I've enjoyed a life with some wonderful lovers and want to share. In my 20s I discovered that I was really into older women. If this goes well I'd like to tell more of these stories of intimacy and adventure.

Some connections defy conventional labels. Twenty years ago, when I was 24 and she was 42, Lana and I created something rare and precious. What started as passionate Friends With Benefits in our shared city has evolved into yearly reunions in discrete, sun-soaked locations where we can step outside our normal lives.

This story begins with a last-minute booking at a Mediterranean resort - the kind of place where retirees come to escape winter. Perfect for us, since neither of us wanted to risk running into familiar faces. Through some cosmic alignment, we both managed to clear our schedules, creating a pocket of time that belonged only to us.

Lana and I share a wild spirit that multiplies when we're together. We're "spontaneity squared" - a formula that's led to some of the most memorable moments of my life. There's something electric about our dynamic: her eagerness to surrender matched by my drive to please, creating a perfect circle of giving and receiving. No boundaries, no limits, except those we choose. The rules are simple - mutual pleasure or nothing at all.

When we're together, she becomes my entire world. I spoil her endlessly, making her the center of my attention and desire. And when we return to our separate lives, we carry pieces of each other with us. A secret part of me will always belong to her - she knows this, owns this truth as completely as she owns her power over me.

We flew in separately - a necessity now that we live in different states. Her flight's delays turned out to be fortunate, giving me time to shower and recharge before heading back to collect her. No rideshares or anonymous taxis for my Lana. After a quick disco nap, I found myself back at the airport, anticipation building with each passing minute.

The arrivals hall gleamed with late afternoon sun when Lana emerged, somehow looking impeccable after twenty-one hours of flying. She's always had that effect - it's not just her age but her aura that commands attention. Her curves still move with that timeless confidence that's brought empires to their knees. Every step is deliberate, her body an instrument she's mastered over decades.

And I was her chosen audience.

Our embrace felt like muscle memory - my arms wrapping around her torso, pulling her close enough to feel the press of her breasts, the soft curve of her belly against me. Her familiar scent hit me: expensive perfume layered over airplane air, hotel shampoo, and beneath it all, her. I inhaled deeply, already imagining how that scent would saturate over the coming days.

"Aren't you looking fresh for someone who spent twenty-one hours flying!" I managed.

She laughed, pressing closer. "Those first-class lounges in Paris have showers and napping rooms. This girl needed to freshen up before the reveal." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I knew you'd be like a dog all over me."

She knew me too well.

The Mediterranean sun was setting as we reached the car, casting everything in gold. I watched Lana plop into the passenger seat, already kicking off her flip-flops with practiced ease. The casual gesture felt loaded with promise. Part of me wanted to pull her into the backseat right there, but the greater pleasure lay in waiting. We had days ahead of us - why rush?

Of course, Lana had other ideas...

She propped one foot on the dashboard - those bright-painted toes and the faded ankle tattoo catching the sunset. Her skin glowed golden, carrying stories of sun and adventure from a life well-lived. The casual pose was anything but casual - we both knew this dance.

"I saw that!" she caught me looking.

"You know what you're doing, darlin'," I managed, trying to focus on navigating the airport traffic.

Then, without warning, she hitched up her sundress. The move was pure Lana - bold, deliberate, a declaration of intent. The closed air of the rental car suddenly filled with coconut lotion as her thick thighs parted. Each shift of her hips was a promise.

She reached for my right hand on the steering wheel. I could've resisted, should've resisted - we had twenty minutes of highway ahead and I wanted to draw this out for days. But when she pulled my hand to her inner thigh, I gave in just enough to grip her flesh firmly, deliberately avoiding where she wanted me most.

Her frustrated sigh was my trigger. Game on - her boldness against my restraint, building tension until one of us breaks. Tonight, I was determined to win.

The exit gate opened automatically - no attendant to witness our ritual (too bad). The open highway stretched before us, the setting sun at our backs painting everything in deep orange and purple. Just twenty minutes to the resort, but I planned to make them count.

Lana wasn't finished. She hiked her dress higher, offering a full view of what I'd been missing this past year. Her fingertips traced along her vulva, the gesture both invitation and challenge. In the dying light, I could see - and hear - her mature labia unfold into a heart-shaped flower, glistening beneath that perfectly maintained strip of hair.

My resolve nearly broke. After all, who was I to deny this woman who had given me so much over the decades? Our yearly rendezvous were sacred - time suspended, roles forgotten, just two souls reconnecting in the most primal way. I cupped my hand over her heat, middle finger searching for something we both desperately wanted. She was already dripping - some things never change. As my finger slipped inside, she braced her hands against the ceiling and pushed her whole self down onto my hand. Her eyes closed with knowing smile playing across her lips.

