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MILF exposed (GenderBender and FoxyLady)

GenderBender

GenderBender

Star
Joined
May 29, 2017
It was just a glimpse. That all it was, that first day. Just a glimpse.

If it hadn’t been for Rover, I’d have thought that I’d imagined it, that it was just a trick of the light. But it wasn’t and I knew that right away, because Rover twitched. Rover, by the way, is my cock. That’s what my ex-girlfriend called it, because it was always on the move. She was right. Rover is infallible. As soon as Rover twitched, I knew it wasn’t my imagination. No way.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t watching or trying to catch her out. Some people have said I was a peeping Tom or a stalker or some sort of pervert. No way. I just happened to be walking past my window and glanced out, just at the right moment to catch a flash of our new neighbour. She’d moved in a few weeks before. And she was naked, at least from the waist up because I saw her tits bouncing. No mistake, they were bouncing away as she moved around inside.
 
After all these years, it’s wonderful to feel that freedom again, freedom to wander around my home without the constraints of clothing. It used to be like this when we were first married. We both wandered around butt naked. Mike couldn’t keep his hands off me, fondling my tits and ass every time we passed. And I couldn’t get enough of his hairy muscular body. When Darren was born, we carried on for a while, but when he became more aware we had to cover up. We didn’t neglect each other, don’t get me wrong, but we were both looking forward to the day that he would fly the nest and we could get our hands on each other again, whenever we wanted, just like we used to. That dream was shattered in an instant when Mike was killed by an IED. One of those roadside bombs blew him to bits. That was four years ago now. When Darren left home, I took the chance to make a fresh start, with a new home in a new area. And, alone at last, I resumed my old ways, wandering my home, free from prying eyes and any embarrassment of bumping into my son. I did, though, wonder sometimes if he’d have minded; I’d spotted him watching my body sometimes and I’m sure he was peeking when I was in the shower. That boasted my self-esteem, having a young guy show some interest, but there’s no way I was going to get into anything with my own son.

If I hoped it would be like the old times, though, I was wrong. It’s been a shock to see what I look like now and compare myself to those old photos I found when I was packing for the move. The sun tan and firm flesh have gone, my tits and ass are sagging, I’ve got a belly, there are scars and blemishes, and my flesh is white from lack of sun. Even my pubes are shaggy and unkempt. Worst of all is the realisation that I’ve let myself go. I need to take myself in hand. No, not in that way, I’ve never been able to get myself off satisfactorily. That’s what guys are for, isn’t it. Which isn’t to say I don’t get an itch from time to time. No, you know what I mean. There’s nothing I can do to stop myself getting old, but I’m going to get those pubes tidied up and give myself a decent tan. My new home has got a secluded garden and a pool, places where I can let the sun refresh me and restore me.
 
It’s deliberate. It’s got to be. Whenever I happen to glance across, she’s there, near a window, bending, stretching, walking around. And she’s definitely completely naked – when I look down into her kitchen from my bedroom, it’s obvious that she’s got a full beaver. That’s really modern, or so my last girlfriend told me, plucked chickens are out, beavers are back.

So far, I’ve not seen all of her body at once, but it’s easy to piece it together. She’s got shoulder length dark hair that’s sort of wavy and a sound face. Her tits are big enough to sway around and the nipples are dark and look like they’re about to topple off the front. Her hips are broad and she’s got heavy thighs. And her ass is one of those fleshy ones that seem to have a life of their own as she walks around, not one of those tight ones that most of the girls around here have. She’s pale , so maybe she doesn’t like the sun, which is a pity because I’d like to see what she’s like sunbathing. Not that I could see into her garden.

Mom’s never met her, but naturally she knew all about her anyway. Her husband was in the marines, but he died in action a few years ago. They’ve got one son, whose left home, which means she must be in her 40s, and she’s moved here for a fresh start. Mom’s not sure what she does, but she thinks she runs some sort of agency or consultancy from home, which explains why she’s always there. And her name is Sally Peters.

That’s a nice name. Rover likes it too.
 
This move was a good decision, the best I’ve made for a long time. I already feel transformed. I got those unruly pubes into shape, that was the first thing. Nothing fancy, just a good trim, but they look like they are cared for and not just neglected. I saw it as just a bit of good housekeeping, like making sure the dust doesn’t build up too much – I’ve never been that house-proud. But it’s been more than that. It’s affected the whole way I feel about myself. It started by just glancing in a mirror as I was passing to see how they looked and that’s become a habit so every time I go pass a mirror I pause and look. That’s already making me feel more confident about my body again.

