The Widow ParsonsPosted on : 2012-01-29 09:31:04.738673
This story is about Christopher, one of the members of the Templeton chess club, and Betty Parsons, a woman who lives nearby. It is classified within the Mature, May-December section, for persons who may like this theme. The story is long, but it doesn't have to be read all at once. There are demarcated sections, allowing you to read just parts of it at any one time. And, please do note, all of the characters in this story are at least eighteen years old.
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Betty Parsons' husband, Jack, had been deceased for a few years. They had been married for quite some time. The loss was naturally very difficult for her. The first few months were really terribly painful. Every room in the house brought back a different memory. They were lovely to remember, yet also so painful to recall.
But, time does heal wounds, even ones as deep as these.
And that's how it should be, how Jack would have wanted it. He would have wanted Betty to move on. He had even said so, in no uncertain terms in the last few months of his own struggle. The purpose of life is not simply to mourn and grieve. There really is so little time. Nobody knew that better than Jack.
Betty's friends were in fact encouraging her to now reenter the world, to start a new life, with someone else. She had mourned. It was time to move on. She was only half way through her own life. She should find a new partner to share the many good years that are yet to come.
Betty was still a very attractive woman, with much to offer a man. She was vivacious, engaging, bright, full of life, and very loving.
But, she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Somehow it did not yet feel right, or appropriate. She wasn't ready for that type of commitment, at least not yet.
Still, she did miss the company of a man.
Betty was a very healthy and active woman, with a very healthy and active body.
Of course, she was not adverse to a woman's helper. In fact, she was becoming quite skilled and adept with them. Until the last few months she had not realized how many different shapes, sizes, colors, and textures were available.
She liked using little ones to imagine that she was doing it with a young, innocent man. Of course, a young man doesn't necessarily have a small penis, but it did help with the fantasy. She also at times used the little ones for her bottom. She was rather embarrassed to admit that. Her husband had never tried or even suggested doing anything with her bottom. She realized now that they probably should have experimented a bit more.
She also had a really big black one for a fantasy that she wouldn't ever tell anyone.
She didn't like very much the battery operated vibrators. The vibration was nice. In fact, real nice. But she found the noise way too distracting, interfering with her ability to become absorbed within her fantasy. The sound was frankly unpleasant, just short of a dentist drill. Whenever she did use one her pussy would have to be buried in a ton of blankets to try to muffle the grating noise.
She would feel a bit embarrassed whenever she opened up her private box of helpers. Goodness, what if somebody stumbled upon them?! She kept the box well hidden within her closet, but what if she also suddenly died. She couldn't help but wonder what the reaction of her friends would be if they were to discover this shameful collection as they cleaned out her closet, or worse yet brought it out during one of these estate auctions in which the auctioneer roams through the house, selling each item as the crowd comes upon it within each room. Of course, why should she really care what their reaction would be, as she would be dead, unaware of and impervious to their shock. Still, one doesn't want to leave a legacy such as that.
The likelihood that she would die soon was, of course, pretty remote but, of course, that was how her husband had felt about his own life.
Then again, one can't live as if death was right around the corner. She was alive now and obtaining quite a bit of pleasure from her toys. She would get rid of them someday, when there was no real need for or interest in them. That day would come at some point. For now she relied on her little (and big) helpers.
As she did so one hot summer afternoon.
It was a nice day, in that it was sunny, but the temperature was a bit on the warm side. Well, actually, it was in fact rather hot. There was though a nice strong breeze.
She loved growing flowers. They were all just so pretty, so gay, so pleasant. Flowers spoke of fresh young vibrant life, growth, and feminine beauty. That helped, at least a bit. Gardening could provide such a nice boost to her mood.
However, the deeper into summer the more the work could become difficult and tedious, even exhausting. Today she was weeding. Pulling weeds in the hot sun can be rather draining, to say the least.
One of the more difficult plants was the milkweeds. Milkweeds were very nice for attracting monarch butterflies. She in fact had a garden devoted specially to milkweeds. But, this plant was indeed a weed, and very difficult to control. It was always attempting to spread to her other gardens, and its root system was horrific once it got a foothold. It spread in part by new sprouts coming up from the deeply embedded roots, and unlike most weeds the roots were next to impossible to fully extract. They were so deep and bulbous, and would invariably snap in the process of extraction.
She could use a weed killing spray. But, she hated poisons. It risked harming some of her flowers, and was generally poor for the environment. So, she had to dig, dig, and dig some more.
It was really very difficult work out in a hot sun.
Betty did not wear a brassiere when she gardened, particularly when she was in the backyard. Modesty while weeding was not really a priority. Comfort was her primary concern.
Betty though did have good reason to be concerned about modesty. She had been blessed with relatively large bosoms, which have also held up well despite the fact that she was no longer in her twenties (she would not reveal her precise age), and they were not particularly well hidden in the t-shirt she was now wearing. On the contrary, the t-shirt might in fact be a bit small for her, as it clung to her breasts like it was almost painted on. Every wriggle and jiggle of her bountifully buxom boobs was readily evident, as well as quite frequent, given her struggles to remove deeply ensconced roots with a shovel and spade.
Nor did it help that she was working up quite a bit of sweat. In fact, it eventually appeared that she might as well be entering a wet t-shirt contest, as the thin cotton became thoroughly soaked with perspiration to the point that one could even discern skin and nipple through the tightly clinging fabric.
She was at first a bit self-conscious about it, as she should. Certainly no one in the neighborhood would approve of one of the mothers providing such a wanton display of essentially naked breast flesh right out in the open. But, with the exception of the Hansun home, whose backyard was separated from hers by a picket fence, she was well hidden from view. The backyards of her next door neighbors were hidden from view: on one side by a tall hedge and on the other by an equally large privacy fence.
Betty continued her work, not wanting to take unnecessary time to go back into the house and change her t-shirt, only to have that one inevitably become soaked as well.
But, she was soon given a reason to question her laxness. As she lifted up a wicker basket full of extracted milkweed she turned toward the Hansun house, and saw Christopher Hansun standing in the backyard, staring at her, or more accurately, her boobs, so clearly evident through her titty-tight t-shirt, her breasts even lusciously squeezed together by her arms holding onto the heavy basket.
Betty quickly put the basket back down, her boobs bouncing and wiggling with the sudden movement, and now hanging down from her chest like giant water bags as she was bent over the basket. She was simply making matters worse.
Her face flushed with embarrassment, wondering what she should do. Of course, it really wasn't anything so terribly bad. It was an honest wardrobe accident, and it's not like the boy hadn't seen a woman's breasts before. Well, of course, she didn't really know what he had or had not yet seen. But, she did know the young Mr. Hansun.
She used to babysit for him.
Those were nice days, pleasant days. As she sat with him, playing cards, perhaps some board game, or watching TV, she would at times imagine how nice it would be to have a child of her own.
When he became older he delivered her newspaper. One summer he mowed the lawn for them, although Jack felt that he didn't do a very good job of that.
He must be at least eighteen now. In fact, she understood that he was even attending college, Templeton no less, a local college with impeccable standards.
She smiled as she thought about Christopher, as the young boy. He was always so considerate, rather shy and insecure perhaps, but also really very sweet and cute, truly a harmless young man.
Her smile grew larger as she recalled how he used to try to peek up her dress when she was babysitting. He was too young to really appreciate what would be there. He was just so curious as to what he might find. The fact that she resisted him so adamantly just made him even more persistent. He must have figured that she had some candy hidden there.
Betty squatted down, pretending to be studying some of the milkweeds within the basket, but in fact peeking up at him across the backyards. She could see that, as he was watering his mother's flower garden, he was also sneaking glances at her. Her face flushed again, realizing that he was clearly very interested in her exposed breasts.
It was a little awkward, to say the least, to have him ogling them, as she did still think of him as the boy next door. But, she wasn't really offended by it. It wasn't like he was peeking through her window or anything, and it was clearly her fault for not going into the house to get out of the wet t-shirt and put on a brassiere.
Plus, it was, well, frankly, more than a little flattering. It was nice to see that she could turn the head of a young man, even at her age. She looked down at her breasts and pulled back her shoulders, helping them to stand up a bit more proudly. Yes, they had aged well. She had always been so very proud of them.
Her nipples were thrusting out nicely through the thin wet cotton fabric, stimulated by the coolness of the water's evaporation, as well as perhaps by the boy's eyes. They were clearly enjoying his admiration, trying to draw his attention, his interest.
Betty smiled mischievously as she took hold of the basket once again and stood back up, facing him.
Christopher quickly looked away.
Betty smiled. He was apparently rather embarrassed by having been caught staring at her breasts.
She called out to him, "Christopher, Christopher Hansun, well, goodness, hello! Looks like your mother has you working in her garden!"
Chris looked up, keeping his eyes focused specifically on Mrs. Parsons' face, but his pupils were widening at the presence of those lusciously full swaying milk jugs in his lower field of view. "Oh, hi! Mrs. Parsons, I didn't know you were there!"
Betty strode up to the small picket fence that bordered their yards, carrying the basket, her boobs jiggling like Jell-O with every step, her nipples stiffening as they were tickled by the bouncing and swaying of her breasts within her tight t-shirt. She rested the basket on the fence, and rested her breasts on the basket.
"My goodness, Christopher," Betty said, "you are all grown up now, aren't you!"
"Well, yeah, I guess," Chris modestly replied, trying to keep his eyes averted, but how could they really avoid such a gift. He could even discern the skin of her areola and the pointiness of her nipples through the sweat-soaked cotton.
"You're quite the strapping, handsome young man now, I must say. Are you breaking lots of little girls' hearts?"
"No, no," Chris replied, feeling a little self-conscious, as well as embarrassed by the fact that he hadn't managed to break even one girl's heart. He was not particularly popular with girls. Not too many girls liked chess club enthusiasts.
"Well, I can't imagine that. How old are you now anyway?"
"Eighteen," he answered.
"Eighteen!? Really?! Time does fly but, then again, I would have guessed you were in fact 24 or 25."
Chris smiled at that.
Betty continued, "You just look so handsome and manly." She was laying it on pretty thick, but she could see that he liked it. He actually looked to her younger than 18. He still had a boyish face and build.
Chris did indeed like the flattery, very much so. He was in fact getting rather excited, his eyes occasionally drifting down to Mrs. Parsons' breasts. He had always admired them, as any young man would. In fact, over the past few years he had been trying to get a peek at them. Well, not trying real hard, but he couldn't help but notice her at times through her bedroom and bathroom windows. Mrs. Parsons had a one-story ranch house, with her bedroom apparently facing the backyard. He never really saw much, but his eyes would at times linger, his mind drifting into the fantasy that perhaps he might see something, his dick slowly swelling within his pants as he contemplated the possibility, which was now more real than ever before.
Mrs. Parsons was absentmindedly scratching one of her breasts as she spoke to him, the movement of her hand naturally drawing the young man's eyes.
Betty smiled. Didn't boys realize how obvious it was when they were looking at your boobs? That had always amazed her in high school. Of course, given her early and considerably development, she got quite a few looks. She asked, "Christopher, I wonder if you would be willing to do a little work for me." With her eyes remaining focused on his she shifted her fingers along her breast to scratch a nipple, causing it to distend even further.
Chris' eyes widened in shock. Mrs. Parsons was actually scratching her nipple?! Right in front of him?! He tore his eyes away, knowing that he really shouldn't be staring at it. "What? Yeah, sure, sure Mrs. Parsons. I'd be happy to."
Looking her in the eyes though did not diminish her appeal. Mrs. Parsons did have very pretty large brown eyes. They always looked so gay and cheerful, with long fluttering lashes, a thin perky nose, rosy red cheeks, and long flowing brown hair that draped casually along her shoulders. He wondered if some day he might marry a woman as beautiful, and sexy, as Mrs. Parsons. But, of course, there was little likelihood of that.
Betty continued to rub and pinch her nipple, as if it was simply an itch from some bug bite. "Well, that would be so helpful, Christopher. It's been difficult, of course, with Jack having passed away."
"Oh yeah, I heard. I'm really sorry about that, Mrs. Parsons," feeling now a bit guilty about noticing her playing with her nipple.
"Oh, that's alright, Christopher. It's been a good deal of time now. My friends even suggest I should start dating again, but I think I'm a little too old for that." She finally let go of her nipple, its taut stiffness pointing directly at Christopher.
Chris' own stiffness was pointing in return at Mrs. Parsons. He sorely hoped that she had not noticed it. "Oh, you're not that old, Mrs. Parsons, really."
Betty though had most definitely noticed it, and found it rather flattering. "Now, don't you try to flatter me, Christopher. I'm old enough to be your mother."
"Well, you don't look it, Mrs. Parsons, really." It was the obvious thing to say in response to her self-deprecating remark.
"Goodness, Christopher, are you flirting with me?"
"What?! No! Golly, no." His face reddened and he nervously glanced around, feeling terribly self-conscious.
Mrs. Parsons smiled. He was such a cute boy. "Well, in any case, I need someone to put a fresh coat of stain on the railing of my deck. I wonder if you could help with that, tomorrow perhaps?"
"Well, yeah, sure, Mrs. Parsons, I'd be happy to."
"That's very sweet of you, Christopher. I'll get the supplies today and, well, let's make it a date, say, at 2:00 PM, tomorrow?"
That was sort of an odd way to put it, but he didn't think too much of it. "Uh, yeah, sure, sure."
"Well then, excellent! See you tomorrow then!" She lifted up the basket and turned away, albeit looking back over her shoulder to say, "You be a good boy now."
Chris smiled, feeling rather undeserving of that suggestion, given that he had been ogling her boobs. "Yeah, sure, Mrs. Parsons, of course."
Betty smiled as she made her way back across her yard, providing an extra swing to her hips, figuring that the boy was following her every move, and finding it rather flattering to be so watched and admired. She was indeed much older than him, but it kind of made her feel as if she was just eighteen again herself, albeit this time with considerable experience, and substantially more self-confidence.
When she reached her garden she stopped, and bent over to put the basket down, bending in a way that was much more suggestive than necessary, thrusting her bottom back at the boy. It was difficult to say what was in fact her best feature. Her boobs did always draw the most attention, but her bottom was pretty darned firm and perky. She gave Christopher a very nice opportunity to obtain his own evaluation as she bent over and thrust it back out.
She maintained her provocative pose as she pretended to be rummaging around in the wicker basket, purportedly looking for something, perhaps a missing trowel, her rear turning left and right.
The trowel was actually resting right on the top of the weeds. She eventually picked it up and turned her head back to look at Christopher, who was indeed still looking at her. She even caught him with a hand on his crotch.
She smiled and waved at him, the trowel in her hand. "Found it!"
Chris quickly looked away but then looked back and returned her wave. It was a very feeble effort at pretending that he had not been staring at her butt. Well, at least she didn't look angry or upset.
Betty was in fact now feeling more than a little randy. She would at times feel that way anyway after a long stretch in the garden. For some reason all that manual labor would get her a bit excited. Jack knew that a good time to approach her was right after she finished exercising. One might think that she would be tired, perhaps even exhausted, but it was all that blood flowing through her, just got her so pumped and excited.
Betty decided that it was time to get a bit more exercise.
She left her gardening tools behind and made her way into the house. She did stop to get a glass of ice water, but she knew she needed more than that to cool off. She proceeded to her bedroom, her heart racing with excitement. Sometimes it's so nice to be alive, when there is nothing on one's mind other than providing oneself with joyful pleasure.
She smiled as she entered her bedroom, putting the ice water on her bedside table.
She looked at her bed. She normally would do this lying on the bed, but she was feeling a bit sweaty and dirty. Plus, she had something else in mind.
She strode over to her large bedroom window, currently hidden by fully drawn pleated window shades. She peeked through a couple of the slats. Christopher was still in the backyard.
Her eyes fixed on him as she undid and opened her jeans and then reached down into her panties. She took a deep breath upon making contact with her swelling clit. Her eyes half-closed as she continued to focus on the boy working in the back yard as she worked on her clit.
He was really so very cute, and so all grown up. It didn't seem that long ago when he used to come over to her house to ask if he could swing on the branches of her willow tree, and now he is a strapping young man. She held her breath as he reached down to grasp his crotch.
Chris was still thinking about Mrs. Parsons. It had been such an amazingly stunning sight. His balls churned and his dick swelled as he recalled those voluminous boobs jiggling around within her wet, clinging t-shirt, how she absentmindedly pinched and twisted her nipple as she spoke to him, and how she seemed to have purposely posed with her butt sticking out at him. He reached down to give his dick a squeeze. He knew what he would be thinking about that evening, beneath the covers.
Betty increased the pace at which she was diddling her clit, her breaths becoming rushed, her hips subtly grinding, her teeth clenching, watching the boy playing with himself, thinking about her, about how hot and sexy she was.
She suddenly stopped, but not out of guilt. She needed to do more.
She reached over for the shades' cord and pulled the blinds up in front on the far left side of her bedroom, not all the way up, just to her shoulder and then, making as much noise as possible, pulled up the lower half of the window, ostensibly to allow some air into the room. Her bedroom could indeed be very warm, albeit the air conditioner was taking good care of that. Christopher, however, would not know that. He would imagine that she was just opening up the window to let the fresh air into her room.
Once the window was up, she stood in front of it and pulled and tugged on the front of her t-shirt, as if she was trying to cool herself off with the fresh air cooling the sweat on her body, her face hidden from view. And then she simply grasped hold of each of her breasts and squeezed them within her hands, using her thumbs to play a bit with her nipples as she continued to grasp and fondle her breasts soft full lusciousness. She was definitely very randy indeed.
She stepped away from the opened window and moved all the way down to the window on the far right side of her bedroom. She carefully peeked through the slats.
She had indeed caught Chris' attention. He was staring at her opened window, the fingers of his right hand subtly caressing his erection.
Betty smiled, and felt a further rush of warm excitement course through her loins. Well, maybe now he would get that peek he wanted, so many years go. Something told her that he was going to appreciate it much more, now that he was all grown up.
She quickly stripped off her t-shirt, kicked off her shoes, and ripped down her pants and panties, making herself entirely naked, with the lone exception of her socks.
She again peeked through the slats. Christopher was returning to his work, but he did occasionally glance at her opened but now empty window.
