While still in senior high school having just turned 18, I was hired by my next-door neighbour's to cut their grass during the summer months. Since it paid $2.50 a week – a lot of money in 1957 – I was glad to get the work. I was a skinny kid with a major case of shyness and acne and was a real loner.
Mrs Hart (she kept trying to get me to call her Sheila), was in her early forties while her husband Earl was in his late forth decade. She was, at least to me, a real looker; now that I am aware of measurements, likely a near perfect 34-29-35, with smallish breasts that always jiggled when she walked. I must admit, when she brought me out a glass of lemonade on those hot muggy Ontario afternoons while I was pushing that heavy steel mower, I could swear she was not wearing a bra and her nipples were pressing against the cotton shirts she wore. Of course, she also wore the briefest of shorts – almost scandalous for those days.
I recall when I was first offered the job, I overheard my mother commenting to one of her friends that her son was going to be working for that loose woman next store; I didn't know the meaning of loose woman except when I watched those tits swaying. I always stammered and blushed my thanks as Mrs Hart made small talk while I drank the cool lemonade and tried not to lower my gaze. I was so shy, I couldn't look her in the eye either so usually my eyes were locked at her neck level. Even that neck – and the body it was attached to – gave me cause to run home to my house each week after I was done, jumps into the shower to cool off and jack my 7" boner off until I exploded. Sheila was always in my mind's eye as I did.
One especially hot afternoon, I pushed the mower around the side of the house and stopped dead in my tracks. There, clad only in a skimpy high riding two piece bathing suit, lying face down on a blanket was the object of my fantasies sunning herself. She turned her head and, smiling up at me, asked me to come over and rub in some tanning lotion so she wouldn't burn. I stood rooted to the spot until she laughed and said, "Get over here Bobby. I won't bite you – I promise!"
Bending on my knee beside her, I took the proffered bottle of lotion and, flowing her instructions spurted it up and down the backs of her legs. "You have to rub it in well if it will do any good" she giggled.
My hands on this Goddess? Slowly and tentatively, I placed my hands on her soft pale skin and rubbed the lotion in as gently as I could. When she urged me to rub harder – supposedly to get the lotion well into her skin, I followed orders but never strayed above her knees. Her order to get more on and higher led my hands up her thighs until I was almost rubbing the exposed sides of her bum. My boner was growing hard and it brushed against her thigh as she sighed in contentment.
"Undo the strap behind my neck so I don't show a tan line. I want to tan my back as well"
As I did, she raised herself on her elbows and tossed the top of the suit across the lawn. Before she lay down again, I caught sight of the fullness of her left breast and my cock almost jumped through my shorts! All the separated her from complete nudity was a skimpy bikini bottom the likes of which I had never seen before.
"Do you like my suit, Bobby? I ordered it from a French catalogue. I bet there is none like it in this town"
Mumbling my agreement, I applied the lotion to my hands and thoughally covered her back and sides. As I reached her shoulders, my hands, slippery with lotion, slid down and brushed her tits. "Mmm" she moaned. "Please do that again! It feels so good"
I was out of my league but like a robot, I ran my hands along her sides once more; as I neared the target I was hoping for, Sheila suddenly lifted herself up onto her hands and, as her back arched, my hands slid around her to brush across her nipples! She groaned and I thought not only had I hurt her, I was going to be in major trouble when she told my Mum.
Instead, she suddenly jumped up, grabbed my trembling hand and ran for the back of her house. We were no sooner in her kitchen than she stripped off her bottoms and I saw my first naked woman. Her breasts were perfect white globes tipped by very hard nipples and when I let my eyes stray lower, I saw that she was cleaning shaven with just a tiny patch of blondish hair above her pussy. Now I had found several of my older cousins Playboy magazines and poured over National Geographic magazines and at least knew what a naked woman should look like. However, nothing prepared me for the real thing!
