Older Women Younger Men Sexy Surprises: Sexy Surprises, #42

By Giselle Renarde

Indulge in the delicious passion of "Older Women Younger Men Sexy Surprises," a captivating collection of six spicy stories that explore the irresistible chemistry between older women and younger men. Each tale invites you to witness the intoxicating allure of age-gap romance as characters succumb to the thrilling embrace of desire and surrender.

 

Embark on a journey of seduction and sensuality as a newly-divorced older woman finds herself drawn to a desirable young moving man, and a best man discovers a fiery connection with an older wedding guest. From steamy encounters in bars to unexpected office romances, these stories offer a tantalizing glimpse into the passionate encounters between older women and their younger counterparts.

 

Prepare to be swept away by the raw emotion that permeates "Older Women Younger Men Sexy Surprises." With tales that will leave you breathless, this anthology invites you to explore the transformative power of older/younger relationships. Indulge your fantasies as you immerse yourself in the sensual world of older women and younger men embracing spicy surprises.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Giselle Renarde
• Release date: May 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224135479

Giselle Renarde

Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, and contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, including Best Women's Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica, and Best Lesbian Romance. Ms Renarde has written dozens of juicy books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and Nanny State. Her book The Red Satin Collection won Best Transgender Romance in the 2012 Rainbow Awards. Giselle lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

Book preview

Older Women

Younger Men

Sexy Surprises

6 Erotic Stories

Giselle Renarde

A Dream in the Dark

When Julian offered to fetch a few more boxes of printer paper from the underground storage space, I piped up right away.  Embarrassingly, I calling out, I’ll go down on you! I mean... with you!  I’ll go down with you!

Marjorie cut her eyes at me, but sorry sister—I got there first.  You snooze, you lose!

We couldn’t help but fawn over Julian from the moment he walked through the door. It wasn’t just his youth relative to the collective average age in our office. It was his bright smile, his sense of humour, his confidence that never devolved into cockiness. That’s what got all the girls after him.

But I beat them all to the elevator.  As I rode down next to Julian, I felt electricity zapping between us.  This boy was about four storeys taller than me, Jack Sprat in a crisp white shirt.

He needed me. To unlock the heavy metal door to the storage room, that is. I had the key.

The storage room was a climate-controlled concrete box. You could probably cram about twenty people inside, if cramming people into places was a particular interest of yours, but I was only interested in Julian.

He wheeled the dolly out of the corner and started stacking it with boxes of paper. To look at Julian, you wouldn’t necessarily think he was a strong man, but I’ll tell you one thing: those boxes aren’t light.

Once he’d finished stacking boxes I thought, this is it, now or never!  If I go ahead with it, I will undoubtedly be fired. But if I don’t, I will kick myself forevermore.

I closed the door, flicked the light switch and the storage space fell into immediate and extreme darkness. I’m talking zero light. No shadows. Just thick velvety blackness everywhere you looked.

Ms. Reinhardt? Julian asked, a slight quiver in his voice.  Did the power go out?

I said, No, Julian. I turned off the lights.

Why... why... why did you do that?

I could tell you, I replied.  But I’d much rather show you.

This was the tricky part: making my way from the door to Paper Mountain without being able to see a thing.  I didn’t lift my feet off the ground, just slid them along the concrete floor until my shoe met a cardboard box.  I could hear Julian breathing hard.  I could feel his energy sizzling in the space between us.  He was close enough to touch. So I touched.

When I reached for him, I met blank space.  I moved my hand around in the darkness until I felt fabric.  His crisp white shirt.  His firm young chest.

Ms. Reinhardt, he said as I slid my hand down his belly.  What are you doing?

What does it feel like I’m doing?

He didn’t answer, only gulped.

So I asked, Do you mind me touching you, Julian?

No, he stammered, so immediately the word felt shocking as it echoed against concrete.  No, it’s okay.  I don’t mind.

Perfect answer.

But what if someone catches us? he asked.

No one will catch us, I assured him.  There’s only one key to that door, and it’s in my possession.

My possession.

I let my hand slide down the front of his trousers. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for.  Youth!  The boy was already hard by the time I touched him: firm, long, and straight as an arrow.

Mrs. Reinhardt, he said, his voice clicking as the words emerged.  Can I open my zipper now? Is that okay?

That’s more than okay.

The sound of his zipper lowering bounced off the concrete walls like shrapnel, spelling danger, causing me to cower closer to the young man as his cock burst out of his fly and into my waiting hand.

So many ways I might use it.  Where to begin?

© 2018

Clingy

F uck ‘em? Lollie asked .  She tossed her head back, laughing.  You can fuck ‘em if you can find ‘em.

Jack slipped in bed beside her, still dressed in his tight black jeans.  It used to be the depression that kept Lollie in bed until noon.  Now she slept late because she couldn’t conceive of doing anything until Jack arrived. 

You have great tits, he said, kissing behind her ear. 

They’re small.

When she closed her eyes, his palm met her naked breast beneath the sheets. Pulling the bedcovers down to her waist, he traced the perimeter of her taut nipple with his tongue.  Lollie gasped.  His hot mouth brought her mind to its knees.  Jack was everything to her—lover and savior.  She knew he was special from the day Nell first brought him home for dinner.

Jack was the kind of boy she’d secretly mooned over in her youth.  Lollie had always been the cheerleader type.  Even in motherhood, she retained her perky blondness.  Of course, the default boyfriend growing up was the standard Grade A all-American missionary position football player.  She’d left so many avenues unexplored... so many unexplored...

I stuffed my bra when I was a cheerleader, Lollie admitted. 

Yes, Jack was her confessor too.  Her guru, perhaps?  He reminded of an urban monk who lived among the people, transgressing social laws for the greater good of humanity. 

I moved on to padded bras in my twenties, she continued.  I still wear water bras, even now.

Your breasts are gorgeous, he said.  His dark shoulder-length hair swept her chest as he kissed them.  So, can I?

Every so often, when Jack made a strange request, the image of him with his little girlfriend popped into her mind.  It gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.  But Lollie wouldn’t be one-upped by Nell.