You're Nobody ...

A New Side to Mrs. Klugman

Sheila Klugman pulled her Mercedes SL500 into her driveway and raised the roof. She ran her fingers through her short blonde hair, wishing for about the millionth time that there was a way to keep her hair from getting too messy while driving with the top down. She so loved driving the convertible with the top down and looking sporty, and one of the prices she paid was having to wear her hair short. It wasn't quite a bob, but it was definitely above the collar, and it was almost impossible to keep permed.

She got out of the car and began limping slightly as she keyed the remote to the mudroom entrance of the house. Still limping from the fall she'd taken playing tennis at the country club, she settled gingerly onto her expensive couch and stretched out her long and still lovely legs.

Oh How I'd love a gin and tonic right now, she thought as the front door opened and she saw the street person walk in.

This time instead of showing her displeasure at my arrival, she smiled and said, "You know, I owe you an apology, I can't thank you enough for saving Fritzie. You know, she means everything to me."

Shelia was wearing a white tennis outfit and leaning a bit more than necessary since she had just opened the top three buttons of her tennis shirt to cool off and was providing me with a wonderful view of her twins.

"It was the thing to do ..." I paused, and then added, "Shelia," Doing my best not to stare at her chest.

Shelia beamed at me. One of her twins flashed a glimpse of nipple my way. "My husband has a habit of picking up strays. I suppose that's one of the endearing things that attracted me to him in the first place. But after a few years it began to wear thin, and after the last experience -- that one made off with my BMW -- I thought my days of playing nursemaid to his strays were over. But after the way you saved my Fritzie ... well, you can stay as long as your heart desires."

I tried to match her smile. "I'm sure you won't have to nursemaid me at all," I said as both nipples came into view, but I really think she was unaware of it.

She laughed and said, "Please, call me Sheila. I thought I told you that already."

It was then that I noticed she appeared to be in some discomfort.

"Can I get you something, Sheila? Water? Juice? Something a little harder?"

"You noticed?"

"Um, you're a very active woman, Mrs. Klugman. I walk in and you're sitting there in what looks like ... well, let's just say you look uncomfortable."

"I took a fall playing tennis, and yes, I'd love a strong tonic about now. Please make it Gin, not vodka."

I walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, took out some ice and plopped some into a tall glass then filled it halfway with Gin and topped it off with tonic and then added a slice of lime and brought it to her.

"Thanks," she said and took a healthy sip.

A moment went by and then she said, "Aren't you joining me?"

"No thanks, Sheila. I'm off the hard stuff. That's what landed me on the street. I will have the occasional glass of wine at a meal, but that's as far as I trust myself."

"Good for you," she replied and I felt she meant it.

"Is your leg feeling any better?" I asked with genuine concern.

"About like before," she answered and took another sip. "Maybe worse."

I took another peek at her puppies and wondered if I was about to ravish every female in the house. So just to get a different reaction from Sheila I said, "I think your neighbors; the Compton's are having marital problems."

"Really, and you know this how?"

"I hate to talk out of school ..."

"Come on, you haven't been in school for a long time," She chided me, knowingly.

"He was carted off from a seedy motel after tying up a young girl and torturing her."

"My, God! How do you know?"

"I happened to see him being arrested."

She licked her lips and purred, "And what were you doing by that seedy motel?"

"The truth? I was following him."

"Why?" she asked, leaning a little more.

"I had nothing better to do. I had your car, um, Warren's anyway, and there he was coming down his drive, I tagged along, unobtrusively, of course."

"You have a big vocabulary for a street person, you know?" Shelia purred.

"I wasn't always homeless, Shelia."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was thoughtless and cruel of me. I do apologize."

"That's all right, maybe I'll tell you my story someday."

"I'd like that," she said contritely. Then she caught me looking at her chest and did something with her shoulders that restored the nipples to their rightful hiding place and I glanced down at my hands just to have someplace else to look.

She didn't seem bothered by my peeking at her puppies, and said quite unabashedly, "I had a little surgery there five years ago. Good job, don't you think?"

I certainly do, Sheila. At least from the little I saw of them."

"Well don't think I'm letting you see or handle them! I was just telling you ..."