"Yes... this is why we are here," she breathed, voice thick with anticipation. I withdrew my hand slowly, deliberately bringing it to my face. This was part of our ritual too - marking myself with her scent. I didn't just inhale; I wiped her essence across my mustache, then licked my fingers clean. Salty, pungent, musky, with that hint of coconut lotion. I wanted to wear her like this for days.

The GPS chirped our approaching arrival. Somehow, twenty minutes had collapsed into seconds - time always bends when I'm with Lana. As the resort's lights appeared ahead, I caught her watching me with that timeless look: part amusement, part hunger, part something deeper that we never put into words. The evening air hit us as we stepped out of the car, carrying the scent of sea salt and bougainvillea. Lana adjusted her dress, but the heat between us lingered, visible in her flushed cheeks and the way she leaned into me as the valet approached.

He would definitely find a wet spot in the passenger seat. Let him wonder. At check-in, when Lana reached for her purse, I caught her wrist gently. Leaning close to her ear, I whispered, "For the time you're here, you are mine. Everything you eat, drink, wear, touch, put on you, put in you, carry on you - it's all from me." I let go and traced behind to her butt. That squeeze is so much better when she’s got nothing on underneath.

I felt her shiver slightly, watched her eyes soften. In that moment, I saw the weight of responsibility slip from her shoulders - the constant providing for adult children and grandchildren, the endless giving. Here, she could finally receive.

The lobby buzzed with the quiet energy of mature couples - silver-haired men with their younger companions, all wrapped in an atmosphere of discrete luxury. But Lana stood out, commanding attention in her reversed May-December dynamic with me. Her confidence radiated through every laugh line, every curve, every scar - each marking a story in our shared history.

The golf cart hummed quietly along the property's edge, our laughter carrying across manicured lawns in the gathering dusk. We'd always been people watchers, spinning tales about strangers' lives. Now we were characters in someone else's story - the mature blonde beauty and her younger companion, both glowing with obvious desire.

In our room, time slowed. Years of knowing each other had taught us the value of patience. I knelt before her, cradling her feet in my lap, my thumbs working into arches tired from travel. Each toe received attention - first with my fingers, then my lips, drawing soft sighs from above. Her legs opened slightly as I massaged upward, but this wasn't about rushing. This was about worship. My kisses traveled up her ankles, calves, the tender spots behind her knees. Each brush of my lips drew new sounds from her, little catches in her breath that told me exactly how my touch affected her. When I reached her inner thighs, the scent of her arousal was intoxicating.

What started as tender care transformed into something more primal. Those sighs became moans, my worship became hunger. We found ourselves at the corner of the bed - that perfect height, that perfect angle that sent me back twenty years to that empty apartment, where we'd made love raw and unprotected on bare mattresses stacked in the living room.

I was so young then, still learning the power of complete surrender. When I'd been close to finishing, she'd pulled me deeper and whispered, "Give me all your babies" - words that had triggered something primal in me, making me explode inside her with an intensity I'd never known before. Now, decades later on another corner of another bed, she spoke those same words. The command in her voice still held that power - a detonator to my deepest instincts. My response was just as explosive, just as complete. I drove into her depths, emptying everything I had as she pulled me closer, claiming every drop just as she had that first time.

When I finally slipped free, our combined essence immediately began to escape her. I slid to the floor, mesmerized, watching my release trail from her swollen lips down to her tight rosebud. Without hesitation, I chased it with my tongue, tasting us together, savoring every drop from her ass back to her dripping pussy. The fact that this was my own cum made it even more intoxicating - a primal claiming of everything we made together.

Here was Lana, grandmother of three, professional woman, spreading herself wider as my tongue exploring new realms of pleasure. Fifty-nine years of sexuality, and she was still finding new ways to let go. My hunger for every inch of her, every drop we made together, spoke louder than words: no part of you is off limits, no desire too taboo. Her gasps and shivers told me this crossed a threshold - one that made her feel more desired, more completely accepted than ever before.

We stayed like that for long moments, my face pressed against her warmth, her fingers gentle in my hair. The intimacy of what we'd just shared filled the room and the air - another boundary crossed, another level of trust deepened. When she finally stirred to freshen up, I watched her walk to the bathroom on shaky legs, proud of how thoroughly we'd pleased each other. While she was gone, an idea formed. I went to her suitcase and gathered every pair of panties she'd packed. When she returned, I was waiting with them in my hands.

"These are mine now," I declared. "You won't need them here. And I have a challenge for you - save every drop of us. Keep me inside you until the end of the evening."

She looked at me then with that unique gaze only an older woman can give her younger lover - a mixture of pride, tenderness, and arousal. It was the look of someone watching youth unlock life's deeper pleasures, the way a teacher delights in a student surpassing expectations. Her eyes held both maternal pride and carnal hunger, an intoxicating combination that had drawn me to her from the start.