Even my clients are noticing. Maggie was the first, well the first to comment anyway. She was one of my first clients so we’ve known each other for years, although we’ve only actually met a handful of times. Maybe I should invite her to visit. We always talk work first and then have a bit of a gossip if we’re not busy and she just came out with it. ‘Have you got a new man in your life? she asked. ‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘Whatever made you ask that?’ ‘It’s just the way you sound,’ she said, ‘you’re sounding more like your old self before-’ Then she stopped. She didn’t need to go on, we both knew what she meant, before my husband was blown to bits, before my life fell apart, before. Exactly. That made me realise that I was beginning to feel better about myself and if that was coming across to my clients so much the better. Anything that’s good for business is good for me.
 
It was Rover’s idea. He almost dragged me over there. Well, it was getting too much for him, waiting for her to appear, not sure which window she’d be passing or how long she’d pause. She must know I’m watching. It’s obvious if she thinks about for just a second or two. Our houses aren’t that close, but our windows face each other. I catch glimpses of her when I look out and she must have spotted me by now. She’s teasing me and Rover can only take so much of that. So I got my excuse ready, put on a clean pair of shorts and a new T-shirt, and rang the bell.

She answered quite quickly, considering she had to get dressed. I never expected her to answer the door naked, although I had fantasied about what I’d do if she did. But she didn’t, and she was quite quick, so she must have had the dress near the door ready to slip into it if she needed to. It was a plain linen, light blue, with buttons down the front. She’d done up just enough to be decent. I saw at once that she wasn’t wearing a bra – her nipples were pressing through the material. I forced myself to maintain eye contact and introduced myself.

‘Hi, Mrs Peters isn’t it, my mother told me your name. I’m Winston, we live next door.’ I nodded towards our house.

‘Hi, Winston,’ she had a nice smile, it looked like she was genuinely pleased to see me. ‘Thanks for coming to introduce yourself. Would you like to come in?’

How could I refuse? But there were the usual courtesies to observe.

‘Are you sure I’m not interrupting?’

She assured me she wasn’t busy and led the way to the kitchen, which gave me a chance to get an eyeful. The dressed was stretched tight across those heavy thighs and her ass moved like the proverbial Sumo wrestlers in a sack. No panties, I was sure of that. You can tell by the way a woman’s ass moves. I’ve made a study of it. It’s always obvious whether mom is wearing those sensible panties she saves for when she’s on a period, or the thongs that she prefers, or that sexy string thing that she hides at the bottom of the wash basket and wears when dad’s in for a treat.

By the time I got to the kitchen, Rover was in action. I went to look out of the window so that she wouldn’t notice and commented on how lovely the garden looked. She offered me a coffee, I said only if she was making one anyway, she said she was, so I accepted. That kept her occupied and distracted, giving me time to settle down at the table, putting Rover well out of view.

As we sipped our coffee, I made my move.

‘I was wondering, Mrs Peters-’

‘No, Winston, it’s Sally, please, just call me Sally.’

‘OK, right, Sally, look I was wondering, I’m at a loose end for the next few weeks and you’ve just moved in, so I was thinking that you might need a bit of help, as you’re on your own.’

Rover was throbbing and every time she leaned forward her dress fell open to reveal the swell of her tits just in the bottom of my vision. Each time she shifted her position, they swayed from side to side. It was a struggle to keep eye contact.

‘Well, that’s very kind of you.’ She gave me another of those smiles. ‘I’m pretty well sorted, but thanks for the offer. It’s very kind of you, very thoughtful.’

I had to keep this going. I couldn’t go because that would mean standing up, which I didn’t want to do, not with Rover in his agitated state.

‘I don’t mind what I do, Mrs, err, Sally. Moving things around the house, cutting the grass, pruning some shrubs, whatever. I wouldn’t charge, obviously,’ I added hastily, ‘I just meant anything I could do to help out a new neighbour.’
 
What a lovely young man. So thoughtful to offer to help a new neighbour out and not want anything in return. And so respectful too. He’s been well brought up; I made a mental note to tell his mother when I saw her. So many guys nowadays make no secret of checking you out as soon as you meet them. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind a guy taking an interest. I check them out too, but always discreetly, not making it obvious. But he didn’t even do that. His eyes were fixed on mine the whole time. I liked that.

It was a bit unsettling, though. No denying that. His gaze was so intense. It made me feel, well, how can I put it, unsettled. Not in a bad way, I don’t mean that. It must be part of adjusting to the changes I’ve been making in my life. Thoughts were coming into my head, distracting me as I was speaking, stirrings that made me fidget around on my chair. I hope he didn’t notice.

He’s a good looking guy. Obviously keeps himself fit, strong arms, soft hands, nicely manicured nails. I bet he’s got all the girls running after him. A new date every night, I shouldn’t wonder. A bit like my son in a way, but more self-confident and outgoing.

He seemed upset that there wasn’t anything I needed to, so I suggested that he come round and tidy up the garden for me. I was planning to get to grips with it on Saturday afternoon, so he will save me the chore of getting out all the equipment and sweating away in the heat. The grass did need cutting and some of the shrubs were a bit overgrown. Not that I’m a gardener, but I can see what needs doing. So I suggested he come round on Saturday afternoon. That’d allow me some time to lie by the pool and make a start on my tan.
 