Betty wasn't sure if she should really do this. She wasn't even entirely sure what she was going to do, but she knew it would be naughty, although equally exciting. She again reached down with the fingers of her right hand and caressed the wet lips of her womanly cunt, providing herself with the moral support and encouragement she needed for her anticipated act of daring. She even slipped a couple of fingers inside, sloshing them around within the hot, wet, clinging flesh of her cunt.
She removed her fingers from her cunt, soaked with her fluid, some of it now dripping down her thigh. With her breaths rapid and shallow, her breasts heaving, she strode back across the bedroom to the opened window, and stopped there, right in front of it, facing sideways, her naked profile open to the world, open to Christopher, to view.
She couldn't see if he was looking, but she imagined he must be. Her face flushed with excitement, and embarrassment, at her exhibitionistic display. This was just so terribly naughty!
Jack had at one time suggested they make love in a hotel room with the curtains wide open, letting anybody within the office windows across from them to see them, to watch them. There would be no real harm, he suggested, as they would all be strangers, they would never know who they were. It would never get back to their friends, families, or associates. Much as Betty was excited by the idea, she just couldn't do it. It just seemed so risky, not to mention embarrassing.
This, however, now seemed different, as Christopher was, in her mind, still a boy, or at best a young man, and clearly very innocent and shy. Exhibiting herself to him seemed comparably innocent. And, she was just being playful. Nothing she was doing would really cause him any harm or pain. She wasn't actually exploiting him in any way. Clearly he would enjoy it.
Of course, some of her motivation did reflect a very intense arousal after quite a bit of time of denial and frustration.
It was not though her best perspective, at least so she felt. She felt very good about her breasts, but given her age and their size, they did not stand out so perky as they had when she was herself a teenager. They kind of sloped downward a bit. She felt they would make a much better impression if she was facing the window, but she wasn't quite ready for that and, besides, what would be the reason for doing that? Facing the adjoining wall was a more likely position. For all Christopher knew, she could be looking at herself in a mirror, or standing in front of a dresser or an opened closet.
Chris was dumbstruck! He was actually seeing Mrs. Parsons entirely fucking naked! He couldn't see a whole lot. It was just from her side and she was a good distance away, but he was being treated to a very nice view of her right breast, which was just so fucking big, white, and womanly. He glanced around, making sure that nobody was watching him, noticing him, and then gave his erect cock a more purposeful squeeze. He so wished he had a camera. But, then, she moved away.
Betty stepped over to her closet. She needed one of her helpers, and she knew precisely which one she wanted. She extracted the box from its hiding place, rummaged around, and then pulled out the one she was seeking: a little white one. Her heart raced as she pulled it out.
She made her way back over to the other side of the room, momentarily crossing the opened window as she did so. She paused there, feeling her heart beating loudly, her cunt warming, yearning. She reached up with her left hand and squeezed her breast, pinched her nipple, and then moved on.
She walked over to where she had previously peeked through the slats. She hesitated before she switched on the vibrator, wondering if it would be so loud that Christopher would be able to hear it. That would be rather embarrassing.
But, with her heart fluttering she thought why not let him hear it. This was just so bad!
She turned it on, but then realized that it really wasn't that loud. It often seemed loud to her, but the humming would not make its way out of her bedroom and across the yards, particularly as she was standing so far from the open window. She considered changing location. But, even if she used it right in front of the opened window he still wouldn't be able to hear it. However, if she used it right in front of the opened window then he would most definitely be able to see her using it!
That would clearly be going much too far.
Using her left hand she peeked through the slats. He had moved over a bit himself, shifting over so that he would be facing her opened window more directly, pretending to be doing some tilling in another garden.
She groaned with urgent lustful hunger as she applied the vibrator to her clit, rubbing it around, imagining that it was the erect, swollen knob of Christopher's young stiff cock massaging her equally stiff nub, her hips wriggling around in response.
She shifted it lower to slide it deep up into her cunt.
"Christopher," she gasped, "your cock feels so fucking good."
She never spoke so obscenely when she had sex with Jack, or any man for that matter. Being by herself though allowed her to feel less inhibited, more open, and more honest.
A larger one would have given her more stimulation, but this one made it easier for her to imagine it was actually Christopher's. Of course, it was quite possible that Christopher actually had a pretty darned big one. He was a smallish, thin young man, and so she felt he probably wasn't that big, but imagine if he was inordinately large! Such a thing would be quite the sight on his smallish frame. She smiled as she thought about that, imagining that, her eyes glazing over as they fixed on the young man, tending his mother's garden, his eyes though repeatedly coming back to her window, her little helper sliding in and out of her wet, clinging cunt.
With a deep sigh she let it slip out, and made her way back over to the open window. She hesitated before she stepped in front of it, and then did so a few feet away, with her back turned. He face flushed red and her pussy quivered as she imagined Christopher now staring at her butt. She spread her legs apart and reached out with her hands so that her arms were parallel to the ground, her right hand still holding her now wet little helper. She doubted that he could discern what it was.
She bent over from the waist, reaching way down to touch her left hand to her right foot, stood back up, and then reached down to touch her right hand to her left foot, and then continually repeated the toe-touching exercise.
Her face flushed further, and not just because of the exercise. She knew she was presenting a pretty darned lewd sight, for as she was bent all the way over she was most definitely giving the young man a clear view of her glistening wet cunt.
And Chris was very, very appreciative. He was actually stunned: Mrs. Parsons was exercising naked in front of her window?! Now, that is a next door neighbor boy's wet dream, but for Chris it was in fact a reality. His cock swelled to a full hard erection as he watched her butt stretch and swell, and then her womanly full cunt come into view peeking back at him through her spread-open thighs.
He glanced around him again, just to be sure that nobody was noticing him. Nobody really could, as the sides of their yards were pretty well protected by shrubs, hedges, and trees, along with a fence. He shifted so that he was directly facing Mrs. Parsons, on his knees, as he openly clutched his stiff dick through his pants.
He was sorely tempted to extract his cock from his pants and actually jerk off, but he knew that was far too risky. He checked again the windows of his own house, as his mother and sister would be the most likely persons to notice him, and perhaps even Mrs. Parsons, if any one of them happened to look out a window or, of course, step out of the house.
Betty was sorely tempted to glance behind her, to see what reaction she was getting from Christopher. It would be particularly fun to do so when she was bent over, providing the most licentious point of her pose and then making eye contact with the young man, looking past her bent over bottom. But, she couldn't bring herself to do that. She most definitely didn't want him to realize that she was doing this on purpose. Her cunt felt so fucking inflamed.
Chris wondered if he could find some excuse for getting up closer, perhaps even going into Mrs. Parsons' back yard. He was being treated with an awfully nice show, but given that she was a few feet into the room she wasn't that easy to see. She would be very easy to see if he in fact got right up to the window! But, of course, he would have no excuse for being in her backyard. Well, maybe he was just coming over to ask about the work she wanted him to do on her deck? That was a good reason to be in her yard. He could be checking out the deck, from various angles. His yearning, throbbing stiff dick was talking him into taking a chance. Nobody would really think he was trying to peek through her window, would they?
Well, actually, they might. It wasn't that long ago that he almost got caught peeking into the window of Emma's bedroom, when she was having a slumber party with Terrie and a couple of other girls. He had run off, but his friends Ron and Bobby did get caught. Not surprisingly, they got into quite a bit of trouble with the girls (see "The boys are caught peeping").
Betty couldn't wait any longer and with her breathing accelerated for more reasons than one, she stopped touching her toes and turned around, wanting to let Christopher see a bit of her from the front as well.
But, as soon as she did so she saw him, kneeling on the ground, his hand clearly clutching his cock. When she was standing right up against the window her head was hidden behind the blinds. However, being a few feet away from the window allowed her to see him, and him to see her face.
As they made eye contact her eyes widened in shock and she quickly shifted away from the window, her boobs bobbling in agitation.
Chris' eyes widened as well and he just as quickly let go of his cock and turned away, shifting his attention back to the gardening, wondering if she had noticed him watching her, fearing that perhaps she had. Would he get into trouble? Was it really his fault? Would she be mad? Surely she couldn't tell that he was clutching his erection. He didn't know what to think.
Betty similarly wondered if Christopher had noticed her noticing him. He might not have. He might have just thought that she suddenly noticed how exposed she was, exercising in front of the window.
She made her way over to her bed and lied down, wondering what might have happened, wondering what she should do about it, depending on what did actually happen.
But, it wasn't before long that she took care of a more immediate problem, and became almost excited once again. Actually, even more excited because this time she let herself go to the end.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The next day, precisely at 2PM; well, actually, a few minutes early, Chris came over to Mrs. Parsons' house and knocked on the back door that adjoined her deck. He noticed that beside the railing was a fresh can of wood stain, a brush, and everything else he would need.
Betty opened the door. "Christopher! Right on time! Please, if you would, open the screen door for me." She reached over to the table by the door to pick up a tray with a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade, a couple of glasses, and a romance novel.
"Sure, Mrs. Parsons." Chris held the door open for her, his nostrils breathing in the scent of very sweet and enticing perfume.
Chris also admired Mrs. Parsons' outfit. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was pretty nice. She was wearing an unbuttoned men's red plaid long-sleeve work shirt, beneath which was a very sheer silk lace camisole. It was quite sexy peeking out from between the curtains of the men's shirt, at least as much as Chris could see. Along with the shirt and camisole Betty was wearing a loose cotton summer skirt, gaily decorated with fresh ripe peaches, that came down to just above her knees. She brought out the tray and laid it on a small table next to a reclining, cushioned lawn chair, that was at the moment propped up so that she could comfortably read her novel.
"I'll at least keep you company while you paint, Christopher, and you just help yourself to some lemonade whenever you're thirsty." She poured him a glass, and then one as well for herself.
"Sure, thanks, Mrs. Parsons. You didn't have to do that. That's very nice of you." He took the glass, wondering if there might be a breeze strong enough to open up her shirt.
"Oh pish-posh, it was not hard at all. It wasn't like it was home-made." She got into the reclining chair. "I just love reading outdoors. It's just so refreshing."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, setting the lemonade aside as he laid out a plastic tarp.
"It's a romance novel," she explained as she settled into the comfortable chair, her back raised. She quietly shared, "It's really very wicked."
"Yes, ma'am," Chris replied, not really listening much to what she was saying, his eyes steeling glances as her skirt rose up as she settled into the reclining chair. Mrs. Parsons did really have nice shapely legs, with a pretty good tan. Chris was not a leg man, but he could appreciate them when they were offered.
"It's about this teacher," Betty further explained, "who becomes involved with one of her students."
"What?" That drew his attention.
"I know!" Betty agreed. "Scandalous." She turned her attention to her book, picking up where she had left off, about a third of the way through.
As Chris was stirring the stain, she asked, "Have you ever had a crush on one of your teachers, Christopher?"
"What?" He replied, not really wanting to discuss it, at least not truthfully.
She lowered the book to look at him directly. "There's really nothing to be ashamed of. Every school boy develops a crush at one time or another. I once had a crush on a biology professor. He was such a handsome man." She took a deep breath as she recalled him, her breasts rising up beneath the soft plaid shirt. She pulled on it a bit to keep it closed. She could of course button it up but it was really too warm of a day for that.
Chris' eyes though were on Mrs. Parsons' legs, or now more accurately a thigh, as she lifted up her knee, causing the skirt to slide up further.
"Are any of your teachers at Templeton attractive?"
"What? Well...um, everyone says Miss Harding is fairly pretty." He would have to at least admit to that (see "Miss Harding teaches the boys a lesson").
"Oh...that's nice," Betty quietly replied. She hadn't actually expected him to tell her of one. She wasn't so sure she liked hearing that. She lowered her knee, effectively lowering the curtain on her upper thighs.
Betty recalled that when Christopher was young he collected comic books. He enjoyed reading his latest acquisitions to her, as if she would enjoy them as well. "Do you still collect comics?"
Betty smiled at how he seemed to first answer every question with 'What?' It probably reflected his sense of insecurity, unsure of what to say.
Chris was taken aback by that question. The fact was that he did still collect comics. Not as feverishly as he had when he was young, but he did now have a better appreciation for their true value, aesthetically and economically. He wasn't ashamed of it. Well, maybe he was a little embarrassed. It did sound a bit childish for a young man to be still reading comics. "No, well, a little."
"Well, aren't we the couple. I just have to have my romance novels and you have to have your comics."
"I guess so," he replied. He did feel that his comic book collection had to be worth a lot more than any collection of romance novels. You don't see any stores devoted to selling classic romance novels.
His thoughts went to Wonder Woman, one of his favorite characters, as his eyes fixed on Mrs. Parsons' breasts. He had so enjoyed Debra Winger as Wonder Woman, and Lynda Carter of course as well. Their breasts were just so fucking big. Any super woman really should have big boobs.
Betty turned her attention to the novel for awhile, though occasionally stealing glances of Christopher, which he did in turn as well. He probably glanced more often at her than she did at him.
Of course, it wasn't like she was discouraging him. She would occasionally, seemingly absentmindedly, raise a knee, letting the skirt briefly slip up her thighs. She might even swing her knee softly back and forth, giving him better peeks up inside, even allowing him to see, at least briefly, the soft round gusset of her tight pink lacy panties. She would hold the book close to her face as she did so, pretending that she was deep into the text, unaware of what she was doing, what she was revealing. Her eyes though would be sparkling with mischievous delight.
A couple of times she even let a breeze brush open her shirt. That was particularly daring as the soft white flesh of her breast, the dark pink of her areola, and the pointed erectness of her nipple, would be very clearly evident through the entirely sheer camisole.
Quickly though she would lower her knee, pull down her skirt, and cover her breast with her shirt, correcting the fleeting inadvertent display, keeping herself decent and appropriate when in the company of the young man, the boy next door.
She did though eventually suggest, "Christopher, why don't you take your shirt off. It's a pretty warm day and I don't think your mother will appreciate getting any of the stain on such a very nice shirt."
The shirt was not actually so nice. It was in fact a rather old work shirt. It wasn't particularly frayed or tattered, but it was hardly new. His mother wouldn't care one way or the other, particularly as he was being so neighborly by helping out the widow Parsons (she had asked him to offer to do some chores for her). Plus, he found the idea of taking off the shirt to be rather disagreeable. He wasn't really out of shape or anything like that, but he was in no way athletic or muscular. Plus, he didn't have much of a tan. In fact, his skin was rather pale, reflecting the fact that he spent much of his time indoors, playing chess, searching the web, reading comics. "Oh, I'm fine, Mrs. Parsons. The lemonade is pretty refreshing."
"Now, Christopher," she said, sounding a bit authoritative, "you mind your elders." She was far from elderly but she was old enough to be his mother, if his mother gave birth when she was herself a young woman. "I play bridge with your mother, and I certainly don't want to have to explain to her why I let you ruin your clothes. Now, please, I insist."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied reluctantly and laid down the brush to take off the shirt.
Betty watched him, peeking around her text, a little smile creasing her lips. He wasn't taking off much but it was rather cute to watch the young man undress before her, particularly as it was under her orders. She never thought about using her authority as an adult to make a young man disrobe for her. It was kind of nice, and fun.
When Chris got the last button undone he turned his back to her to remove his arms from the sleeves. He looked around for where to put it.
"You can lay it down here, Christopher, beside my feet. That way it won't blow away."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, and turned to face her.
Betty admired his young trim chest. He was indeed rather lean, albeit it wasn't like he was terribly scrawny or spindly. His smallness just made him look cute and sweet. She noticed how pale was his skin, but that just made his exposure to her all the more personal and revealing. He clearly did not take his clothes off very often.
He laid down his shirt across the foot of the chair, feeling the woman's eyes studying his chest. He clenched his muscles, trying to give them more definition.
"Christopher," Betty suggested, "Perhaps you should remove your pants as well."
"What?!" His eyes turned to hers, in shocked surprise. Did he hear her correctly?!
"Your mother wouldn't want you to get any of the stain on your pants. You might as well take them off as well."
"Mrs. Parsons," his objection very evident in his tone.
"Oh Christopher, don't be silly. It will be no different than if you were wearing a bathing suit, and nobody can see you back here."
She was largely right about that. The neighbors on either side were totally blocked from view. The only persons who would be able to see would be his parents, and they were actually not home right now. But, of course, Mrs. Parsons would be able to see him, very clearly, in his underwear, in his tight white briefs. His dick swelled at the thought, which made him even more resistant. "Oh, I don't know..."
She said with a mischievous, flirtatious smile, "C'mon, Christopher, show Mrs. Parsons your undies."
He finally admitted, "Honestly, Mrs. Parsons, I think that would be a little embarrassing."
Betty smiled, "Oh Christopher, you don't think I was serious, do you? My goodness, having you work on my deck in your underwear? Now, that would clearly be very inappropriate, don't you think?"
"Well, yes, ma'am," not really understanding why or how he was now on the defensive, as if it had actually been his suggestion rather than clearly hers.
"Such a silly boy," she said. "Imagine that, parading around on my deck wearing only your undies," which she was precisely doing at the moment, imagining it. "I don't think your mother would approve of that, my gracious." She returned her attention to her book.
She had though been partially serious, and she continued to envisage how much fun it would have been if he had actually just done it, submitting to her authority and removing his pants. It would have been so cute to have him working in front of her, dressed only in his underwear, shoes, and socks. Heck, she might then eventually have him take his underwear off as well! And, what if all that exposure got him excited! The warmth was stirring so deeply between her thighs. She tried to concentrate on the novel, but now glanced at him just about as often as he glanced at her.
They occasionally glanced at the same time, and both quickly returned their eyes to their tasks at hand, not wanting to acknowledge their mutual interest.
Betty eventually stopped reading, stretched her arms out in an exaggerated yawn, causing the shirt to slip off her breasts. She pulled it though back in place, but not before providing Chris with a very nice peek of her full womanly white breasts. She said, sounding really very sleepy, "My goodness I'm tired, Christopher. I'm going to take a little nap. If you would, wake me up when you finish."
"And, you'll have to shake me real hard. Don't be shy. I can sleep through just about anything. Once I fall asleep there is hardly anything that can wake me up. Seriously, I have to use two alarms to pull me from my deep slumber."
"Yeah, sure, of course," but he hoped he wouldn't have to do that. Having to shake her real hard would most likely cause her shirt to fall open, and then her breasts would be shaking and wriggling right in front of him. Actually, why was he worried about that? He turned away and smiled, hoping that he would indeed have to wake her up.
