Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The gate between our two yards was still open, just as it’d always been. Mrs Donovan had moved in as a childless widow the old house next door when I was 10 and she was 28 and she and my mother had become fast friends. But Mrs Donovan was an oddity to me — she lived alone with a small Yorkshire terrier and there was no man in her life. I’d ever known of women through their associations with their husbands, just like I’d known of my mother through my father.
My eyes were opened over the years as my mother had promised Mrs Donovan my assistance in yard work and other menial tasks — over the next 7 years, I had helped her paint her house three times, joined her as she walked her terrier and I held her tight after the small dog had escaped one evening and I found it the next day beneath the deck behind the house. It had been hit by a car and had gone there to die. I was with her when she chose a new pup and named it Ryker. I helped her tend her garden and saw it flourish and I cut her grass and trimmed her bushes. I also watched as men came and went — some making her smile, while others made her cry.
It was during that time I grew up — but she didn’t seem to change: a slim body with a back that drew a V towards a small waist, curvy hips and a roundish ass and sexy legs. Elven features crowned by an ever changing, pixie-like haircut harbouring a new colour every second month and smallish breasts, barely bigger than pears topped with nipples that seemed in a state of perpetual arousal. But her most enticing features were her big hazel eyes and a slightly crooked smile bordered by thick, sensual lips.
For my part — I’d grown up tall and lean. The time spent tending Mrs Donovan’s yard had lead me to working summers for a local landscaping company so my arms were permanently tanned. My muscles were sinewy and strong.
But when I was 17 I left town for a better education. My mother emailed me regularly and there was always a note from Mrs Donovan. She wrote me of Ryker and of the garden and how it seemed to have wilted a bit since I’d stopped tending it. The emails stopped shortly after my eighteenth birthday. When pressed, my mother told me Mrs Donovan had met someone and that it seemed serious — I understood then than she no longer had time for a young dreamer. While Mrs Donovan lived her life I threw myself in study and sport. After a year my muscles became thicker and I had even lost my virginity to a young exchange student from Germany.
After turning 19, I decided to return home for my summer break — I’d already been in contact with my old employer and they’d agreed to rehire me if I still knew how to use a shovel. I hadn’t told anyone that I was coming home — when I’d stepped into the house it was empty. My folks were gone for the weekend according to the calendar on their laptop.
I’d strayed into the kitchen to make a sandwich when I spied the open gate to Mrs Donovan’s backyard.
What the hell, I thought and I took off my shirt and went outside. Maybe the grass needed to be cut.
When I crossed the gate, I scanned the yard and was a bit disappointed to witness that the garden was neatly weeded and the grass was closely trimmed. The deck had been widened and a pool now occupied the far East corner of the yard.
It was there that I saw Mrs Donovan — she was lying on her stomach on a resin lawn chair, sunning herself beneath the midday sun. A book by Stephen King was left open on the ground, its cover likely fading in the sun and next to it was a half full glass of iced tea and a bottle of sunscreen. As I drew closer, I saw that she wore a small, high cut green bikini and that the string that bound it behind her back was undone. The yard was private enough that she could dare sunbathing nude if she so desired — the thought made my cock stir. Admittedly, Mrs Donovan had been making my cock stir since I’d lost my virginity and I had fancifully reviewed all the woman I had crossed paths with as a youth and the emotions they rose. The passions she stirred were the most intense. That I had pics of her clad in a bikini on my old cellphone only emphasized the fantasy.
Drawing closer, I remembered that she would sometimes fall asleep in the sun. Once, as she slept, I’d put lotion on her exposed back to prevent her from burning. An innocent act at the time — now being older and hornier, any innocence was a facade. I slowly crept up the creaking steps of the old wooden deck — it wasn’t in as good a condition as when I left. The breeze came westward and carried the scent of the freshly cut grass and the slightly musky aroma of Mrs Donovan’s unscented skin. I paused and closed my eyes and took a deep breath — the natural scents in the air made me feel bold. But when I took my first step onto the deck. I heard a low growl. Ryker came around from the other side of Mrs Donovan’s sleeping body and he took a position between us.
“Hey Ryke,” I said, using the old nickname I had for him. “How you doin’ boy?”