Saturday, after lunch, I was ready. Learning from the mistake of my first visit, I tucked Rover into a pair of tighty whities and set off to learn what jobs Sally had in mind for me. I didn’t care, just so long as I got more chances to see her at close quarters.

I rang the bell, expecting there to be a delay before she opened the door in that same blue dress. Instead the door flew open before my finger was off the bell and my eyes nearly popped out. She wasn’t in the blue dress. She wasn’t in a dress at all. Instead she was in a bikini, cherry red. I took her in at a quick glance and then forced my eyes up to hers.

She was smiling like she knew the effect she was having.

‘Hey, Winston,’ she stepped back to let me in, ‘right on time, just like I expected. Come through.’ And off she set through the house with me following behind, my eyes fixed on her ass as it swayed with each step, left-right, left-right, left-right.

Mesmerising. So mesmerising I didn’t notice at first that she was talking.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ was all I caught.

I stared at her. Mind? What was there to mind?

‘S-s-sorry?’ I stammered, ‘mind what?’

She stopped and swung round so suddenly that I almost ran into her and had to back up to avoid a close encounter with her right tit.

‘I was saying that I hoped you wouldn’t mind if I caught up with a spot of sunbathing while you cut the grass.’

‘N-n-noo.’ Why couldn’t I get my words out today? ‘Of course not, that’ll be just fine.’

She smiled again and walked out into the garden, heading for a lounger by the pool, saving her right hand towards the garage.

‘You’ll find all you need in there. Let me know if you need a drink, I’ve made some lemonade.’

I watched her settle face down and went off to get the mower from the garage, taking the chance to reposition Rover while I was there. When I emerged, she had unfastened the strap of her top and pushed the bottoms down. She was not a lady who wanted tan lines. She looked up as I approached.

‘Did you find what you needed?’

‘Sure, yes, you’ve got everything I need.’ Shit, did I really say that? ‘Tools, that is, I mean,’ I added hastily, too hastily. Her flesh was white, soft and white, warm and soft and white. ‘Have you put some cream on? The sun’s very hot today?’

Another of those smiles.

‘Yes, thank you for being so thoughtful, Winston. I guess it’s obvious I’ve not had much chance to top up my tan lately.’
 
It was a nuisance him being there really. What I really needed to do was get a good tan going – I hate tan lines - and I couldn’t do that with an audience. But it wouldn’t take him long to mow the lawn, then a quick drink to cool him off and I could get my kit off properly.

He was right about the sun. I could feel my skin getting hot already. Time to turn over, making sure my top didn’t fall off and that I didn’t expose my pubes. This gave me a chance to watch him at work. He was getting hot already, that T-shirt was sticking to his body with sweat.

‘Would you like some lemonade?’

He shook his head. ‘No thanks, er, Sally, no thanks. I’ll get this done first.’

I watched him at work. Seeing his thigh muscles rippling as he walked up and down, and his biceps straining as he manoeuvred the mower. It reminded me, but no, best not, I’d trained myself not to be reminded. I had to live in the present and for the future. No memories, they only cause pain.

At last, he’d finished.

‘I’ll fetch the lemonade,’ I called as he pushed the mower into the garage. I stood up, forgetting my loose top and managed to catch it just in time. ‘Do you want it by the pool or in the shade?’

His head came out of the garage.

‘Sorry, Sally, want what, where?’

I was beginning to wonder if he might be a bit deaf.

‘The lemonade, Winston, would you like it by the pool or in the shade?’

He thought for a moment.

‘In the shade, please, I’ve got a sweat going here.’

When I brought out the jug and glasses, he had moved my lounger under the shade of a tree and fetched himself another from the garage. His T-shirt clung to his body, showing off his muscles. He obviously liked to work out.

‘Take a dip if you liked,’ I told him as I poured the cool drink over the ice in our glasses.

‘S-s-sorry, Sally,’ I hadn’t noticed that stammer last time he came round, ‘I’ve not got any trunks with me.’

I laughed.

‘Don’t worry. I’ve got a son your age, remember. Just strip off. I won’t be embarrassed. I’ve seen it all before.’
 
That’s the thing about mature women. Not that I had a lot of experience of mature women at the time. There was my mom, of course. I’d heard her let dad know what she expected of him and how she felt when he hadn’t delivered. But I’d never thought of her sexually, obviously. And there had been a couple of teachers when I was in High School. One in particular; we were sure she was getting off with one of the seniors, although that may just have been our imagination, and his too.

But this was certainly what I imagined a mature women to be like. Flirtatious and teasing, lying there in a postage stamp bikini, her legs spread to show off her camel toe, and almost dropping her top. Not to mention those suggestive remarks. And then she just came right out with it, telling me to get my kit off and put on a display for her. Well I wasn’t going to let her take total control. No way. I’d let her have what she wanted, sure, because it was what I wanted too, but I could play the game too and she’d have to learn that I wasn’t just some kid to be toyed with for her amusement. No way.

