The following is a short story of consensual, romantic sex between an older woman and much younger man.
*****
Lizzy came home from her real estate job late in the afternoon, pleased to see Rob's truck in the yard, the young handyman she'd hired to do some work around the house.
At 66, Lizzy wasn't up to the task of painting lawn furniture or fixing various things that always seemed to be need painting or fixing.
The single woman was long divorced, but happily so, dating now and then but engaging in no serious long-term relationships. And besides, the dating pool of acceptable men in her age range was fairly shallow. She'd endured the entreaties of well-meaning lady friends she should perhaps date younger men, but that was a concept she casually brushed aside.
But that was not to say she didn't privately entertain the notion. She would look at younger men, some much younger, and wonder if they found her attractive. For her age, she was a very beautiful woman, well kept and athletic, tall with wispy light-blonde shoulder-length hair and a lean, angular body kept firm and shapely by her exercise routine.
She looked good, and she knew it, but wasn't so sure anyone much younger than herself would.
She walked into her house, then out onto her spacious back deck, where Rob was hard at work, an industrious 21-year-old college senior eager to make a few bucks working around the well-to-do neighborhood for people with the means to contract the work out. She thought him quite handsome, with his athletic young body in tight short-sleeved denim workshirt and snug jeans, and messy mop of unruly blonde hair.
"Hi Rob, look at you go, you've done a lot of work today!" Lizzy said brightly, standing on the deck by Rob, who knelt and painted the deck railing and balustrades, long in need of a touch up.
"Oh hi, Mrs. Tomlin, didn't hear you come out," the boy said, turning sidelong to look at her silhouetted in the bright late-afternoon sunshine.
He liked what he saw, he always did. Lizzy wore a short khaki skirt and sleeveless white blouse and brown flats, her long sinewy arms and legs highlighted in the sunbeams, showing signs of age to be sure, with slight saggy flesh and wrinkles here and there, but nonetheless spectacular.
He was particularly smitten with her legs, and surreptitiously gazed at the long, freckled shins below her shortish skirt and tanned, muscular calves that flowed and flexed as she stood moving from foot to foot as she talked to him. He could see the slight wrinkles in her inner thighs exposed in the skirt that rose a few inches above her knobby little knees, and thought them rather sexy.
But Rob knew he'd never make a play for her, he was too shy, too polite, and confined his escapades with the elegant older woman to his masturbatory fantasies. And as much as Lizzy thought no handsome young buck like Rob would be interested in an old woman like her, likewise Rob thought no one as classy and beautiful as leggy Mrs. Tomlin would give him a second thought as a lover.
They chatted a bit longer, Rob drinking in the view of the sexy older woman until she left the deck.
"Been a long day, Rob, you finish up, I'm going up to my bedroom to change, maybe go for a run," she said, walking away, Rob's eyes riveted to the lovely calves flexing as she walked.
"Sure thing, Mrs. Tomlin...I had something I was going to ask you, but can't remember now...if I do, I'll let you know," he smiled.
"No problem, Rob," she called out as she entered the house, closing the slider.
Moments later, it dawned on him. He'd meant to ask about some kayaks and gear she had in the garage and wanted moved, but he wasn't sure where to. He put down his brush, wiped his hands and went inside.
"Mrs. Tomlin?" he called out as he stood in the kitchen, moving to the stairs and calling up, "Mrs. Tomlin?"
He made his way carefully up the stairs, gently calling her name, not wanting to surprise her. He peeked around the corner to the big master bedroom, finding it empty. He looked in the giant walk-in closet, and she wasn't there either.
He was about to leave the room when the bathroom door opened and out walked the lovely Mrs. Tomlin, as naked as the day she was born.
She didn't see him at first, rifling through her nearby bureau presumably in search of her running clothes. Rob stood, struck dumb and immobile, as he looked on the sexiest older-woman body he'd ever seen.
Her tits were majestic, large and fleshy and white, her nipples huge and brown and centering a sexy patch of creamy white flesh untouched by the sun. Her ass was small but perfectly shaped, saggy at the bottom in a delicious fold of delicate wrinkles and her thighs were full and muscular and tanned beneath the alluring sexy sags and wrinkles of an older woman.