Ryker tilted his head and his ears perked up. I extended my hand and he poker oyna took a tentative step forward and sniffed my fingers — within seconds he was licking my face and I was scratching him behind the ears as my first old friend recognized me. I only hoped my next encounter went as well — speaking of which I saw Mrs Donovan shift position and turn her head in my direction, strands of her blond hair covering her lithe features. She was back to her natural colour.
I scratched Ryker one more time and approached my sleeping beauty. Mrs Donovan’s face remained unfazed as the deck creaked beneath my feet — she was as heavy a sleeper as ever. I looked around the yard and there was nary a trace that any one else lived with her. I remembered noticing that her immaculate Toyota Celica convertible was parked in the centre of her driveway — there was the one lawn chair and one seat to her shaded patio table. An old metallic swing awaited at the opposite corner of the yard, shaded by tall maple trees.
I looked upon Mrs Donovan and I felt my face flush. Her skin was amber in tint and covered in beads of sweat — some ran as rivulets and pooled in the curve of her lower back. I was struck by how tiny she was though — tinier than I remembered. Even though I stood only 5’10, I towered over her. She barely stood over 5 feet and weighed about 105 lbs. My mind flashed with the image of her lying on top of me, my stiff cock entering her tight pussy while I spread the cheeks of her bubbly ass.
I shook that thought away for now and genuflected next to her — I picked up the bottle of sunscreen and poured some of the sweet smelling cream into my hands. When I began to work the cream into her slender shoulders, I admired the firmness of the taut muscles of her back. I reached the curve of her lower back and stopped at the edge of her bikini bottom — the slightest evidence of her ass crack was visible, enticing and delectable.
“Mmm …” Mrs Donovan exclaimed as she finally stirred under my massaging of her back. I brushed against her firm ass and it wiggled invitingly. Her breaths quickened when I touched her sides and that’s when she stiffened. I knew her beautiful hazel eyes had to be open.
” I couldn’t let you burn, Mrs Donovan,” I said as I worked the sunscreen on her slender thighs.
“Scotty?” she asked as she gazed over her shoulder. “Scott!”
Mrs Donovan twisted like a cat and jumped into my arms — it was a strangely intimate sensation, holding her. Unbeknownst to her, the triangles of fabric that should cover her small, firm tits had slumped on her chest and I felt her hard, pointy nipples dig into my hairy chest. I still knelt on the deck and she was on her knees on the lawn chair while Ryker sniffed and circled us and let out the occasional bark. I stood and carried her upwards like a feather weighted doll. She held me tight as I gently lowered her to the deck, her nipples still in contact with my skin. I was sure she must have felt the bulge in my cargo shorts but she lingered in our embrace.
“My god, Scotty!” Mrs Donovan said. Her voice was like a song bird’s early morning tune. “What’re you doing here?”
“Making sure you don’t get a sun burn,” I said as I smiled. It was then that Mrs Donovan realized the skin of her chest was touching mine — she froze as a wave of embarrassment washed across her lovely face. It flushed the way mine had when I had first seen her a few moments ago — she was understanding I was no longer a boy. Despite the shock, she offered little resistance as I turned her around and raised her arms — I grabbed the edges of the cups of her bikini top and covered her nakedness and tied the string behind her back.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she crossed her hands over her covered tits. Her back was stilled turned to me while I rested my hands on her shoulders. Her ass still pressed against my shorts.
“Don’t be, Mrs Donovan. I was the one who surprised you.”
Mrs Donovan refocused her attention away from the obvious bulge in my pants and looked down at Ryker. “Some watchdog you turned out to be,” she playfully admonished the dog.
“He was doomed from the beginning,” I said as I patted the dog. “I called him Ryke.”
“He always did start listening to you when you called him that.” She shrugged and grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards the house. “I want more iced tea and I want you to tell me about getting back home and why it took you so damn long…”
I noticed that her voice lowered and softened around the last part of her sentence as she guided me to the house and pulled opened the sliding patio door. She had not let me go as Ryker bounced into the kitchen and found the spot he adopted five years ago and flopped to the floor.
“Let me look at you,” she said as she pulled me ahead and closed the glass door. I turned to face her and I felt as much as saw her eyes hover over my shoulders and chest and arms. “Except for your shaggy brown hair, you’ve changed.”