I put down my drink and improvised.

‘You’re going red, Sally, it looks like you need to top up your cream. Do you need a hand?’

You see, I could do suggestive just as good as she could.

She put on a show of reluctance, naturally, and checked herself to see if she was going red, dragging my eyes over her body as she did so. I didn’t mind. Rover was throbbing, but he knew he was moving in on his prey. Like a good hunter, he would lie in wait until the time came to pounce.

‘You’re right, Winston, how observant of you. I can mostly manage myself, but there’s one bit that I may need some help with.’

Right, and I knew just where that was. All she had to do was say. I waited.

‘My back, it’s difficult to make sure I get a good coverage on my back.’

Right, so she wanted to play some more. OK. We’d got all afternoon.

‘Would you mind?’ She passed me the cream.

‘Of course not, roll over and I’ll rub some in for you.’

She turned onto her face and I smoothed some cream into her shoulders, then began massaging it hard, kneading those tight neck muscles. She slowly began to relax.

‘I’ll just slip off your straps,’ I told her casually. ‘Just to prevent any of those tan lines.’

She didn’t stop me and I spread more cream down her back, followed by more massaging. Her breathing was rhythmic now, almost like she was asleep. Her bottom looked so tempting, it would take just a second for one stroke to slip under that thin material and I’d have those peaches in my hands. I chose to work at it slowly, first the tip of my finger as if my accident, then a gentle exploration a little further to see if she objected, which she didn’t, then a sweeping stroke that reached to the crack of her ass, and then she stirred, twisting towards me, propping herself on her elbow.
 
Did that really happen or had it been my imagination? It felt like someone – Winston – was stroking my ass. But it couldn’t have been. I’d only asked him to put some cream on my back where I couldn’t reach. How could he think I wasn’t able to reach my own ass? Ridiculous. But maybe it had been a dream. I’d felt like it was happening, but I’d definitely nodded off. That was it; it had to be a dream.

It was a shock, though. Made me sit up with a start and, of course, he’d untied by top so it fell off. I managed to get hold of it just in time or he’d have had a full on view of my nipples. No wonder I was confused and breathless. No wonder he looked surprised, like he’d done something wrong. Which he may have done, but I couldn’t be sure, so how could I blame him.

One of us had to say something and he wasn’t going to, so it was down to me.

‘Sorry,’ I gulped, ‘I must have fallen asleep and been dreaming. I didn’t mean to startle you. Have you finished my back?’

He nodded.

‘Yes, Sally, all done, top to bottom.’

‘Thanks, Winston, thanks, it’s been great having your help. I guess I’ve been missing having a man around since-‘

Since, yes since. It had been a long time since Mike was around, but that’s not something to discuss with Winston, or with anyone for that matter. I’d never really talked to anyone about what happened. They know he died, I had to tell people that, but not the details, not the private details his buddy had told me, the details I’d made him tell me when he came to see me after the funeral.

‘Since Darren left home. My son, that is, Darren. I mentioned him, didn’t I, he’s about your age.’ I was gabbling.

What was I going to do with this top? To get it back on, I’d have to let go and then it would fall off. There was only one solution.

‘Winston, would you mind just giving me a hand with this? If you go behind, we can get me decent again.’
 
I grinned at Sally’s remark. She was teasing me, she had to be, that was the only explanation. Why else was she leaving herself open to the response she had given me just minutes earlier. She’d invited me to have a swim and when I said I didn’t have any trunks she’d told me it didn’t matter because she’d seen it all before. Well, does she think I have seen a pair of tits before? I may be younger than her, but I’ve learned to play the game, so I just strung her along a bit.

I moved round behind her and took hold of the straps of her top as she adjusted her breasts. I made as if to fasten the catch, but then I stopped.

‘You don’t need to bother with this, you know.’ I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘it’s so much better to get an all over tan, isn’t it. And after all I’ve seen them before.’

She spun round, pulling the straps out of my hand.

‘What do you mean? When have you seen my breasts?’

I almost burst out laughing. She was good. How many days was it that she had been flaunting her tits at me through her windows? But if she wanted to pretend she hadn’t known all along that I was watching, well that was fine with me.

‘Come on, Sally, I may only be your son’s age, but I have seen naked breasts before.’

You relaxed then, her shoulders went down, but she still didn’t let go of her top.

‘You’re right,’ she said at last, ‘about an all over tan. I don’t like seeing those white patches when I’m in the shower. But right now we’re in the shade.’

‘No problem,’ I told her, ‘I can easily move the lounger into the sun and no one can see you there.’

‘OK,’ she relented, ‘but only if you top up your tan with me.’