Betty got up to lower the head of the lawn chair down so that it would be fully reclining. She then laid down on her back. Lying fully reclined wasn't particularly helpful in providing the best presentation of her breasts, as they would tend to fall back to her sides a bit. So, she pretended to sleep with her arms crossed, effectively framing and supporting them.
She lay there for some time.
It wasn't very long though before half of her shirt was blown off by a breeze, the cool air wafting across her nipple, causing it to stir and stiffen, although showing off for Christopher had already made it rise up rather proudly.
It was difficult for Betty not to smile, knowing that she must be providing quite the show for the young man.
And, he was again very, very appreciative. He stopped applying the stain to simply stare at Mrs. Parsons' exposed breast. It wasn't really hidden at all beneath the sheer garment, and it looked so fucking nice: so big, so full, so white, soft, and luscious. The nipple was poking through the camisole like it was yearning to be kissed, to be licked, to be suckled.
His dick quickly swelled to full erection and he reached down to adjust it. He glanced around though as he was doing so, checking to see if Mrs. Parsons was right, that they were in fact very well concealed.
She was indeed correct, as far as he could see. That would make good sense. Persons do like to have privacy on their outdoor backyard decks. He therefore let himself simply ogle her exposed boob for a while, while fondling and squeezing his erection through his pants, his thoughts imagining him actually having taken his pants off for her, her watching him work in his underwear, complimenting him on the size of his erection within his briefs.
Mrs. Parsons' breathing accelerated. She had no idea if he was actually looking at her. She imagined he must be, but she didn't really know. She considered carefully opening up one eye, just enough to check, but she knew she dared not. If he noticed her doing so then the whole game would be as exposed as her breast.
Chris noticed her breast rising and falling more rapidly. She must be now actually asleep. Could she fall asleep so quickly? He recalled her comment that nothing could wake her up.
Mrs. Parsons pretended to shift a bit within a deep sleep, causing the other half of her shirt to fall away from her chest, exposing now both breasts.
Chris' eyes opened as wide as they would go. Her breasts were just so fucking big and gorgeous, and she even seemed to be pressing them together for full effect, and for his pleasure.
He couldn't just ignore them. He couldn't just resume his work as if nothing was going on, as if they weren't really there.
He set down his brush and softly, quietly, made his way up to her. He had to at least get a closer look.
And, the closer he got the better they looked, and the more he wanted.
He stood right beside her, staring down at them.
It was like the best possible desert a boy could want, and they were just sitting there, ripe for his taking, with absolutely no witnesses and no real chance of getting caught. What self-respecting boy would do nothing?
Betty had heard him stepping up to her. She felt shivery and tingly with anticipation. It was so, so hard not to give away that she was in fact fully awake. She wrapped her arms around them a bit more, providing them with even more prominence and display.
Chris again glanced around, particularly back at his own house. There was definitely nobody in eye sight. There seemed to be very, very little chance of getting caught.
He reached out with his right hand and gently touched the tip of Mrs. Parsons' erect right nipple.
Betty flinched just a bit as soon as his finger made contact. She instantly regretted doing so, but it was just such a natural reaction to an unexpected touch. Well, she kind of actually had hoped that he might in fact do something like that, but she really wasn't expecting it.
Chris instantly pulled his hand away and his eyes went to her face, trying to detect if he had woken her up. If he had then she most definitely had been wrong that it was real hard to wake her up, although perhaps any form of sexual contact, no matter how mild or timid, sends a big shock through the brain.
But, there didn't seem to be any further reaction. Her breathing remained steady, her eyes remained close, although he could see that her eyes were moving around beneath the closed lids. That was weird, but he had learned in psychology that while dreaming the eyes at times do move around, if the person is dreaming.
His eyes went back to her breasts. He enjoyed how they rose and fell with her breathing.
He reached out again, and laid the tip of a finger lightly on a nipple.
This time she didn't move at all. She remained perfectly still, although a flood of warmth surged through her loins.
Chris began to slowly circle his finger around and around, feeling, caressing, and playing with Mrs. Parsons' thick stiff nip. It was so strange how it felt so erotic, so exciting to touch, yet there was really not much to it at all. It was just this pointy little nub.
But, of course, it was exciting because it was the nipple of a breast, and one that he should not be touching at all. Plus, it was just so cool how pointy it was.
He eventually played with both of them at once, flicking them, rubbing them, even pinching them between his finger and thumb, but not at all hard, just enough to provide a little squeeze. He was tempted to pull on them, but figured that would be too risky.
Betty couldn't help but smile just a little bit.
A discerning eye would have noticed a touch of pleasantness in her expression, but even if Christopher did notice he wouldn't necessarily realize that she was awake.
His innocent, playful toying with her nipples was rather fun, and perhaps especially for her. It was like she was his big life-size female doll, being able to witness what a boy would do with such a doll if given a chance.
Chris couldn't stop with just the nipples. What boy could when given a chance like this. He again glanced around, checking once more that they were indeed hidden from view. Frankly, even if his mother suddenly appeared on the back porch, which was itself unlikely, Mrs. Parsons' body was partly hidden by the wooden rails along the front of the deck. He opened up his fingers wide, poised them just above both big round boobs, and then softly clasped each of them within his hands.
Betty released a soft gasp at the feel of the boy's hands clutching her breasts. She instinctively thrust them up a bit, pressing them more tightly within his fingers and palms.
Chris noticed the movement and froze in place, his eyes fixed on the eyes of Mrs. Parsons, his hands glued to her boobs. Her eyes did not open. She was still asleep. It was apparently just a reflexive reaction, like a flinch in response to a tickle. His eyes returned to her breasts, and he gazed with wonder at the sight of his hands softly grasping them.
They were just so fucking big, much too big for either hand to fully embrace. He truly did feel like a boy clutching big womanly teats. He began to explore them, to feel their fullness beneath the slick smooth silk, their roundness, their softness, although often returning to the nipples, noticing the stark contrast of the stiff hard nubs poking out from the squishy soft pillows. His equally stiff cock was yearning for release, for someone to grasp and squeeze it as well.
He wondered if he could in fact jerk himself off while he fondled a boob. But, that would really be much, much too risky. It was conceivable that if she woke up now he could remove his hands quickly enough that she wouldn't notice where they had been. She would likely be in a half-awake, sleepy state of mind, not yet fully aware of her surroundings. She would notice him standing right next to her, but he could just say he was getting the pitcher of lemonade. There would not, however, be a very good explanation for his erect cock sticking out of his pants.
Betty's breasts began to heave with increasing excitement. No man had felt, had caressed, her breasts for quite some time. She now realized how much she missed the feel of a man's hands on them, how nice it felt to be caressed, to be appreciated. Plus, the fact that it was the boy next door, now of course a young man, but a man she knew as a boy for quite some time, made the experience all the more pleasing, daring, and titillating. "Oh, honey, that's so nice," she softly gasped.
Chris immediately removed his hands, his eyes wide with shock and worry. He stared at her face.
She didn't seem to be awake, but she had spoken, hadn't she? He wasn't entirely sure what she had said. It wasn't anything in anger or shock. On the contrary, she seemed to be calling him "honey."
A little smile of relief and wonder creased his lips. She was talking in her sleep! She was having a dream, and it must in fact be a sex dream! He was making her have a sex dream. How cool is that! He gently returned his hands to her breasts, which were now rapidly rising and falling with excited lust.
"Yes, Jack, that's so nice," she again softly sighed as the young man's hands returned to her breasts. It was perhaps taking a chance to actually say something, but as long as she kept her eyes closed and remained still there was no way he would be able to figure out that she was in fact awake. She did though want to provide him with a bit of encouragement, as well become more active herself in their little innocent play.
Chris smiled. She was apparently having a dream about her husband. He cautiously escalated his playing, taking the breasts in his hands to gently squeeze them together, admiring the deep cleavage she provided, how the boobs swelled when pressed together, how responsive and pliant they were to his clutching and groping.
Betty spread apart her thighs and lifted up her pelvis, just a bit, just enough to draw the young man's attention. A gentle breeze kissed her thighs as her skirt rose up.
Chris stopped, his eyes shifting to another very interesting part of Mrs. Parsons' body. He knew he couldn't really touch her there. Now, that most definitely would be going too far. But, he could at least just take a little peek. There was no harm in doing that.
He recalled how as a boy he kept trying to do that one evening, look up her skirt. He didn't know what he was really looking for, not for anything in particular. He just noticed how much it flustered her, so he kept trying. Well, he knew what he would be looking for now...
With no small reluctance he released his hands from Mrs. Parsons' bulbous boobs. He hesitated, his hands still just inches away, poised to return. They so much wanted to return. What was better: feeling big, soft, squishy boobs or peeking under a skirt? Feeling was clearly much more tangible and satisfying than just seeing. But, peeking under a skirt was new, and what would be there would be even more enticing than her breasts, albeit that was really hard to believe as her boobs were just so fucking sweet. He shifted down the lawn chair, adjusting and squeezing his stiff dick as he did so.
Mrs. Parsons' thighs did appear to be quite receptive to the idea, as they were slightly parted, as if spreading open to invite inspection. Chris leaned forward, carefully took hold of the hem of Mrs. Parsons' skirt, lifted it up, and gently laid it on her abdomen, opening up her panties to the light of the summer day, and his eager eyes.
Her lacy pink bikini panties were a delight to his eyes. They were just so intimate, feminine, and spicy. He wouldn't have expected a woman to routinely wear such sexy lingerie for no apparent reason. Chris was impressed, and so fucking turned on. He again squeezed his dick through his pants.
He smiled at the thought of just leaving her like this while he resumed working on the railing. She had jokingly suggested he work in his underwear. The shoe was now clearly on the other foot, and even if she woke up she couldn't really blame him. A sudden breeze, the movement of her legs, would be the likely culprit.
He leaned down even further, to get a real close look.
He bit his lower lip as he detected her thick womanly lips through the lace. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, absorbing her rich womanly scent.
He couldn't just leave it at this. His eyes shifted away to study her face as he gently laid his fingers on her soft feminine mound.
"Mmmmmmm," Betty quietly moaned, her thighs spreading apart a bit more, her cunt pressing back against the young man's fingers.
Chris began to explore and caress the woman's pussy through her panties, feeling around and about the little hairy hill through her lacy undergarment.
"Oh yes, honey," Betty softly breathed, as if speaking to someone within her dream, encouraging him to go further, to do more, letting him know how much he was pleasing her, how much she wanted him.
Chris pressed harder with his fingers, sliding them up and down her fleshy slit, feeling warmth emanating though her panties from deep inside her, even detecting a bit of moisture seeping through the lace.
It took all of his self-control, his sound judgment, not to rip his stiff cock from his pants.
It took all of Mrs. Parsons' self-control not to respond more openly. She had never been passive during sex. She would normally squirm, thrust, squeeze, and squeal. But now she tried to be as passive as possible as she subtly pressed and rubbed her pussy against the young man's fingers.
Chris could feel Mrs. Parsons' cunt squirming against his fingers, and he smiled with both satisfaction and delight. A young man naturally takes considerable pride in making an older, experienced woman aroused. Plus, the fact that he was doing so without her even being aware provided an extra special bonus.
He was encouraged by her evident reaction to even slip his fingers beneath her panties, to place his fingers directly on her warm, wet, feminine lips.
Betty gasped as she felt the young man's fingers make contact beneath her panties. No man's fingers had been there for quite some time. The touch was truly electrifying. She felt a rush of heat surge into her cunt and her breasts rose high above her chest. The urge to squeeze her breasts within her hands, or to grasp hold of the young man's cock, was so fucking intense.
Chris resumed his exploration of the woman's pussy. It was a bit difficult maneuvering his fingers beneath her tight panties, but he eventually forced the lacy fabric aside, providing not only his fingers with more room but his eyes with an unfettered view. He licked his lips as he gazed upon the woman's full fleshy wet lips.
It did not take long for him to find the entrance to her cunt. Chris was not particularly experienced in such matters but the woman was so aroused, so wet, that his fingers readily found their proper home. He slipped his middle finger up inside as he brought the fingers of his left hand down to press and rub her stiffened clit.
Betty's fingers instinctively clenched, her breathing further accelerated, the muscles of her cunt clasped onto the young man's fingers, embracing him as tightly as they could.
Chris couldn't believe how sloppy wet Mrs. Parsons was getting. If she woke up now she would most definitely notice how excited she had become, but she would likely just attribute it to a wet dream, which she did seem to be having, given her breathless lustful gasps. But, what would she think when she discovered her panties pushed aside, her pussy fully open to view? Could that have happened while she was asleep? She would certainly be mortified, knowing that she had been so exposed in front of her young neighbor. Would she suspect that he had actually pulled her panties aside?
Chris did wonder if she might in fact wake up. He certainly would if he was this excited. He hadn't woken up when he was a kid, when he first started having his own wet dreams, much to his mother's annoyance. She eventually suggested he take a cold shower right before he went to bed, much to Chris' annoyance, and embarrassment. After repeatedly having to wash the sheets she then proposed, rather awkwardly, that he "take care of business" before he went to sleep, even offering him some used rags. Chris had been mortified, but he did as she instructed, leaving the soiled rags by his bedroom door. They were at least real soft. He did appreciate that.
He squeezed in a second finger. He contemplated replacing his fingers with his cock, but that would most definitely being going much too far. He could perhaps claim that he thought she was awake, that in her sleep, in her dream, she had called out for him,, spreading her legs, evening pulling her panties apart. Persons do sleep walk. Spreading one's legs is considerably less active than sleep walking. He could claim that he thought she was awake.
The risk though was too great. If she didn't buy that explanation he would be in so much trouble. It wasn't worth taking the chance. He would have to confine his pleasure to just fingering her. He did though take his fingers from her clit to press, squeeze, and grind them against the bulge in his pants.
Betty wondered if somehow she could get him to actually fuck her with his cock. That would just be so, so good. She openly squirmed her hips, thrusting her cunt up against the young man's fingers, fucking them like she was in fact fucking his cock. "Oh Jack," she sighed, "fuck me, please, fuck me."
Chris obliged, as best he could with his fingers, thrusting them in and out of the woman's clenching, gripping, squirming cunt, his thumb all the while working her clit, his other hand desperately, violently, massaging his dick.
"Yes, yes," Betty whimpered, her fingers clenching tightly the padding of the lawn chair, her cunt squeezing hard on the boy's fingers, her breasts heaving madly with lust.
She suddenly thrust her hips up high. "Fuck," she gasped, as her body suddenly twitched and convulsed with her orgasm, her cunt quivering with eruptive spasms.
Chris responded with his own climax, his mind and body swept over by a blissful state of climactic relief as his dick twitched within his pants and a large glob of cum squirted from his knob, followed by further gushes and spurts, quickly filling his briefs with warm, wet, sloppy cum, just as he had done so many times as a boy while in bed, lost within a wondrous dream.
"Fill me, fill me," Betty gasped, as if still lost in her own dream, her body awash with the wondrous waves of her orgasm, coursing through her in sweeping tides of pure bliss, her breasts rising and falling with deep, hurried breaths.
Chris bent over, struck by how nice it felt to cum in his pants, the warm, wet gism soaking his underwear. Wetting oneself was never so much fun, so fundamentally pleasurable and fulfilling.
Parts of Betty's body twitched spasmodically, instinctively, involuntarily, her mind awash with recurring waves of orgasmic bliss. It was so difficult not to be more openly responsive to her climax, to remain as passive as possible, and perhaps that was in part why it felt so fucking intense, as she was so aware of every single spasm, every coursing rush of carnal, corporeal joy.
When her convulsions were finally ebbing her hips settled back down, her fingers relaxing their grip on the cushion, her face turning to her right to fall back into a more restive, peaceful sleep, the heaving of her breasts replaced with a more normal rise and fall, her cunt releasing its tight grip on the young man's fingers.
Chris slowly slipped his fingers from the woman's cunt, drawing forth quite a bit of messy feminine sap that dripped down into the cushion, providing a very evident wet spot. He carefully shifted her panties back over her cunt, pulled her skirt back down, and quietly made his way back to the railing, resuming his work, feeling though rather exhausted, rather spent, yet still quite excited.
Mrs. Parsons could hear the young man resuming his work. She opened her eyes just a little, just enough to peek out at him, and then smiled when she saw that he wasn't looking, but quickly closed her eyes again when she noticed him beginning to turn toward her.
Chris looked down at his pants. There was a pretty clear wet spot there, and he felt a much deeper and thick wetness inside his briefs. He wondered if perhaps he should go home to change, although he did in fact find it a little cool to have his briefs full of cum, right under the nose of Mrs. Parsons.
Betty stretched her arms out wide and loudly yawned, as if she was now just waking up. "Oh my," she exclaimed, "I must have dozed off."
Chris turned to look at her, his eyes trying to avoid her openly displayed breasts, the skirt barely hiding her panties. "Yes, yes, you did," he acknowledged. "I tried to be quiet, so as to not wake you."
"Well, that was very sweet of you, Christopher, but short of spraying water on me I don't know how you could." She was tempted to point out that he apparently hadn't got that much work done while she had been asleep. "Mmmmm," she sighed. "It was a very nice sleep. I just feel so refreshed, so alive. My goodness, I haven't had such a refreshing sleep in some time."
Chris smiled. "That's good, ma'am," he innocently replied.
"But," she added, "I did though have the most strangest dream." She reached down to straighten her skirt. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling the wetness.
"Really, ma'am?" Chris inquired. "What was it? My psychology professor says dreams can be pretty interesting."
"Oh, well, it was nothing really. I didn't say anything in my sleep, did I? Jack said that I do some times talk in my sleep."
Chris turned to face her. "No, no ma'am. I don't think so."
"Christopher!" Mrs. Parsons suddenly exclaimed, pointing at his crotch. "Oh my, that's not stain on your pants, is it?"
Chris looked down. "What? Oh, um..."
"Your mother will be very upset with me." She smiled mischievously as she added, "Perhaps I should have had you take them off."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The rest of the afternoon had been largely innocent, although Betty at times made rather suggestive and perhaps even flirtatious remarks, and she did provide a few brief peeks of her breasts, enjoying the fact that the front of the boy's pants were soaked with his cum. She had offered to clean them for him, but he adamantly rejected the offer, claiming that it was just some lemonade he had spilled.
