A young man has an odd sexual relationship with mature woman

Both of my parents were killed in a light plane crash when I was very young. Too young to for me to even remember them. Somewhat reluctantly, my sole remaining grandparent took custody of me. I had a pretty normal upbringing under the circumstances. Money was a short at times because Gramps could only get work as a local handyman/gardener but we got by. When I got old enough, I started helping him out and by the time I was 18, I was fitting in most of his lawn mowing jobs around my studies at college.

Mr and Mrs Suitor were one of my Gramps regular customers. He was a banker of some sort and she was a homemaker, for want of a better term. I was tasked with mowing their lawns which was a weekly duty during the summer.

A note here about Mrs Suitor. She was a very handsome woman of about 5 foot 7 with short, silver blonde hair. She was slim but definitely curved in the right places. I guess she was a few years shy of fifty years. She was widely liked but viewed as a little odd. I think this perception of eccentricity was largely due to her rather peculiar turn of phrase. She was quite religious so her conversation was peppered with biblical references. The other verbal quirk about her comes from, I think, the fact that her father was a naval Captain. He had commanded a destroyer on Atlantic convoy duty during the Second World War. From him she had inherited a colorful maritime idiom.

In reflection I think Gramps had a bit of a crush on Mrs Suitor. In his mind she was so very refined and classy. He was always so deferential to her and almost embarrassingly eager to please. So he was not best pleased when he discovered that I had let Mrs Suitor down by not mowing her lawn on Friday as she expected. I had helped a friend whose car had broken down and couldn’t make it back in time. I suppose I should have rung Mrs Suitor but I just thought I would turn up early on Saturday and all would be well.

Unfortunately, the Suitors were hosting an important event on the Sunday so Mrs Suitor rang Gramps to check that I would be able to complete the lawns before their function. Gramps flipped.

My grandfather was very old school. Unfortunately for me that school included the tenet; “spare the rod and spoil the child.” In practice this meant that he would occasionally use corporal punishment when he wished to make a salient point about my behavior. He did love me, of that I am sure. It was just that what he thought was good and appropriate parenting involved violence.

The upshot in this particular situation was that I got a good old fashioned whipping. Half a dozen good solids strokes on my rump and the backs of my thighs with a switch he kept specifically for this purpose.

I was sent to attend to my lawn mowing duties immediately after my punishment had been administered. Just as I was walking up the path to the Suitors front door, Mrs Suitor drove into the drive way. “Ah Jimmy, you are here to do the lawns. Splendid. I have a garden party tomorrow so it is important for the lawns to be at their best.” I helped her into the house with some parcels and other items. She was carrying a dress or frock or something in a plastic sleeve. She informed me that it was her new dress for Sundays function.

We entered the house. I thought an apology was in order so I offered her my regrets about not being able to do the job yesterday. “Think nothing of it Jimmy.” She replied. “As I said to your grandfather, as long as the job is done before Sunday, all will be ship shape.” I managed a smile and started making my way to the back door. An exclamation behind me drew me up and I turned to see Mrs Suitor with a horrified look on her face.

“Jimmy, how on earth did you get those injuries to your legs?” I was nonplussed at first but then realized that she had seen some of the ugly welts on the back of my thighs that Gramp’s whipping had left me with. I mumbled something about Gramps being a little old fashioned. It was her turn to be confused but she eventually pieced together the cause of my injuries.

“Good Lord! Am I to understand that the man thrashed you for not coming yesterday? I don’t believe it!” She hesitated a moment and then blurted, “Show me more evidence of this injustice.” I was confused. More evidence? After a few moments she took me by the shoulders and turned me forcefully around. She then took the waist band of my shorts and pulled them down. She did the same with my underwear, and almost before I realized it, I was bare butt naked in front Mrs Suitor.

“Dear Lord, there they are for all the world to see.” The characteristic striping on my legs was accentuated on the more tender skin of my bottom. “Loose lips do indeed sink ships.” she whispered as she closely examined the welts.

“I feel so guilty; a couple of thoughtless words from me and you are made to suffer the pain and indignity of the lash.” Not exactly the lash I thought but the idea was near enough. I jumped as I felt her fingers gently caress my bottom as she inspected my wounds. “Sacrilege! Your body has been desecrated in an inhumane way for an absurd reason. I must attend to your injury. Lean over that chair and I will return with medication.” She gently pushed me into position. I was really confused and embarrassed. I had my shorts and underwear around my ankles, leaning over the arm rest of a big leather arm chair.

