As a young man starting my first job, my daily train commute from the rural hinterland to the city centre, where I worked, involved me walking the final half a mile through a less than glamorous suburb. Each day I walked past a semi-derelict concrete building, on which had been scrawled in white paint in big letters the legend: ‘Get Into Archaeology – Give Snowy One’! Leaving aside the remarkable fact that the graffiti artist had managed to spell the word archaeology correctly – well, it was a university city – the sentiment of the message puzzled me for several weeks until a colleague explained that the area where I had seen it was part of the city’s Red Light district and the eponymous ‘Snowy’ was probably one of the ladies of the night who plied her trade there, but was maybe a bit past her prime. Fast forward almost forty years and my sexual preferences are now very much for the more mature woman. The young, glamorous ones scare me to death with their scarlet pouting lips and heavy make-up, their eyes almost permanently glued to their damned mobile phones, sitting in restaurants in isolated silence whilst their equally anti-social partners do the same on the opposite side of the table. The forty somethings are not much better, although they will at least spare a few moments away from managing their social media accounts, running their children’s lives and ordering more shoes online, to look at you occasionally and even engage in real live conversation if you’re really lucky! But once the ladies have hit their mid-fifties and are heading at pace towards that difficult age when they feel they have become invisible to the younger generation and especially to the opposite sex, then that is when I make my move. For the most part, that older generation of women are engaging, full of life and still as sexy as fuck, if only we fellas took the trouble to look. OK, there could be a few saggy tits out there, tummies might not always be flat, the dreaded cellulite might well be making an unwelcome appearance, but hey guys, have you looked in the mirror lately? It’s not always a pretty sight! Pull those fat guts in chaps, make some effort to shave your double chins and at least trim your undergrowth a bit to give the ladies a chance of blowing you off without choking to death on a gob full of matted pubic hair! Happily I have kept myself in decent shape since hitting middle age and none of my recent conquests have needed a nebuliser to get their breath back after giving the old todger a good oral workout. At seven inches, it is not the longest cock in the world, but what it lacks in length, it makes up for in girth and I’ve had many a compliment from my mature sexual partners on the way it fills up their pussies when they’re riding it and makes them feel young and tight again, instead of older and possibly a bit slack in that area. The most recent of my vintage liaisons was with the lovely Geraldine, whom I met on a bird watching walk with my local twitchers’ group. This has proved a rich hunting ground in the past, as such nature walks seem to attract ‘women of a certain age’, who have given up on their husbands ever finding them attractive enough to keep locked in coital union in the marital bed and who therefore don their wellies, ‘find nature’ and head off into the woods for spiritual uplift. Geraldine was approaching her sixty-fifth birthday with some dread when I pitched up and started taking an interest in her, helping her to identify the ‘little brown jobs’ amongst the myriad of birds seen on our jaunt. No slow build-up and endless meals out or trips to the cinema required with her. Anyway, have you seen the price of popcorn at the flicks these days?! No, Geraldine fell into my arms and into my bed within days of our having met, the clincher I think being my mention of the hot tub in my garden. We were sitting in the beer garden of our local pub on a hot summer’s day just after we’d met and Geraldine was feeling the heat. ‘It’s so muggy today Jimmy,’ she said, holding her glass of gin, tonic and ice against the smooth skin of her face. Still with a good figure, although a little matronly up top, Geraldine was starting to thicken a bit around the waist, but then, aren’t we all? Her legs could best be described as ‘sturdy’, although the summer dress she was wearing, as well as showing off a generous view of her ample cleavage, finished just above the knee and, when she crossed or uncrossed her legs, gave me the occasional glimpse of silky smooth inner thigh. I was having to cross my own legs, to try to hide the bulge building up inside my tailored summer shorts, but nothing gets past Geraldine and she was on to me in a flash. ‘You seem to be a little uncomfortable there Jim,’ she purred, leaning towards me to give me an even better view down inside her dress. ‘Had we better go somewhere more private?’ Well, if that wasn’t a come-on I don’t know what is! ‘What we need is to chill out in a hot tub,’ I suggested. ‘Happily, I happen to have one in my back garden if you’re interested in trying it out . . . ’ I left the image of the two of us entwined in the bubbling whirlpool of the hot tub hanging in the sultry air. Geraldine smiled at me seductively, her hazel eyes sparkling and her light blonde, shoulder length hair falling back as she let out a loud guffaw! ‘Classic!’ she said, then leaned forward again, placing her hand on my knee and added softly: ‘I’m afraid I don’t have my swimming costume with me, so you will just have to put up with me naked in your hot tub.’ The back of her hand brushed lightly against my cock, which was straining to escape from the confines of my underwear. ‘Looks like you’ll be all right for a snorkel if you decide to dive under the water and inspect my private harbour,’ she said, winking lasciviously at me. ‘I’ve got a submarine that should slide in there a treat . . . ’ I said, joining in the maritime innuendo. ‘Aye, aye Cap’n,’ said Geraldine, another outbreak of mirth causing her generous bosoms to shake like two large blancmanges. We left her car in the pub car park and climbed into my BMW, Geraldine allowing her dress to ride up above her knee to show off more of her thighs and a glimpse of red silk which I later discovered to be her panties. It was only a short distance to my cottage from the pub and we were soon pulling into my secluded driveway and parking in front of the garage doors. Killing the engine I leaned across to give my guest a kiss, my hand sliding up under her skirt as my tongue probed inside her open mouth. Geraldine obliged by opening her legs enough for my hand to travel unimpeded up to her silk-covered pussy, which I could tell was already secreting her hot juices. ‘Feels like your harbour is ready to accept my submarine,’ I said as we broke for breath. ‘That’s a relief!’ said Geraldine. ‘I was afraid you were going to find a dry dock down there. Lead me to your garden hot tub and do your worst!’ I led the way into the cottage and locked the door behind us, then ushered my guest through to the lounge, which overlooked the back garden via some French doors, which I unlocked and threw open. Geraldine seemed impressed by my pristine lawns and full flower borders, but looked puzzled at me. ‘So where is the  . . . ?’ ‘Hot tub? It’s behind that hedge, in its own little alcove,’ I said, pointing to the area where it was located. ‘Now, let me show you the facilities,’ I added, leading her through to the ground floor bathroom. ‘If you open that cupboard next to the shower, you’ll find a towelling robe, although I’m not overlooked here, so feel free to let it all hang out!’ I retreated to allow Geraldine to prepare for submersion and went to my room to change out of my clothes. I heard the bathroom door open and peeped through to see her emerge, wearing only the red silk panties and a matching balcony bra, from which her tits were spilling over the edge. I emerged from my room naked, my cock almost fully erect and walked towards her, pulling her into my arms and kissing her hard while my hands quickly unhooked her bra. The garment was soon lying on the floor and I was feeding hungrily on Geraldine’s rock hard nipples and squeezing the soft flesh of her 38GG breasts, whilst she stroked my cock and rubbed it against her crotch. Dropping to my knees I pulled her panties down to her ankles and buried my face in her neatly trimmed bush, tasting her juices for the first time as my hands gripped her round, firm buttocks and I fingered the rim of her asshole. Her underwear lay forgotten on my lounge floor as we walked hand in hand towards the hot tub, which I had switched on remotely when Geraldine was getting undressed. We climbed in and she sat facing me on my lap, lowering herself on to my stiff cock and sliding up and down my shaft while I suckled her gorgeous tits. We fucked like this, slowly, slowly, gradually picking up pace as our need to cum became more intense. Another advantage of engaging with older women is that they don’t expect to be fucked senseless in two minutes. They savour every thrust, every nuance of what is being done to their bodies. After twenty minutes of slow fucking we were locked together, our bodies as one, my thick cock filling her fanny and rubbing her G-spot with every thrust. As we sped up, the water around us swirled and bubbled, the hot sun beating down on us, Geraldine’s moans gradually getting louder with every thrust inside her sex. Finally my balls exploded and my hot cum pumped deep inside her hungry cunt as the lady hit her own climax, gripping my cock and squeezing it dry as if her life depended on it. ‘God that was good – I needed that,’ she murmured as she slid off my softening shaft. ‘Why don’t we go inside and towel each other dry and then I can breathe some life back into that magnificent appendage of yours and we can see if it fits into my backdoor entrance . . . ’ And so we did – but that’s a story for another day . . .