she said he was in Paris for the week. She got two glasses from a cupboard and opened the fridge door. “White Ok?” She asked. “Yes Mrs Moore” I replied. “Well you can stop calling me Mrs Moore straight away! Especially if we’re going to share a spliff” she said laughing. “Call me Anne”. I was blushing again. She began pouring the wine and we chatted about how university was going as I rolled a joint at the kitchen table. As we chatted I couldn’t keep my eyes from her. The front of her dress was soaked from bathing her son Toby before bed. The fabric of her bra was visible where her breasts touched her dress. The strap had slipped from her shoulder and hung down her arm. I sprinkled the weed into the cigarette papers. “It’s been twenty years since I did this…. Glastonbury Festival!” She said as she walked towards where I sat with the two glasses of wine. I am sure she knew I was watching her. I took a glass from her, “Cheers Jim!” I raised my glass to hers and we chinked them together. I could feel her eyes on me as she brought the glass to her lips and sat down in the chair beside me. She crossed her legs slowly and caught my downward gaze as I rolled the joint. Silky smooth and toned, the lower two buttons of her dress were undone and exposed her soft thighs. One of her sandals dangled from her foot precariously. I brought the joint to my lips and lit up, drawing on it deeply and then passing it over to her. She slipped a hand inside the shoulder of her dress and retrieved the slipped bra strap, watching my eyes as she did so. I detected a hint of a smile. She inhaled deeply on the joint… her full breasts pressing against the fabric of the dress. The damp material like a second skin, revealing her femininity. I was mesmerised by her, and she knew it. She exhaled and took a sip from her glass leaving just a hint of lipstick on the rim. She handed me back the joint and stood up. She stepped nearer to me and reached up to a shelf above me and switched on some music. I could feel my body responding. I was being toyed with. Every movement she made was designed for specific effect… and it was working. My words came out as stuttered nonsense. I was completely captivated. The tension in the room was unbearable. She was talking to me and I wasn’t hearing her, such was the effect of her proximity. I felt her leg brush mine as she returned to the table. Instead of sitting in the chair she perched herself on the edge of the table. “You’re not listening Jim!” She spoke. “I’m sorry I’m sorry” I stammered, brutally aware of my embarrassment. “I said! He doesn’t look at me like that anymore” she said. “Who?” I replied, “like what?” I added. “Don’t play dumb Jim.. I’m not fucking stupid. You’ve been undressing me with your eyes ever since you walked through the door!” She said, her voiced raised. I couldn’t find any words. I just stared back at her, mute. I got to my feet and turned towards the door. I felt her hand grab my shirt and stop me in my tracks. “Oh no you don’t!” She hissed. I turned towards her. I will always remember the look in her eyes. “Go on… touch them”. I froze. She took my hand and brought it to her breast.. Slowly she released my hand. Still she stared at me. Gently I let my hand explore the contours. I could feel her breathing become heavier as my hand gradually encircled her and stroked the tense fabric of her dress and her breast beneath. My thumb searched for and found her hardening nipple. I felt her hands begin to unbutton the front of her dress, her hair brushing my face as she looked down. I shivered. She looked up and brought her face to mine. The kiss was tentative. Gently brushing lips. Then savage. Desperate and wild, our tongues hungrily probing deeply, discovering. My hand slid inside her open frock and clawed at the heavy lace. I found the edge of the fabric and pulled down, allowing her to spill free. I felt her do the same with her other breast and push down on my shoulder. Gradually I kissed my way down her neck, down, down. I could feel the perspiration on the heaving flesh of her breasts. With one hand she held my head and pulled it to her breast which she cupped in her other. I licked the deliciously roughness of her hard nipple. Gently I took it in my mouth and delicately nibbled… “Harder!” She groaned at me. Hungrily I obeyed. My hand reached for her other breast. I roughly squeezed the voluptuousness of her. Her thighs gripped my torso as she slid back in the table… her dress fell apart. I looked up at her and saw a woman possessed. Her eyes piercing mine. She grabbed my head in both hands and pushed me down. Our eyes were locked as I followed her guidance. My chin rested on her lace covered pubis, her eyes instructing me. With one hand she pulled the damp material aside and pressed down on my head. Her musky smell filled my nostrils as I gently ran my tongue delicately along the length of her swollen lips. Violently, she pulled at my hair and ground herself against my face. “Fucking eat me!” She snarled whilst kneading at her breast with one hand. I gently parted her thighs wider and began to devour her delicious femininity, exploring every fold. My fingers probing her pinkness. First one then two, sliding against the smooth walls as I focussed on her clit with my tongue. With one hand I struggled to remove my shorts… the moment had taken over completely. I slowly got to my feet. As I did so she brought her thighs back together and I slid her panties down her legs and she spread them wide again, wrapping her legs around me, drawing me closer. She reached for me, gripping firmly. Slowly she began to part her lips with the engorged purple head. I looked at her before me. An intensely erotic vision… this beautiful mature woman spread before me. Even in her dominance, she retained an exquisite vulnerability. She had led me astray… and now she had unleashed me. The roles had shifted, for now she was mine. Where her eyes had been full of confident intent… they now told a story of a desperate yearning.

2 thoughts on “Led Astray…

  1. Wow, what a story! I’m usually submissive myself and find some kind of power in submission, in a strange contradictory way. But I love leading young men astray… some of my favourite encounters have been with men 12+ years my junior and I love taking the lead with them and love how eager they are to please me. I think they like my confidence that they can’t always find in girls their own age. The “forbidden fruit” element is such a turn on!

    Liked by 1 person

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