That evening Betty kept her bedroom curtains open, hoping that Chris might be curious. She even opened the closet door so it could be seen through the window, and then draped a brassiere over it, like a flag, or perhaps more accurately the bait of a snare.
She went to the den on the other side of the house, and watched for Christopher from the darkened room through a crack in the curtain. She grinned, feeling like a spider waiting to trap a fly.
Her pussy tingled with anticipation. She slipped a hand down into her panties to play with herself as she waited. Even if he never arrived she could imagine what might happen, and it was most definitely a nice fantasy.
But, she didn't have to fantasize.
Chris told his parents that he was going to go out for a walk, the summer evening being so pleasant.
His parents were a little surprised at that. Christopher never went for walks, and it was rather late. If he wasn't in fact eighteen they might tell him that it was too late and he should be getting ready for bed. But, he was at the age when he could make his own decisions and was in fact trying out all sorts of new and different things. Going for a walk did at least sound normal and healthy.
Upon exiting the front door though Chris immediately made his way around to the back of the house, and into Mrs. Parsons' back yard. He had noticed the brassiere through the open window and he didn't want to miss out on an evening show, if there was in fact going to be one. Plus, given that it was now in the dark of night, he could get up pretty close to her window.
Betty saw from her den the boy sneaking into her backyard. She slipped her fingers from her moistened cunt and quickly made her way to the bedroom, her heart racing with excitement.
As she entered the bedroom she made her way quickly to the open window, stopping right in front of it to consider the brassiere hanging on the door.
She began to unbutton her blouse. She was not wearing the same clothes she had on earlier in the day, having showered and changed. But, the outfit did have one thing in common with her earlier attire, once she removed her blouse there was little hiding her breasts. In fact, there was nothing at all. She had not put on a brassiere.
She smiled and stretched her arms, imagining that Christopher must be enjoying the show. She had such lusciously full womanly breasts, and it was so nice to have them once again admired.
She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.
She was now standing in only her panties: tight wild strawberry bikini panties with three little butterflies gaily flying over her cunt, apparently attracted by the scent of her feminine nectar.
She was uncertain how far to take this. She had done much more the first time she displayed herself in the window, but now she felt it was considerably more risky. She could not see outdoors and at any moment Christopher's parents could look out one of their own windows, or open the back door to let their dog out. They would most likely see her as well.
Of course, they wouldn't think that she was doing this on purpose, but if they saw Christopher out there he would most definitely get into trouble, and would thereafter be unable to play with her any further.
Nevertheless, she pulled her panties down, her bottom facing the window, gradually bending over as she slid her panties equally slowly off her bottom and down her thighs, even pausing for awhile to be sure that he got a real good look. She knew her lips were glistening with moisture.
Chris was indeed enjoying the show very, very much. He had positioned himself close to the window, and with a large butterfly bush behind him, so that if his parents happened to look out they were unlikely to see him. The light from her bedroom spilled into her backyard, but he was also not so close that it reached him. She was unlikely to see him if she happened to look outside, and she most definitely wasn't going to see him with her round womanly butt poking out at him. Only her moist feminine lips were peeking back at him, not her eyes.
He unzipped his pants and took out his stiffening dick.
It was a little odd to be stroking oneself outdoors. That was probably something that was against the law. But, he was reasonably safe from getting caught and, in fact, it felt kind of neat to be jerking off outdoors, in the cool summer air, right in Mrs. Parsons' backyard.
He wondered how many times he had missed this opportunity before. Did she always leave her bedroom window open? He cursed himself for having never previously noticed and he vowed to always check every night in the future.
Betty reached into her closet and pulled out a bathrobe, wrapping it around her body.
Chris was extremely disappointed. Well, that didn't last long! Was she going to take a shower now? No, that seemed unlikely. Perhaps she was just going to the kitchen to get a cool drink.
Betty though didn't leave. She turned to face the window, opened up the front of her robe, and squeezed her soft squishy breasts.
'What the fuck?!' Christopher thought. He suddenly crouched down, his stiff cock still in his hand. She couldn't see him, could she? Of course, if she had seen him then clearly she wasn't upset.
Betty slipped her hands beneath her voluminous boobs and bounced them awhile, like she was trying to juggle them.
Chris stood back up and stroked his cock more furiously. He wondered if he came whether it would reach her window, splatting all over it. Not likely, but it was a nice thought.
Betty turned away from the window and walked off, out of Christopher's sight.
Chris held onto his cock, waiting for the woman to return, the sight of her bobbling her boobs frozen in his mind. It would be enough to get him off. He knew he wouldn't leave this backyard until he ejaculated, but he waited, perhaps there would be more.
He kept himself hard, waiting for her to return, not stroking so hard as to make himself cum, but enough to keep him hungry, yearning for more. He briefly glanced behind him, checking to be sure that he could not be seen from his own backyard. His eyes returned to Mrs. Parsons' bedroom window.
He was encouraged by the fact that the light stayed on. She most definitely did not appear to be going to bed. However, it was possible that she was doing something somewhere else in the room. It was frankly unrealistic to think that she would continue to show off her body right in front of an open window.
His heart raced as he considered his options. He again glanced around, and then slowly made his way up closer to her window so that he could better check things out.
He would just peek in a little bit, just to see if she was in fact still in her room.
Of course, if she happened to be doing something rather interesting in another part of her room, he might decide to stick around. It would be risky to be standing right up against her window. His parents would then most definitely be able to see him if they happened to look out, and so would Mrs. Parsons if she happened to look toward her window. But, if she was lying on her bed, masturbating, perhaps with some sort of giant rubber dildo, her attention would be pretty well occupied. The only real danger would be his parents, and they were well absorbed by television.
He stepped up to the window, and slowly, cautiously, leaned in closer and closer, until his nose was but an inch away.
He could see a lot of the room, even the bed, but he couldn't see Mrs. Parsons. She must be in some other part of the house. He smiled as he noticed her strawberry panties on the floor, and his eyes widened further as he noticed a little dildo on her dresser. His heart raced as he considered making his way over to another window. This was perhaps getting a little out of hand, but with his stiff cock firmly in his hand he was not in his most cautious state of mind.
"Christopher Hansun! What are you doing young man?!"
"What?!" Chris immediately turned to his left, covered his erection with both hands, and was confronted by the sight of Mrs. Parsons, standing right next to him. He had been so absorbed in studying what was inside her bedroom that he had not noticed her coming around the other side of the house, quietly walking up to him.
"You heard me young man. I want an explanation, and I want it right now!"
"Oh! Um, well, I, uh..." What is the explanation for standing up against a woman's bedroom window, your erect cock sticking out of your pants? Chris struggled to find it.
"You come with me young man." Betty firmly took hold of Christopher's left hand, wrenching it from his crotch, and led him over to her deck.
Chris stumbled along behind her, still trying to hide his erection with his other hand, wondering what might happen now. He could see his life suddenly falling apart. He could be arrested for a sex crime! Could he? This was bad. This was real, real bad. What would his parents think? What would his friends think? How would he ever get a girlfriend now? Was he going to go to jail?
Betty dragged the young man up the steps onto her deck and then all the way to her back door. "You are in big trouble young man, very big trouble indeed!"
She didn't have to tell him twice. He most definitely knew that. He tried to get his dick back into his pants with just one hand. It wasn't the hardest thing to do, but her jerking him all around as she dragged him along was making it rather difficult.
Maybe she hadn't noticed it! Peeping through a window wasn't really that bad. Having one's cock out probably took it to a much more harmful level. If he could just get it back inside then maybe he wouldn't be in that much trouble.
Betty momentarily let go of Chris' hand as she opened the screen and back doors. However, as she was doing so she instructed him, "Keep your penis out of your pants, Christopher. I think it's important for you to see what it's like to have someone looking at you."
"Yes, ma'am," Chris glumly replied, removing his hand.
Betty led him into the house and then back to her bedroom, the scene of his crime.
He did not step far into the room. He stopped just beyond the door. He had violated the privacy of her bedroom looking into it. He would wait for permission to actually enter it. However, clearly he was well passed any point of redemption, and he felt so terribly awkward, standing there with his penis sticking out of his pants, now losing some of its strength.
His mother had once almost caught him jerking off. He had forgotten to lock the bedroom door, and she had forgotten to knock. She just burst right in. He had managed to hide it, so he felt, by sliding his chair tight against the desk. He was so petrified the whole time she was in the room, talking to him about something, as his mind was preoccupied with the fright at being so shamefully exposed. Well, that fear was now realized, and Mrs. Parsons was right that it was not any fun.
Betty strode to her window and pulled the drapes so that nobody would be able to see inside. She turned back to Chris, still standing at the door to her boudoir.
She stifled a smile. He looked so cute, so endearing, so adorable, standing there, his half-erect penis sticking out of his pants. He must be so scared.
"Come here, Christopher."
"Yes, ma'am." He timidly stepped into Mrs. Parsons' bedroom. He so wished his erection would fully dissipate. It was at least heading in that direction.
"Well, aren't you the sight, young man. Are you proud of yourself?"
"No, ma'am, no, not at all, definitely not."
"I hope not." She looked at him very sternly.
He noticed that the front of her bathrobe was open just a bit, just enough for him to see a bit of womanly cleavage.
"What are you looking at, Christopher?!" She was again reminded of how boys so often don't realize how obvious it was when they were looking at your breasts.
"What?!" His eyes immediately returned to hers. "Nothing! No, ma'am, I mean, yes, I want to say how really, really sorry I am. I mean it, Mrs. Parsons, really I do."
"Oh yes, I can see that," she responded, pointing at his penis. Her tone was clearly sarcastic.
"No, really I am. Honest, Mrs. Parsons, I swear."
"Well, I'm afraid that I must have a word with your mother about this, Christopher."
"Oh no, please, Mrs. Parsons, don't do that! Do you really have to?"
"Yes, yes, I'm afraid I do. This was a very disrespectful and even criminal act, Christopher. I would think she would want to know, and in fact should know."
"Oh, but it will really just upset her and, well, can't we just, you know, work something out? Like, I could do some more work on your deck, or you know, like anything else you need done. Honest."
Mrs. Parsons appeared to ponder the offer, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, in the process lifting them and providing them with even more succulently scrumptious cleavage.
"Have you been doing this often, Christopher, peeking through my bedroom window?"
"Oh no, ma'am, honest! That was the first time, I swear!" He could at least have that in his defense. Yes, he had been looking into her window the previous day but that was from his own yard. That doesn't really count, does it?
Betty scowled at him. "Somehow, Christopher, I'm not sure I believe you."
"Oh but it's true, Mrs. Parsons." At least, sort of.
"You were masturbating, weren't you, Christopher."
Chris hesitated to answer. It was obvious that he had been. He really couldn't deny that. What else would be the reason for his exposed erection? But, confessing such a shameful truth was still very difficult. He lowered his eyes and quietly mumbled, "Yes, yes I was, ma'am."
"Do you masturbate a lot, Christopher?"
"What?!" His eyes returned to her, looking like a frightened deer caught in the headlights. "No, no, not at all!"
"Not at all?" Her incredulity was clearly evident.
"Well, I mean, not hardly at all."
Betty paused a bit, shifted her shoulders, letting her breasts wiggle a bit in her robe. "Christopher, if am I to understand your side of the story. If I am to find any reason to consider not telling your mother, you need to be fully honest with me. Do you understand, young man?"
Chris looked away, his face reddening, his penis now almost fully limp. "Yes, ma'am."
"Now, I will ask you this question one more time. Do you masturbate often?"
How much was often? He didn't really know. He didn't think he masturbated terribly often, although perhaps she might think almost every day was often. She was, after all, a woman much older than him. He bashfully admitted, "I guess so."
Betty's tone became more empathic, more maternal. "Do you have a girlfriend, Christopher?"
Chris took a deep breath and admitted, "No, ma'am."
"Oh." She replied. Then asked, "Have you ever been with a girl?"
Now, that was a tricky question. He had been with an older woman before, if you count the teacher, Miss Harding (see "The pillory," Chapter 14 of "The lessons"). But he really shouldn't tell Mrs. Parsons about her. And, he had masturbated into a girl's panties once before (see "A very spunky lady"), but that didn't really count. "Not really," he confessed.
Betty bit her lower lip, wanting so much to smile. He was such an innocent boy. She said, "So, I guess you are just very curious about women, aren't you, Christopher."
Well, that was most definitely true, as would any boy his age, albeit probably most boys his age had considerably more experience than him. "Yeah," he quietly admitted, "I guess I am."
"Well," Betty said, "I suppose I can understand that in a young man. You do have your primal urges and needs, after all."
Chris shuffled his feet. He asked, "Can I put my...my, um, you know..."
"Your what, Christopher? Tell me what it is."
Chris' faced again reddened as he said, "My penis, Mrs. Parsons. Can I put it back...in my pants?"
Betty looked down at his penis, considering the request. It was certainly reasonable. She had no more right to see it than he had to peek at her through the window. This was clearly much worse for him than it had been for her (particularly if one recognizes that she had wanted him to watch her). Perhaps she should cut him some slack.
Betty whispered, "Show me how you do it."
"Excuse me?" Christopher didn't know what she meant, but he had a good idea, and he most definitely needed confirmation.
Betty spoke up a bit more, but was still rather quiet. "Show me how you do it."
He understood fully what she meant, but he still couldn't believe it. His penis shriveled even further. He responded even more quietly than her. "I don't, um, understand. What do you mean?"
The tension in the room was palpable. What Mrs. Parsons was asking of the young man, or more accurately, suggesting, was very inappropriate. It was clearly a threshold that should not be crossed.
"Show me what you were doing...outside my window."
It was a surprising request, to say the least. "Mrs. Parsons," Chris objected, "I can't do that."
"You got to see me, Christopher. It's only fair I get to see you."
She was asking to see a lot more than he had seen of her. Well, actually, considerably less if you counted the episode on the deck. Heck, he had essentially assaulted her. But, she didn't know about that, so it didn't really count. Still, anything was better than having his parents find out. "You won't tell me parents about this?"
What an odd question, Betty thought. She most definitely wouldn't want his parents to discover that she told him to play with himself, in front of her. "If you do everything I want, Christopher, then I won't tell anyone."
Well, that did appear to him to be a very fair trade. He had meant it when he offered to do anything. He wasn't thinking that it would amount to this, but he wasn't complaining. Goodness, jerking off was considerably better than going to jail! But, still, it did seem a little weird.
He reached down for his penis, which was now barely more than a peanut. That was rather embarrassing, to say the least. He would imagine that Mr. Parsons had been quite the stud. He certainly had been a very handsome and athletic man.
He took hold of his penis with his thumb and two fingers, and began to pull and play with it.
Betty did finally let herself smile. It was just so adorable, so endearing. She felt like she was young again, although she had never done anything like this when she was young. It was kind of nice being an adult, a person with authority, a person with power.
Her smile grew larger as she realized that the young man was having difficulty getting himself back up. It was rather amusing to see a boy struggling to get an erection. If there is anything any boy can do very easily, it was to get a hard-on.
"Having some difficulty, Christopher?"
"No, ma'am, no, no, I'm fine," but he didn't feel fine. He felt fucking ridiculous. It was bad enough to have to jerk off in front of her. It was considerably worse to actually fail in the effort, but the more it bothered him the harder it became to get hard.
Betty wondered if perhaps she was putting a bit too much pressure on the young man. Could a boy jerk himself off while falling to his death? If one was going to die, then perhaps one might as well do it. But, the distraction and emotion would make it terribly, terribly difficult, to say the least. Christopher was not actually falling from a plane, but he had been pretty scared, and perhaps still was.
Betty strode up to him, positioning herself just to his right, and rested her left hand reassuringly on his left shoulder, pressing her womanly breast into his right arm. "Here, Christopher, let me help you with that."
She reached down with her right hand, brushed aside his hand, and gently took hold of the young man's limp penis.
Betty felt a charge of excitement surge through her body at the first touch of her fingers on his penis. It had been quite some time since she last touched a man's penis. It was like the contact flipped an instinctive switch; her pussy warmed and tingled.
Chris felt a charge of excitement surge through his body at the first touch of Mrs. Parsons' fingers on his penis. The contrast between his own fingers, which usually felt pretty darned good, with the fingers of someone else, and in this case the very sexy Mrs. Parsons, was so very striking. His heart was still racing with tension but his dick began to quickly swell.
"Now that's being a good boy," Betty softly observed, as her fingers deftly manipulated the young man's penis. It would appear that Chris was enjoying this more than her, but she might argue the point. It just felt so nice to have his erection developing within her fingers, feeling it grow and swell, lengthening, widening, stiffening. She once again felt like a woman, a sexy and desirable woman.
It wasn't long before Chris' erection returned to essentially full strength, enough for Betty to abandon the tips of her thumb and fingers for a more full meaty grip with her fist, wrapping her fingers around the shaft to stroke him like a pump.
Chris stared down at the woman's hand firmly jerking his hard dick. The sight was almost as good as the feel. His dick had never been happier, the knob glowing red with pride, and excitement.
"Okay then," Betty announced, letting go, to suggest, "I think you can handle it now." She stepped away to admire its appearance. He looked like a very excited and happy young man, proudly displaying his own little toy club.
With the release of her hand Chris immediately felt self-conscious again, standing in her bedroom, his stiff dick pointing out of his pants, Mrs. Parsons again wanting him to masturbate for her.
He reached for it. Well, at least she had gotten him started.
Betty could see the embarrassment in his face, and in his hesitant stroking.
"Now, there is nothing to be ashamed of, Christopher, all boys masturbate."
He imagined they did, but probably not too many do so in front of a neighbor lady. His eyes fixed on her breasts, looking for inspiration.
Betty continued her lecture, "Masturbating is a very normal activity, Christopher. I'm sure your parents told you that."
Actually, his parents had never said any such thing. On the contrary, they had made it quite clear that they considered it to be very irresponsible, immature, and perhaps even perverted.
He never felt perverted while he was doing it, albeit sometimes he would afterward, particularly if he got carried away and did something that was, let's say, out of the ordinary, like cumming while standing on his head, so that he would spray all over his face. It somehow made it seem like he was cumming on a girl's face, or at least it helped him to imagine that was happening. He enjoyed it while it was happening, but felt silly, even gross, afterward, when he was washing his face and cleaning up.
