Here's to You Mrs. Robinson

Ryan's Tale -- continued

It was Saturday and I'd been out in the yard all morning long. Trimming bushes, mowing the lawn, sweeping up, and then I'd washed the car. I'd taken my shirt off, having gotten all hot and sweaty early and hadn't minded getting spray from washing the car on me to cool off. I'd taken my shoes off to keep them from getting wet, so all I had on was my shorts. I heard the voice, but with the spray from the hose hissing and hitting and bouncing off the car, it wasn't until it was repeated that I understood the voice had called my name. "Ryan!" Stopping and turning, I saw Mrs. Watson from across the street on her porch, waving.

"Hey Mrs. Watson," I said, waving a hand at her in a friendly greeting.

"Do you think you could help me for a minute when you've got a chance?"

"Sure thing! Do you need help right now or can I finish the car first?"

"Oh no, finish your car."

"Ok, I'll be over in a few minutes." I'd already finished the washing; she'd caught me in my final rinse. It took just a few moments to dry the car and wash the windows and in probably 30 minutes I was ready to head over. I put my shoes back on, leaving my shirt off as it was covered with grass and I'd inadvertantly gotten it wet, and stepped to the door. "Hey Babe!" I called in to Lindsey, pushing the front door open just a bit, "I'm running across the street for a few minutes to help Mrs. Watson with something. Be right back."

"Ok" is all I heard before I pulled the door shut.

~

"Hey Mrs. Watson," I said when she answered the door, "what do you need?"

"Oh, my goodness!" she laughed, her eyes strolling up and down my naked chest. "I ask the God's for help and they send me Adonis!" She laughed, and so did I. "But you can call me Tonya."

"Well Tonya, I don't know about Adonis," I said, "but if you need a strong back and a weak mind... I'm your man." We both laughed and she held the door open.

I followed Tonya inside where she had a ladder out to be able to reach a recessed light that had apparently burned out. At 27, she could easily be 30, 35... maybe even 40 years my senior in age, but I couldn't help but admire that she was in much better shape than many women her age. She hadn't let her body go to seed; she may not have been 25 anymore but her legs, bare and exposed beneath nice fitting shorts surrounding a pleasant bottom, were still pleasantly muscular. Her shirt was a tight-fitting white shirt, not quite a tank top, not quite a tee shirt, the form of the lace of her bra visible through the shirt although the shirt itself wasn't see-through.

"It's just a couple of things that I can't do by myself. Let's start with the light, I just can't quite reach it." She had a new light bulb handy so, before I went up, I flipped the light switch on, seeing that other lights responded but that one didn't, confirming it was probably a bad light. "Let me hold the ladder," she said as I started up the steps, coming up from behind me and leaning onto the side rail as I climbed. Reaching the step where I could reach the light, her one hand was on the side rail, her second hand came up and gripped my thigh, just above my knee. I easily could have climbed the two or three steps of the ladder without her holding it, and especially I could have stood and worked without her touching my leg.

Is she coming on to me?

ran through my mind, but I said nothing.

I took the light and easily reached the one in the ceiling, feeling it wiggle quite easily when I touched it. I asked her to turn the light switch on again, and with it on, when I pushed against the bulb, it lit up. I couldn't reach into the fixture very well, but when I got my fingers around it, I tightened the bulb and it stayed on.

"It was just a loose bulb," I said as I began to come back down. I began to move down, and when my leg lowered, she released the grip on my leg without pulling her hand back immediately, the effect being that her hand slid up my thigh until it contacted my shorts, just inches away from the family jewels, at which time she finally withdrew her hand. "This one is still good, put it away. That kind of makes sense; that's an LED bulb and they should last a long time." I'd stepped down the one rung, she hadn't yet moved back so she was blocking my way.

"Oh wonderful! They're not exactly cheap and I only had those installed a few months ago. That one just never worked right all the time."

"Yeah, it was loose. It will probably be ok, now. Ok, I'll come down now," I said as she still hadn't moved and was blocking my way.

"Oh yes, sorry," she said, stepping sideways and out of my way. I took the ladder and folded it up, leaning it against the wall.

"What else?"