He knew he should leave. But if he moved, she'd see he was there, scream, and embarrass them both. So he stood, uncertain and nervous, as she turned now, holding pair of panties, about to put them on and showing him, unwittingly, a gloriously gray-black patch of abundant pubic hair.
She looked up. And saw him, the boy standing with eyes wide open and a look of complete shock on his face, outmatched only by her own.
"ROB!" she screamed, momentarily frozen.
"MRS. TOMLIN!" he screamed back, averting his eyes. "I'm so sorry! I didn't...I just came up to ask you...I'm SORRY!"
She frantically covered her pubic patch and darted back toward the bathroom, eyes sidelong and scared, watching him as she ran. And slamming headfirst into the door frame.
She crumbled to the ground, appearing to do so in slow motion to Rob, who stood, helplessly watching as the beautiful naked woman as old as his grandmother flopped to her back on the bedroom floor rug, groaning as she landed, out cold.
"HOLY FUCK!" Rob screamed.
He was torn between leaving her there, racing out never to return, or helping. He figured it was his doing that caused the accident, and raced to her side, kneeling and 100 percent unsure of what to do when he got there.
She was on her back, those tits splayed out to the sides, her legs parted, one drawn up and wide apart, her giant silvery-gray bush completely exposed. He looked her up and down, trying not to look and failing. She moaned as she lay there, a big red knot forming on her forehead from the impact. Rob moved his hands as if to help then just looked at them, not at all certain exactly where to put them.
Then he scooped her into his arms, one under her shoulders, the other under her magnificent sexy old legs, bending to pick her up. And in the process, finding his face inches from that incredible patch of fur at her crotch. He gulped and inhaled getting ready to lift, the slightly funky, musky scent of her pussy wafting into his nostrils.
"Jesus Christ," he moaned to himself, sniffing again with more purpose this time, feeling shame embrace him as he lifted her naked, moaning body off the floor. "Just get her into bed, just get her into bed..."
He put her down on her back on the bed, rolling her to her side to pull down the blanket and sheet, watching her sexy wrinkled butt jiggle as he did, trying to ignore it. He rolled her back into the space, quickly covering her up to the chin where he noticed the sexy wattle of her neck, wanting to bury his face into it.
"Goddammit, what the fuck's wrong with me," he groaned to himself.
He stood back, looking at her slowly wake up, wanting to run, wanting to stay. He stayed as she blinked her eyes and saw him there. He smiled a very weak smile.
"Oh my GOD, Rob!" she cried out, clutching the blanket to her chin and up and over her face, which was deep crimson in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
"No, no, no!" he cried out. "Me, it was me, I'M sorry, I just came up...I remembered what...those kayaks and stuff...I didn't know..I didn't think...oh, shit, Mrs. Tomlin, please, please, it's my fault!"
Slowly she pulled the blanket down, her face still blushed, the knot on her head growing into a glowing egg.
"No..I...oh God, Rob, this is so...embarrassing, I'm so sorry," she groaned, one hand feeling the knot on her head and wincing as she touched it.
"No, Mrs. Tomlin, it's me, my bad, all me," he babbled. "I didn't...can I...what can we do...God, that's a big lump...I'm worried...concussion..."
She smiled a weak smile of her own.
"No, I'm fine, I'm just so damned clumsy, God," she groaned. "But what's done is done, it happened, it's over, no harm, no foul...OK?"
"OK," he sighed. "Look, I didn't see...I mean I wasn't looking..."
"No, no, of course not," she said, shaking her head, stopping at the throbbing pain it caused in it. "But you can...would you please maybe go down and get me an ice bag? That might help."
"Of course, of course, Mrs. Tomlin!" he said, eager to get the hell out of the room.
He ran downstairs, grabbing a plastic bag and filling with ice from the freezer, then scouting about for a dish towel to wrap it in, then racing back upstairs where Mrs. Tomlin was sitting up against the headboard, the blanket carefully clutched to her neck. He went to her, placing it on her head gently, sitting next to her. He held it there, and she rested her hand on his as he did.
He felt a surge of energy as their flesh touched, as did she. He quickly pulled away, leaving her to hold it.
"I got it, Rob,it's OK," she said with a gentle smile. "Can you maybe get me some Advil, I think it's in the bathroom, on the counter, and a glass of water?"
"Sure, sure," he said as calmly as he could, going into the bathroom.