Mrs Suitor soon returned with a tube of something. She kneeled behind me and started applying the ointment to my bare and exposed bottom. My mind was reeling. It was like I was in the twilight zone. Could this really be happening?

She was making soothing sounds, “There, there. This will help with your suffering.”

In this position my balls were hanging out and she repeated grazed them with her fingers. She was now using both hands to knead and massage my bottom, and I had to admit the stinging sensation was going away. I could occasionally even feel her breath on my bum. This was a world of sensation completely beyond my experience thus far. I had not even kissed a girl yet and here was an attractive, mature, married woman fondling my arse! My cock was rigid and pressed hard against the overstuffed leather of the hand rest of the arm chair.

All the while she was apologizing and chastising herself for her selfish and irresponsible behavior. Her fingers slowed and then stopped. She suddenly she gripped my bottom hard; her finger nails digging into my flesh and cried out. “Penitence!” She gripped even harder and cried “Atonement!”

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She ran from the room leaving me prostrate over the chair arm, wondering where the crazy old girl had disappeared to this time. A few moments later she returned brandishing a thin cane above her head. At first I thought she was going to strike me with it! She bade me stand up and then promptly removed her skirt and a frilly pair of brief, black knickers. I was agog and part of me very erect. The sight of her firm thighs and the nest of brown hair at the juncture of her legs was enough to slacken my jaw. She handed me the cane and assumed the position that I had occupied leaning over the arm of the chair. I was grateful that she had ignored my rather engorged state.

“You must administer the retribution young man.” Sheeit! She wanted me to wallop her. To whip her like I had been whipped. I hesitated and she turned towards me. “You are doing God’s work Jimmy. A tooth for a tooth!” She leaned back over the arm of the chair and looked back at. I again hesitated. “Proceed!’ she said firmly.

I gave her a gentle swipe with the cane and paused. “Oh no, that won’t do at all” she muttered impatiently. “Put your back into it young man”. I gave her a stronger stroke; enough to raise a little redness on that gorgeous bum. She stood abruptly and faced me with her hands on hips. “You are not taking this seriously Jimmy. I will have my just deserts. I insist that you make a more sincere effort.” She reassumed the position and wriggled her bottom at me. ‘Commence!”

I couldn’t see what else I could do but give her a good, strong belt.

Swish smack. “Oooowwww oooo. Yes, that’s more like it. Another!”

Swish smack. “Oooowwww oooo. Ahhh. Yes. Yes. Again.”

Swish smack. “Oofffaaahhhh Yes. Again!” Her words were coming in pants now.

Swish smack. “Ahhh ooooo. Ah. Ah. Ah.”

I stopped after four strokes assuming that that would suffice. I stepped back. She looked back at me with a dazed look and queried me, “Why have you stopped?” I couldn’t help but notice the perspiration on her upper lip and the way she kept licking her lips.

“I just thought that…”

“Carry on young man” she impatiently demanded.

I looked down at was a few seconds before, a pristine expanse of delicate white skin. It now had 4 angry welts across it. Ok, I thought, if that’s the way you want it, let’s see how you respond to a little more vigor. I was playing quite a lot of squash and tennis so my fore hand was quite solid. I decided to try and serve a few aces. The increased effort I put into the strokes changed the sound they made to more of a ripping sound.

Viiipp, splat. “Aaarrghh!” she gurgled.

Viiipp, splat. “Ohhhhh! Arrrck!”

Viiipp, splat. “Aaeee owww!”

Viiipp, splat. “Desist, desist, desist.” she pleaded.

Her hand came round behind her and thrust the tube of cream we had used before into my hand. Where had she got that from? I got the message and squatted down on my heels behind her so that my face was level with her bottom. I squirted a liberal amount of the cream onto my hands and started to delicately rub it onto the eight track marks she bore.

But what’s this? Between her legs there was a shiny patch on the dark leather of the arm of the chair. Had she wet herself from the pain? Or was it another sort of secretion? Was the horny old dear actually getting aroused by this? With my face a bare six inches from her bottom I could smell an aroma that was entirely novel to me but I instantly knew it was the smell of a sexually aroused woman. It must be something primeval that is hard wired into us but, even being a total neophyte sexually, I recognized the smell as that of a woman in heat, so to speak.