And, he certainly felt rather silly to be doing it in front of Mrs. Parsons.
Mrs. Parsons though smiled. She had never had any children. But, right now, she was feeling rather motherly. She felt considerable affection for the young man, who was trying so hard to please her with his penis.
She stepped back over to the bed and sat down on its edge. "You know, you do have a very nice penis, Christopher. It's really very handsome."
'What?" Chris was rather taken aback by that. Nobody had ever complimented it before, which was hardly surprising given his near zero level of experience.
He looked down at it. He always did feel it looked pretty good, but he wasn't sure. He was, of course, rather personally invested in its appearance. To him it looked pretty impressive. But, by objective measurement (the precise length of which he refused to divulge), he knew it was hardly average, if that. Still, to have a woman as experienced, as mature, as attractive, as Mrs. Parsons, tell him that it was a good one, even a handsome one, was really very pleasing indeed. He smiled with growing pride.
Betty knew she had done something very good, something a mother would do. It's always important to boost the morale of a young man, and there is hardly a better way to do that than to praise his masculinity, something a mother really couldn't do, in the manner that Christopher was currently being stroked, psychologically. She added, "You're going to make a young lady very happy someday, Christopher. I can promise you that."
He let go of his cock, letting it stand on its own, and asked Mrs. Parsons, "You really think so?" He had always had his doubts.
"Oh, I do, I do, very much so," she replied.
Chris didn't know quite what to say. It did not cross his mind that she might just be flattering him. There would be no reason for her to do that. Heck, on the contrary, he would expect her to belittle him, providing even more punishment and shame for peeking at her through the window. His smile grew even larger. He really loved his cock.
Betty again asked him, "How often really do you masturbate, Christopher?"
"What?!" His face instantly reddened and he clasped both hands over his erection, as if by hiding it he was somehow freed of the embarrassment of the question.
Betty smiled patiently, like a mother should. "Don't be embarrassed, Christopher. I'm in fact concerned that perhaps you don't do it often enough. A healthy boy should masturbate. He needs relief."
She stepped back up to him, again pressing her breasts against his shoulder, lightly cupping his testicles in her hand. "Oh yes," she softly cooed into his ear. "These feel so full, so bloated. It must be very difficult for you, having such big balls so engorged with semen."
"Yes, Mrs. Parsons," Chris quietly gasped. He did so often feel like he needed to masturbate.
"If you don't masturbate on a regular basis, Christopher," she explained, "it could in fact back up and cause all sorts of problems."
"Really?" He asked, looking into her large pretty brown eyes.
"Oh yes, dear," she added, giving his balls a soft gentle squeeze, "and a boy without relief can be driven to do things he knows he shouldn't do. Don't you think?"
"Yes, ma'am," he gasped.
She left his balls to wrap her fingers gently but firmly around his shaft. "I mean, I don't imagine you would have been peeking in my bedroom if you had relieved yourself earlier."
"No, no, ma'am, definitely not." Well, actually, he had cum earlier today.
"I just think," she continued, now firmly stroking him, her womanly hand holding tightly onto his shaft as it slid up and down, up and down, "You need to be sure to take care of yourself."
'Oh yes, Mrs. Parsons, I do." He most definitely agreed with that.
Betty let go of Christopher's erection and returned to sit on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped demurely in front of her, her robe opening up even more, revealing more of the soft white curves of her breasts.
Chris' penis twitched as his eyes focused on that lusciously full white flesh. Boobs were just so fucking cool! He reached down and without any prompting from Mrs. Parsons, took over where she had left off, stroking his dick.
"That's a very good boy, now, Christopher. You let your fist slide up and down..." She added, smiling sweetly at him, "for me. It's been so long since I've seen such a big hard penis."
Chris' breathing accelerated, as did his stroking.
"Oh my goodness, Christopher," Betty sighed, slipping her fingers into her cleavage, softly, absentmindedly, caressing the smooth white skin of her breast. She acknowledged, "I do like the sight of a big manly cock."
Chris breathlessly gasped, "Really?"
"Oh yes, yes, Christopher. You look so, so sexy. I don't know if, well, I just feel..." She didn't finish her thought.
Chris was no longer the least bit self-conscious. In fact, he had never felt more like a man, like a sexy man making a woman excited, and simply by jerking off. Not too many guys can make that claim! He thrust out his chest, as well as his dick, his fist pumping it proudly.
Betty whispered, her voice a bit hoarse, "Make it cum, Christopher, I want to see it shoot its stuff."
Chris nodded, gripping his cock more tightly, squeezing and massaging as he stroked.
"Should I get out of the way, Christopher? Will it explode this far?"
"I, I, um..." Chris didn't really want to speak any further. He just wanted to cum. His knees bent, he leaned forward, albeit wondering if perhaps he could shoot it that far, sincerely hoping that he would, not wanting to disappoint Mrs. Parsons, or at least wanting to impress her with his virility.
"Please, Christopher, cum for Mrs. Parsons! She wants to see a young man squirt his load, so, so bad."
"Yes, ma'am," Christopher gasped, doing his best to please his neighbor. She was after all, a widow, and deserved whatever support and assistance he could provide.
"Would you, I mean, well," Betty asked, "Would you let me take it on my face?"
"Fuck," Chris gasped, feeling that irresistible surge sweeping through his body, unable to control himself long enough to fulfill that request, much as he would have liked to, and then suddenly exploding from his cock a long thick string of cum that shot through the air, across Mrs. Parsons' bedroom carpeting, to splash onto the front of her bathrobe.
"Oh yes, Christopher!" Betty exclaimed, smiling gleefully, clapping her hands, applauding the successful climax of the young man's performance. "Such a good boy, such a big boy!"
It felt a little weird to have Mrs. Parsons clapping as he was cumming, like his mother had once done when he, after many unsuccessful attempts, finally was able to juggle three balls at once. He had been very proud of that, but he was feeling much better now. He smiled with deep bliss and satisfaction as he repeatedly squirted and spurted his load along Mrs. Parsons' deep luscious carpeting.
Mrs. Parsons didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, her smile was even larger than his, delighting in the sight of the young man's twitching, jerking big purple inflamed knob spitting its stuff all over her floor. She had missed it on the sun deck. She did not miss now a second of its shamelessly unbridled eruptions. It was like she was on her first date, and the young man apparently lost control at the sight of her as soon as he took his dick out, erupting in violent orgasmic spasms.
Her cunt percolated with excitement, and lust. Perhaps this wasn't the right thing to do. Perhaps a woman should not take advantage of a young man this way. But, what harm was she really committing? Christopher certainly did seem to be enjoying himself.
Indeed he was. Chris masturbated a good deal, and at times tried to have his orgasms be creative or unique, rather than just emptying into a paper towel or sock. But, it wasn't that easy being particularly inventive in the bedroom of his parents' house, when they were at home. This orgasm was, frankly, hands down, one of the best he would ever remember.
His dick just seemed to keep squirting and spitting, and he was so terribly pleased for that. He felt he must be making a very good impression on Mrs. Parsons. It certainly did make him feel pretty darned good.
When he was finally done Mrs. Parsons helped Christopher clean up. It was the neighborly thing to do. Certainly Mrs. Hansun, his mother, wouldn't want her son to come home all wet and stained with gism.
As she did so, she considerately suggested, "Christopher, in the future, whenever you get an overwhelming urge, you can come over to my home. You can masturbate here. I have a guest room, if you wish some privacy. Or, well..." she realized he probably wouldn't want to use the guest room, as it was rather sterile in its appearance. "If you wish, you can use my bedroom." He would probably prefer that.
Chris was at a loss for words. It was already bizarre enough that Mrs. Parsons was dabbing his penis with a moistened wash cloth, squeezing out the last couple of drops of gism. He wasn't expecting to be invited over to her home to masturbate.
Betty noticed Christopher's awkward silence. Perhaps she had not provided sufficient explanation. "I just feel, well, Christopher, that if you are finding it difficult to masturbate at home, in your parents' house, I mean, well, to the point that you feel the need to peek into women's windows, well, I just want you to know that you are welcome to relieve yourself here. And, well, I imagine your mother will appreciate that you're not doing it at home, you know, messing up her sheets or something." Betty wasn't at all sure whether he was in fact making any sort of mess at home, but she figured that it must be at least some problem for him. She imagined him squirting his load onto the sheets or into some sock that his mother would have to clean.
Her explanation, however, wasn't making Chris feel any more comfortable. On the contrary, Mrs. Parsons was only making him feel awkward and self-conscious about his jerking off, which wasn't really that hard to do. What boy isn't at least a bit insecure about his masturbation, and few talked about it with a neighbor woman, as old as his mother, and even fewer discussed relieving themselves in her home, like he was lancing a wound or needing to use the bathroom.
"Of course," Betty added, "I will respect your privacy but, well, if I can be of any assistance...well," she added, turning away as she laid the wash cloth across the arm of a chair, feeling a little self-conscious as well. She knew that this was a bit of a risky offer. What if he declined? What if he just quickly, nervously left her house, feeling all ashamed over what just happened, to go home and tell his mother what she suggested? That seemed rather unlikely to Betty, but one never knew for certain. Clearly Christopher was rather insecure about his sexuality.
She further suggested, "If you like, I can speak to your mother first about it, to confirm that this would be fine with her."
"No!" Chris quickly asserted. That would most definitely be the last thing he would want Mrs. Parsons to do. But, he also realized that he might have expressed himself with too much obvious concern and alarm. "I mean, um, well, I'm sure it will be fine with her." That sounded kind of weird, and certainly hard to believe. "I mean, um, that, well, it's kind of something I don't really feel that comfortable talking with her about."
Betty smiled reassuringly, and with considerable relief. She had not been serious when she offered to speak to his mother. She wasn't any more interested than Christopher in having Mrs. Hansun know of her offer. She was just feeling out whether he would likely speak to his mother about it. "Well, certainly, Christopher," she replied, as she helped him zip up his pants. "If you wish we don't need to burden her."
Once she had his zipper up, pants buttoned, and belt buckle hooked, she added, "You just give the idea some thought. I'll be here, just across your backyard." She gave him a little pat on his bottom to send him on his way.
"Sure, sure, Mrs. Parsons," Chris replied. He was terribly relieved that she agreed not to tell his mother, but now that his orgasm, his lust, had dissipated, he was feeling rather uncertain, if not a bit guilty. Was he taking advantage of a widow? Most definitely his parents would not approve. Of course, parents disapprove of many things their sons will do. Nevertheless, he wasn't entirely sure that they were wrong about this. He felt a strong need to extricate himself from the situation, return home, and think it through. "Yeah, sure, I'll think about it."
Betty watched as the young man hurriedly left her bedroom, and made his way quickly to her back door.
She turned out the bedroom light and peeked out the window to watch him dash across her backyard, sighing deeply with pleasure, and disappointment. It had been a very nice day, and evening. But, given the haste with which he was returning home, she did not expect him to return any time soon.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Betty, however, did not appreciate the strength, the urgency, of a young man's desire. Many a boy Christopher's age felt guilty about a particular sexual act, once it was completed, once the lecherous urges had been relieved. Such young men might even vow at that point to never do such a thing again.
But, it wasn't too long before Christopher's balls were stirring once again, when the desires, the urgent drive, the fantasies, returned, perhaps even now more intensely, given the pleasure that the previous act had provided, no matter how shameful and disgraceful it had been. In fact, perhaps the wickedness of the act was what made it all the more alluring and enticing.
Chris though did not return to Mrs. Parsons' house the very next evening, despite feeling a very strong urge to do so. It wasn't easy for any young man to simply approach a neighbor's house, knock on the door, and ask if he could come inside to masturbate, even if he had been invited to do so.
Christopher even wondered if Mrs. Parsons had been joking. Perhaps she had been teasing him. He turned over and over in his mind precisely what she had said, and there had being nothing in the manner or content of her words to suggest that she wasn't entirely serious. But, can a young man trust his memory when it came to a woman, a woman as attractive and luscious as Mrs. Parsons, discussing sex?
Chris didn't even come over the second night, although he had decided while at classes that day that he would. But, the problem was that he couldn't. His parents were having guests, and they wanted their son to be home to help socialize and entertain.
Chris wondered if perhaps he should call Mrs. Parsons and explain, but that itself seemed rather weird: calling up a neighbor to explain why he wasn't coming over to masturbate that evening. And, well, besides, maybe it was good to not appear too urgent, too needy, albeit he surely felt that way. It was a struggle all evening suppressing his erections as he helped to serve appetizers, fill drinks, and make small talk with his parents' friends, a couple of whom were rather striking women themselves. He could only help but wonder if they would be interested in having him over to their houses to masturbate.
By the third night he couldn't wait to cross over.
He took a shower, put on a new pair of fresh underwear, and told his parents he was going to the library.
They were very glad to hear that.
Christopher borrowed his father's car, parked it about two blocks away, and made his way back to Mrs. Parsons' house, his cock becoming harder with each step. By the time he reached her home he was fully erect. He realized he probably should have worn briefs, but boxers just seemed more mature.
As he approached her front door he was though stricken with doubts. What if she just started laughing? He should have at least let her know that he was coming over. Goodness, a boy doesn't just show up at a girl's house without any warning to take her out on a date. It would seem that the same courtesy should apply if he was coming over to jerk off! Heck, though, she might not even be home. But, in fact, a part of him would be relieved if that was in fact true. He could just go to a movie.
Just before he rang the bell he realized that perhaps he should use her backdoor, so that none of her neighbors would notice him.
He considering making his way around to her backyard, but then realized that his parents might see him. Now, that would be a very big mistake.
He rang the bell, his heart beating anxiously, his cock straining with excitement.
Betty wondered who might be at the front door, this time of night. She wasn't expecting anyone.
She smiled with delight when she opened the door to see Christopher standing there, nervously shuffling his feet, his cheeks blushing in the light of her porch. She was reminded of when he stopped by once as a young boy, timidly selling flower seeds for some company he found on the back of a comic book. "Christopher! How nice to see you," she exclaimed, with considerable enthusiasm. She glanced about behind him, checking to see if he was being noticed by a nosy neighbor.
"Hello, Mrs. Parsons. I hope you're feeling fine today." His formality was as stiff as his cock. "I came by...well, um..." He could not quite get himself to acknowledge, out loud, the obvious purpose of his visit.
"I am doing very well, thank you, Christopher. Please, though, do come in." She stepped aside and waved him in, not wanting him to dawdle on the porch too long.
Chris quickly made his way inside, his hands clasped at his crotch, trying to hide his evident erection. "Uh, yeah, yes, um, thank you, Mrs. Parsons."
"What, pray tell, Christopher," Betty asked, as she closed the door behind him, "brings you to my home this late at night? Are you feeling a little frisky?"
"What?" Chris' cheeks reddened further. He certainly was, but that wasn't quite the way he usually put it. He was at least glad that he didn't have to broach the topic.
Betty reached out and pulled the young man's hands away from his crotch. "Oh my yes," she observed. "We're really very excited tonight, aren't we."
"Uh, yes, ma'am," Chris acknowledged, his eyes wide with confusion and agitation, his dick yearning and twitching.
Mrs. Parsons was wearing a pink cardigan sweater that clung tightly to her big round boobs, much to Chris' pleasure, and the scent of her perfume was so strong, so intoxicating.
"My, my, my. Did you walk away all the over here with your pants sticking out like this?"
"Sort of," Chris quietly and vaguely explained.
"Well, we'll just have to take care of this right away," she replied, as if she was some sort of doctor or nurse. "A boy can't be walking around with a boner sticking out his pants now, can he?"
Well, that sounded a bit flaky, Chris felt, but she could describe it any way she wanted if she was going to take care of him.
Betty quickly undid Christopher's belt and unbuttoned his slacks, but then realized that she probably should have first asked for his preference. "Oh! Um, I guess I was sort of getting ahead of myself. Would you like some privacy, Christopher? Perhaps use the bathroom, or my bedroom?"
"No, no," he quickly reassured her. "This is fine. This is okay." It was more than just okay.
She smiled in response and got down on her knees in front of the boy. "Well, I'm glad. I do like being able to help you and," she explained, as she pulled down his zipper, "I wouldn't want you to feel as if you had to hide in some room by yourself while you took care of it."
"No, ma'am," Chris replied. He wondered if he would be able to control himself. He felt so hard, so stiff, so excited, that he would not be surprised if he just ejaculated into his underwear. He had lasted a good while the last time in large part because he was initially so nervous about what might happen, and had ejaculated earlier that same day. Now he knew pretty much what was going to happen, and it had been about three days since his last one.
"Now," Betty suggested, "let's get these pants off. You don't want to squirt any of your stuff on them, do you?"
"No, ma'am," he again agreed.
Betty pulled his slacks down to his ankles, and helped the young man step out of them. His hands naturally returned to his crotch.
When his feet were free she carefully folded up the pants and laid them off to the side, and then turned her attention to his underwear.
"Oh my, Christopher! These are very wonderful boxers! Did you pick these out yourself?"
He had indeed. He liked all the baseball bats. He wasn't a particularly good baseball player himself, but he felt that they made him look athletic. He figured jocks wore boxers like these.
"Now, come on," she admonished, "take away your hands so I can see your own big bad bat."
Chris did as she instructed, with both reluctance and an equally intense desire, his cock thrusting out his boxers, the curves of his knob clearly, distinctly outlined.
"Goodness, Christopher, I forgot how big it is."
Chris didn't know what to do with his hands. He had an intense desire to start jerking off, or perhaps just leaning down and clutching Mrs. Parsons' boobs through her sweater. They looked so deliciously big and round. They bulged out her sweater almost as much as his knob did his cotton boxers. He wished now that he had jerked off before he came over, as he sorely doubted that he was going to last very long at all.
"Well, we will just have to get a closer look at him, won't we." Betty hooked her fingers into the waistband of Christopher's boxers and quickly pulled them down.
His swollen knob momentarily caught in the waistband, but with a quick, sudden jerk she tore the boxers free and Chris' cock sprang free, bobbing like a dangerously imbalanced and loose heavy crane.
Betty let the young man's boxers lie tangled around his ankles. She didn't want to waste any more time before she wrapped her right hand around the shaft while she used the fingers of her left to softly, gently, caress and tickle the intensely sensitive knob.
