The Legendary Mrs. Olsen's Next Day - Sex Stories

The Legendary Mrs. Olsen's Next Day

This is a sequel to 'The Legendary Mrs. Olsen.' If you’d googled 'bright eyed and bushy tailed' that morning, you would have viewed Gayle’s Linkedin page. She wore that indefinable tone of well being, that aura that indicates the right amount of exercise, the ingestion of healthy foods and a positive outlook on life. Or, as a waiter in the coffee shop observed to the hostess, "I’ll bet she got fucked last night!” And that was what had happened, in fact two young studs had picked her up in a hotel bar, accompanied her to her room, and both had screwed her as best they could. As Gayle breakfasted, her mindfulness slipped from the newspaper at her elbow to a critique of the evening. It wasn’t that the pair had been that great, neither of them as yet knew how to tease a mature woman to a superior experience, the joy had been in their efforts and the forbidden desire Gayle had for both a threesome and youthfulness. She considered what reply she might give them should they phone and see if she wished a reprise. Tom, the brash athlete, had too much of an ego. He’d pounded her brutishly, powerfully, yet the satisfaction she’d received had been brief and mostly of her own doing. On the other hand, Curt was a dear, a sensitive man who wanted to please her, he simply needed cultivation. If she chose to bed him that evening, it would be sweet, and he’d be a much better lover for the women in his future, but how high would he be able to take her? The night had been a challenge for them, ...

... Gayle was to choose which was the 'better lover.' And unfortunately, on the point system Gayle had chosen they had tied at a score of sixteen out of twenty-four, 67 percent, barely passing for any college course. That might be acceptable for the young skirts they usually dated, but dreadful for a woman of Gayle’s maturity and eminence in the sport. It seemed likely that another tryst would prove disappointing with either, and yet any sexual calisthenics would be better than the alternative which seemed to be a solitary king sized bed. She had only one night remaining in her business trip and her choices were the pick of one boy over the other, another threesome with both of them (which she was leaning toward,) and the third option, none of the above. As she pondered the fate she might choose, she was startled by a nearby call, "Gayle?" She raised to the source of the voice, it took a few moments for her brain to recall the face, and there it was, Ron Hudson. "What are you doing here?" he queried lightheartedly. "I’m here for the conference," she admitted, and Ron concurred that was also his business in the snowy midwestern metropolis. For a few hurried moments they caught up. Yes, the husband is fine, I’ve got a daughter. You’re working where now? Oh, it’s been so long. And then Ron darted off, subject to the whims of pressing commitments, with a promise of catching up with her in the exhibition hall, where she headed as soon as she’d finished her breakfast. Ah, Ron, how long ...