It was my favorite time of year: hunting season.

The motel next to the bar where I work fills up with whitetail hunters, and I have my choice of fine young bucks to pick up for a night or two of fun. I’m in my early forties now, and I’ve never been more comfortable in my own skin, or more sure of my sexual appeal.

About a half hour before last call, nine men in their mid-twenties came in. It was obvious they were hunters from out of town wanting to have a good time. They came over to the bar one by one to hit on me, using the corniest lines I’d ever heard, and I brushed them off, thinking their abilities in bed were likely to be as bad as their pitches.

I had rejected six of them when the best-looking one came over, setting his empty bottle on the bar. He played it cool, ignoring me until I asked if he wanted another beer. He said yes, but quickly changed his mind. “No, I think I’d like to see if there’s a place where I can get laid in this town.” He’d started to leave when I said, “Why don’t you wait for me to get off work?”

We introduced ourselves and chatted while I cleaned up, then I escorted them all out. Cliff and I walked away together while his pals looked on in disbelief and envy.

It was a short walk to my apartment — just around the corner and up the stairs, since I live above the bar. Once we were in my room, there was no reason to stall. I peeled off my sweater and jeans, then slipped into bed in my bra and panties. I watched with interest as he dropped his pants with his back to me, and I saw that he wasn’t wearing underwear. He turned to face me, showing off at least seven inches of extremely thick man-meat, along with an impressive set of nuts.

I reached to unhook my bra as he watched, and I saw his cock stir. He lay down beside me, fondling my ample tits, saying, “I’ve never seen anything like your tits, babe. These are gorgeous.”

I don’t usually like to kiss strange men, but his breath was sweet in spite of the beer, and he was a great kisser. It took 15 minutes till his hand drifted down to rub the soaking-wet crotch of my bikini panties before finally working them down and off. His fingers toyed with my trimmed hair, making me think he’d only been with girls who shaved or waxed.

I finally asked him to fuck me, and he grabbed a condom. He was in up to his bloated nuts after two gentle strokes, then he held still, saying, “Damn! You handled that more easily than I expected you to.”

I laughed and said, “Hey, I may be small, but I’ve got a pretty accommodating cunt.”

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever heard say that word.”

“What, ‘cunt’? I love the word ‘cunt.’”

Cliff chuckled and said, “Well, I can’t believe how tight your cunt is. I’m going to give it the best fucking I can.”

He began with long, slow strokes, dragging the top of his cock across my swollen clit with each thrust, and quickly starting an orgasm building in my loins. The speed of his strokes increased as his level of excitement grew. God, this guy knew how to fuck a woman, giving as much pleasure as he was receiving and then some. My climax hit me suddenly, and I came so hard my body shuddered as my cunt clutched his still-thrusting cock.

We were drenched from my ejaculation — something that used to embarrass me until I found I was very fortunate to have that ability. Most men like knowing they’ve caused me to orgasm that hard.

Cliff realized what had happened and said, “Oh, my God, you squirted! I’ve never seen a woman do that.”

He hadn’t come yet, and he was still fucking me hard, so I got my ass in gear, meeting him thrust for thrust. I felt his cock jerk a split second before he gushed, and my second orgasm hit when I felt the warm wetness filling the rubber.

Later, he mounted me for a second exciting bout of hot sex, and he was pounding me a third time when his wristwatch alarm went off at 4 a.m., the time he was supposed to get up to go hunting. I spent the next three nights getting soundly fucked by this younger man. And he was thoroughly exhausted by the time he left for home!