She was making low moaning sounds now and seemed to be grinding her pelvis against the chair arm. I kept kneading her buttocks, almost delirious with the sensations I was experiencing; the earthy, almost spicy, aroma, The groans of what I assumed were pleasure. The sight of a very moist vulva and a little arsehole that seemed to wink at me as I manipulated her bum, not to mention the very feel of two very well formed buttocks. I was as hard as the cane I had just wielded.

After a few minutes she seemed to shudder and collapse. She remained motionless for a dozen breathes and then abruptly she stood. In the process she bumped her bottom into my face and I was knocked onto my back. She turned and looked down at me. I was sprawled out with my erection doing a good job of imitating a flagpole.

“My goodness. Look at your tallywhacker. He is in rude good health isn’t he,” she commented in a very matter of fact fashion. “It is not healthy for a young man to walk around with his tackle in such a state. Maybe you had better go and mow the lawn. That should settle him back down.”

I was in a high state of arousal but had no recourse but to follow her instructions. I moved out the back door to the shed where the garden equipment was stored with a strong feeling of disappointment. I didn’t know what I thought was going to happen next but it was not pushing a lawnmower. I hauled out the mower and fired her up. Their lawn was not large, just a simple rectangle about the size of a tennis court.

As I made the first pass up the block of turf I saw that the venetian blinds into what I knew was the master bed room were open. I glimpsed movement inside. On the next pass with the mower I could clearly see Mrs Suitor standing in front of the full length mirror that also served as a wardrobe door. She had her hands on her hips and appeared to be contemplating her reflection. My next pass saw her in a similar pose but this time she had removed her blouse. On the next pass she was cupping her naked breasts with both hands.

This pattern continued for the 20 or so passes I had to make to complete the mowing. For the last 8 or so passes she was buck naked, still admiring herself in the mirror in an assortment of poses. It was almost like a still life portrait. She was frozen as I passed, but moved while I was out of line of sight.

Later I realized that she must have used the sound of the mower to judge her movements or she could have been keeping an eye on me in the reflection in the mirror. My mowing technique had become a little erratic. I slowed to a crawl as I passed the window and then accelerated when I lost my view.

One lucky coincidence was that the strips that I was mowing were taking me closer and closer to the windows. She couldn’t be oblivious to my presence could she? She must know that I can see her, can’t she? If she does know, what does it mean? After mowing the last strip four times I reluctantly accepted that I had finished and unenthusiastically returned the mower to the shed.

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I knocked on the back door and she instantly appeared, fully dressed and completely composed. “Oh you have finished. Jolly good. Come in and have a cold drink. You must have worked up quite a thirst out there in that heat.” I had been sweating all right but it had nothing to do with the lawns. She gestured me back to “that” chair and bade me sit. Like a hammer blow, the aroma from the arm of the chair hit me. The earthy, spicy smell was clearly discernable. The erection that I had been carrying around with me for the last twenty minutes or so was instantly rejuvenated.

“Oh dear” she said, looking impersonally at my crotch, “The lawn mowing does not seemed to have relieved you of your tumescence.” I didn’t know the meaning of the word but I figured out it was a synonym for some earthier words. “I suppose it would be remiss of me not to help you with your dilemma. Very well, how to do this?” She paused and looked thoughtful while drumming her nails on the table she was standing next to. I didn’t have a clue where this was heading.

“Well, I suppose we should try the conventional solution.” She stood, removed her shorts and panties and (again) assumed the position with which I was now familiar; her bent over the arm of the chair.

“Take you pants off like a good boy. Come up behind me. We are going to play steam trains.”

By this stage I was blindly obedient. If she had told me to bite off my finger I would have. I stood and lowered my shorts and underpants to my ankles. My cock pointed proudly out.

“Oh goodness, I haven’t seen one that eager since that since the Governor’s Cocktail party back in 68.” I assumed that the comment was a compliment. I shuffled up behind her. Steam trains? She reached around and took hold of my cock. She was the first person, other than my parents, who had ever touched me there and I just about died. She guided me to her moist little niche and held me at the entrance.

