True story. In 2017, I met Bernard on a libertine site. He was about fifteen years older than me and had contacted me for a threesome with one of his many mistresses. We had met to get to know each other. He had been a lifelong libertine although married, a fan of swingers clubs, a renowned physicist researcher (I had googled him..). We had immediately become friends because despite the age difference and apart from sex, we had several common passions. Over a drink, he told me that he had three regular mistresses; a pharmacist whom he regularly brought to the club, the wife of a general who was bored and Thérèse. They were all over sixty or more, but they liked sex. As for the clubber, I admitted to her that I did not know this environment and that, spontaneously and without thinking, it did not attract me. But yes for the other two. Some time later, summer arrived and he invited me to have a drink with Thérèse in a popular pub near the beaches. He gave me at the end of the day, so that she could meet me and see if she liked me. I was a little early and I went outside to enjoy the sun and my cold beer. I saw them arrive in the distance, and I thought they made an astonishing couple. He in a suit, not very tall, bald and plump, she in a white skirt slit at the front and a colorful top, tall and slender, curly auburn hair. When we arrived, we kissed each other. She smelled divine, she was lightly made up and had an extraordinary voice. A little worldly but laughing. Bernard went to have a drink for them and we got to know Thérèse. She stared at me, and I admit that I appreciated having sunglasses so that she wouldn't see me squinting at her breasts, free of any restraint under her top. They didn't look very big, but nicely shaped. She was a widow, unrestrained; she lived in the Paris region but regularly came to my city where she had inherited an apartment. She told me straight out that she didn't understand why Bernard wanted to have a threesome with me; libertine wasn't really Thérèse's thing, and that it bothered her because we had a big age difference. It's true that I didn't know how to give her an age. She was very alert and still very beautiful, but I think she was over 70. Bernard had come back and we were talking about this and that while slipping in a few ambiguous remarks. The day was fading and the heat was less intense. Bernard suddenly got up: - I have to go. Can you walk Thérèse home? - Yes, no problem. - See you soon. And he left, leaving us there. Thérèse said to me: - Sometimes, I don't understand what he wants, or what he's doing.- Do you want to go home? - I'll have another drink. - I'm going. We talked for a long time, getting friendly and telling each other about our lives. But the evening was going on and she wanted to go home. - Do you want to know my apartment? - With pleasure. And we left to get to my car. I was driving quietly when my phone rang. The caller was one of my daughters, who told me that another of my daughters was in the emergency room, having fainted. I told her that I was leaving my friends and going there. I hung up and turned to Thérèse sheepishly. - Well, will it be another time? - With pleasure. I walked her home and joined my daughter in the emergency room. Nothing serious fortunately. Some time later that same summer, Bernard called me back. Thérèse invited us to her place for an aperitif! He knew about our previous mishap and she had told him that she wanted to see me again. I arrived around 8:00 p.m. with a bottle of chilled white wine. Bernard opened the door for me, bare-chested, pot-bellied and sweating. She lived in an old ground-floor apartment in the city center, old-fashioned. She had inherited it from her old aunt and the decor must not have changed! It was very hot in the apartment, he told me. Thérèse called out "I'm coming" and Bernard directed me to the dining room on the right; the curtains were drawn, the large window looked out onto the street and the setting sun was slowly cooking the room. I heard a "Cuckoo" behind me and turned around. Thérèse smiled at me, completely naked. "It's terribly hot in the apartment, I can't stand any clothes anymore. " "I love your welcome," I told her, kissing her on the cheek. The wrinkles on her body showed that the weight of the years had taken its toll, but she must have been a remarkable woman. She was slim, flat stomach, small well-defined breasts that I had glimpsed during our previous aperitif crowned with pale pink nipples, a trimmed, frizzy salt and pepper fleece, long and muscular legs. She must have been a fan of full-body tanning, her tanned body revealed no trace of a swimsuit, I only saw a white mark between her buttocks when she turned and left for the kitchen.Bernard made himself comfortable and took off his shorts. He was naked. Not to be outdone, I undressed. He opened my bottle of wine and Thérèse arrived with the appetizers and glasses. Bernard served us and we toasted to summer. Raising her glass, Thérèse glanced at my shaved sex and seemed to appreciate it. She sat down and crossed her legs. Bernard went to the kitchen to get another dish and when he came back, he leaned over and kissed Thérèse on the breast. She giggled and scolded him like the rascal he was, I have to admit. Out of male solidarity, I got up and kissed her other breast. Her nipple wasn't hard but was hard as a rock. She giggled again and called me a rascal. Rascal! It had been a long time since I had heard that word! We spent half an hour chatting, naked in an overheated living room, drinking excellent white wine. Thérèse, no doubt under the influence of alcohol and heat, began to get animated and talk louder, laughing at our nonsense and jokes and checking out my sex and Bernard's more and more openly. It seemed that with the help of the alcohol, she had forgotten her reservations about my "young" age and her aversion to threesomes. I had a direct view of her sex, which I found delicious to look at. I wondered in petto if it tasted good. She got up and went to the kitchen. I followed her and slipped behind her into the cramped kitchen, letting my sex rub against her buttocks. She said nothing and I grew bolder; placing my left hand on her buttocks and the right on her breast, I leaned down and kissed her greedily. Her tongue sought mine, tense and rummaging. Freeing her hands, she put the dish down to caress my sex which instantly stood to attention. Bernard arrived and stuck himself on her buttocks. She was sandwiched between two rutting men, she hissed with increasingly short breaths. - The room is right there, she said. Bernard, knowing the place, preceded us and we entered the room plunged into darkness. She lay down on her back and Bernard began to finger her. I went ...

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