Silent desire

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All rights reserved.

Original Copyright © 2020, by Jupiter Hill.

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Jupiter Hill, PO Box 42, 97634 Mellrichstadt

Padigio@gmx.de

Foreword:

Dear readers,

thank you for purchasing my book.

Silent Desire is an erotic short story.

But now to my real person. My name is Jupiter Hill. I was born in Frankfurt am Main in 1982. Since my childhood I have written stories of all kinds. The older I got, the stronger my desire to write erotic stories became. And that's what I do now.

I don't stick to any fixed conventions. No rigid ideas or general views. Sometimes I write from a woman's point of view, sometimes from a man's. Because my stories are made for both sexes.

I hope to make my readers happy with my "works". And inspire them to erotic acts. The following story is partly made up. But a large part is based on my own life.

Your Jupiter

Silent desire

It had become late once again. Around 6 pm I finally arrived home. The unspeakable heat lasted now already two weeks. Already with the first look through the large glass pane to the outside I noticed beside my partner another probably unknown female person on one of the couches. The two women had obviously made themselves comfortable and enjoyed the heat of the day in the shade of the terrace.

After I had put my jacket and my briefcase in the hall, I was relieved and headed for the garden. I had just crossed the wide open sliding door when my gaze fell on the legs of that stranger. They were long, strong limbs. In their firmness and tautness they radiated that erotic allure that only a mature woman's leg can convey. These scrawny, bony stilts of the coat-stands, who call themselves models, may be the epitome of slimness. They are absolutely useless as an erotic signal to a man. They seem to be screwed together from metal parts and only radiate cool objectivity. How different were these women's legs, which in their round opulence, in the vastness of smooth skin threw a silent desire at me: they wanted to be caressed and caressed. Everything about them seemed to call out to touch them gently with the palm of my hand and massage them until every single hair on them straightened up and a pleasant shiver ran down to the lowest regions of their owner.

I have always been particularly attracted to such mature legs. Others may attach great importance to a well-formed bosom, slim hips, a firm bottom or a pert look from bright eyes that promises wonderful promises. Such things also have their wonderful charm. And I will not hide the fact that such a sight also captivates me, makes my breath still and sends the blood into deep regions. Here, however, I instinctively understood that these wonderful legs are not just anybody's body part. They make them up. They are their special characteristic.

Lydia, my partner for years, introduced me to Barbara. She lived separately and had recently moved to our area. By chance they met yesterday at Rewe and found out that Barbara had taken up residence with old Mrs. Clasen only three houses away. So it was only natural to invite the old school friend in such beautiful summer weather, to chat with her and to spend a wonderful afternoon relaxing on a couch.

The two women had straightened up when I stepped onto the terrace with a queasy feeling. Actually, I noticed immediately that this Barbara is otherwise inconspicuous. Her body is fleshy. She looks a little serious from her grey eyes. Also the light brown coloured half-long hair is hardly suitable to give her a special erotic charisma. Actually this woman is rather ordinary, average. The colorful swimsuit emphasizes her feminine forms. But this does not include her breasts. At first glance they seem rather small. And yet I can't take my eyes off those wonderful legs. Barbara's thighs are still firm despite her late 40s. Even the insides are firm. With Lydia time has already taken its toll. She is really soft and a little bit flabby between her legs. I do not mind. After all, at almost 50 years of age I am no longer the muscular youngster I used to be.

After a few moments of small talk I leave the terrace and enter the house. All I heard from Barbara is that she works in the sports department at Horten. She is childless, but has lived for almost 25 years with a man who became unbearable after his early retirement. That's when she decided to leave, before her life together would be marked only by quarrelling or mutual disregard.

Usually the picture of erotic signals soon becomes blurred. At the latest after a restful sleep, at best the pale memory of what she has seen remains. This was not the case with Barbara. I remembered her wonderful legs and every detail of our brief encounter. This even affected my concentration in the following working days. Again and again I began to imagine stroking her firm thighs with my hand. From time to time they seemed more and more extensive. In my thoughts I could soon pass over them for half an hour, maybe even a whole hour, without touching the same spot.

Three days later I was ready to dive between her legs with my head already. In my thoughts my tongue stroked from outside to inside over the wonderfully firm flesh. Soon I even approached that area which serves both sexes to experience the highest sensual pleasure. Excited and trembling I opened my lips and hurriedly passed my tongue over it. I imagined that Barbara would push the gusset of the swimsuit slightly to the side and now gently stroke her soft lips with her tongue. With these thoughts I startled and paused for a moment. I know that this is not

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