"Challenge accepted," she said softly, reaching for her dress. As she slipped it over her bare skin, the simple shift became something more - a container for our secret, a whisper of what lay beneath. She caught me watching and smiled, knowing she'd inspired a younger lover who now dared to challenge her. I watched her get ready, both of us knowing that every movement for the next few hours would remind her of our game. Each step would make her conscious of how full she still was, how she carried our shared essence within her. The slight discomfort in her walk only added to my pride.

At dinner, her scent still marked in my mustache, I watched her charm other guests. Each time she crossed her legs or shifted in her chair; I knew she was feeling the evidence of our agreement. The stakes of our little game added electricity to every glance, every casual touch.

The resort's restaurant was all warm lighting and discrete corners, though we chose a table near the center. Let them look. Let them wonder. Lana moved with deliberate grace, each shift in her chair a private reminder of our challenge. When the waiter approached, she crossed her legs slowly, letting her dress ride up just enough to make him stumble over the evening's specials.

I watched it all, cataloging every reaction she drew. My possessiveness wasn't about control - it was about celebration. Every admiring glance she attracted was a victory we shared. They could look, but only I knew the full story: how she was keeping our secret warm inside her, how her skin tasted everywhere, how she surrendered and commanded in equal measure.

When an older gentleman at the bar caught her eye, Lana gave him that signature smile - the one that had first captured me in her store all those years ago. Under the table, her bare foot found my calf.

Over plates of Mediterranean cuisine, our conversation flowed easily between the mundane and the provocative. We caught up on family news, shared stories of the months between our last meeting. But beneath the ordinary talk ran an electric current - every shift in her chair a reminder of our ongoing game, every shared glance loaded with promise.

When the music started, I led her to the dance floor. This was our other language - one of bodies in motion, of public intimacy. I moved around her in ways that made her the gravity center of the universe, my orbit tightening and widening in ways that made her laugh, made her flush. Made her feel eternally desirable, ageless in the dim light.

"I can't hold you all night," she whispered later, back at our table. "I'm a little sore. It's been... a while." Her confession surprised me, touched something deep. We discussed options, and when she leaned in to whisper her preference in my ear, her teeth grazing my earlobe, her solution made me grin. The evening's tension peaked when another guest, loosened by wine, approached our table. Her tone carried judgment wrapped in faux curiosity: "What's the deal with you two?"

Lana set down her wine glass, turned to face the woman fully, and delivered her response with the elegant confidence of a woman who'd long ago stopped apologizing for her desires.

"We are lovers for over 20 years. This gentleman just gave me all his babies and then dared me to hold it all in this evening without spilling a drop. So far I've been a good girl, but I'm sore and ready to smother this man in our sauna back and watch him swallow everything he gave me and more. THAT is the deal with us."

The silence that followed was delicious - made even sweeter by the blush creeping up the bartender's neck as he pretended not to hear. The woman retreated, leaving us in our bubble of shared victory. Lana's boldness, her ownership of our dynamic, had me gripping my glass to keep from dragging her back to the room right then.

Her declaration hung in the air like perfume, transforming the restaurant's atmosphere. The other diners tried not to stare, but their furtive glances only heightened our private electricity. I leaned across the table, close enough to catch the wine on her breath.

"You know what that little speech just did to me," I murmured. "Mhmm," she hummed, running her foot up my calf under the table. "And you know I'm still keeping my promise. Though it's getting..." she shifted in her chair meaningfully, "increasingly challenging."

The waiter appeared with our dessert menu, but food was the furthest thing from our minds. I settled the bill, leaving a generous tip for the staff who'd pretended not to hear our exchange.

The golf cart hummed through the darkness, following the resort's winding paths. Lana's earlier declaration had shifted something between us - her boldness demanding equal boldness in return. The night air carried the scent of jasmine and sea salt, but I could still catch traces of our earlier intimacy in my mustache, a preview of what was to come.

In our suite, the sauna beckoned - already warming, promising a space where pretense could melt away completely. Lana's eyes gleamed as she shed her dress, her skin glowing golden in the dim light. No more games now, no more holding back. This was her moment to command.

The heat hit us like a wall as we entered. 120 degrees of pure intensity, and Lana wasted no time claiming her throne. She straddled my face with deliberate slowness, her thighs trembling slightly with anticipation. This was the culmination of our earlier challenge - her chance to release everything she'd been holding inside her, to mark me as thoroughly as I'd marked her.

The heat intensified as Lana's fingers wound into my hair, signaling this ride would be rough, wet, and fast. Years of giving were about to become pure taking.

"I....LOVE....YOU...SO....MUCH....." Each word ripped from her core as her control finally shattered.

The flood began with my essence - distinctive, bitter-salt that numbed my mouth. Then came her storm. Those wide, heavy hips that had commanded attention in the airport now drove her sacred center against my face with unstoppable momentum. The grip of her mature thighs held the tight control of decades of lust, not just climbing toward ecstasy but preparing to vault over it entirely.