She looked over shoulder at me, “Have you done this before Jimmy, with a woman I mean.” I didn’t dwell on the implication and simply shook my head. “Very well, just do what comes naturally. Hammer it home. This is not a time for restraint. Just damn the torpedoes and make full speed ahead.”

I plunged ahead. It was like the proverbial hot knife through butter. I quickly built up a steady rhythm. “Ooofff! Oh goodness. Yes that’s right. Oh you are a good boy. What a quick learner! Yes. Yes! Just like that. Very good. Veeery good. Keep it up. Yes. Yes! Drive on! Sunder my valley! Sunder. Sunder. Give me your broadside.”

She was not making much sense to me but I was off in my own little world. And then, just to round off my astonishment, she starting singing. A well-known hymn no less. “Onward Christian Soldiers. Marching as to war. With the cross of Jesus marching on before.” It did give a pleasing rhythm with which to time my thrusts however.

Our movement was making a very erotic sound. Schlup. Schlup. Schlup. Generated by my groin slapping into her buttocks and soaked genital area. I was rapidly reaching a point of no return. I had my hands on her hips which I had discovered provided excellent leverage points for my thrusts.

I reached a point where I was simply convulsing, banging into her as fast as my body would move. She started making a wavering, high pitched sound which resonated with my punches into her. The last few strokes were actually lifting her feet from the floor. I felt like a fire hose, simply streaming cum into her. My last few strokes made a very liquid sort of sloshing sound.

Just to add to an already surreal situation she suddenly cried out, “You are saved! Deliverance! Salvation!” She flopped about quite vigorously on the arm rest for a few seconds and then went limp.

We held our positions for a handful of deep, hoarse breaths until my wilted cock disengaged itself. I swear it made a “plop” sound as it exited her. I took a step backwards. I was almost swaying from the sensory overload. Mrs Suitor remained cast on the arm of the chair for a few more seconds and then drew herself to her feet. She seemed unsteady and her eyes had an unfocused and glazed look.

“I haven’t been rogered like that since the Governor’s cocktail party back in 68.” I was wondering what else had gone on at this cocktail party. I did take it as another compliment though. “You have well and truly walked my gang plank. I have been thoroughly torpedoed.”

She placed both hands to her crotch and pulled her labia apart. A gob of cum oozed out and made a splat on the tiled floor. She stared at it and then threw her head back with a moan. Her thighs were streaked with fluid and the chair arm was damp from our emissions. She reached over and picked up my flaccid cock between two fingers. She raised it up and then let it go. It flopped lifelessly down.

“Yes, that certainly seems to have put paid to that impertinent little chap. Jolly good. You may go now.” She gave me, literally, a pat on the head and motioned me to the door. I dressed myself and walked out in a dream-like state. As the door closed behind me and I walked down the foot path towards my house. I felt like Alice in Wonderland. The whole world looked different.

For the rest of the year I continued my lawn mowing duty. I would mow the lawn and be given a version of the strip tease routine through the window. Not always as elaborate as the first but definitely titillating. When finished I would knock on the back door. Mrs Suitor would come and give me a cold drink, and then she would say words to the effect of… “Oh dear, we have the usual problem do we. Very well. Come with me.” She would then move to the leather chair, remove whatever clothing she had on below the waist and lean over. I would scoot up behind her and with pants around my ankles, and begin to engage her. It was never for very long, probably for five or six minutes on average but it was certainly the high point of my week.

I once reached around her and grasped her not insubstantial breasts. She pointedly brushed my hands away. “They are not for you,” she firmly stated. It was a good example of her peculiar take on the world. She could quite comfortably rationalize us fucking but not accept that I could touch her breasts. Kissing was also a no-no, not that I ever really got in a position to do it. The only position I was familiar with was taking her from behind.

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Once, feeling in a bold and masterful mood, I started fingering her arsehole. I got my whole thumb inside and she was making cooing sounds that indicated some pleasure to me. I let some saliva drop from my mouth onto the little date. I then withdrew from her pussy and placed the head of my cock at her crinkled little hole. She gasped and her head whipped around and she gave me a fairly fierce look. “The games up,” I thought but she hissed from behind clenched teeth and pressed her bum back at me.