"I was rearranging the bedroom and wanted to move the bed and the dresser, but I can't get them by myself."

"No problem," I said, "let's have a look."

I could see where she would have had trouble moving the large queen size bed on her own. Even with me there, I could tell it was better to remove the mattresses, rearrange the frame and then put the mattresses back. I easily lifted the top mattress, leaning it onto an edge where she steadied it while I got into position and then we moved it against the wall. Two split box springs came out with little effort, and now the frame was easily moved. No sooner did I pull against the frame than something fell to the floor with a thud between the wall and the headboard. "What was that?" she asked.

From my vantage point I could tell it was some type of large notebook, although I couldn't see what. "Nothing critical," I answered, "looks like a notebook. Let's get this positioned and then we'll get that." I basically manhandled the frame, easily sliding it into place without needing to lift, with only a little help from her, and once it was in position, turned back to get the box springs. In so doing I saw the notebook again, and stepped over to pick it up.

It didn't have a label or name or anything on the outside, and as I picked it up, it flopped open to a full-frontal, nearly nude, photo of Tonya lounging on her back on a bed, wearing high heels, a white button up blouse unbuttoned and folded back, and nothing else. It was obviously an erotic photo, designed to entice whoever was looking at it, not something that would normally be shared among others.

She was much younger in the picture, probably the same age that Lindsay and I were now. Although totally nude, it was obviously a professionally done and very tasteful picture, accentuating her beauty. "Oh my," I said, beginning to fold the notebook closed, the top photo flopping down to expose a second of her posed nearly nude in lingerie in front of a window, silhouetted by the bright light from outside, her body showing virtually no detail except for one very hard and very erect nipple artfully silhouetted.

"What's that?" Trish said, stepping over to see what I had. "Oh!" she exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing the book from my hands, "you weren't supposed to see that." She turned and set the closed book on the nightstand behind her. "I haven't even thought of where that was in quite a while. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess."

"Those are you?" I questioned, understanding perfectly that the naked beauty in the notebook was now the much older woman standing before me. I'd never really paid any attention to her until then, but also realizing that I could easily imagine the naked sexpot in the pictures was the woman in front of me.

"They were an anniversary present for my husband. A girlfriend and I had boudoir photos taken for our husbands. I don't know how they got behind the headboard like that... I haven't seen them in years." Somehow, that didn't strike true; I had the sudden inkling that she'd known exactly where they were. Was it the lack of dust on the outer cover? Was it her hand on my leg, sliding up my leg as I'd climbed down the ladder?

"Your husband was a lucky man. You were quite the hottie."

"Yeah, past tense." She said. I let it go.

We put the box springs and mattress back in the new position, and then turned to the dresser. It was too large to move with all the drawers in place, so I pulled the top drawer out and turned to set it on the bed. She pulled the second drawer out and when I turned back, the contents of the third drawer was now fully exposed, her lingerie drawer.

My glance caught many images. A sheer nightie, lacy panties, an open cup bra. It had never really crossed my mind how little there was to a sheer thong panty until right then when I saw the little nothing of a string thong next to a larger lacy panty. There were other things; full bras, cotton panties, but everything on top was sexy stuff; things that would be worn for a lover. Was it pure chance? I didn't comment, although it crossed my mind that as a widow, I had to wonder if she had a lover. I just set the drawer on the bed and with three drawers removed, the dresser was stable and light enough to move to the new location. Afterward I put the third drawer back in place, and when I turned, she was handing me the second, followed by the first.

It only took about 15 minutes and her bedroom was rearranged. I helped her remake the bed, and bid her goodbye.

~

"I think," I started that evening when Lindsey and I were starting dinner, "Tonya Watson was coming on to me when I went to help her today."

"What?" Lindsey responded, stepping back from the cutting board where she'd been slicing some tomatoes for a salad. "Why?"

"You know, it's almost like I want to think I was imagining it," I started, and then proceeded to tell all of it. Tonya putting her hand on my thigh, holding it there until it touched my shorts as I came down. Pulling open the drawers, finding the lingerie drawer with her naughtiest nothings on top. I described the baby doll nightie, the open cup bra, her lacy see-through panties, and then seeing her 'everyday' stuff underneath. "It just didn't make sense, why would you have all the sexy stuff on top, and the stuff you wear everyday underneath where you'd have to move it out of the way every time? Her husband has been dead for a while now, it would seem to me that stuff would be under her everyday stuff."