There was that faint softening of her voice again as I canlı poker oyna said: “I finished growing up. You haven’t, though.”
“I stopped growing a long time ago,” she giggled as she appraised me approvingly.
“I meant you haven’t changed, Mrs Donovan,” I said as I reached over her shoulder — there were hooks on the wall and I picked up a satin robe and draped it over her shoulders. I felt her breath against my chest and I was certain she had taken a sniff at my cologne.
Mrs Donovan tied the robe an smoothed it over her bottom. It was blue and made her eyes stand out. She mouthed the word thank you and she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a carafe of iced tea and poured us a glass each.
“So,” Mrs Donovan started. “What have you been up to?”
We sat and drank iced tea and I shared my adventures at school and my moderate successes in dating and sports. Tennis was my sport of choice. She told me of the trips she took every few years to Europe and Asia. When I glanced at her living room, I saw the evidence of those trips. She was quiet though when I entreated her to talk about her social life. She glazed over her dates, talking more about her experiments in cooking and how she sometimes tortured my parents on Wednesday nights. I told her about my own semi-edible concoctions.
After and hour or so of conversation, I noticed how the fan, working diligently behind her, lifted her hair and made the locks frolic about her ears.
“You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” I heard myself asking. “You’re as beautiful as I remember.”
I realized I’d said the words aloud before I could stop myself and I saw her look down at her glass while she blushed. I couldn’t help the fact that my voice deepened when I touched upon her beauty and I savoured how she squirmed in her seat.
“I have a confession to make, Mrs Donovan,” I said, taking her hand. My voice was a deep whisper.
“I’ve been thinking more and more about you over the past few months.”
“Oh,” she said as she looked at me — beyond me.
“It was shortly after I lost … after the first time I made love to a woman. I started thinking about you — fantasizing, actually. I fantasized you were my first.”
“Oh …” she said as she focused on me. Her eyes were locked to mine.
“So when I saw the gate open, I took a chance and there you were. It was a dream come true — you jumped into my arms and you were topless. Even now I can feel your beautiful tits against my chest. I want you so bad.”
Mrs Donovan pulled her hand away as a look of confusion and desire made her lush lips tremble. I grabbed her wrist and pressed on with my advances. “You felt it too, I know. You were pressed against me and you felt my cock. That was all you.
“I’m bold, I know … but the chemistry is there and you feel it. You’ve always felt it.”
Mrs Donovan nodded and shook her head at the same time, showing me her struggle.
“I’m alone and so are you,” I stated. “I think we know each other better than most people — I want to be your lover, Mrs Donovan.” I said it — a secret that I’d been carrying from the time even before I left for school.
My grip on her wrist lessened and she slowly pulled her hand away. I felt her study me while sweat beaded on her forehead.
“Please go,” Mrs Donovan said as she pushed herself away from the table and walked towards the living room ad then the staircase that led to her bedroom downstairs. She slept in the basement in the summer. Ryker looked at me quizzically before running after his mistress. I feared I’d lost the chance of making her mine.
In a vain hope, I noticed a piece of paper and a pen so I wrote down my mobile number and my name. I then checked the lock of the sliding patio door and made sure it locked as I closed it. I then closed the gate between our yards as I walked back to my house. The sun was beginning its slow journey to night in order to ready itself for the next day.
I made spaghetti — a far removed dish from some of the more adventurous plates I’ve made. I used sauce from a jar. I was happy to see my parents had kept their fondness for fresh parmigiano-reggiano cheese. The dining room filled with the scent of the pungent cheese — I glanced at the gate outside and it was closed. I stole occasional glances at my smartphone, hoping to see the indicator light glow blue, telling me a call or a text was missed. It remained quiet.
So I spent the evening watching some movies my parents had in their collection — mostly black and white classics. I slipped Hitchcock’s The 39 Steps into the DVD player and sat back and with a bottle of Canadian Trois-Pistoles beer. It was then that I noticed the blue indicator light on my phone. I picked it up and tapped the screen and the alerts popped up. A text that had been delivered a few minutes ago at 8:30 pm.
With trepidation I tapped the alert and an unknown cell number flashed on the screen. My palms were sweaty as the text filled the screen. The content internet casino was succinct: Come to me at 10 pm — Claudia.