I let a moment pass before resuming the conversation. "I followed him because I heard something about him," I thought talking about Compton would ease a difficult situation and it did.

"What did you hear?" apparently Sheila loved gossip as much as the next one.

"That while married to a beautiful woman, he spent most of his time chasing young women."

"You mean kids?"

"No, he's too smart to risk doing time. He goes after those younger than twenty or twenty-one; high school seniors or recent graduates. The one I saw him with was probably nineteen, maybe just twenty."

"What a bastard!" Sheila all but snarled. "I think all men are bastards ... um, present company excepted, of course."

"Um, what about Warren?"

"Uh, Warren! He's screwing his latest secretary, or receptionist. He always does. He gives them a week to enjoy the job and all its benefits and then has them bending over his desk to keep them."

"You don't mind?" I was a bit surprised that she knew about his fooling around, and allowed it.

"Of course I mind, but I'm not crazy. The man shits money. Where would I find another guy like that? The thing is I haven't been properly laid in almost eight months. The fourteenth of the month will make it eight months and that was a truly lousy fuck, you ask me."

"Well who would know better than you?"

"It would probably be best for both of us if you forgot that I just said that."

She gave me a little smile and said, "So he really tortured her?"

"I happened to hear the cops talking. It seems he had her hanging from the closet door."

Sheila's mouth dropped and I quickly added, "I don't mean by the neck. I think he had her hog-tied somehow and was using a belt or something on her when they burst in on them.

Shelia's smile turned into a sly grin. "I wonder how the cops happened to know what was going on in that room." I returned the grin, saying, "I called them after hearing her screaming."

"You're a very interesting man, you are."

"I am aren't I? Now tell me about that leg."

"I stumbled trying to make an impossible return. I had a cramp, but thought it went away."

"But it didn't," I added.

"No, it didn't, and now it hurts like hell."

"You might have strained a muscle or two," I said knowingly.

"You think?"

"I could give you a massage," I said.

Sheila smiled. "Are you kidding? A massage would be heavenly!" And despite the pain, Sheila had no difficulty in kicking off her tennis shoes.

"Let me help," I said, taking her damaged leg, (the right) and putting it between mine, and then peeled off her sock.

"Are you comfortable in that position?" Sheila asked, seeing that I had chosen an awkward place from which to begin a massage.

"Oh," I said, "Of course. You're right. Let me move the coffee table away." I stood up and pulled the coffee table away from the couch, then knelt at her feet. "Here, let me try this..."

I placed her right foot up on my shoulder and began gently massaging the calf. In doing so, the short, white tennis skirt she was wearing rose well up her nicely tanned thighs, partially exposing the tennis panties underneath. I recall thinking there were no obvious bikini lines, then again, a woman her age might not wear a bikini, but then again she didn't look her age.

After several minutes of vigorously massaging her calf, I asked her how it felt.

"Wonderful," she replied, and all but finished her drink, setting the glass beside her on an end table. As she shifted legs, her tennis skirt rose even higher, and it was obvious to me that her panties weren't the type normally worn during tennis. These were lacy and sheer, practically transparent, and it was obvious that Sheila was a real blonde; although it was still possible she had someone touchup that little patch as well as the top of her head.

"You do know how to massage an aching muscle, don't you?"

"I've had some practice, Sheila."

"Could you give my right thigh some attention, that's where I think I strained a muscle or something?"

"Certainly, Sheila, but it would be better if you stretched out and I knelt between your legs."

"Yes, of course," she said and stretched out as requested.

"On second thought, Sheila, perhaps it would be better if we moved into your bedroom."

"But why?" she asked, feeling perfectly comfortable where she was and not wanting to put any further pressure on her bad leg.

"I don't think it would look right if someone, say one of your kids walked in on us like this. No telling what they'd think."

"We're not doing anything wrong," she protested, still not wanting to put any pressure on the leg. Then after giving my suggestion further thought, said, "Oh, you're right, but I'll need help getting there."

"I'll carry you," I said and met no resistance when I reached under her and picked her up.

After depositing her gently on her bed, which had yet to be made as it was Consuela's day off, I rummaged around in her bathroom medicine cabinet and found some massage oil and brought it and some towels back into the bedroom with me.