I moved her lounger and when I turned to fetch mine, she had dropped her top and was rubbing cream over her breasts.

We stood beside our loungers, staring at each other. It was like she was waiting. But what for? In the end she told me.

‘Come on, get your kit off and I’ll rub some cream into your back.’

‘Thanks,’ I grinned. ‘I’ll just take my top off, for the moment,’ I added.

I couldn’t see her reaction, because she was behind me soothing some cream over my shoulders.
 
For one terrible moment, I thought this kid had been spying on me. that’s the only way he could have seen my tits. Shit, can’t a woman wander around in the privacy of her own home without some pervert getting his rocks of peeping through binoculars? But then I realised, he was just throwing my own words back at me. All he meant was that he’d seen tits before. You have no idea how big a relief that was. I’m no prude, but I’m not an exhibitionist either.

My first thought was to give him a mouthful and send him packing. Giving some kid an eyeful of my bumpers has never been part of my agenda. Never has been, never will. But he was right about one thing: there’s nothing worse than those triangles of white that show where you preserved your modesty. So what the hell. I’ve nothing to be ashamed of; there are women a lot younger with a lot less to be pleased about than me. So he’d get a bit of a thrill, so what?

And the least I could do was rub some cream into his back for him, like he did for me. And that turned out to be a more pleasurable experience than I expected. It’s been a long time since I had my hands on a man, except my son Darren of course, but that’s different, very different. Winston’s body showed all the signs of having spent a lot of time working out, because he had hard muscles. In fact, believe it or not, touching him reminded me a lot of my late husband, Mike. His skin was always firm and his muscles taut and Winston’s felt the same. When I closed my eyes - just briefly because of the sun - I began to imagine that it was Mike here with me. Except of course he’d have got more than his top off and I’d’ve have been creaming some different muscles. Fortunately, I was able to shake myself out of my reverie before Winston noticed.

I used up the remains of the cream on my hands by giving my tits another rub, especially around the nipples which tend to peel if I’m not careful. Then I settled down on my back. Winston was pretending not to notice, although I caught him looking at me a couple of times.

It would have been silly to get my tits tanned but leave my pussy pale. But that could wait until Winston had gone. That wouldn’t be long now, surely.
 
Fuck. That was my first experience of what it was like to be handled by a mature woman. I’d fantasised about it, naturally, what kid hasn’t, but experiencing it, wow that was altogether different. It seemed like all she doing was rubbing some sun cream into my back, but the ways she did it, well it was as close to fucking as you can without actually fucking. That’s how I felt at the time, anyway. Now I know different, but at the time it was way outside any experience I’d had with girls.

How can I describe what she did? She started as you always do when you cream someone, just smearing the cream over my shoulders. Then she began rubbing it into, only her rubbing segued into a massage. I felt her tracing the lines of my muscles, exploring their outlines, her hand seeming to float across the surface of my skin, barely touching it. And then, feeling my tension, she changed to her fingers, digging them deep to relieve it before moving on again.

She knew what she was doing. It was too assured to be chance. And she knew the effect it was having on me. She couldn’t have missed the way my breathing was getting faster. I was regretting that I had tucked Rover out of the way in my tighty whities. He was struggling to unfurl himself. I strained and wriggled as discreetly as I could, trying to free him, hoping I could keep him under control.

And then the final touch. the most brilliant move I’d ever had pulled on me. She just stopped, broke away from me, like she had been distracted and suddenly realised what she had been doing. Except she hadn’t been distracted. Every move was carefully planned. That was when I knew, knew for certain, that she wanted me to stay and how she wanted the afternoon to end.

She handed me the cream and I rubbed some into my chest while she settled on her back on the lounger, wriggling to get comfortable but managing to get her tits wobbling in the process. I smiled to myself, enjoying the show, and then I settled down on my back too. There was no way I could lie on my front, not with Rover bulging in my shorts like that. She knew what was happening. Of course, she didn’t make it obvious. She was too subtle for that, but I caught her casting sideways glances in my direction. And every time she did that she set those titties jiggling, giving him a top up.

Tormenting bitch. She’d pay for that, before the afternoon was out, which was just what she wanted. I was sure of that.
 
Why wouldn’t the guy leave? Didn’t he know when to take a hint? I’d already exposed myself more than I really wanted to, and I only did that because he threw my own words back in my face. That’d teach me to be more careful with my flip remarks. He was right about getting full coverage for my tan, but surely he was old enough to know that no self-respecting adult woman was going to expose her pussy to a kid who was young enough to be her son.

I tried to make the best of my situation by wriggling and squirming so that I was able, discreetly and when his eyes were closed, to edge down the bottom of my bikini, gradually exposing more flesh to the sun. It had got to the point where any further and I’d be exposing my pubes.

I was determined not to waste my time out here, so in the end the only thing left to do was turn over and work on my back. That allowed me to push the bikini down further, exposing my ass and more bare flesh that I didn’t want to burn. I knew he was watching me, so it was no surprise when he reached out for the sun cream and offered to give me a hand.