"I'll bet you liked that," she said with a giggle, "I'll bet she'd look good in an open tit bra."

"Why do you say that?" I asked, realizing that my cock was expanding a bit. I wasn't imagining Tonya, but rather what my wife Lindsey would look like in an open top bra that accentuated her breasts. She had flimsy and sexy bras, and her nipples were always hard all evening long when she wore them, our sex afterward always being phenomenal.

"You'd like it if I wore one of those wouldn't you?" She asked, turning and putting her arms around me before sliding one hand down to the front of my pants to squeeze my cock. "Shall I get one for you? What do you think, maybe she had a date?"

"Maybe." I told about moving the headboard and the notebook falling to the floor. "She had nude pictures of herself in it."

"WHAT? And you saw them?"

"It flopped open to the first one," I went on to describe the picture, "and when I started to close it, it flopped to a second one. She said she'd had some boudoir photos made years ago for her husband, probably when they were close to our age now, and hadn't realized that the notebook had gotten lodged behind the headboard. She said she hadn't seen it in years."

"That could be."

"I don't know. If true, then why wasn't it dusty?" I told her that despite having picked it up, closed it, and handed it to Tonya, there had not been a speck of dust on my hands afterward. "Even the top of the headboard had dust on it."

"I'll bet she was really pretty." I didn't say anything. Although not as young as she had been, I had to agree. I really thought Tonya Watson was still quite pretty and wondered again just how old she was. She obviously wasn't 25 anymore like Lindsey, but still had a nice body.

We were in bed before Lindsey brought it up again, I was cuddled to her backside, my hand wrapped across her naked shoulder with her breast filling my hand when she said, "Do you suppose Tonya knows my husband likes titties?"

"Don't most men?" I laughed quietly in her ear, nuzzling, and nibbling on her ear lobe, "She did have some nice ones, still does for that matter. Nice ruby nipples, and a full bush. Do you suppose she still has a full bush?"

"You've never seen her nipples," she responded, her hand coming over her hip to grip my erection pressing against her bottom.

"Nope, just in the picture."

"You'd like that though, wouldn't you? Seeing her topless, or maybe wearing that open cupped bra you described? Maybe in her baby doll?"

"Hmmm, maybe

I

should get

you

one of those open cup bras? I do like your titties." Lindsey rolled over to face me, her mouth finding and attacking mine. Our lovemaking for some reason seemed especially hot that night.

~

Lindsey's Tale

"Hey Tonya, it's Lindsey. From across the street? Are you at home?" I'd asked if she was home as I had called her cell phone. Does anyone even have home phones anymore? She confirmed she was home, and I asked if it was OK if I came over to visit. When she said she wasn't busy and to come on over, I asked if she liked iced tea and told her I'd bring some with me.

"Ryan told me about helping to rearrange your room the other day," I started. We'd moved out to her patio and I'd poured us a couple of glasses of tea. By jumping right into it, I knew it would put her on the defensive if she really

had

been making overtures to my husband, and her slightly nervous manner confirmed to me that she absolutely had at least let Ryan know that she wasn't averse to

something.

I laughed at her nervous response. "It's OK Tonya, he told me everything, but what I really wanted to know about was your boudoir photo notebook. I've heard about such things before, and with our anniversary coming up in a couple of months... well, I was thinking of doing the same for Ryan. I've never known anyone who did it before, wasn't even sure how to find out about such things."

Tonya was obviously relieved that all I asked about was the photo album, I sensed that she was afraid I'd accuse her of coming on to my husband, and she was then perfectly happy to just tell about her photo shoot. "Oh my god, I swear that was one of the hottest things I ever did. My girlfriend and I both did it for our husbands. I don't think I ever would have done it if it hadn't been for her."

"Ryan said that he only saw a couple of pictures, were they fully nude?"