"Aren't you the handy one," Sheila giggled as I laid them out on the bed alongside her.

"I figured you'd have some oils around. The towels are for ... well cleaning and possibly covering ..."

"Covering what? I'm not taking anything off. You're massaging my leg, that's all!"

"Of course, I didn't mean to suggest ..."

"Damn right you didn't! Now I appreciate your carrying me in here, but I don't know if I should let you continue."

"How's the leg feel?"

"FINE!" she barked, "the leg's just fine!"

"Okay then," I replied and made ready to leave.

"Wait! You're leaving me here?"

"Yeah. You're in your bedroom, you're able to walk; you made it into the house. Hey, you're not an invalid. I'm going for a swim."

"FUCK!" Sheila yelled, and I admit she startled me. "Stay with me! I'm sorry; I do want you to massage my leg."

"I know women have swing moods, but honest to God, Sheila, I wish you'd make up your mind!"

Evidently people didn't talk to her that way, at least they hadn't in some time and she became contrite and didn't say a word as I maneuvered her so that her toes hung just over the end of the bed. This left plenty of room between her head and the headboard at the top of the bed.

"I feel better all ready," Sheila sighed.

"I could do your back too, Sheila, but you'll have to take off the tennis outfit."

"I'm not taking it off. What do you think I am?"

"I think you're Warren's wife, and I respect that boundary. I'm only asking because the oil will stain your nice outfit and I don't think you want that."

I waited while she thought about it.

"Hmmm," she said after a short pause, "I don't want to ruin it, okay, get off the bed and turn away. There are enough towels to cover what needs to be covered. Give me a minute to get ready."

I faced away and waited.

Moments later she gave me permission to turn around. She was on her stomach, one large towel covering her ass and upper thighs; another ran from her lower back to the top of her head.

"Um, Shelia, I may need to make some adjustments to the towels in order to massage you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but be careful. "

I was looking at the way she'd tossed the tennis outfit under the armchair that was to the left of her bed. She'd crumpled it into a ball and tossed it away, telling me that she didn't care at all about the outfit.

Since she'd stripped for me, I ignored her calves and began what I thought would be a standard massage. I began at her neck and slowly worked down to her spine before concentrating on the shoulders and upper arms.

Sheila moaned contentedly, murmuring, "You've really done this before," as if surprised.

"Yes," I replied, taking her arm and placing it in the cleft between my thighs, as I continued to massage straight down her arms to her fingers. The whole time her hand rested no further up than the mid thigh. Finishing with her left arm, I made what would be the first intrusive move by sitting on the towel covering her ass and using my upper body weight, administered a firm massage to the midline of her back.

"Am I too heavy?"

"No, it feels terrific. I'm impressed, really I am," she murmured.

In return for her compliment, I lightly let my fingers run over her exposed skin, causing Sheila to squirm and mutter "Now that feels even better!"

I laughed and folded the towel covering her ass in half rather than lifting it off her and used my thumbs on the middle part of her thighs, wrapping my fingers around the outer and inner sides until reaching the upper portion of her thigh, and then carefully avoiding any overtly sexual contact, I moved one edge of the towel into the cleft between her buttocks, thereby exposing the left cheek.

If Sheila was finding any of this inappropriate she gave no sign. And so, I repeated the light finger routine, concentrating on the buttock and upper, inner thigh and received a low growling chuckle from an apparently satisfied customer.

Of course, as I massaged her buttocks I saw more than enough of her pussy to know she was getting wet from my touches.

I started the other leg and proceeded as I had on the first, only this time, as I moved up her thigh and rolled the muscles of the inner thigh outwards, Shelia's legs parted, allowing greater access to the upper, inner thigh.

And, as my hands reached the top of her leg, Sheila rotated her head to watch me work in the mirror above the dresser. I had to smile at the subtle manner she used to open her nether region so as to grant me even greater access. After that it was a simple matter for my hands and fingers to move closer and closer to her hairy cunt with each pass of me hands along her thighs.

"OHHHH ... THAT'S SO NICE!" She whispered, as if to herself.