But he was too slow. I had the cream in my hand before he had registered what was happening and applied a generous coating over my ass. The way things were going, it would need to last a long time. I settled down again and this time I turned my head away. Hopefully being ignored would make him realise he wasn’t wanted.
 
There’s only so much teasing a guy can take. But I never realised how much. People talk about climbing the wall in frustration, well I’d mounted the wall and was off up a mountain. Fuck. It was a mistake to wear these tighty whities. Rover is trapped, desperately fighting to straighten himself.

She should be a porn star. Maybe she is. The way she just shifts slightly and sets those tits jiggling. And she only does it when she knows I’m looking. And then, just when I was on the verge of trying to sneak my hand down my shorts to get myself a bit more comfortable, she starts edging the bikini bottom down, a fraction of an inch at a time. I’m sure I even got a glimpse of her pubes. She must have a real forest down there.

And then, just when I was convinced she couldn’t make things worse, even if she stripped off completely, she was up on her knees, her tits swinging low sweet chariot and she pulls her bottom right off exposing two perfect peaches of an ass, grabs the sun cream, almost rips it out of my hand, and starts working it over and over, digging deep into her crack.

Oh shit, I can feel my balls pumping and old Rover straining. I’ve got to get some relief.

‘Look,’ I’m sounding hoarse, ‘would you mind if I use your bathroom, please?’
 
‘Winston, have you got an erection? Is that it? Is that why you need the bathroom?’

I didn’t want to embarrass him. Kids his age can be very sensitive about these things. But I’ve always spoken openly with my son, so it was only natural to mention it.

I can’t remember what it was that made me realise his problem. Maybe the way he was moving and the sun, yes that was it, the way the son caught his shorts.

‘Use the shower, if it’s going to be a big load, then you can wash it away. That’s what my son does.’

He’s such a thoughtful boy, saving his mother having to clean up his mess.
 
I was so desperate to get some relief that I was off the lounger and heading for the house before I realised what she’d said.

How should I react? Ignore it or pretend to laugh it off? No, the bitch was laughing at me, at the state she’d got me into. Time to tell her a few home truths.

I turned back, pushing away the urgency of Rover’s need.

‘Yes, Sally, you’re right, I do have an erection.’

It felt strange using the technical term, but that is what she had said and, coming from her, it sounded so erotic.

‘You know that perfectly well, because you’re the one who caused it. I’m not a kid any more and I grew out of the spontaneous erection phase ages ago.

She just stared without responding, so I just stumbled on.

‘You’ve been tormenting me since the moment I arrived with your suggestion to get my kit off, your suggestive remarks, your poses and exposing yourself, taunting me with glimpses, touching me, getting me to massage you.’

Still she said nothing, just lay propped up on her elbows, her breasts hanging so that her nipples just brushed the lounger cushion.

‘I’m a man, not a kid, but even a man can only take so much.

She stood now, pulling up her bikini bottom, but not before she had displayed a thick thatch of dark hair. Still she stayed silent.

‘I’m not surprised your son has to masturbate in the shower if you behave like this when he’s around.’

We stared at each other, each waiting for the other to speak.
 
How dare he? How dare he? Never in my entire life have I been spoken to like that, not by anybody, let alone someone his age. He even accused me of arousing my own son. What a disgusting mind. What mother would ever dream of doing such a thing? This kid is a fantasist if he really believes that I’d flaunt myself at him.

I had to force myself to keep my voice even and to control my breathing. My chest was heaving and he was standing there, just staring openly at my breasts, his jaw slack. He was almost drooling.

In that moment, I had a flash of insight.

‘I-I-I’m so-s-sorry, Winston, I really a-am,’ I stammered. ‘I’m so used to being on my own, I guess I’m not used to having a man around – not since my husband had, er, was, er died.’

I ground to a halt and stared around for my bikini top, but couldn’t see it.

‘Look, you go and sort yourself out while I make myself decent and, maybe, get some more lemonade, if you’d like to stay that is.’

What was I doing? I couldn’t believe that I was hearing myself say that. I’d been waiting, praying for him to go and now I was inviting him to stay. I still couldn’t see my bikini top.
 
Using the shower was a great idea. I rush into the house, without waiting to be told where the bathroom was, fumbling with the buttons on my shorts, while Rover throbbing away with each stride. The first door I opened was a bedroom; my shorts were down to my knees. The second door was a sort of cupboard. My shorts were round my ankles now; I kissed them off. My tighty whities looked like they couldn’t take the strain much longer, but I didn’t dare risk taking them off until I got to the shower. No way did I want to have to clean the floor.

At last, I pushed the door of the cubicle open, stepped inside and released Rover. He sprang out, cum dripping from the tip. I took a firm hold and after just a couple of strokes, he blew. Powerful jerks that sent my hip bucking. I held the wall and counted as my cum flew across to the opposite wall. Seven, seven powerful jerks, and then the final drips.