Chris silently exclaimed 'fuck!' as he felt Mrs. Parsons stroking the shaft with one hand and tickling the crown with the other. "Ma'am," he more clearly gasped, and rested his hands against the wall behind her, doing his best to steady his weak trembling legs.
"You have such a beautiful penis, Christopher," Betty softly cooed as she gently, slowly slid her fist up and down, admiring how intensely red the knob became as her first moved forward, and how it twitched and jerked with the tickling of her fingers. "So manly, so strong, so powerful."
Chris was breathing heavily, trying to control himself, trying to think of something else, but his eyes were fixed on the fingers of Mrs. Parsons, working his cock, just above her jutting boobs.
Betty got up higher on her knees so that the shaft pointed at her full round breasts, thrusting out the soft pink cardigan. "Oh, I would so enjoy feeling your cum splashing against my breasts." She looked up at him with her pretty brown eyes. She demurely asked, "Would you do that for me some time, Christopher? Would you squirt your cum all over my big womanly bosoms?"
"Mrs. Parsons," Chris suddenly gasped, his worst fear realized as he felt it suddenly jerk and that intense surge exploded up through his loins.
"Oh my," Betty exclaimed, as she felt the boy's dick shift and then splat a big glob of cum onto her left boob, the thick viscous boy stuff splashing across her round curves, staining and soiling her nice soft sweater.
"Oh gosh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Parsons," Chris quickly exclaimed. He tried to pull away, not wanting to ruin the woman's sweater any further than he had already done.
But, Betty would have none of that. She kept a firm grip on the boy's twitching dick, letting him, causing him, forcing him to further spit and spray his thick, youthful gism all over the front of her sweater, all over her breasts. "Oh yes, Christopher," she exclaimed, "you were clearly very much stopped up. Oh my goodness, you're just squirting and squirting and squirting!"
He was indeed doing precisely that, making a terrible mess of the front of her sweater, leaving all sorts of globs, splats and strings of cum. He gasped through the waves of his climax coursing through his mind, and his loins, "I'll pay for the cleaning," his cock continuing to unleash its thick, sloppy spew.
Betty smiled at the young man's gracious offer, but she was not the least bit troubled. She wasn't even sure she would wash it out right away, as she was enjoying the steamy fruity scent drifting up to her nostrils, overwhelming her own perfume with the young manly fragrance.
Every boy enjoys cumming, and perhaps most every boy also enjoys watching himself cum, seeing his dick vigorously gush and spray its stuff. It was just so vibrant, vigorous, and virile. Chris' glazed eyes gleamed with some pride at how much he was spewing across her big round boobs, like a heavy dose of icing on two large mounds of pink tasty breast.
When he appeared to be done she even squeezed out the last few drops onto the tip of her right boob, and then used one of the few remaining dry spots on her sweater to wipe the knob clean.
Christopher felt so spent, so blissful, but yet again so embarrassed and shameful, as he often did after a particularly lewd climax, and this one was further magnified by the fact that he had ejaculated so soon, so quickly. He was not feeling particularly manly anymore.
Betty pulled up the young man's boxers, but he quickly stepped back, finding it rather infantile for the woman to help him dress, as if he was just a little boy and needed such assistance.
"That's okay, I can do it," he asserted.
Betty considered pointing out that she knew full well that he could. It was just that she enjoyed dressing him almost as much as she enjoyed undressing him. She did though let him do it himself, recognizing the importance for a young man to assert his independence. She rested her hands on her knees as she continued to kneel before him, breathing in deeply the scent of his cum. She considered scooping up a bit in a finger to sample the taste, but the boy was acting so self-conscious that she didn't want to shock him. She had though always enjoyed the taste of her husband's cum, and perhaps the young man's would be even fresher and yummier for its youth.
She asked, "Do you feel better now?"
"Oh yes, yes," he acknowledged, as he buckled up his pants.
"I'm so glad." However, she did want to admonish him with regard to one point. "Now, I don't think you should put it off so long the next time, Christopher," she suggested. "You don't want to get all blocked up or something."
"No, ma'am," he replied. A part of Christopher wondered if he really should continue doing this, but he darned well knew that he would be back, and frankly was quite relieved to hear that it was apparently fine with her if he came back real soon, perhaps even the next day.
"Have you ever had a girl put her lips on your penis?"
He momentarily paused. "What?"
Betty knew that he heard her quite well the first time, but she nevertheless asked again, "Have you ever put your penis in a girl's mouth?"
His eyes widened with excitement. He even felt his spent balls churn a bit. Of course, he wanted to say, 'Yeah, sure, hundreds of times.' But, somehow with Mrs. Parsons he felt he should probably be entirely honest and, besides, she already knew pretty much how inexperienced he was. He reluctantly admitted, "No, ma'am. No." He did though so hope that she didn't ask him any further such questions.
"Well, if you're a good boy, maybe next time I will do that for you. Would you like that?"
He just nodded.
"Alright then, you hurry along now. Your mother is probably wondering where you are." She did want him to go, as she was planning on taking care of herself now, perhaps with her soiled sweater laying across her face.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied and turned to go.
As he departed he took a quick glance at Mrs. Parsons' cum-soaked sweater, a little smile creasing his lips. He felt pretty good about himself, and wondered if perhaps he might tell his friends, Ron and Bob, about this.
"Now, remember, Christopher, don't tell anyone about this, not even your best friends. Once you tell one person, then that person will inevitably tell another. This will be our own little secret."
"Absolutely ma'am, definitely." His friends probably wouldn't believe him anyway.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Chris did soon return. He was even wearing a brand new pair of boxers that he just got from the store. Mrs. Parsons seemed to like the sports theme. He wasn't sure if he should get the one with golf clubs or the one with footballs. The clubs seemed nicely phallic to him, but football was a more masculine sport. He got the one with the footballs.
Betty though had beaten him to the punch. She opened the door dressed only in matching brassiere and panties. Actually, she also had on black high heels. But, it wasn't the heels that drew Chris' attention, at least not yet.
His eyes bugged out at Mrs. Parsons' full luscious boobs, snugly wrapped in an ivory cotton brassiere with embroidered little red flowers, trimmed with delicate pink lace, and a deep, plunging cleavage. He would so much like to bury his face in there.
Chris had no real experience with women's brassieres, but right now he definitely appreciated their value. Mrs. Parsons' boobs looked so wonderfully round and proud. Perhaps they would look even better naked, but Chris had already largely seen that. He had to admit that, right now, they might look even better. They were just so alluring, wrapped so tightly in their soft feminine apparel, so fucking big and round.
He felt he could even detect one of Mrs. Parsons' nipples poking through the thin tight fabric. Funny, he had seen her nipple the other day and knew well how it looked naked. Yet, it now seemed much more enticing, trying to poke through her brassiere.
"Christopher, so nice to see you," Betty greeted him, ignoring her state of half-undress. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon."
Chris' dick swelled within his football boxers, contemplating that Mrs. Parsons was answering the door dressed only in her undies. His eyes immediately went down to her panties.
Her cotton bikini panties matched her brassiere. She was possibly about as old as his mother, but he could not imagine his mother dressing in such a manner, behaving in such a manner, answering the door dress only in sexy lingerie. Mr. Parsons had clearly been a very lucky man.
Betty wasn't being entirely honest with the young man. She had been expecting him, and had in fact seen him walking up her driveway and had immediately stripped off the rest of her clothes.
It was perhaps a bit risky, as she was exposing herself not only to Christopher but potentially as well to anyone else who happened to be walking by, or looking across the street. But, she just wanted to do it. She had done it once for Jack when he got home from work. He seemed to like it.
Chris' eyes were now fixed on the soft v-shaped mound rising out from Mrs. Parsons' panties. He knew what was hidden beneath there. It was no secret to him, but it was nevertheless still terribly captivating.
And then it struck him that if Mrs. Parsons hadn't been expecting him, why was she opening the door in her underwear? He was quickly learning how daring was his neighbor. "Um, well..." He tentatively asked, "Is it okay if I come in?"
"Well, certainly, Christopher, please do, yes, of course." She stepped back and waved him inside, her heart racing with the excitement of her licentious exposure. She hadn't felt so alive in years. She did though quickly shut the door behind him, glad to have escaped her impulsive act without any real cost.
Well, there was still some potential cost, some risk. She was dressed only in her undies in front of a neighbor boy. She immediately wondered if she could really trust him. But, of course, it was a little late for that concern. That ship had long since sailed. "What brings you over?" It was an absurd question, particularly in her state of undress, but she enjoyed making him say it.
"Oh! Yes, well, um, well, as you suggested, Mrs. Parsons. I, well, you know, I think I need..." He lowered his voice, as if he could be overheard, "some relief."
"Of course, of course, Christopher, excellent. Are you excited right now?"
He was indeed, but his face flushed as he confessed, "Well...yeah."
"Really? Let's see!"
"Take it out. Let Mrs. Parsons have a look."
Taking it out, of course, would be a necessary step leading to his masturbation, but Chris was a bit taken aback by the rather sudden, immediate request.
Betty suggested, "You don't need to take your pants down. Just pull it out."
Well, so much for showing her his new boxers. Chris though dutifully unzipped and reached in to extract his erection. It wasn't that easy getting it out, being all stiff and everything.
Betty considered helping the young man, or at least letting him pull his pants down a bit, but she also enjoyed watching him struggle. He clearly so much wanted to please her, yet was having so much difficulty.
It wasn't really that long though before it was out.
"Oh yes, Christopher, you are indeed a boy in need of some assistance," Mrs. Parsons said, smiling with approval, and interest.
Chris smiled as well. It might look a bit incongruous, poking out from his pants like that, but he was feeling rather proud of it.
Mrs. Parsons asked, "Christopher, would you like some cookies?"
She explained, "I baked some ginger cookies. Would you like some?"
Cookies? While he was being masturbated? That somehow didn't seem right. "No, no, that's okay," but as soon as he said that he wondered if it was a mistake. His mother often said never to refuse a woman's home-made treats. It was insulting. She could very well have made them just for him. Actually, for whom else would Mrs. Parsons bake cookies? And, besides, he really did like ginger cookies. "No, wait," he quickly added. "I like ginger cookies. Sure, I'll have one."
Betty smiled. "Really?! That's wonderful! They're my favorite as well. Come to the kitchen, and we'll have some." Betty turned and headed to the kitchen, her heels clicking across the hallway's hardwood floor.
Christopher followed along behind her, his eyes fixed on the sway of her hips and bikini panty clad bottom. Women do have a rather nice way of walking. Yes, he was very excited indeed.
When they reached the kitchen Betty bent over the round kitchen table to retrieve her tray of freshly baked cookies.
Chris would have to admit that they did smell nice, almost as much as the sight of her bottom thrusting out toward him as she reached for the tray. A woman's butt gets so nicely big and round when she is bent over, the panties stretching so tightly along the curves, the pouch of her cunnie so clearly evident between her thighs. She even seemed to be waving it back and forth at him, like she was try to give him some sort of signal.
He felt such an urge to step up to the woman and thrust his erection against her butt, pressing her hard against the kitchen table, perhaps even fucking her right there. Now, that was a nice thought. Screwing a pretty, sexy woman, almost old enough to be his mother, bent over her kitchen table, upon which sat her freshly baked cookies. What really could be better? Well, perhaps quite a few things, but it's a special treat to have a woman pleasing a man in her kitchen with freshly baked cookies wearing sexy lingerie. Life doesn't get too much better than that. Well, at least not for Christopher.
But, before he could act on his fantasy, Mrs. Parsons lifted up the plate of cookies and turned around to face him, the plate poised just beneath her breasts, as if they were also being offered as one of her delicious home-made treats.
"Sure, Mrs. Parsons," he replied and reached out for one, requiring all of his discipline and self-control not to grasp a breast instead.
Actually, one cookie might not be enough. He did really like ginger cookies. He took another, and then one more, perhaps for later. He stuck the third one in his pants pocket, just to the right of his exposed stiff boner.
Mrs. Parsons placed the tray on the kitchen counter.
Chris took a bite of one of the two in his hand, as Mrs. Parsons reached out to lightly grasp his erection.
Whoa! These were really good, he thought. They could be even better than his mother's. Of course, it might have something to do with his erection sticking out of his pants being gently, lightly fondled by the woman as he munched away.
"These are really good, Mrs. Parsons."
She asked, "Do you really think so?" still caressing his shaft and knob with the tips of her fingers. "If you like, I'll give your mother the recipe."
He took another bite. "Oh, yeah, sure, that'd be great," but then realized he really shouldn't be talking while still eating.
It would also be nice to have some milk with the cookie. He wondered if it would be rude to ask.
Betty slipped her fingers down farther to very gently cup and caress his little testicles. They felt so soft, so, tender.
Chris at first flinched, and then squirmed. He was pretty ticklish under there. He hoped she wouldn't figure that out. That wouldn't seem particularly masculine.
Betty could tell he was a little ticklish there. She considered teasing him about it, but she had something else in mind.
"You know," Betty suggested, a little mischievous smile on her face as she fondled the boy's squishy juicy testicles, "I do like to dip my ginger cookies into tasty cream. Do you like to do that?"
"Yeah, sure!" He would have preferred milk, but cream was probably nice too.
Betty asked, "Perhaps you have some nice warm cream for me, Christopher?"
"What?" He hadn't brought anything with him, let alone cream, and why would Mrs. Parsons want her cream to be warm? Who likes warm cream? Chris then finally got her meaning and his face flushed, embarrassed by the fact that he had missed it. He said softly, "Um...well, yeah."
Betty giggled as she squatted down onto the kitchen floor, bringing her face to the level of the young man's jutting penis. "Mmmmmmm," she sighed, a contented smile creasing her lips. It had been so long since she had one of these in her mouth, so very long. She almost forgot how they tasted, and this would be a young fresh one. The boy liked her freshly baked warm cookie; Betty liked her fresh young hot cock.
Chris paused in the munching of his cookie to look down at Mrs. Parsons, down into the deep cleavage of her brassiere, appearing below his thrusting dick, which was now just inches from her lips. No boy could ever be so lucky, so fortunate, as him. His friends would be so amazed, so astonished, if they knew.
Perhaps though no more astonished than him. He was actually going to have a woman place her lips around his dick!? Every boy long dreams for this moment. Chris had been unsure if it ever would happen, even if someday he was lucky enough to get married. It just seemed to him to be something that a good girl simply wouldn't do. After all, he did pee with it. And, well, finally, he would have to admit, the thought of placing his lips on a woman's cunt seemed rather disgusting. There was no way it could be as sweet and tasty as this cookie. He took another bite, filling his mouth with the sugary treat of tasty ginger cookie.
But then he almost choked on it as Mrs. Parsons absorbed his knob into her mouth, and began licking and lapping away at it, as if it was even better than the tastiest cookie she could ever eat.
Chris immediately gulped down his bite of cookie and gasped, "Mrs. Parsons!" through the remaining crumbs in his mouth and the most intense pleasure he may have ever felt. It was like sparks were zinging across his knob as her tongue splished and splashed its way around its curves.
Yes, Betty thought, it did indeed taste very, very nice. Clearly not as sweet as ice cream but it did have its own uniquely satisfying flavor and, of course, just the fact that it was the knob of a young man, embedded within her mouth, provided its own intense gratification. She so much loved being a woman.
Chris gripped the edge of the kitchen counter with his hands, his legs feeling rather unsteady, albeit still holding onto half a cookie. He instinctively, involuntarily, but so wantonly, slowly began to slide his cock deeper into Mrs. Parsons' mouth. His eyes were mesmerized by the sight of his dick slowly disappearing through her lipsticked red lips, deeper into her mouth. He was actually fucking a woman in the face!
She didn't mind. She in fact liked that he wasn't just being passive, that he was engaging with her, pushing his hardened dick in and out of her mouth. She liked it when a man fucked her in the mouth. It was just so personal, so intimate, so fucking lewd.
The sounds of Chris munching on hard cookie was now replaced by the slobbering sloshing sounds of Betty's sloppy slurping of Christopher's dick. If the shoe had been on the other foot Chris suspected that Mrs. Parsons would admonish him for his poor table manners. Certainly his mother would scold him, even if it was the most juiciest lollypop he ever had.
Chris watched his dick sliding in and out of Mrs. Parsons' mouth, just above the soft white valley of her deep cleavage, within which her saliva occasionally spilled. He momentarily paused, just to enjoy the view. A boy would enjoy so much just crawling down into that soft, warm, squishy canyon of breast flesh.
Betty looked up at him, her long curved lashes fluttering across her deep brown eyes. Any woman looks so pretty, so sweet, looking up at a man whilst his cock is embedded within her mouth, a look of contentment and adoration on her face, clearly enjoying so much the presence of his hard stiff dick in her mouth.
Chris wondered how much of it he could fit into her mouth, how much she could take. He slowly inched his dick in farther, his eyes fixed on hers.
Betty could tell, could feel, his intention. A twinkle appeared in her eyes, a smile on her lips, and she encouraged him further, taking hold of his buttocks with her hands to pull him in deeper and deeper, and deeper still.
Betty had deep throated her husband a few times. She never found it that terribly easy. Perhaps her throat was unusually ticklish or unyielding, but Christopher was smaller than Jack, and she figured it really wouldn't be that difficult. She continued to caress the shaft with her tongue as his knob passed by, to slip down her throat.
A smile appeared on Chris' lips as he witnessed most of his dick disappearing into Mrs. Parsons' mouth. A part of him didn't really want her to be able to take him, wanting her to discover that he was really too big, too much of a man for her mouth to handle. But, it would also be so cool to be able to say, or at least to see, that she took his complete cock into her mouth and down her throat.
But, as soon as the knob hit the delicate nerves in the back of her throat, Betty was immediately overwhelmed by intense gagging.
"Ech!" Betty's eyes watered up and she suddenly pulled back. "Splch!" she hacked, her spine sharply bending, curving, as she retched, coughed, and gagged, releasing his dick from her mouth, her hand going to her throat, trying to control the intense reflexive action.
Betty was embarrassed to be making such disgusting noises, as if his cock had made her sick or something, but she just couldn't help herself.
Chris felt even worse, feeling that it was really all his fault. He even wondered if he may have in fact actually hurt her. "Are you okay, Mrs. Parsons?"
