by Silke Ming

When twenty-nine year old international chef, Jason Hirona meets fifty-one year old artist and divorcee, Martha Holland, at an art exhibit in New York City, he is immediately smitten. However, she is a little wary of the young stranger who is just one year older than her son. When he invites her to lunch, she refuses, but after much cajoling, he finally wears her down and she joins him. At midnight, they are still deep in conversation learning about each others’ lives. He lives in Bordeaux, France and is a renowned chef at one of the city’s top restaurants.

Because of the late hour and her trust in him, she accepts an invitation to spend the night in his borrowed apartment, and he proves to be the perfect gentleman. He, however, is interested in her and worms his way into her home for the duration of his holiday.  Sparks fly and he sees how naïve she is and this naivete makes him fall in love with her. When the ten days are over, Jason realizes he doesn’t want to live without her and invites her to Bordeaux.

Her son Joshua arrives to meet his new stepfather, but proves to be a stumbling block in the relationship, because of the age-difference between Jason and his mother.

Jason and Martha’s relationship is hot, and he teaches her everything she didn’t know about sex, but the age difference is still an obstacle for her. When her son pulls an unforgivable stunt and entices her to England under false pretenses, Martha knows she must make a decision. Her son or her lover! After much soul-searching, she decides to marry the man who loves her above all others, and together they decide to call Bordeaux home, where Martha continues her painting surrounded by everything inspirational.


To him, her moans were those of encouragement, and he was about to lick her between her thighs  when she quickly sat up and closed her legs.

“Don’t do that,” she said, trying to cover her large breasts.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his fingers still imprisoned between her thighs. “I thought you were enjoying it.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” she said, panting.

“Why not? There’s nothing quite as intoxicating as a woman having her pussy licked. Every French woman expects it,” he replied, still circling her clit. “It is secondary to breathing.”

“But I’m not French,” she snorted.

“Martha, what’s wrong?” he said, removing his hand. “Have you ever been kissed down here?”

“What does it matter?” she asked, tightly closing her eyes.

He stared at her in disbelief.

“I think I’m right. No one has ever licked  your pussy.”

“And I’m not about to start now,” she said adamantly. “I don’t want you to do that to me.”

“Oh, Martha, you don’t know what you’re missing. You’ll love it,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

“No, I don’t want you to do it. That kind of thing is for…”

“For what?”

“It’s not ladylike.”

“Oh, Martha,” he said softly. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll do it just this once, and if you don’t like it, I promise you I won’t do it again. Do we have a deal?”

“I don’t know. My husband never did it to me. He said ladies don’t do things like that.”

“Oh, god,” he groaned. “Is that what he said? You don’t know what you’ve been missing. Let me show you what real pleasure is.”

Through glazed eyes, she looked down at him, as he parted her legs and caressed her clit with one finger.

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I’m going to replace my finger with my tongue. I know you’ll love it, Martha. Relax and let me show you the true meaning of pleasure.”

Not losing eye contact with him, she dropped her head to the back of the couch, and he lowered his head between her parted legs. His fingers moved between her precious folds, caressing and fondling them, while his lips clung to her clit.  Her breathing grew heavier, and she was succumbing to his masterful tongue, when the phone  beside them started to ring.  He lifted his head and stared at her.

“Pick it up,” he whispered.

She stared down at him, not believing what he’d requested.

“Answer it,” he repeated.

She allowed it to ring a couple more times before finally picking it up, only to find her friend Ines on the line, and there was no getting rid of her.

Happy for the intervention, Jason smiled as he once again lowered his head and licked her from her sweet, needy hole all the way up to her throbbing clit. Her back arched and she spread her legs wider giving him better access. He lifted those legs over his shoulders, and flicked the edge of his tongue back and forth across her clit, bringing a stifled cry from the back of her throat.

She could hear Ines’s voice on the other end of the phone, but she was delirious with desire and in no condition  to reply. Ines knew the rumor she’d heard was true. Martha, her friend and confidante for over ten years, had found a young lover, and by the look of things, they seemed to be getting it on.

“Keep talking,” Jason said, kneeling on the edge of the couch, pushing her legs beside her head until they rested on the back of the couch.

“Oh god, you’re beautiful, Martha,” he said, impaling her with two fingers and watching them slide in and out of her hot hole.

He moved them excruciatingly slow in and out, and then lowering his head, he parted her lips and licked up and down her pink folds, stopping by her clit for a slow suck. Martha’s mouth fell open as if in a scream, but no sound escaped her lips.

The receiver dropped from her hands and fell onto the couch. He could hear her friend’s voice calling out to her as her breathing accelerated, and grunts and groans filled the room. Martha felt as if there was no air left in her lungs.

“Jason! Jason!” she panted. “What are you doing to me?”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes,” she replied, grabbing a handful of his hair and bucking her hips toward his lips.

“Beg me to stop,” he said, lifting his head. “If you don’t like it, then tell me to stop.”

“No, don’t stop,” she whispered, peering through her own legs at the top of his head.

“You’re so tight, Martha,” he said, moving his fingers like a pair of scissors inside her. “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to like it.”

“Yes, Jason. Please.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?” she asked.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Make love to me, Jason.”

“I want to hear those two words. Say, ‘fuck me,’” he whispered in her ear. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I don’t swear,” she moaned.

“It’s not considered swearing. It’s asking for what you want. Say it, Martha. It makes my cock hard, and you want it hard, don’t you?”


“Beg for it,” he said, still moving those fingers in and out of her pussy.

“Fuck me, Jason. Fuck me.”

“That’s my girl. There’s nothing I would like better.”

He quickly got to his feet and was about to drop his jeans, when she jumped up.

“Not here,” she said through trembling lips.

“I’ll do it wherever you want, but why not here?”

He followed her eyes and noticed she was looking directly at the painting of her son. Realizing her fear of being fucked with the portrait of her son staring down at them, he held out his hand and was about to lead her from the living room when he saw  the phone still lying on the sofa. He picked it up and listened. He could hear Ines’s heavy breathing on the other end, and he placed it back on the cradle.

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