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We older women, especially a  mature Mistress, can see you when you are checking us out, thinking you are slick looking us up and down at the grocery store or the restaurant.

Wrinkles of a Mature Mistress

mature mistress

I can feel your eyes on my face, nearly counting the crinkles I carry around my eyes, the “laugh lines” I have from a lifetime of roaring howls… snickers and giggles. (If you have not spoken to me on the phone, I, most definitely, am one who thinks many things are hilarious and bust up laughing lots.)

Even as your eyes follow the gentle creases in my face, you avoid my eyes this early on, wanting to make sure I am the woman you would want to pursue as a cub. Your hunger grows for a mature Mistress. The longer you linger on my appearance, the more desire you feel.

A Mature Mistress Knows What You Are Thinking

I feel your view shift to my hands. Do they demonstrate experiences you have yet to imagine? Wiping the tears of our children, decades of holding our lovers’ hands… years and years in the workforce… traversing places that continue unfolding with each of your young footsteps.

Mature Mistress Daphne 1-800-356-6169

Look Into My Eyes

Once you have evaluated us and determined we are, indeed, worthy of your cubby desires, you then… not gaze… but intently stare into our eyes. Even if I am in another animated conversation, my face flushes feeling your attention… and I, discreetly, look around to see from whence that energy came.

I do find you. Over there.

Our breath syncs and the inhaling/exhaling rhythm becomes the vehicle to our inevitable meeting. You move first, walking towards me, ignoring my friends, stepping up boldly, telling me how beautiful I am. I blush furiously. You take that as a positive sign to move forward.

“May I buy you a drink?”

“I would like that. Very much.”

You think you made the first move.


You turn to go to the bar for a drink to serve the woman you’re keenly attracted to. How funny, that he thinks he was the one who charmed his way to your side. I smile to myself knowing that in reality, it was I who tempted you, drew you in like willing prey, into a delicious web-ish, world.

Watching you move away, I click the latch on your new training collar.