"Yes, yes," she quickly responded, her voice a bit shaky, one hand resting on his abdomen, steadying herself, the other clasping her throat, trying to calm down the spasms. Well, apparently some acquired skills are lost and need a bit of practice before they fully return. That was a lesson learned.
She looked up at him, her large brown eyes a bit watery. "Sorry, Chris, goodness, you're just so big."
Chris felt a wave of pride sweep through him. He wondered if she had ever been able to take her husband that way. "That's okay, Mrs. Parsons. I understand."
Betty got back on her feet, her hand gripping his stiffie. "You know, Chris," she suggested, "I have some pie that you might also find tasty."
"Pie?" He did like pie, very much so, but frankly it was weird enough to be still eating his cookie while face fucking her. She really wasn't suggesting that they stop to have pie. He politely replied, "No, no, that's okay. The cookies are enough, Mrs. Parsons." His mother would not approve of him turning down a homemade desert, but goodness there was plenty more to do than to eat pie.
Betty smiled with amusement and provided clarification. She spoke slowly, clearly, "I meant a very special, personal...womanly pie, Christopher."
"What?...Oh...Oh!" He had done it again. He felt like such an idiot.
She asked as she tenderly fingered his wetted stiff dick. "Have you ever eaten a woman's pie before, Christopher?"
He hated these questions, each one making it clearer and clearer how inexperienced he really was. "Um, well, no, not really, I guess."
Betty smiled. It was not a vague question. "Well, you'll have to put the cookie away first." He probably wasn't intending on continuing to eat his cookie as he munched on her pie, but she didn't want to take any chances.
"Sure, yeah, of course," Chris replied. He immediately laid the half-eaten cookie on the counter and wiped his lips with his shirt sleeve, but then as quickly realized that was rather impolite. His mother always hated it when he did that. He considered apologizing but he didn't want to draw any further attention to his poor etiquette than was necessary.
Betty provided further guidance. "Get down on your knees, in front of me."
"Oh yeah, sure, sure." Chris immediately complied, his dick still sticking out in front of him, bobbing mightily as he got down onto his knees.
Betty asked, "Will you pull my panties down for me, Christopher?"
"Oh yes! Absolutely, Mrs. Parsons!"
Chris' eyes were at the same level as Mrs. Parsons' panties, and only a few inches away. He now had an even better appreciation for the sweetness of her undies. They looked so feminine, so delectable, so enchanting. He briefly wondered why women would hide such things beneath their skirts. Yes it was for the one rare moment when the skirt would finally be raised, but it just seemed a terrible shame to keep such a thing hidden for any period of time.
Betty reminded the young man, "Pull them down, Christopher."
"Right! Sure!" Chris quickly looped his fingers into the waistband of Mrs. Parsons' panties, and with his hands trembling a bit, pulled them down to her ankles, keeping his eyes respectfully averted from her pussy. He even helped her step out of them, which proved to be important as it wasn't that easy for her to do so in her heels.
Once removed he wondered what he should do with them. He would like to put them into his pocket. They would make a wonderful souvenir, as well as come in handy some evening, albeit he did wonder how he might keep them hidden from his mother. Actually, that wouldn't be that hard. He had a special spot deep in a locked wooden trunk where his mother never ever went, or at least so he assumed. But, of course, Mrs. Parsons would notice they were gone, being part of a set, and most definitely she would never let him have them. Heck, what if his mother did in fact find them. He just held onto them with his hand.
Betty stepped up closer to him, trying to give him the message of what was expected now.
Chris noticed the movement, her scent becoming stronger, and he turned his attention to her cunt.
Whoa! His dick swelled and twitched at the sight of the soft, wavy thick feminine folds winding their way through the dark thicket of curly pussy hair. He felt he even detected feminine moisture glistening on the soft pink flesh.
This was a cunt; a woman's cunt, just a couple of inches from his eyes. Of course, he had seen it earlier, but not like this, not right in front of his eyes ready for him to, to...service. He breathed in her scent. It wasn't bad, but it was certainly raw and funky.
He hadn't been expecting that he would have to do this but, of course, he couldn't really refuse, not after she put her mouth on him. He so hoped that it wouldn't taste all fishy or icky. He felt guilty for even thinking that, but he couldn't take back the thought. Plus, what was he supposed to do? A real man should be able to please a woman this way, and this was a real woman, with a husband who probably satisfied her, this way; many, many times.
He wished he knew what to do. But, then again, how complicated could this really be? He was reminded of the first time he tried to ride a bike. He had assumed that his dad was going to help him but, as usual, his father was apparently too busy. His dad had always been too busy. Did dads ever help their sons with women? They must provide some amount of advice on how to treat a woman, what to do on a date. In any case, he did finally realize that you just had to jump on the bike and work it out, trial by error. He crushed his face against Mrs. Parsons' squishy, fleshy, wet cunt.
Betty was jarred by the force of his sudden charge, her hips colliding with the kitchen counter behind her. "Wait, wait," she urged the young man, gently but firmly pushing his face away. She softly, patiently suggested, "Let me show you, Christopher."
She parted her thighs, just a bit, opening them up to provide clearer instruction. She looped her fingers over the lips of her cunt, and then pulled them apart, and open.
Chris' eyes widened with interest, and salacious thirst, as he gazed upon the internal flesh of Mrs. Parsons' cunt. Now, this is how a sex ed class should be taught. He was struck at how wet, fleshy, and pink she was inside. Of course, that was how the inside of a cunt should appear, but until one sees it for the first time one doesn't really have a true appreciation for its appeal.
Mrs. Parsons let go with one hand, albeit pulling the other lips open even wider as she tried to draw Christopher's attention to key points. "Now, right here," she instructed, pointing toward the lower part, "is my vaginal opening. This is where you would put your penis."
Chris didn't say anything. He felt pretty darned silly, as he knew where it was; well, at least pretty much. He stared intently, studying it. He wondered how tight it might be.
Betty wasn't sure if he was following her. "Do you see it, Christopher?"
"Yes, yes, ma'am, yes, definitely." He reached down to take hold of his cock, wrapping her panties around the shaft, imagining what it would be like to have his dick press its way deep down into that soft, wet, squishy, tight hole. It had to be so nice, so very, very nice. He gave his dick a hard squeeze through her soft feminine panties.
Betty asked quietly, "Perhaps, someday, Christopher, if you're a very, very good boy. I'll let you put your big hard penis in there."
'Fuck!' Chris said to himself, stroking his cock with her panties.
"Farther up is where I, well..." She lowered her voice, "pee." She added, "you see, a woman doesn't use the same hole for both...unlike a man."
'Interesting,' he thought. Women are in so many ways neater and cleaner than guys. Chris had a very perverse thought of having Mrs. Parsons pee right then on him, feeling a hot wet spray from her dirty hole splashing onto his face, and then quickly dismissed it as being so terribly perverse. Yes, guys can be pretty dirty and nasty. He had just proved that himself with such a disgusting thought.
"And, then," she added, "even farther up is my clitoris." She pointed right at it so that he couldn't miss it. "See the little nubbie, peeking out from beneath its pink hood? It's like my own very little special penis."
Chris didn't care much for thinking about it like that, particularly if she wanted him to put his lips and tongue on it.
"It's important, Christopher, to give due to attention to this part of the girl. I mean, well, of course, it isn't nearly as much fun for you as her little tight hole, but believe me, she'll let you know how much she appreciated it."
Chris tore his eyes away to look up at hers, past again those monstrous round boobs jutting out from her chest. "Oh yeah, sure Mrs. Parsons, I know that."
Betty figured he did probably know, but it was a point that was worth emphasizing with a young man. Boys did have a tendency to get rather self-absorbed during sex. She suggested, "Christopher, why don't you trying putting a couple of fingers up inside my, um..." It seemed so odd to refer to it as a cunt or hole when speaking to the boy..."vagina," but as soon as she said that she realized that 'vagina' was much too technical. She added, "my...cunt."
"Sure, Mrs. Parsons," Chris immediately agreed. He shifted her panties and his dick from his right to his left hand, and began to work a couple of fingers up inside.
Betty smiled as the boy worked hard to get his fingers inside. It was far from romantic, and certainly not sensuous in any sort of traditional way as Chris awkwardly pressed and squirmed his fingers up inside. But, the clumsy, reckless, and impatient effort did have its own charm, its own endearing appeal.
She squirmed and wriggled her hips to help the young man screw his fingers up inside. Frankly, she was pleased to see that they didn't slide up real easily, meeting no resistance whatsoever. But, most of all, she was very, very pleased to feel the fingers of a young man once again working their up her yearning, steaming cunt. One cannot turn back time, but it did seem rather reminiscent of the first time that Jack finger-fucked her. It had also been comparably clumsy, yet so fucking intense.
Chris was impressed at how tight Mrs. Parsons was. He had to wriggle, writhe, and worm his fingers. His cock would feel so, so good up there. He urgently massaged his dick with his other hand. It wasn't that easy to stroke his cock with his left hand, wrapped in Mrs. Parsons' panties, but he more than managed.
Betty softly suggested, "Use your thumb on my clitoris, Christopher."
"Yes, ma'am," Chris as quietly replied. He was though reminded of his mother, leaning over his shoulder to give him unnecessary hints on his homework. She felt she was being helpful but he would have figured it out for himself if left to his own devices. It was really best to discover the solutions on one's own.
"Oh yes," Betty gasped as she felt Chris' thumb make contact with her nub. She let go of her cunnie lip and leaned back against the counter.
Chris was duly impressed at how quickly she responded to his touch there. Well, maybe she did have a point after all. He worked it more seriously, as he wiggled his fingers around and around in her cunt.
"That's it, that's a good boy," Betty sighed, a satisfied smile creasing her lips. Yes, it was indeed so nice having a neighbor boy come over and help out.
Chris though was having a bit of difficulty coordinating his thumb and finger movements. He wondered if perhaps he should practice this later at home. He could use his left hand on her clit, but that would mean letting go of his cock, and he most definitely didn't want to do that.
Betty though solved his problem. She reached out and lightly gripped his head in her hands, and suggested, "Your lips, Christopher," and then firmly brought his face back into, against, her cunt.
Well, apparently he had no choice. Chris slipped his thumb out of the way as he pressed his lips against her stiff little button, the earthy scent of her heated cunt filling his nostrils.
"Oh yes, Christopher," Betty gasped, feeling his lips, and then his tongue, pressing against, exploring, her inflamed clit. She only now realized how much she really missed this. A man's lips, a man's tongue, against her clit was just so very special. Her knees trembled, her toes curled.
Chris at first tried sucking on her clit, but quickly realized that probably wasn't really that stimulating for her. It did though fill his own mouth with her juices, which he gulped down. He then reverted to rubbing, nibbling, licking, and massaging, doing all that he could with everything his mouth could provide. He did really feel like he was at a pie eating contest, forced to slobber it down with just his mouth, without use of any utensils, or even his hands, just pressing his face down into Mrs. Parsons' pie, slurping and gulping away with abandon.
"So good, Christopher," Betty gasped, spreading her thighs and clasping his head more tightly with both of her hands, pressing his lips even harder against her, grinding her cunt into the young man's mouth.
Chris' fingers were still diddling within her cunt hole, caught between his face and her cunt, the other hand was working hard on his dick.
Beating off with Mrs. Parsons' panties would itself be plenty erotic enough. There was in fact one time that he witnessed her undies on a clothes line in her backyard. He had instantly developed an erection, and contemplated stealing away with one of her soft cotton panties, jerking off into them that evening, imagining that she had in fact provided them to him, perhaps even wanting them back once they were thoroughly soaked and soiled with his sloppy gism.
Well, here they were, wrapped around his dick, and at the same time his mouth, lips, and tongue were glued to her hot, wet, writhing, squirming cunt.
And, Betty was not behaving like a proper woman her age. "Oh yes, suck on Mrs. Parsons' clit, Chrissy," she groaned, squatting further, obscenely driving her cunt hard against his face, risking perhaps his life by smothering him with her inflamed juicy cunt. "Eat my fucking pie, Chrissy, eat it, eat me good!"
This was not how Chris' mother perceived Mrs. Parsons, nor anyone else in the neighborhood for that matter. Frankly, she rarely spoke that way to Jack. Somehow she felt considerably less inhibited with the young man. It was not really his place to judge her. She could just be herself.
"Oh, Chris," Betty suddenly gasped, "I'm going to, yes, I'm going, I'm going..." and then her legs began to weaken and tremble, she slumped a bit, smushing her cunt harder into Christopher's face as her body was suddenly overwhelmed by the spasms of her climax.
Chris was ecstatic. He had actually made Mrs. Parsons cum?! With his mouth?! That was just so cool! He squeezed hard on his dick as he felt her cunt quivering against his lips, and then a dizzy rush within his own mind as his dick twitched and spurted into Mrs. Parsons' panties.
Life was at times so fucking good, and this was indeed such a moment in time. How often in Chris' life will a woman as lovely as Mrs. Parsons quiver and quake her cunt on his face as he soils and spoils her panties with his spunk. Not very often, not very often at all. In fact, most likely never again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It certainly seemed that way to Betty.
Chris did not come back the next night, or the night after that, or even the night after that.
Betty considered calling him, but that seemed rather desperate for an older woman, as well as simply intrusive. It wasn't like they were dating or anything. He didn't really owe her any explanation or obligation. Plus, what if Mr. or Mrs. Hansun answered the phone?
Chris did want to come over, but his parents discovered that he apparently had not been where he said he had been during those evenings spent with Mrs. Parsons. A neighbor reported seeing Mr. Hansun's car repeatedly parked on their street, for no apparent reason. Chris had no explanation for why he was parking the car there, when he had been saying that he was going to the library. He was immediately grounded.
As his parents said, repeatedly, if he was going to live under their roof, he would have to play by their rules, and lying was far from that and was certainly not how they had raised their son. They wondered what could possibly have gotten into him, suspecting perhaps that it was due to that rowdy crowd he hung out with. They had always wondered, in particular, about Ronnie. That boy was most definitely hiding a deep, dark, terrible secret. They couldn't help but think of Eddie Haskell whenever Ron came by for a visit.
Eighteen years old and he was grounded. This was so ridiculous. He spent much of his time in his room, reading comics. What else is there to do when you're grounded, other than watching television? He particularly liked his old Wonder Woman comics. He had thought she was so hot as a kid. As he gazed upon Wonder Woman his mind though invariably went to Mrs. Parsons, and her breasts.
Chris was too embarrassed to tell Mrs. Parsons. Being grounded would make him appear so childish, so infantile. He just couldn't bring himself to call her.
Mrs. Parsons though continued to have difficulty understanding the silence. What could possibly be the reason for such an abrupt end? Did his parents find out? That was unlikely. If that was the case then she most definitely would have heard from them. Perhaps he was sick, or injured?
She was uncomfortable calling him but she could stop by for a visit, just to see if everything was okay. That would be innocent enough. She was, after all, good friends with his mother, Dorothy. Even when she wasn't masturbating her son she had in the past stopped by for visits. Frankly, no longer doing so could itself be suspicious. Dorothy was unlikely to think that the absence of a visit was because Betty was engaged in some illicit activity with her son, but she might speculate as to some other possible problem.
Betty decided to pay Mrs. Hansun, and her son, a surprise visit.
She baked another set of ginger cookies to bring with her, that would be part of the excuse for visiting. She had, on occasion in the past, brought over tasty treats. Neighbor women do like to do that for one another.
She also took a fresh shower, put on a nice comfy summer dress, and fixed her make-up and hair. It was only natural for a woman to want to look well when she visited a neighbor.
He heart raced a bit when she was at the Hansun door. She knew Christopher had probably been even more nervous the first time he visited, although he had been invited over. Betty had no idea what would happen once this door was opened.
She was though quickly reassured. Dorothy was very glad to see her, and so appreciative of the cookies.
Betty explained, "Yes, I made a batch a few days ago. Your son, Christopher, really liked them."
Mrs. Hansun was confused. "My son? He had some of your cookies a few days ago?" He hadn't said anything about visiting Mrs. Parsons.
Betty suddenly realized that perhaps Christopher hadn't even told his parents that he was visiting her. A chill ran down her spine thinking that perhaps she might have just committed a very major faux pas. "Um...well..." She didn't know what to say.
"Oh my goodness," Mrs. Hansun said, suddenly realizing, "He has been visiting you?"
"What?" Betty's heart sank.
"We grounded Christopher when we discovered that he has been lying to us about his recent whereabouts. But, he has been with you all the time? I'm so relieved!"
"What? Oh! Um, well, yes, yes, of course, he has been with me." Betty didn't understand why Dorothy was relieved by this news but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Dorothy smiled. "Goodness, and I had been speculating that he was perhaps out carousing with his hooligan friend, Ronald, doing goodness knows what. Instead, he was with you all the time."
"Yes, yes, he was with me." Betty wondered though how long it might take for Dorothy to start wondering why he was visiting her. "Yes, yes, he was helping me out. It's been so difficult, you know, without a man around the house, to help out, you know, with so many things...you know, lifting things, moving them, fixing stuff."
"Yes, of course, I understand." Dorothy had felt so bad for Betty after her husband passed away. She had at one time even suggested to Christopher that he stop by to see if there was anything he might help with. Apparently he finally got around to it. Still, she was unclear on one point. "Why didn't he just tell me?"
"Oh my, well, I must apologize for that, Dorothy," Betty tried to explain. "That was my request. I don't know, it's, well, I was just kind of embarrassed about the whole thing."
"Oh, yes, um, of course." Dorothy wasn't entirely sure what was so embarrassing about having a young man do chores around the house but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was so happy that she didn't really have anything to worry about. Not only was he not doing anything wrong, he was doing good work for a needy widowed neighbor.
"Christopher!" Dorothy called out. "Come down here! Mrs. Parsons is here, and she's brought you some cookies!"
Chris' ears perked up. Mrs. Parsons was here?! He immediately yelled back, "Sure, mom, yeah!" What was she doing here? "I'll be right down!" He tossed his comic aside and quickly made his way to his mother, and apparently Mrs. Parsons.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, his dick instantly beginning to swell, like Pavlov's dog, a conditioned reaction to her sight, to the scent of her perfume, and to the fact that he hadn't seen her for some time and, most of all, she just looked so fucking hot. She was wearing a thin summer dress. It didn't have much cleavage but it snugly gift-wrapped her humongous boobs, revealing virtually every curve and valley. It was like the dress was painted on. Plus, it was rather short, showing off her womanly white thighs. He wondered what underwear she had on underneath. His dick continued to grow in his briefs as he recalled his face being crushed against her wet, fleshy, juicy, sloppy cunt. "Mrs. Parsons?"
