The town itself was small and insular in outlook; the nightlife where I could spend the little money I had seemed to consist of a couple of pretentious, expensive wine-bars full of couples, and scruffy pubs largely frequented by groups of late teenagers resplendent in their baseball caps and gold sovereign rings, swearing and sometimes dancing to loud garage and rap music. Neither entertainment was my thing. It seemed a few really dull weeks were likely, especially as the first weekend found me too short of money to even scrape the train fare home. Saturday passed studying and watching sports on the TV, and eating a bad microwave meal, followed by a couple of hours drinking alone in the local pub.

After a lazy Sunday morning spent reading the newspapers, followed by some lunch, I decided to do some work on the property outside, partly to ease my boredom and partly to catch some sun on a rare hot day. I started by checking the wooden fence which ran at the back and one side of the property, both adjoining a field and separating my aunt’s garden from her neighbour’s, Mrs Kellerman’s. The fence was in fairly good condition, it just needing some panels renailed, and a small section of it begged some fresh paint. I found some tools and paint in the garage and set to work. After a while I began to get the satisfied feeling I have found before when working with my hands, and as I was only wearing a pair of denim shorts I was also enjoying the feel of the hot sun on my body. I was in a welcome kind of contented, dreamy mood.

I became aware of the sound of someone working close by on the other side of the fence, and moving to a part of it short in height I gazed over the panels and saw a very shapely female form tilling the soil of a vegetable plot. I recognised her as Mrs Kellerman, who I hadn’t seen for years. I recalled my aunt telling me that her husband Alan had died a couple of years previously, and that her children had now left home. I guessed she must be fifty at least, but believe me she was in seriously great shape. She had that kind of body that carries a few extra pounds well. That is to say, she was a medium height curvaceous lady with very big breasts and a large, though shapely backside, with proportionately fairly narrow waist. She had a seriously sexy mature womanly body, a real old-style full hour-glass figure, which, as she was dressed only in a rather too-tight pair of shorts and a sleeveless close fitting T-shirt, was on glorious display.

My eye-feast was broken by her sensing my gaze and turning to look at me. She had shoulder length fairly wild dark hair with loose curls, and a smooth looking face, which was both very pretty and suggested intelligence. After a second’s summing me up she recognized me from my childhood.

“Hello, it’s Jay isn’t it?” she enquired with a light smile on her face.

“Yes. Hi, Mrs Kellerman, what a beautiful day.”

“Indeed it is, and please call me Hazel” she replied, and I became aware that she was looking at my face and bare upper body in an approving manner.

My eyes met hers, which were a deep, dark brown, and her full lips formed into a really affecting smile, which I returned. My face then felt slightly flushed, and felt a familiar swelling in my shorts, as it hit me that there was obviously a mutual connection between us, a kind of lust at first sight.

To Be Coninued. Story Credit

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 26th, 2008 at 8:27 pm and is filed under Fucking, Blowjob, Oma, Granny, Mature. Both comments and pings are currently closed.