Then - stillness. Like the eye of a hurricane before category 5 winds tear reality apart. In this moment of suspension, I reached under her, my left hand cupping her ass, thumb circling her rosebud - echoing our earlier intimacy, promising more. That gentle pressure was the key that unlocked everything she'd been holding. My cum rushed out of her first, followed immediately by her own flood as she came. I opened my mouth, craving both our fluids mixed together. But I wasn't done. As she trembled above me, I pressed my thumb inside her ass, triggering a second wave even more powerful than the first. She didn't scream - she grunted. Didn't breathe - she gasped. She didn't find God - she was God. Her rhythm, the same one that had turned heads hours ago, returned a hundredfold, grinding truth and power into my willing face as my thumb pushed deeper.

The moment gradually subsided, but I kept my thumb buried inside her, feeling her pulse from within as she came down. Her thighs still gripped my face, but softer now, trembling with aftershocks. We were both drenched - with sweat from the sauna's heat, with our combined essences, with the pure liquid electricity of what we'd just shared.

We peeled ourselves apart slowly, every movement sending new shivers through us. The sauna suddenly felt cool compared to what had passed between us. We'd taken our earlier intimacy from the corner of the bed and elevated it, transformed it into something even more primal in this cedar-scented box of pure heat.

Somehow we made it to the shower, the cool water a shock against our overheated skin. Lana leaned against me, legs still unsteady from the intensity of her release. In the quiet aftermath, I could feel her pride in me - in how I'd learned over our years together to read her body, to push her past boundaries she didn't even know she had.

The cool water cascaded over us, bringing us slowly back to earth. Lana leaned against me, her legs still unsteady. After a moment, she turned in my arms, looking up at me with curious wonder.

"How did you know?" she asked softly. "About... that. It was so gentle, so erotic. No one's ever made me feel quite like that."

I smiled, running my hands down her back. "Not a conscious decision. Your body told me - first on the bed after we made love, then again in the sauna when you paused. Sometimes our bodies speak a language deeper than words."

To emphasize the point, I reached around her with my long arms, hands finding the curves of her ass. My fingers dipped lower, tickling that sensitive spot that had brought her such pleasure moments before. She giggled and squirmed against me, the sound pure joy echoing off the shower walls.

This was us at our truest - moving effortlessly between intense passion and playful intimacy, every touch both familiar and new. Twenty years of knowing each other's bodies, yet still discovering new ways to connect, to please, to surprise.

We barely had energy to drag ourselves from the shower, wrapping in plush hotel robes. While I collapsed into a nearby chair, Lana took her place at the mirror - a ritual as timeless as our connection. I watched, mesmerized, as she began her nightly routine of creams and lotions.

Realizing how parched we were, I went for water from the minibar. When I returned, she'd shed her robe completely, one leg propped on the vanity stool as she applied lotion. Her breasts hung heavy and perfect, swaying slightly with each movement. The soft curve of her belly caught the light - a map of motherhood's gifts, every mark telling the story of bringing three lives into the world. Each scar, each stretch mark was a testament to how fully she'd lived, how completely she'd given herself to life's purpose. I'd never seen anything more beautiful.

"Come outside," I called, heading to the balcony. She followed, robe hanging open now, utterly unconcerned with modesty. We clinked our water glasses in a toast to... everything. To now. To us. When she turned and pressed her back against me, I enveloped her, palms spreading wide to hold as much of her as possible. Her breasts filled my hands, nipples thick against my palms, while my nose buried in her damp hair.

Twenty years of knowing this woman's body, and still, each touch felt like discovery. How was it possible that she could feel this new, this fresh, when I knew every inch of her by heart?

Outside on the balcony, the night air cooled our still-flushed skin. My hands spread across her body, treasuring each curve, each mark, each testament to her journey. But beyond the physical intimacy, something deeper had transformed between us in that sauna.

We'd given ourselves over completely to each other - me to her power, her to my devotion - and emerged as equals, stripped bare of everything but truth. The anticipation that had wound us tight since the airport was spent, leaving behind something purer: two souls who'd known each other across decades, who'd chosen each other again and again.

Standing there, my nose buried in her damp hair, her body soft and real against mine, we didn't think about tomorrow. Didn't think about the years between our meetings or the lives we'd return to. There was only this moment, this perfect completion. Tomorrow would bring new adventures - what they'd be, we didn't know. Didn't need to know. After twenty years, we'd learned that the sweetest part of our connection wasn't in the anticipation or even the release, but in these quiet moments of absolute presence.

A good night's sleep would restore us for whatever came next. But for now, we simply existed together, two long-term lovers bound by the deepest respect and admiration, whole in ways that transcended the physical. The Mediterranean night wrapped around us like a blanket, witnesses to a connection that defied conventional understanding.