"Don't you worry," Betty quickly replied, before he said anything that might complicate her ruse. "I've told your mother everything."
"Everything?!" Now, that couldn't be true, could it? Wow, imagine if your mother gave you permission to be jerked off by a pretty neighbor woman. Now, that would be one cool mother, but he well knew that his own mother would never dream of such a thing.
"Yes, yes, I told her how you have been coming over to my house, helping out with things, and that I asked you to make it our little secret. I am sorry, Christopher. I never realized that it might actually get you into some sort of trouble. Really, I am sorry. I do so apologize."
"Look Christopher," Mrs. Hansun interjected, "she brought you some cookies. She said you liked her ginger cookies."
"Oh yeah, yeah, sure, yeah I do." He reached out for a couple, his dick becoming uncomfortably hard within his tight briefs. He might hereafter always get at least a bit stiff at the taste of ginger cookies, reminding him of Mrs. Parsons sucking him off as he gobbled on the sweet morsel.
"Well, I must say," Dorothy added, "I'm just so relieved and really so proud of you, Christopher, helping out Mrs. Parsons like that." She was really beaming with pride. "You feel free to visit her any time you want from now on, Christopher."
Well, that was certainly helpful. "Sure, mom." Maybe he could help her out this evening? He wondered if his mother noticed how hot Mrs. Parsons looked in that snug, short, thin dress. Do other women notice that sort of thing?
"I mean, of course," Dorothy added, turning to her neighbor, "if she is need of some help around the house." Her eyes briefly trailed across the full round breasts of her neighbor. She hadn't really noticed before that Betty's dress was rather tight in the bodice. She turned back to Chris. "I don't want you pestering her."
"Oh please, Dorothy, don't worry about that," Betty reassured her. "He is so helpful. He's such a big strapping young man."
Dorothy wouldn't describe her son that way. She studied Betty's big round boobs out of the corner of her eye.
Betty added, "Did you know that when I used to babysit for him, he used to try to peek under my skirt?"
"Mrs. Parsons!" Christopher complained.
"Well, you did!" Betty charged.
"Christopher!" Dorothy admonished her son.
"It was alright, Dorothy. He didn't know better. I don't think he even knew what was there."
"Mrs. Parsons, please."
Betty smiled at her son's discomfort. She did have to admit, "He doesn't have a lot of experience with girls, Dorothy." She wondered if her son even noticed Betty's boobs. He was such a naïve and innocent boy.
"Mother," Chris quietly complained. Why do women like to tease men so? He so, so wished and hoped that his mother would not bring up the troubles he used to have with wet dreams.
Betty though changed the subject, sort of, to ask, "Christopher, you said you still have your comic book collection?"
"Yes, yes he does, Betty," Dorothy answered for him.
"I do remember," Betty recalled, "how you so much enjoyed reading your comics to me."
Christopher rolled his eyes.
Dorothy giggled. She did recall that as well. "Would you like to show Mrs. Parsons your collection, Christopher?"
"Oh, I think that would be just wonderful," Betty replied, before Chris could assert his objection any stronger.
"Here, Christopher," Dorothy said, handing him the plate of cookies. "You can take these up to your room."
"Yes, mother," Chris replied, taking the tray in his hands. He had no problem finding some excuse to be alone with Mrs. Parsons, and he could not think of a better place than his bedroom, but he didn't particularly enjoy being teased about his collection, especially in front of Mrs. Parsons. He did though head to his bedroom.
Betty followed along behind him, a little smile on her face. This did so remind her of her babysitting.
Her smile grew larger as they headed up the stairs to his bedroom, Chris in front, her behind, her eyes on the young man's behind.
"You do have a cute little butt, Christopher."
Chris rolled his eyes. No boy likes to be told that his butt is cute, let alone that it's little, although he did like the idea that Mrs. Parsons liked it.
"Wait a second," Betty suggested, midway up the stairs.
Chris wondered why. Perhaps it was to admire his butt? Maybe he should stick it out for her? But, that did seem awfully weird.
Betty though reached around his body to take hold of the zipper to his pants.
"Shhhhh," Betty admonished him. "I just want to see how much he missed me. I certainly missed him."
Once she had his zipper down she reached in and deftly extracted his penis through the flap in his briefs.
Chris was not entirely erect, but it was enough to please Betty. "Oh my, he's already getting so excited." She stepped in closer, pressing her big soft boobs against his butt as she softly stroked him with her fingers. "But, of course, it could just be that you're all excited about your comics. Do you get a stiffy when you read your comics, Christopher?"
"No!" He replied, with some annoyance. However, the fact was that he would at times get a hard-on while reading a Wonder Woman comic. Mrs. Parsons though didn't need to know about that.
"Don't be mad," Betty replied, feeling his penis stiffening within her hand. "I'm just teasing you."
She was certainly doing that.
Chris did want to make one point clear. "I don't read comics that much anymore, you know. I'm no longer a kid."
"Well, I certainly know that, Christopher," she whispered. "You're so big now," she observed stroking his dick to become just that.
She added, "I bet you do have some, well, more adult material in your room. Perhaps you could show me those instead?" She began to undo his belt and pants.
Answering that was a bit tricky. He did indeed have a few magazines. Much of his pornography he got on-line, but he did like the classics. Any comic book collector will also collect a few magazines as well. It might be kind of nice to show them to Mrs. Parsons, perhaps give her a few ideas. But, what boy is really comfortable showing an older woman his pornography collection? Wouldn't she think that he was a bit childish, if not perverse? Of course, that might depend on which magazine he showed her. He could show her his 1950's Playboys. They were worth quite a bit.
As he was considering the pros and cons Betty quickly finished undoing his pants and then quickly pulled them down to his ankles. She would have pulled his underwear down as well, if not for his stiffened dick sticking out the flap, providing a bit of obstruction.
"Mrs. Parsons!" Chris again objected. He glanced back over his shoulder, and not just to make eye contact with her, but to see if perhaps his mother might be standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Betty patted him reassuringly on his bottom. "Don't you worry your pretty little bottom. We'll hear your mother if she is coming down the hall." But, she added, "Perhaps though you better scamper up these stairs before she does come." She gave him a few more playful pats to encourage him.
Chris did try to make good time getting up the rest of the stairs, but it wasn't that easy, his pants tangled around his ankles, holding a tray of cookies, and Mrs. Parsons continuing to give him little spanks on his butt. Frankly, he felt it was lucky he didn't drop the cookies, let alone fall back down the stairs.
Betty didn't provide much of any help. She just felt he made such a cute sight. It was perhaps a bit of sweet revenge for the times he had tried to peek up her skirt and through her window, but she was also just having some playful, innocent fun with the boy. She did though eventually suggest, "Here, let me help steady you," as she reached around him to again grasp hold of his erection.
It wasn't much help but at least now Chris didn't mind the awkwardness of his steps. A feminine hand on one's cock solves many problems. In fact, perhaps it was helpful as he now took his time, being extra careful not to spill the cookies, and, most importantly, not really wanting to give her any reason to let go of his dick. She was clearly doing more than just holding onto it. Her fingers were also fondly fondling his shaft and knob.
He did wonder though, through the thick cloud of sexual heat, what they would do if they heard his mother coming down the hallway. He would have to quickly discard the tray to get his pants back up. Perhaps Mrs. Parsons could do that for him, but he sorely doubted that he should entrust that responsibility to her.
He did though eventually reach the top step, and Betty then finally let go of his cock.
It was then considerably easier to make his way from that point to his bedroom, although he did still feel rather silly doing so with his pants down, holding onto the tray, his stiff dick sticking out before him. Not too many waiters serve customers this way.
Once he entered his bedroom he quickly discarded the tray of cookies onto his desk by the door. He hesitated though in pulling his pants back up. He didn't want to put his cock away, but he shouldn't step out of the pants. That would not only be presumptuous but also rather risky with his mother in the house.
"Oh my," Betty exclaimed, "this room has changed quite a bit, hasn't it." That was indeed true. The army men, the toy cars, the BB gun, and much of all of the rest of the clutter she recalled was now gone, replaced with a new clutter of chess men, electronic equipment, CDs and DVDs.
The bed was the same, but the cowboy bedspread was gone.
On the other hand, there were still piles and piles of comic books.
"Goodness, you do have a lot of comics."
"Well, you know, they are a good investment."
"Oh yes, I'm sure," she diplomatically agreed, her hand reaching out to absentmindedly fondle his erection as she surveyed the room. "Where are the really valuable ones?"
"They're in that chest. I keep it locked."
"Oooooh, let me see those!" She clenched his dick hard, emphasizing her interest.
"Oh, I don't know." She didn't really want to see them, did she?
She turned to him, looking deep into his eyes as she fondled and caressed his dick. "Oh please, Christopher, you'll let me see them, won't you?"
Frankly, as long as she continued to fondle his cock, he would even show her his ant farm. "Okay, okay," he relented.
"And," she suggested, "you really should get out of those pants and underpants, don't you think?"
It was a suggestion that any boy would normally embrace, but he did glance back at the door, wondering if it was really worth the risk.
"It will be fine, sweetie," Betty reassured him. "We'll keep them close by. You'll have plenty of time to get them back on if we hear anything. I'll even go out to the stairs to delay her."
That was a good idea and, besides, he felt so dorky having his pants around his ankles, his dick poking out through his briefs. He stripped them off, carefully laid his pants on the bed where he could get to them quickly, and stuffed his briefs into a desk drawer, where he also retrieved the key to the chest.
Betty watched with amusement as the boy moved about the room, his stiff penis bobbing and waving with every step and turn. Young men became so terribly excited. He probably could maintain his erection while doing homework, or housework. She imagined having him over to do that, requiring that he keep his erection going as he dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned.
Chris opened the lock, raised the top of the chest, and waved his hand at the stash of comics hidden safely inside.
Betty couldn't really tell the difference between the valuable ones and the cheap ones. They all kind of looked the same to her, but she had something else on her mind.
As she rummaged through the chest she suggested, "Oh, I bet I know where you hide your dirty picture books and magazines."
Chris' eyes widened with concern. "No, no, I really don't have anything like that!"
Betty smiled at him as she shifted a stack of comics aside to force a hand deep down toward the bottom of the chest. "Now, Christopher, no young man doesn't have some kind of dirty naughty stuff."
That wasn't entirely reassuring. "Please, Mrs. Parsons. I don't think..." He didn't know how to finish the sentence.
She bent over the chest and dug down through the thick stack of comics until she got to the very bottom, her own bottom waving and wagging in the air, her thin soft summer skirt drifting up her thighs, to just below her panties.
Chris wondered if he might just suddenly toss her skirt over her back and gave her some "playful" spanks on the butt. She was clearly deserving.
"Bingo!" Betty exclaimed with victory, pulling out a magazine.
Chris grimaced with embarrassment. No boy likes a woman discovering his porn. He wondered if perhaps he should find a better place to hide it. Mrs. Parsons went right to it. Perhaps his mother knows where he hides it as well.
"Oh my," Betty exclaimed, as she studied its contents. It was called, "Juggs," with nurses, teachers, secretaries, and businesswomen, all with big exposed breasts.
Betty turned to Chris, and smiled, "Well, I guess I know what you like."
Chris considered pointing out that it was really just fortuitous. He had lots of other types of magazines, as well as even more variation on his computer. But, that wasn't likely to make him sound any better. His dick was finally beginning to wilt.
"Have you masturbated to these pictures of large bosoms?"
Chris' dick didn't know quite where to go. The question was obviously yes but also terribly humiliating, yet even the memory of recently having done so, his eyes now fixed on Mrs. Parsons' ample bosoms, was pulling him back in the other direction.
"You know, you've never actually seen my breasts, have you, Christopher."
He quickly replied, "No, no I haven't." He actually had, when she was on her backyard deck and through her bedroom window. But, it was probably best not to admit to that.
"Well," she added, "perhaps you have at some point, peeking through my windows."
He didn't say anything. He didn't really want to lie to her, nor did he want to tell the truth.
She said softly, as she held the magazine open to a picture of a secretary opening up her blouse, revealing two big round boobs encased in a light green lacy brassiere. "Would you like to see them now?"
The blood flow switched direction in midstream, now traveling back into his cock. He nodded his head.
Betty smiled at the young man, her sparkling eyes remaining fixed on his as she dropped the magazine to the floor, slipped the thin spaghetti straps off her shoulders, and then let the colorfully flowered dress slide down her body, falling gently to the floor. She was wearing an equally colorfully flowered bra and panty set.
Chris' dick strained to be released from its skin, stretching as thick and long as it could, as his eyes feasted on Mrs. Parsons' so very sexy lingerie. He wished his computer was on, that way he could be surreptitiously filming this.
Mrs. Parsons' boobs were just so big and round. They were certainly not as big as basketballs, but they did most definitely convey that impression, standing so proudly out from her chest: big round basketballs tightly encased in a yellow cotton, speckled with light blue stripes and violet lace.
Betty asked, "Would you like to masturbate to real live ones?"
Chris nodded, reaching down to grasp and stroke his dick. He wondered if she might even let him cum on them. She had said the other day that he could do that if he wanted to. Maybe he should remind her of that.
Betty pulled the brassiere's straps off each shoulder and then reached back for the clasp, causing her to thrust her breasts out even further.
Chris wondered if she was doing that to get him to take hold of them, like she was presenting them to him.
As soon as the strap was unhooked the cups fell from her breasts, her boobs busting out, the brassiere falling to the floor to join her dress.
Chris licked his lips and said, softly, "They're beautiful, Mrs. Parsons."
They were no longer perfectly round, but they did still have a very wonderful shape, sloping down just a bit to the left and right, and then filling out in a more orbed shaped at the end, like two big giant mountain slopes with dangerously pointy tips poking out right at the edge.
Chris had to wonder why he so much liked big boobs. Why would their size make them so much more appealing, so much more erotic? Perhaps they were the epitome of womanliness, of motherliness. He didn't know. He just knew that they made him so, so fucking horny. He stroked more vigorously on his dick.
For a moment Betty watched the young man beating off to her naked, exposed breasts. A woman does always enjoy a man enjoying the sight of her body. It was just so terribly flattering. She considered masturbating as well, letting him see her do it as she watched his fist slide up and down his swollen, yearning dick. But, she now had a different plan, a better plan.
Betty asked the young man, "Would you like to fuck a woman with big tits, Christopher?"
Chris' mouth went dry. "Yes, ma'am," he again immediately replied.
Betty bent over, her breasts swinging from her body, filling out even further. Now they really did look like milk bags. Chris so much wanted to grab hold of them, to milk them, but he knew it was best to be patient. His time would come.
Keeping her eyes fixed on his, Betty slipped her fingers into her panties and pulled them off her bottom, down her thighs, and then let gravity to take them to the floor. She turned around and placed her hands on the bed, the one she used to tuck him in as a boy, and was now bent over, presenting her naked ass and moist cunt to him.
She looked over her shoulder and asked, "Would you like to mount your babysitter from behind?"
Chris once again glanced at his bedroom door, which was wide open. He had left it open so that they would be able to hear his mother. Clearly Mrs. Parsons was no longer going to be able to slow his mother down as she made her way up the stairs, but he didn't really feel there was much of a risk of his mom interrupting them, or at least right now the urge, the desire, overwhelmed any sense of risk and danger.
He stepped forward, up to Mrs. Parsons' upraised bottom and crudely displayed cunt. A woman looks so fucking obscene, so animalistically servile, presenting her cunt from behind, bent over, waiting to be mounted.
Betty lowered her butt a bit to make it easier for Chris to make entry, albeit as well arching her back, wantonly presenting her cunt, moisture glistening on her thick wavy feminine lips.
It had been quite some time since she last felt a cock pressing up into her cunt. Her pussy tingled with anticipation. Perhaps it was wrong that it would be the cock of a neighbor boy; well, not truly a boy, as Christopher was an eighteen year-old man, but certainly much younger than her, and a young man she had once babysat, in this very room, reading a story to him on this very bed.
Actually, all of that made it all the more appealing, and titillating. She rested her face on the bedcover, a little smile creasing her lives. Her bottom quivered and squirmed. She wanted that young stiff cock so very, very bad.
Chris' heart raced with excitement as he carefully positioned his dick at her hole, recalling her lesson as to its precise location. Her cunt felt so soft, so warm, so wet. The scent of her steaming cunt drifting up to his nose: the smell of her lust, her salacious heat.
He leaned over the woman's back and shoved his hips forward, driving his dick up inside. "Mrs. Parsons," he gasped, as he felt his knob being tightly squeezed, embraced, by the woman's snug squishy cunt flesh.
"Mmmmmm," Betty whimpered, and met his shove with a thrust of her own, rising off the bed as her butt pressed back against him.
Chris' cock slid down in deeper as he bent further over Mrs. Parsons to reach around her body to grasp those big soft, pliant boobs in his hands. He began to hump her like an animal, squeezing her fleshy breasts as his stiff, hard cock plunged in and out of her tight womanly cunt.
"Oh yes," Betty gasped, "fuck me, Chrissy, my little man, fuck me so hard!"
She could call him whatever she wanted. She could call him a girly boy and he wouldn't mind, not as long as her butt squirmed and wriggled beneath him, her cunt grasping, clutching his cock, milking his cock as he milked her humongous fleshy bags. Christopher never felt more like a true man.
Betty whimpered and moaned with lust. The young man felt like a crazed puppy on her, fucking a girl for the very first time with such an untamed, juvenile chaotic wildness, and she loved it, trying to meet his unbridled passion with her own wom`anly exuberance for young male cock.
"Show me," she gasped, "show me, Chrissy what a man you are. Make me squirm and whimper like a little girl."
Chris let go of her boobs to take hold of her hips as he thrust more rapidly, more vigorously, more forcibly. The room was filled with the sound of his abdomen slapping hard against her fleshy butt, which jiggled and shivered with his slamming thrusts.
Her large fleshy boobs were swinging wildly beneath her, smacking against one another, as if applauding his obscene humping.
Tags : bondage,sex,story,sub
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