For a Saturday, it was a very despondent day indeed. My best friend’s father had died that week and we rushed back from college to attend the funeral. I knew his family well, and we were all very sad at the passing of Tony. Despite Vincent’s mother wearing a heavy black veil her grief and tears were evident. Too young for a man to die, only in his early 50’s. Heart disease they said. I knew Vincent’ mother through my teenage years and always thought her a beautiful and sexy lady. But this Saturday all I could see was her grief and pain, and I felt great sympathy for her.
A few months later I was back in town and thought to pay her a visit, to bring her a gift of flowers and wish her my condolences. I also brought her a few bottles of Merlot, remembering that this was her favorite. I showed up unannounced but she smiled broadly nonetheless when she opened the door, seeing the flowers and a face she probably last recalled from when I was in high school. I had grown a few years since then and in that time learned to appreciate the benefits that women had to offer. And on seeing Mrs. Comeau I saw that she had lost none of beauty, charm or curves that I remembered her possessing.
Though a woman in her late 40′ she maintained a very womanly figure. Presented before me in jeans and a sweater I noticed both the sweetness of her face and the curves of her figure. Yes, her face showed her age, but her wrinkles were overwhelmed by her soft lips and doe like eyes. Not a slender lady, she had a shape of a true woman, with large breasts, well rounded hips and thick yet welcoming thighs. But I had seen too many skinny girls in college and her warm broad curves made my groin begin to tingle at the sight of her once again.
I could see the heavy breasts concealed by the sweater, large bulbous cantaloupe’s thrusting from her chest. And her jeans hung tightly around her wide hips and shapely thighs. My stiffy began to grow as I shyly handed her the flowers and I believe that I blushed as I also handed her the bag containing the wine. I lowered my head, averting her gaze and trying not to appear to be staring at her tits, which I must admit I was. With a warm voice she said “Well thank-you Adrian for all the thoughtful gift! Won’t you please come in!”
I entered the door, stumbling over my feet. As she turned around I could not resist the temptation to view her ass in those jeans. I was not disappointed. The jeans hung tightly about her broad bum, accentuating the ample curves. I don’t recall her dressing so sexy when I was in high-school. Had she dressed more conservatively then or had I just not paid attention? Or with her husband gone was she now able to more freely express her own preferred style of dress? Or maybe even trying to find another man in the city to hook up with? With the image of her breasts and ass swirling in my head I considered the possibilities.
We sat on opposite ends of the couch as I fumbling for words to express how sorry I was about her husband. Having referred to her as Mrs. Comeau she insisted that I call her Margaret now that we were both adults. She said that she appreciated my remarks but that there was no need to mention Tony furthermore, as, as she said “Life must move on for those still among the living.” She looked a bit sad on uttering the words. But her sadness was soon replaced with a smile and she jumped to her feet, exclaiming that she would like a glass of the wine now that I had brought and offered me a glass as well. I had taken the bus across town and so had no need to worry about driving, and feeling rather tense and shy, I accepted the offer.
As we sat together and slowly polished off the first bottle of wine the conversation opened up and we talked about everything under the sun! My school courses and experiences at the college, her hobbies, how her son was doing, how she was feeling and making on with her life without Tony. As the drinks continued to flow and as the day progressed into evening the conversation expanded to more person matters. She asked if I had a girlfriend. I explained that I had known girls at College but did not have a steady girlfriend. Then overcoming my reserve I inquired whether she had found other companionship.
With more candor than I expected she explained “My friends convinced me to try on-line dating and though I met many nice gentlemen, most were too old for my taste, and those that di interest me proved, how shall I say, ‘not able to sustain my level of enthusiasm’, I suppose would be the best way to explain it to, you know, such a young gentleman as yourself. Smiling warmly at me as she expressed this though she rose upward, saying that she would open the next bottle and bring us another glass of wine. Surprisingly I watched her ascend the stairs to the second floor rather to proceed to the kitchen where the wine was. A few moments later she descended the stairs in what appeared to be a heavy housecoat. Entering the kitchen she returned with the new bottle.
Standing before me, looking rather more provocative than when she had left, she refilled my glass and mentioned as she closed the blinds to the windows that it was now too late to catch a bus but that I was welcome to spend the night and could sleep in her son’s room. Sitting herself this time directly beside me on the couch she topped up her own wine glass. “A toast, to old acquaintances and new found friends!” She offered and we clinked our glasses. Gulping her wine I watched as she used her tongue to lip the liquor from her lips and then as she bit down upon her pouty lower lip.
For an older lady, she was starting to drive me crazy with desire! Her housecoat revealed a ripe cleavage that I had never seen so exposed before and the split in the gown hinted at smooth calves and supple curved thighs. My eyes could not resist the temptation to explore her flesh and she noticed how my view shyly would linger on her boobs or legs and then try to inconspicuously move away. She also noticed the bulge I could not suppress from growing under my pants and I noticed her own eyes fixated upon my groin.
Our conversation grew more quiet, more careful, turning almost to whispers. Stroking my hair with her free hand, her face only inches from mine, she asked why I did not have a girlfriend, adding that boys my age needed continual relief if they were to be able to focus on their studies. Before I could reply she smiled and let out a soft giggle, and kissing my cheek rose herself up, saying that she had to use the facilities. When she returned it was evident that she had deliberately left the belt around her housecoat loose. Instead of tightly hugging her body the garment now flowed softly around her. As she strutted toward me I caught the sight of white panties beneath her emerald green gown. Her ample cleavage was not clearly evident, and I could not resist intensely gazing at the soft jiggling flesh as she walked toward me.
Placing herself down beside me she insisted that we resume our conversation where we had left off. With her one thigh completely bare and her left breast virtually exposed, she asked how a young buck as myself managed to keep focused on my studies and not distracted by my manly urges. I shy looked downward, first at her leg, then at her virtually exposed boob, and then at the obviously rock hard dick under my pants. I was left speechless. “Let me guess.” She teased, ‘You have to stroke yourself off every day. Maybe a couple of times a day. Oh, am I embarrassing you. So sorry, but it is perfectly normal for a man to jerk himself off every day, especially a younger man as yourself.”
Looking downward,” she added “I can see that you have not yet masturbated today.” And with these words her hand descended downward and she stroked her fingers over my hard-on, so tightly wrapped in my jeans. Shocked, looking up at her, she planted a long kiss on my lips. Unable to speak in response she continued “I understand, you will need to jerk off before you go to sleep tonight, and truth is, being a bit lonely here, and more than a bit tipsy, I have to admit that I would love to watch. Truth is, I haven’t seen a really stiff cock in many years and really miss having one of my own to play with and satisfy. And I so used to love watching boys jerking off as I teased them when I was a younger woman. So why don’t I help you out of those tight restraining jeans of yours, and you can remind me what a hard penis looks like, and let me play with myself as I watch you stroke on it for me?” Still dumbfounded and motionless I watched as her hand fell back down upon my cock and ever so briefly she squeezed my dick through my pants and slid her fingers along my shaft.