With a bit of fumbling on my part I managed to get my shaft up her tight little ass. She was still staring at me in a rather intimidating fashion but I overlooked this and got into a good gut busting stride. God, what a sensation. It was like having a tight, lubed rubber band being moved up and down the length of my cock. She was grunting something about doing it “the naval way” but aside from occasional little yelps of momentary discomfort, she appeared to be really getting into it. I had learned that hard and fast was what she wanted and expected. From then on it became a regular feature of our encounters. She would initiate it by looking over her shoulder at me and hissing “naval”.

The only time we came close to being caught was both terrifying and fiercely erotic. We had both just come and we were still engaged, slumped over the chair, struggling for breathe. We heard the sound of the front door opening and the voice of her husband rung out, “Audrey?” Did we move quickly? For me; pants up, sit in chair, glass of juice and biscuit in hand. For her, smooth down skirt, panties tucked under pillows, move to kitchen. In strode Mr Suitor. “Ah, there you are dear. Hello Jimmy, finished the lawns again eh. Good work.” He started discussed some engagement they had on that evening as I sat nibbling at my biscuit and waiting for my heart rate to slow down. Mrs Suitor was facing away from me talking to her husband who was three or four yards away from her. He sniffed the air and said, “Rather odd smell in here. Unusual, can’t place it.”

Mrs Suitor started babbling about the new weed killer she had been using in the garden. Quick thinking indeed. As I watched them, my eyes bugged out. A nice fat dollop of my come was making its way down her inner leg. It was past the knee and still heading south. It was leaving a snail’s trail right down her leg. It came to rest on her ankle and sat their looking about as inconspicuous as a strobe light. She must have felt it because she shuffled around to place a chair between her and her husband. He prattled on for another minute and then sniffed the air again and left. She shuddered, threw me a weak smile, looked down at her leg, shuddered again and vanished to the bathroom.

Once, I was really disappointed. Mr Suitor was home. No chance of anything happening today I thought. As I finished the lawn and was putting the mower back in the tool shed, I heard the shed door shutting behind me. It was a flushed looking Mrs Suitor. Without a word being spoken she removed her skirt and bent over the work bench. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Have at me young man!” I was into her like a rabbit down a hole.

I had decided to continue my studies at another University so my lawn mowing with the Suitor’s was coming to an end. I clearly remember our last time together as it was completely different. After she opened the door she looked took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom.

She undressed me and then herself. She took my hands and massaged them into her breasts all the while looking at me in a fond, gentle manner. She then leaned forward and kissed me deeply. Our first ever kiss. She was certainly making our last encounter a great deal different and very memorable. Having accepted that this was special I was still amazed when she knelt before me and took me in her mouth. I had never experienced this before and the sensation and realization of what she was doing made me feel dizzy. I think she could tell I was close to coming so she stopped and lay back on the bed. She reached out to me and I climbed on top of her.

She guided me into her and sighed with satisfaction. It was so different looking at her face while fucking. Every other time had been doggie style. I liked the way her face creased up as I thrust into her. I was really giving her a battering and I could feel her hands and heels flailing away behind me. At one stage she bade me stop and I remained motionless while deep inside her. She ground her pubic region against me and started to sort of shiver. Her legs were clasping me to her in quite a tight clinch. Her teeth were clenched and I could see the tendons in her neck start to flex and tighten. Her face assumed the rictus that I later associated with female orgasm. At the time I thought she was in pain. She suddenly went limp. She opened her eyes and quietly breathed, “Fuck me hard and come inside me.”

I had never heard her say the word fuck before and it was somehow a real turn on. I went at her fiercely and was rewarded with grunts and groans of pleasure. We were both sweating heavily from our rather vigorous exertions. When I finally came, it almost felt volcanic. As we stickily detached ourselves from each other she kept her eyes averted from mine. She bade me get dressed and ushered me to the bedroom door. She gave me a chaste peck on the cheek and that was the last time I ever touched her.

Although I bumped into her in the town from time to time, she never gave any clue to our former intimacy. She just politely acknowledged me as the person who used to do her lawns.

I would love to own that chair that we fucked on. I would have liked to have said made love on but it was only fucking. The leather of one arm of it was noticeably discolored by the various bodily fluids that had been discharged onto it. And lawn mowing? Even now, twenty odd years later, the smell of cut grass can still give me a powerful erection.

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