Stacey Dixon, a slim, sandy-haired young man of eighteen, found a note from his mother lying on the kitchen counter when he got up Saturday morning. The note said a woman had phoned and wanted him to call about doing some chores for her. He picked up the phone dialed the number. A sultry feminine voice answered and Stacey, his cock lurching, identified himself.
"My name is Carol Davidson," the woman said. Her sultry voice made the hair on the back of Stacey's neck stand up and caused a reaction in other parts of his body, too. "Rita Meckler gave me your phone number. She recommends you quite highly. I live at Seventy-five Aurora Drive. Can you be here in an hour?"
"Ah...sure," Stacey replied. The woman sounded hot, so hot he had half a hard-on when he put the phone down. He couldn't believe it! Was every older woman hot? Over the past year, thanks to the generosity of his friend Bobby Draper, he'd had an opportunity to learn just how many women were hot for young lovers.
An hour later, he was ringing Carol Davidson's doorbell. The door opened and what the young man saw took his breath away.
Carol Davidson had an extremely lush body. Her pale, creamy skin was barely covered by a light-green sheer peignoir she wore over a clinging sheer gown made of the same material. The color of the peignoir was exactly right to highlight the mass of wavy red hair that tumbled in loose waves to the gorgeous woman's shoulders. Her green eyes gleamed hotly.
Carol's body - she was five-nine and weighed a hundred and forty pounds - was a spectacular result of hours spent laboring in a health club. Her breasts were large and well-shaped, and strained against the gauzy material of her outfit. The hardening tips of her nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric. Below her magnificent chest her trim waist flared into full, wonderfully-formed hips.
"Hello, Stacey," Carol said. Her voice was the sexiest the young man had ever heard. She smiled warmly. "Come in, please."
Moving stiffly, the young man walked by the woman, into her house. He knew he should say something, but wasn't sure what to say, or how to say it. He could barely get his breath, and he couldn't tear his eyes off her.
"Can I take your coat?" Carol asked.
Stacey shrugged out of his lightweight jacket and handed it to the woman, then he followed her as she walked into her living room.
Carol laid the young man's coat on a chair, then turned to him, a smile on her face. "You don't say much, do you, Stacey?" she purred.
She moved so close to the young man he could feel the heat radiating from her. The scent of her expensive perfume filled his nose.
"Since you don't seem to be a man of many words..." Carol murmured, as her arms slid around his neck and her body pressed against his, "you must be a man of action."
She tilted her head up, Stacey bent his face down to hers, and their lips met. Passion arced through him like lightening and immediately he felt his cock stiffen and strain against his pants. His arms went around her, sliding easily along the silken fabric of her gown. Her body strained against his.