She giggled, "Oh yeah, at least one of those that he saw certainly was. It was my girlfriend Suzie that came up with the idea of boudoir pictures, but she was leery of doing it alone, so I agreed to go along with her. It was going to be just her, but when we talked to the photographer, somehow, I found myself agreeing to do them for my husband, too. We weren't going to do nudes originally, we'd asked for lingerie pictures, but it just sort of naturally evolved. He asked us to show him what clothes we'd brought along and started us with sexy clothes that left us more fully covered."

"He was really good; it was quite obvious from the beginning that there was a big difference between the snapshots that we all normally take with a camera and a posed and professional shot. He had two pictures of Delicate Arch - from Arches National Park - on the wall in the front of the studio. One was a "snapshot," the other his professionally set up photo. Both were the same size, side by side. The one was labeled as "snapshot" and gave the time and date, the other was listed as "Professional Photo", and had the same time and date. The difference was incredible. The one was obviously "just" a picture, a vacation memory if you will, but the professional photo was phenomenal. The color, the shadows, the crispness, the clouds in the sky, some parts in focus, others a bit fuzzy. He used that as an illustration of the difference between the photography that most of us do and what a trained eye with professional equipment can do. "

"As the photo shoot went on, he just kept suggesting more and more risqué shots and well... before long, he was photographing us at least partly naked."

"Oh my god, I don't know if I could do that in front of some stranger."

"That's what we said too, but it just sort of happened. He was really good, he'd have us pose, set up the lighting as he wanted, set us up as he wanted. His wife was there, sometimes in the studio with us, other times just around the house, so it was a lot more comfortable for us. Truthfully, I never felt uncomfortable with anything he had us do. Even getting naked in front of him we didn't feel like he was playing us. He'd have us move, reset a pose, and take more pictures. Sometimes he'd pose us multiple different ways and whatever he was doing wouldn't work out, other times he'd shoot just one or two and get what he wanted. He had us gradually getting more and more naked, making the pictures sexier. He'd drop a strap off our shoulder, he'd have us almost expose our breasts. We moved into see-through lingerie and he knew how to arrange the lights to expose our bodies through the cloth or make it so the clothes were instead opaque. At one time he told me to roll my nipples, to make then hard so they showed through whatever it was that I was wearing, and had me do that multiple times later on; he knew that my husband would really like that. After a few times he didn't even have to ask, I knew to keep my nipples hard. I was really self-conscious that first time, and probably wouldn't have done it except that his wife was right there. One of the last photos of the day, he'd had me slip the strap of the chemise down my arm and when I moved, it slipped over my breast and he caught a picture with my one breast exposed with my nipple hard. When we came back the next week and saw the results, that turned out to be one of my favorite pictures. My husband loved it too."

"The next week? He didn't give them to you right then?"

"Oh no, that was all on film -- before digital cameras. He took literally hundreds of pictures, and developed them during the week and then only had the very best ones blown up for us to look at. We saw the entire set of pics, he had a light table that let us look at the film without having to print large pictures, but he knew what he was doing."

"Wow. Hundreds of pics?"

"Oh yeah, we were there for about 4 hours each time, on three consecutive weekends, and he went through a

lot

of film. A lot of the pictures were almost identical, but he could almost instantly look at them and say, "these aren't good enough," and then the ones he printed were phenomenal.

"Wow. And he got you to take naked pics?

"It wasn't that he told us to strip or anything, it was just sort of a natural progression. Sexy clothes, sexy lingerie, gradually taking pictures with less and less on, and more and more showing. He'd run through a series of pics wearing something, and then have us change. He had a little dressing room off to one side and Suzie and I would go in there and change. He'd go in with us and suggest what to wear next and then leave to set up what he wanted, but after a while he was seeing us naked or nearly so anyway. And then," she shrugged her shoulders, "eventually, we got totally naked."

"Wow. And you weren't worried about him maybe...."

"Oh no. His studio was at his home and, like I said, his wife was there too. She'd bring in refreshments, bring him supplies, and just come and go, so it wasn't like there was

nobody

else around. She would look at the pictures with us and pick some out, she had a pretty good eye herself. There were a couple of pictures that she said he should print out and she was right. The second week, we were fully nude almost the entire session. Everything he did was beautiful, sexy, without being pornographic, but yet, erotic. Like rolling my nipples so they were erect."