Hearing her words made me switch to my fingertips, running them over the backs of her thigh, but one hand concentrated on the right cheek, the fingers slowly creeping down the slope leading to the cleft between her cheeks. Almost imperceptibly, Shelia rotated her leg outwards, inviting deeper access. But I resisted that temptation knowing that prolonging the tease would reap far greater results.

I glanced at Shelia, with her head turned away from me but still facing the mirror checking me out. I made sure that she got a glimpse of my erection that was bulging out of my slacks, then took her right knee and bent her leg at a 45 degree angle before applying subtle pressure to the hamstring. As I leaned into her I let my hardon graze the small of her back.

She knew what it was all right, for she tensed up and then relaxed after uttering a low, "OH!" as she savored the sensation.

Meanwhile my hands moved on to pay particular attention to where her muscle met the pelvic bone. Soon I had my left hand caressing the inside of her upper thigh and my right moved back down the leg, around the inside, and began massaging the other muscle group on the inside of the thigh which was extremely close to her labia.

Sheila let out a barely audible moan, and her fist was clenching and opening with each brush of my fingertips against her. Before allowing her to go over the edge into an orgasm, I ran my hands along the length of the muscle then started again at the lower end, slowly moving back up.

Sheila knew exactly where this was going and parted her legs even more and to ensure I reached the right destination she made sure the towel wasn't covering her pussy anymore and then dropped her hand to her side.

Even in the faint lighting in the bedroom I could see that her pussy was a gooey mess. This was no misplaced massage oil. There is no mistaking the glistening juice with that of any massage oil, and then there was the odor ... the unmistakable aroma of arousal. What I'm saying is that if Sheila chose that moment to stand up, she'd have had a string of mucus reaching to the floor.

We were well past the point of return. I let the palm of my hand drop to her cunt, giving it a very light slap.

Sheila groaned and threw her pelvis up. "YES!" she croaked.

I slapped her a little harder and got the same reaction, then sent the fingers of my other hand to graze her clit and slapped her cunt again.

"OHMYGOD ... OH...MY...GOD!"

I thought for a moment that she'd stopped breathing. But then she let out a long slow moan that she tried to suppress, as her body tensed and relaxed, her pelvis arched to meet the downward sweep of my next slap.

I let my hot breath caress her clit and then slapped her cunt.

Sheila couldn't hold back any longer. Breathing erratically she closed her eyes and came while I discontinued the slapping and started using long gentle strokes up and down her inner thighs, lightly brushing her cunt lips as I passed by.

It took me a moment to realize that Sheila was apologizing to me.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so very sorry! Nothing ... I mean that's never happened to me before. I ... I..."

I shushed her, murmuring that she should just relax. That everything was fine.

"But ..., I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be silly, it's all very natural. I'm sorry if I've caused you embarrassment. I didn't sense what was happening otherwise I would have stopped or at least checked to see if you wanted me to continue. It's a complement that you could become so relaxed as to respond in such a way to such minimal stimulation. You're obviously a very sensual woman."

"No, it's not your fault. The massage was so good I was in an almost dream like state. I feel so silly, I don't suppose that sort of thing happens very often."

"It happens ... probably more often than you would think."

"This ... this has ... I mean, you've had this happen to you before?'

I went into deny, deny, deny mode. "Oh, no, not to me. At least not that I know of. You know ... I mean a woman can ..." I let it drop to see how Sheila would react.

"Oh ... yes, I see. Yes, women respond differently. Of course, that's it," she said and left it there.

"Um, would you want to continue? Or if you're uncomfortable or embarrassed we can stop right now."

"You're not finished?" she said softly, and I detected a ray of hope in her tone.

"Not really, your leg can definitely use more massaging.

She reached out and covered her privates with the towel again and said, "Well then, please continue."

"Sheila, if I presume to much, just say, 'move on,' or something like that and I'll do it. I'll do it instantly, okay?"

"Yes, yes, please ... continue."

I started on the other leg, and Shelia appeared to fall back into a relaxed stupor as I worked the muscles in her calf and then her hamstring. The towel lost its purchase and slipped to one side, exposing her genitals and anus to me again.

I waited a beat, but she didn't reach for the towel and neither did I.

It was evident that her recent orgasm hadn't stemmed the flow of juice from her cunt. But to be sure she really wanted my attention on her love flower; I was much more deliberate in my approach.