Second Intimate Encounter With The 24-Year-Old Gardener


I wrote about the first encounter with my young twenty-four -year-old friend who has been helping me with my gardening.  Last week when he came over we ended up in my bed for an intimate encounter (read last week’s entry for details).  As I’m well into my fifties, I was somewhat happy with the idea that such a handsome young man would want to take me to bed.  I half-way expected this to be a one time thing though, but to my great surprise, he called me and anted to come back to continue helping  me in my garden, and to continue where we’d left off before.

What could I say to that but, “Sure!  Come on over.”

He arrived at my home that Saturday on time with a beautiful bouquet of  flower for me, which was so sweet of him.  I gave him a kiss on the cheek as I accept his gift, quickly putting them into a vase.  We then talked a bit before going to my garden to do some work.  I showed him mercy by just having  him do some light weed pulling and a few bags of dirt here and there.  I figured that I didn’t want to work him to hard since he was going to be doing a different sort of work very shortly.

After the yard work, we went back into the house to relax and I fixed him something to eat and drink.  Since we both knew what was going to happen very soon, it was actually a lot more relaxed and carefree than last week when it was pins and needles on whether he would be able to talk his way into my bed.  I ended up giving him a bit more help than I intended but I was really feeling the need for sex after his failed attempts at “seducing” me the previous two weeks.  He did take the hints at the end as I ended up later that afternoon in my bed, flat on my back with him on top of me moving steadily between my legs as I cried out the name of a deity.  A rather successful Saturday afternoon seduction I have to admit.

Anyway, after our lunch, we continued talking on the living room couch where I sat down next to him.  As we sat down together, there was a certain amount of ease between us that only two people who have had sex can experience.  I mean that it was only one week ago when my young friend had not only been deep inside of me but received his semen into my body.  That has a way of changing the way a relationship develops, and this was no exception.

As we sat down on the couch, I took his hand into my own, and held it tightly as we talked.  Things progressed from there and soon his hand was rubbing my bare foot while I was busy massaging his thigh.  Once we reached that point, our conversation sort of dropped off as we concentrated on our growing fleshy pleasures.

But first things first.  As we were both a bit sweaty from our yard work,  I told him that we needed to get cleaned up with a shower.  I saw his eyes grow lustfully as he assumed we’d be taking a shower together.  I quickly put a stop to that notion, as that’s something I used to only do with my husband and no one else.  It does sound a bit strange that I was going to let this young man kiss, touch, fondle, enter, and release his semen inside of me, but taking a shower together was just too intimate an act.  Well, that’s how my mind works.

Once he realized he was going to be taking his shower alone, I led him to the bedroom and had him take his shower first.  While he was doing this I went upstairs and found my husband in the study doing some paperwork.  He enjoyed listening to my activities more than actually watching them.  He swore that the sexual high he gets from his imagination with just the sex noises drifting in the air was quite powerful.   He especially enjoyed it when the other man didn’t know he was upstairs, as it made the encounter more natural.  I was actually fairly quiet during sex, but I made enough sounds to satisfy my husband.  He already knew that this young man had lasted a very long time last week, and my husband was anxious to see if there would be a repeat performance or was it just a fluke and he’d be done in five minutes or less as many young men have done before.

When I returned to my bedroom, the young man was just finishing.  He came out dressed in a towel, so I told him to wait in bed while I took my own shower.

Ten minutes later, I came out and joined my young friend underneath the covers.  I didn’t bother with a night gown, but was naked as the day I was born.

It was pretty much a repeat from last week, though we did a lot more foreplay than before.  He was a bit deficient in kissing, so I showed him how to sensuously kiss not only the lips but the neck and ears as well.  He was a bit rough at first, but practice makes perfect.  I did break him out of the habit of kissing with tongues.  I don’t mind doing this with the right person,  but like some of the things I enjoy, I have to be in the  right mood and with the right person.

We then spent maybe an hour just smooching, touching, and fondling one another.  It put me in the mood for more, and as I took hold of his rather thick penis, it reminded me that I would have to tell him to go slow this time to lessen the pain of entry.

But that would be in a while.  For now, I just enjoyed having him in my bed.

By the time I was ready for him to enter me, he was ready to go and anxious to do his duty.

As with last week, we didn’t use condoms.  After he mounted me, I took his manhood into my hand and planted his penis into my entrance to get it right on target before telling him to push in but go slow…very slow.  He did this but it still hurt a bit more than I was used to, but I really didn’t mind as I knew that this slight discomfort would soon be replaced by some rather wonderful pleasure.  Once he was inside of me all the way, and  I was comfortable, he started thrusting with a steady pace that felt wonderful the longer it went on.

I’m still surprised at how long he was able to stay in the missionary position and remain hard inside of me.  As most know, though I enjoy orgasms, my enjoyment of sex primarily comes from the intimacy of lovemaking and for me there is nothing more intimate than having a man on top of me, moving between my legs for as long as possible. And my young friend certainly didn’t disappoint me in that.

I orgasmed probably five minutes after he entered me, but he didn’t let up, as he continued thrusting and thrusting and thrusting.  He continued without letting up for the next  fifteen or twenty minutes, all in the missionary position.  That’s a bit unusual for someone to last that long with fast and hard thrusting, especially for someone so young.  But he seemed fine with it, and I was enjoying having his sweaty body on top of mine as well as his fairly thick male member moving inside of me.  I have to admit that it felt quite nice having something that thick inside of me for so long, even though it hurt going in.

He finally told me that he was about to orgasm and asked if he could come inside of me.  I wrapped my legs around his waist and whispered into his ears that he could, and waited for the moment that he would fill me.  He was thrusting so hard at this point that the bed was not only  rhythmically  moving but the wood frame was hitting the wall as well, which I’m sure was making my husband quite stimulated.  , Of course, my worry was that it was going to put a hole in the wall.   Oh well, I though,  My husband would have to fix that later.

With a final loud grunt, my young friend finally had his own orgasm, and as he went in as deep as he could,  I could feel his penis pulsating  semen inside my body.  I was in heaven  as I absolutely love the moment when a man fills me with his most intimate of bodily fluids as the ultimate act of intimacy.

He collapsed on top of me, squishing me a bit, but I didn’t mind.  When he finally rolled off me, I had him hold me for a little bit (I always try to instill in the young men I take to bed how important it is to hold a woman after sex), and we then talked until it was time for him to leave.

After my young friend left, my husband came downstairs smiling.  “That was a long, long time he was inside of you,” he remarked.

“Yes, it was,” I said.

“Maybe he masturbated a few times before he came over,” he suggested.

“I don’t think so, ” I said, “He released an awful amount of semen inside of me.  Alot, in fact.”  I patted my belly a bit for dramatic effect.  “It’s still dripping out of me.”

As my young friend seemed very happy with our second encounter and expressed an interest in meeting me again next week, I figured I had some time to explore this little mystery later.  What mattered was that he wasn’t bothered by any guilty feelings that some men have when they think they are cheating with a married woman.  Many might enjoy the first encounter, but once their lust wears away their little voice in the head often will become a roar of condemnation and the guilt they feel becomes overwhelming (think of the angel and the demon standing on your shoulder telling you what is right or wrong).

Anyway, as this was the second time I was intimate with my young friend and he seemed absolutely fine with the fact that he was bedding a married woman and wanted to meet again.  This  really has the potential of becoming something regular thing for the both of us. Certainly not every week, as he does have a life, but maybe twice a month is certainly workable.  Enough to stave off my tension headaches that sex seems to be able to cure.


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