Greg is such an apt name for a nerdy boy. It's a name that fits a boy who still spends a lot of time with his family, is caring and attentive to his mum, is nice to his younger sister, walks the dog without complaint and does his chores without a fuss. I know this because his mum tells me all the time about what a wonderful son he is. I just know he reads a lot, feels a frisson of guilt about watching porn and makes sure the tissues from jerking off are disposed of so his mum never has to come across them, pardon the pun. He's a little skinny, a little awkward, genuinely charming and warm and affectionate, so his name suits him perfectly.
Greg isn't a name for an 18 year old stud with a simply breathtaking cock. I know it's breathtaking because last summer, on a swelteringly hot day, he called round to borrow something for his mum. He was in baggy shorts (he's really not a sporty boy!) and I was relaxing on the sun lounger, just making sure my tan stayed healthy. I wasn't in anything too revealing, for once. I wore my bikini top and a pair of (admittedly quite tight) shorts. Anyway, he couldn't tear his eyes away from my boobs. I knew the bikini top was a little small, but it's my favourite.
I could feel his discomfort, and I saw him trying hard not to make his gawping obvious. I was wearing sunglasses and I didn't move, other than tilting my legs a little to make sure he could see every inch of them. He was mumbling, and I enjoyed making this young man uncomfortable.
'My mum just wondered if you had, if she could borrow, an, erm, iron, if you have one', he stammered.
I left a pause and let his discomfort fill it.
Then I glanced down at his shorts. Knee length. Grey. Baggy. Conventional. And tenting. Growing. Even through the tint of my shades, I could see the outline of his cock hardening, and lengthening. And what a length and what a thickness it was. He wasn't wearing any underwear (he couldn't possibly have been) and his cock was hanging, constrained only by the material of his shorts.
The silence continued as he waited for an answer and I was lost for words as I pondered how Greg, the boy from next door, whom I bought a Gryffindor scar for a couple of years earlier as a thank you for walking my dog, the sweet and lovely boy from next door, could possibly have such a monster cock, twitching as if it was pulsing with an electrical current.
Now it was my turn to stammer. 'Er, yes, sure, er just give me a minute and I'll get it for you'.
I had been so stunned by the unexpected monster in those shorts I had lost the ability to flirt. I got up, went indoors to collect myself, found my iron and returned with it to him. I kept my shades on so I could check out that amazing cock, but he had obviously calmed down a little. It was there, waiting, thick and long, but not twitching now. I gave him the iron, took off my shades to smile at him, and he mumbled a thank you as he sneaked one last look at my tits, straining in their cups. I smiled again, as he walked away, thinking that what I had seen was genuinely quite unbelievable. So unbelievable, and so arousing, that I had to go straight upstairs, get out a dildo, whip down my shorts and open my legs as wide as I could while I imagined this fat, thick, veiny dildo was Greg's fat, thick, veiny and very inexperienced cock. I came loudly, hard and in no time at all.
I knew, from the minute I saw it twitching, but especially from the orgasm that that thinking about induced, that I just had to, had to, wrap my fingers, my mouth and my very wet cunt around it to show him just how good it is to fuck an older woman.
So that was last summer. I'm a patient woman. I've opened my legs and slid my biggest dildo deep inside my wet pussy since then, my thighs spread wide, imagining how good it would feel for the young, hard cock of my friend's son to fill me completely, cum in me over and over, as I showed him just how to use that mouth watering, and pussy wetting, monster to maximum effect.
I'm at my window, and I see his mum leave. She packs his sister into the car, along with a friend and the dog. I know the signs. That means she's off to a country park a little while away. She'll be away for a few hours at least. But Greg hasn't gone with them. I know he's studying for exams coming up soon. My heart beats a little faster as I realise this is my chance to make sure that exams aren't the only thing coming up soon.
I'm fresh out of the shower after the gym, and I'm only wearing a robe. I need to change that. I need something suggestive, obvious, easy to access but not overtly slutty. I don't want to scare him off. So what? I consider my options and decide on an unusually mumsy skirt (all float and too many flowers, but at least it's only to my knees) and a vest. The vest is tight and shows off my boobs. I know that my boobs can get me anything I want. I'll keep his attention there.
