I was wet. Nothing was different about him. He wore the same hat, the same baggy pants, that were at least four sizes too big, and held up with a seat...belt he had converted into a belt. The same wife-beater. The same everything he had worn to school today. He even smelled just like he always did. But for some strange reason, everything about him was turning me on. Some how, we got inside the club. My fake ID claimed that I was 19, which was the legal drinking age in Ontario. The bouncers never. Her eyes were closed shut and her hands were pressing on my chest. My hands were pressing her boobs and nipples and also I was trying to kiss and bite her nipples. It went on for some time and finally with a shudder she fell down on me like a spent force. I laid her on her back and then mounted her by spreading her legs. Her choot was tight but due to her lubricants it slid in. I started pumping her, banging and she started responding. Her nails were scratching my back and she was trying to hug. I also knew that she had hair under her arms and a very thick bush between her legs.All pants looked hot on her, and her shorts were so much shorter and tighter than rules of decency allow for a mature widow. They did not even cover the lower part of her amazing butt cheeks, surely a provocation to grab this bubbling meat.After arriving in the kitchen, she said, “How about a lemonade? It made you horny last time.” I only grinned at her and could not resist anymore the urge to grab those. “From anyone else, that’d be hard to believe.” She sighed. “But I know someone else who slept with a young woman and didn’t touch her sexually, just gave her the security of being held and loved.” She poured a mug of lukewarm coffee, sipped, and made a face. “I’ll make some fresh. This is almost cold. Would it help if you slept with me?”“Wouldn’t you mind?”“I sort of miss having company in bed, myself.”“What was he like, your husband?”She half smiled. “Oh, Dave...” she paused. “He was....