My heart began to pound as I read it over and over — I’d heard my mother call Mrs Donovan by her first name on certain occasions but this was the first time it was ever directed to me. “Claudia,” I said, savouring the name on my lips and longing to taste hers. I was suddenly filled with dread at the thought that she might call me over just to scold me for overstepping a boundary. But I washed the dread away by downing the beer and fetching another one and drinking it swiftly. It was rated a 9% alcohol and I was already feeling the slight buzz the reinvigorated my earlier boldness.
I ran upstairs and took a long, hot shower and proceeded to shave. I adorned a faint mist of cologne and dressed in a black pair of linen pants, a white cotton short and black sandals.
By the time I got to the kitchen it was nearly 10 pm. I looked at the yard and I saw that the gate was open.
The patio door was unlocked — lights in the house were muted and Ryker was in his spot in the kitchen. That meant Claudia — it still felt odd to use her name — was up and about somewhere in the house.
I took a deep breath and there was the faint odour of rose water. It lingered towards the living room and I followed it. There were some candles flickering as their light was reflected off the big screen TV that was a new addition to Claudia’s living room — my eyes roamed the area and I saw a shadow move near the staircase that lead upstairs
“Claudia.” I simply stated. I felt as though that lonely word made me feel older than my meager 19 years of life.
” I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” she said softly as she stepped into the light. She was clad in a simple spaghetti-strapped black neglige that had lace at its collar and its hem. It was fitted to her sexy form and stopped just above her knees.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I had no choice but to come.”
She took another step forward and touched my chest. “I wanted to scream at you, you know? Scream and demand how you could dare say that to me — but then I remembered that for the longest time, you were were the only man in my life that really mattered. And here you are, finally a man.”
I took her hand and kissed her fingers. “And you’ve always been a woman. I always felt grown up around you — but I was frustrated that you could never notice me. I understand why but it was hard. That’s why I left, in part.”
Claudia hook her fingers around my neck. “I don’t know if this is wrong or not. It’s been over a year since I was with a guy and then you show up — beautiful and fierce and confusing. I saw you grow up, Scott.”
“Did you?” I asked as I pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and I tugged on her earlobe. Claudia visibly shuddered. “When did I ever act like a kid around you? You said it yourself — I’ve changed.”
Claudia rested her head on my chest — I was sure she could hear my racing heart despite my confident tone. “When did you get older than me” she asked wistfully as she rubbed my arm.
“I’m not — it just took me 9 years to catch up.”
Claudia pulled me towards the couch and she fell into its deep cushions and I dropped to the softly carpeted floor. The flickering candlelight painted morphing shadows across her sweet smelling, amber skin — she leaned forward and my lips touched hers. Our first kiss was not the chaste affair of a sweet coming of age story — it was a rapacious spectacle as our tongues breached our mouths and moved about like duelling predators. The room filled with the echoes of our grunts and moans as Claudia pulled me to her and I pulled the traps of her negligee down and she pulled its hem up past her hips. I had unadulterated access to her tits and her pussy.
I pressed Claudia onto the sofa by kissing my way across the delicate flesh of her slender neck until I reached the skin between her firm, pointy tits. She smelled of rose water and her breasts pointed skyward. Her nipples were pink and rock hard and she hissed as I flicked my tongue around them. Claudia was on her back and my mouth was covering her left tit while I reached across her neck and massaged and pinched her right nipple.
‘Oh! Shit!” Claudia screamed when I pinched and bit both nipples. I was caressing her inner thighs and she spread them — I caught a whiff of the musky scent of her pussy. The lips were pink and puffy and she haboured a strip of trimmed blond hair just glistening with her juices. I released her nipples and covered her beautiful face with hungry kisses as I allowed my fingers to stray from her inner thigh to her cunt. I found her lips and parted them and slipped my middle finger into her tight pussy — she moaned and writhed on the couch as I slid my finger in and out of her. I placed my thumb on her clit and she arched her back and cried out.
“Yes Scotty!” Claudia screamed — I let her go and I grabbed her ass and I lifted her off the sofa. She was lithe but squirming as she was startled by the ease with which I manoeuvred her. I had her thighs on each side of my head and I supported her firm round ass — Claudia’s shoulders were pressed into the lower cushion and I was sucking and nibbling on her pussy and her clit.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32