I stood there, supporting myself, feeling exhausted, my head hanging down. Time to clean up. It didn’t take long to wash away my cum and I gave myself a quick spray of cold water to cool me down. A brisk rub down with a clean towel and I was good to go. There was no way I was going to subject Rover to further torture, so I picked up my tighty whities and went in search of my shorts.

As I walked out of the bathroom, Sally was coming along, stark naked, her bikini in her hands. Rover swung from side to side as I stared at the forest between her thighs.

‘S-s-sorry, S-s-sally, I left my shorts out here.’
 
What would you have done in my circumstances? Well, come on, be honest. What else could I do? There we were, both butt naked. We’d each seen everything there was to see, so what was the point of hiding it any more? I’d be able to get my all-over tan and, with him naked, I’d be able to keep an eye on any developments before they got out of hand. Not that I was expecting anything soon. The kitchen is right under the bathroom, so I heard the moaning and groaning as he dumped his load in the shower. Thank goodness, I told him to use that. Otherwise, there’d have been a right mess everywhere. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to live in a pig sty, but I don’t want to spend my days doing unnecessary cleaning either.

So, like I said, there we were, staring at each others. His eyes were fixed on my lady garden, more like a lady woodland really, while he was stammering something about looking for his shorts. And I was staring, well where else could a self-respecting, mature, widow look in the circumstances, I was staring at his balls. Yes, his balls. Not his cock. That was OK, going flaccid of course, but still showing a decent length – nothing really special – and thickness – nice and chunky, just the way I like them. But his balls, wow, they were magnificent, like bull’s balls. Big and soft and evenly sized, just hanging there, bulging, inviting me to take them into my hands, gobble them into my mouth. Now that was something I’d not done for a long time, too long a time. I mean to say, they were even bigger than Mike’s, at least bigger than before – well before, you know.

So eventually I tore my eyes off his balls and told him not to bother with his shorts.

‘I was on my way to find a fresh bikini, but it looks like we’ve nothing to hide any more. Let’s go get that lemonade.’

With that, I tossed my bikini aside and headed back to the kitchen.
 
What an ass. And boy does she know it. I’d seen it on the lounger and I’d seen it from my house when I caught sight of her walking about, but I’d never seen it in action and up close.

She just turned away, dropping her bikini on the ground, and made off along the landing and down the stairs. Slowly, like each step was a deliberate movement. A movement that set her ass in motion. It was a bit more flabby than the girls I’m used to, more even than my mom’s, but once she got a rhythm if was like it had a life of its own. I followed, my eyes fixed on her buttocks as each rose and fell in turn. I was lucky not to stumble down the stairs.

She knew what she was doing, had to, it was so calculated. No way was she just walking casually back to the kitchen for the lemonade. No way at all. Testing me, trying me out, keeping me naked so she could see my reaction.

I know all about those guys who claim to stay hard after cumming or get hard again almost instantly. They’re the stuff of porn films. It’s not like that in real life, I know that, but I could feel Rover twitching at the sight of those peaches as they passed along the hallway. I had to hurry to catch them up as they moved into the kitchen.

‘Shall I carry the tray?’ I offered, hoping she’d refuse so that I could follow her.

‘No, thanks Winston, that’s kind of you, but I’ve got it.’

More wiggling as we made our way to the loungers. More twitching from Rover. There was no point worrying about it, no way I could hide it when she turned round.

But before she did that, she had to put the tray down, and instead of squatting, she bent, putting her ass out towards me, showing me that she had shaved the hairs between her thighs exposing her thick curly pussy lips.

She rose and turned at the same time, bringing her face in line with Rover, who was waving happily in the sun. I’m sure she raised her eyebrows.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ she told me, ‘as best you can.’

Then she seated herself on her lounger and bent forward to fill my glass, which set her tits dangling and swaying. For fuck’s sake, what hope had I got of getting comfortable?
 
It was best not to do anything that can get him excited again. I’d got myself stuck with Winston, at least until he’d finished his drink and I could decently make an excuse that I needed to get on with something indoors. But since he was there, the best thing to do was to avoid anything that he might interpret as arousing. Ans since I could best judge whether I was having that effect, I needed to be facing him, which is why I sat on the side of my lounger. From there, I could pour out some more lemonade as required and watch his cock for any signs of movement. And, to prevent him misinterpreting anything I said, I chose nice safe topics.

‘So, Winston,’ I began as he settled back with his glass of lemonade resting on his chest, ‘what subject will you be studying at uni?’

‘Economics with business finance,’ was his answer. What a conversation stopper. I understand something about those topics, naturally being in business myself, but it doesn’t make for light conversation to pass the time.

