By: Curt B., Julie V.

If I’ve learned one thing, just one thing, in life it’s be kind to people when you’re on your way up because you never know if you might meet them again when you’re on your way back down! It’s a philosophy that has always stayed with me and I’ve applied in whatever walk of life or job I have been in and it has served me very well. Not for nothing am I known by many who I have met on life’s journey as ‘Friendly Wendy’. Indeed a lot of them will also remember me affectionally as ‘Bendy Wendy’. Call me what you will, I’ve had a lot of fun and intend to keep doing so for as long as I am able

I’m retired now after having had a fulfilling career in education. I’m told that I don’t look my age but then again it’s very rude to be asking a lady her age so suffice to say that I am not going to see 50 again. Whether the reason for my apparent youthful looks is that since my teenage years I have been a devotee to sex is a moot point but I like to think that my being in a constant state of arousal and my need for gratification in one way or another may have something to do with it. I’m not sure if others regard me as a prowling cougar but I guess that might be a fair description.

I wasn’t always like this, being on the prowl, looking for young guys to have some fun with for my husband provided me very well with every need and I had no reason to go seeking cock outside of the marital bed. He was a good lover and he had no trouble in making me pregnant twice and giving us two lovely boys. (They’ve long since fled the nest.)

We were the perfect family unit but that all changed when my dear hubby was killed in an auto accident and I was left bereft and at a loss of how to get on with my life. After a decent period of mourning I was left with a dull ache inside which somehow morphed into a realisation that I had to find sexual satisfaction for my needy body.

I didn’t instantly go out searching for a sexual partner, although in retrospect I discovered that it would have been an easy task to fulfil, and I took solace in masturbation or rather as we refined ladies prefer to call it, Jilling.

There was nothing I liked better that at the end of day when I had returned home from work that I would draw a hot sudsy bath and then sink down into the bubbles and lazily stroke myself to a satisfying orgasm … or two. I would close my eyes as I pleasured myself and always there would be visions of some young man with an erect cock who after letting me suck him would then push that rigid prick into my gaping pussy that was inviting him to fuck me senseless. It was a recurring vision and for reasons unknown the young man in my mind would always be either a black guy or a well-hung Hispanic. I had no idea where that came from but for sure it made my fantasies even more intense.

For a while I remained the ‘respectable Mom’ and never took my fantasies out of the house. Rather I enhanced them by using toys that I bought by mail order. Initially I purchased a realistic looking dildo and for a colour choice I selected black. Oh my goodness, an inspired choice for to see that big black vibrating tool sliding in and out of my wet pussy did wonders for my imagination and laying on my bed with my legs spread wide as I tried to take the slippery length caused me to have the biggest screaming orgasms. It’s a good thing that my house is on an isolated plot otherwise neighbours might have thought there was murder being committed!