I make sure his mum isn't coming back for anything she may have forgotten. I wait half an hour, my pussy throbbing with anticipation. Eventually I decide I've waited long enough. I make my way to his house and knock on the door. He takes too long to answer. Maybe I'm not a patient woman. But I'm certainly a horny woman. My skirt is mumsy, traditional, but my pussy is smooth and I'm not wearing any knickers. And I want, want, want that cock to harden again and I want to suck it, and gaze at it, and lick it, then slide my tight, bald pussy down every inch, consume every inch and milk it, then lick my juice and his cum from it as it pulses in post orgasmic ecstasy.
Eventually the door opens.
'Hi'. I smile, and kink my right leg a little.
'Oh, my mum is out. She's gone out with Daisy'. His eyes are drawn down, and he's trying so hard not to look again. My cleavage is there, bare, on display. My nipples are already erect and the yellow material, summery and a little too sheer for the weather, is making them obvious. I wait, let him drink in my cleavage. The pause doesn't give him much else to do. He fidgets with the door handle. I lean against the frame, leg still kinked, bottom lip a little bitten. Nothing too scary. Just enough.
'That's okay. I just wanted to get the iron back, if I can'. I can see by his eyes, moving between my face and my nipples and my tight cleavage when thinks I won't notice, that he doesn't know what to do.
'Sure. Of course. I mean I'm not sure where it is, I don't do much ironing'. Pause, silence, smile, biting.
I look down and he is wearing jeans. They are baggy, they give him room to grow and because they were dark they hide everything.
'Oh, don't worry about that. I can always find what I want. I bet it's right there in front of you. Just waiting for me'.
It's obvious he doesn't know what to say. But he stands aside, so I can make my way through the door. As I enter the house, I hold his eye contact. I have been in the house more times than I can count, and I know my way round it easily. Greg knows this. But he holds the door, and waits, as if he is expecting me to be a few seconds and then be gone.
I look him in the eye, then down to his groin, then back in his eye.
'Aren't you going to help me look?' I tease.
I've worn wedges, very high ones. I know my legs are good, but the wedge lengthens my calves and adds height so I'm near the same height as Greg. I slowly walk away, looking behind me. He is torn. I know he is thinking about my nipples, what they look like and how he should treat them, but he's inexperienced and uncertain. He is still holding the door, he hasn't closed it yet.
'I bet it's upstairs'. Two steps up, he can see the skirt caressing my arse, the swish of the skirt, my elongated calves below the hem and the slightly slutty, very high wedge. He is uncertain, unsure of what I want or what to do. He knows I'm not there for an iron. But I'm a friend of his mum. The neighbour from two doors down. I've watched him grow, celebrated his birthdays. He knows my husband. But he also knows I'm a slut. He knows I fuck other men.
I need to give him an opportunity to peel himself away from the door, to feel okay walking up the stairs behind me.
'Why don't you come and help me look? I bet you know just how to help me out'. I turn, look over my shoulder, smile and walk slowly up the next two steps. My skirt is moving on my ass, caressing the curves the way I want him to as he eases that massive cock deep inside my wet, inviting lips. I move another step up. He can't resist any longer, and the premise I've given him is enough for it to be almost credible. He knows it isn't. I know it isn't. But he follows me to the bottom of the steps and I move slowly up another one. I know my skirt is easy to see up. He walks behind me and I can feel those eyes that were swallowing my cleavage easing their way up every inch of leg he can see.
I reach the top of the stairs and he is right behind me. I turn to face him, holding the banister and leaning in a little. He's a step down and leaning is making my boobs spill forward. He is eye to nipple.
'Why don't we look in your bedroom first?'
He is unsure what to say. He pauses. His eyes stay on my cleavage, he's a little braver now. 'My mum never irons in there. She always does it downstairs'.
'Well then why don't we try doing it up here?'. I straighten up, stand over him, push out my big tits so they are right over him. 'Come on, I'm sure you can help out your mum's friend. I mean, we might even be able to help each other'.
I can see the fear and the lust mixing in his eyes. I can see the bulge in his crotch growing, I can see he knows that I want that cock. I can also see he wants to give me it but he's unsure what to do.
I reach out and run a finger down his cheek. It's as though he has been jolted by a live wire. He almost jumps.
'Why don't we forget about what I said I was here for, and concentrate on what we both know I'm really here for?'
My eyes wander down his body to make sure he can see me staring at his cock.