‘And you’ll be playing some sport too, I guess, judging my how fit and muscular you are.’ I let my eyes wander over his muscles so he’d know why I was bringing up this topic.

He followed my eyes and grinned.

‘Yes, I do like to keep fit, but that’s it really. All sport is dangerous, one way or another. My sister even got hit in the eye playing tiddly winks once.’

Was that a joke? Was he being serious or just teasing me? I decided to play it straight.

‘Yes, I guess you’re right, everything is dangerous, potentially, even something quite innocent.’

He looked at me as I spoke, holding my gaze. I had no idea what he was thinking, which just confirmed how large the age gap between us was.
 
This was the most blatant woman I had ever met. She knew I’d just cum and yet there she was, perched on the edge of her lounger, her tits dangling and her thighs spread. And between those thighs, beneath that thick patch of black hair, her pussy. I didn’t like to stare, although it was obvious that she wanted me to notice. Why else would she be in that position? With her bent forward like that, her crotch was always in the bottom of my vision even when I was looking straight into her eyes. No way was this an innocent posture. No she knew exactly what she was doing and that could only be for one reason. She was testing me. Why else would she be staring at my cock all the time? She was sending me a message that she liked what she saw, of course, I was used to that. But I was sure there was more to it than that. Her pose was so deliberately provocative, she had to be checking me out, waiting to see how quickly I’d get hard.

At least, that was what I thought, until … That question about uni came right out of the blue. So matter of fact, like she was trying to stay off any topic that might be construed as a tease or a come on. But then, just as suddenly, she was back talking about my body and sport, and then teasing me about whether I was joking about my sister. Actually, what I’d said was true, she did get hit in the eye playing tiddly winks.

And then we’re just staring at each other, each with lots to say but neither of us saying it. I finally understood what my English teacher had been trying to get us to understand about characters who carried on a mundane conversation that had currents – subtext she called it – that everyone understood without it being said.

Well, I was learning fast, so I tried her at her own tactic.

‘I’m sorry about your husband,’ I said sympathetically, ‘you must miss him.’
 
Did I miss him? What a stupid question? Did he really think I didn’t miss my husband, my lover, the father of my child? Of course, I wanted to scream at, of course I miss him, what do you expect, do you know so little of life that you have to ask?

But, do you know, in all the time since he’s been gone, no one has asked me that. Not even my closest friends. It’s like people are too embarrassed to ask the most obvious questions. But sometimes that’s what’s needed, a chance to talk about the obvious.

So my irritation was suddenly replaced by gratitude. Here was a chance to explain. And because he was almost a stranger, it was easier to do that with him.

‘Yes, Winston,’ I said at last, ‘yes I do miss him and thank you for asking.’

I paused, wondering how open I should be with him. But what was the point of having this chance to explain my feeling for the first time since he was killed if I didn’t take advantage of it?

‘Yes, I miss him when I’m in bed and move, expecting to bump into his body but not finding it. I wake in a sweat and panic, desperately searching for him, until I realise he’s not there, will never be there. I miss him when I need someone to talk to about a problem. I miss him when I need someone to blame because the grass hasn’t been cut or the dishes were put into the dishwasher or because there’s dirty washing on the floor.’

Could someone as young as Winston understand those silly thing, those trivial domestic things?

‘And most of all I miss him where I needed him most, not in the garden or in the kitchen or doing the laundry, but between my legs, his cock buried deep inside me. That’s where every woman needs her man to be. Even the most independent, self reliant woman needs her man to show her his virility and to let her feel his arousal, his arousal at the sight and touch of her.’

There. I’d said it. What I’d felt all the time, right from the moment when that officer gave me the news. All the time his friend was confiding in me the details of what actually happened. Ever since, whenever I thought of him, I’d be aware of the emptiness in my cunt.

And now I’d admitted it to this kid sitting naked next to me.
 
It was an innocent question, just something that popped when she mentioned her husband. I had never expected so intimate a reply and nothing in my life had equipped me to provide the right reaction to what she was saying. This was frightening. She had opened up to me and the feelings she was expressing were still raw, like this was the first time she had ever been asked if she missed her husband. But surely that couldn’t have been; she must have talked this over and over endlessly with her friends.

After an awkward silence, my reaction was just instinctive. I couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say, but I felt the need to comfort her, so I moved over to set beside and put my arm around her shoulders.

Immediately, she pushed herself against me, twisting so that she could bury her face into my neck. It was only natural to put my other arm around her. Comforting her was all I had in mine. But inevitably I pulled her tighter to me and our bodies were now pressed against each other, our thighs touching and her breasts pushing into my chest.

I never even thought about how Rover would react. he was the last thing in my mind. I was completely unaware of him.

We stayed like that for what seemed like minutes. In the end, I felt I had to say something.

‘Sally, I’m sorry you still feel like this. I really don’t know what I can say to make it better for you, but I’ll do anything for you that I can. Anything. All you have to do is ask.’
 
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