A Mature Woman's Eyes Pt. 2: The Longer the Fuse...
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and real individuals is coincidence. All characters are over age eighteen.
A young man has his second lesson with his mature neighbor.
***
Each day after that first magical afternoon with Ms. A. was torture. I thought about her constantly. My friends and parents had to wave a hand in my face or snap their fingers to bring me back to reality. Her physical beauty alone would have been enough. But I knew it went deeper than that; she was a goddess to me.
Finally, there was an afternoon when my parents were out and nobody would miss me. I texted Ms. A. and she asked if I wanted to come over. A minute later, I entered through her side door.
Those eyes and her smile blew me away. I approached her, placed my hands on her waist, and kissed her gently. Then again. Our kisses intensified and soon we were touching and squeezing each other. This went on for several minutes before she ran her fingers through my hair and whispered to me, "Kent, I want to teach you how to give a massage."
"Alright," I said. I would have agreed to anything.
"It's an important skill to have. You can use it before or after making love, or not making love at all," Ms. A. said, then began to undress facing away from me. As her clothing fell to the floor, she said, "Remember I told you about the difference between having sex and making love?"
"Yeah, I do. I've thought about it."
"Good. It's about taking one's time. You can get sex done in a few minutes if you try. But then it becomes a function, like peeing. It gets to be something routine and not anything memorable. But making love takes some time, like building a home, and when it's done, you remember. It's special, meaningful, fulfilling. Learning how to massage teaches patience."
I was mesmerized watching her bare back emerge from her clothing, then her kissable buns, then her silky smooth legs. Somehow, she seemed younger than last time, her body tighter and leaner and her mysterious eyes a little lighter. My anticipation was already high and my dick was already beginning to tingle. Still, what she said made sense. I didn't want to just cum in five minutes. I wanted the same magic that we had the first time.
Now nude, Ms. A. got onto the bed face down, tossing the pillows to the side. "You can take your clothes off if you want. But remember, I'm going to be selfish for a while and teach you. You must be patient."
"Alright, Ms. A," I replied as I took off my clothes. "I can be patient." I tried to mean it, but had doubts.
Ms. A. was up on one elbow watching me undress, smiling. "I know you can. There's a bottle of oil on the bureau, take it and get some on your hands."
I grabbed the bottle and got up on the bed beside her beautiful naked body. I squirted some oil into my hands, as Ms. A. said, "Start with my feet. Walking around in heels murders feet, so they need some loving. Be firm but not hard." I swished some oil in my hands and began rubbing her foot. "Mmmmmm," she moaned. "A little harder. There. Just right. Mmmmm, sssssss. Oho! That feels wonderful! Work the heels, and the toes."
I rubbed her heels, her arches, then moved toward her toes. The second I touched one, she cried out, "Ooooh," and giggled. "Firmer, please," she said, but kept giggling a little.
"This little piggy..." I began, but she cut me off.
She laughed and said, "Please, no tickling."
"Okay."
"Now the ankles, and move up slowly to the calves, knees, and thighs. And remember to pay attention."
I went to work on Ms. A's ankles and listened to her moans, her ooohs and ahs. After only a few minutes, I had a pretty good idea of where to squeeze and how hard. But every once in a while, I'd do something that would elicit a long moan, sometimes followed by a giggle. "Oh, oooooh, yes. Mmmmmmm, right, mmmm, there." I made mental notes of the place and how I touched her. I had two reasons for that, one that I wanted Ms. A. to feel good, and two because every time my cock got a little harder.
It took me a few minutes to work my way up to her thighs. Each inch higher brought deeper breathing and more moaning. I watched her pussy as I pressed and squeezed her legs. The higher I got, the wider and wetter her labia became. Now my breathing rate increased and I had to remind myself to be patient, no matter how badly I wanted to touch her damp slit.
When I reached her upper thighs, her breathing and moans became somewhat urgent. But suddenly, she said, "Mmmmm, we can't rush. Let me turn and sit so you can work on my neck, my shoulders, and my breasts."
My heart skipped a beat just hearing Ms. A. speak. It was like listening to a goddess. Her words reflected my own urgent desires and commanded me to obey.
Ms. A. sat facing away from me. I knelt behind her and began working on her shoulders and the back of her neck. With her arms up to hold her hair out of the way, Ms. A. looked like a model posing. From behind her, I could only see enough of her breasts to entice me. Below that, her trim tummy angled in and then spread again down at her hips. It reminded me of a bronze statue of a young forest nymph at the local college campus.
"Oh, I needed that. Mmmmm, that feels so good," she said. "Sometimes, you don't realize how badly you need...Ooooooh, Oh!, Mmmmm...you need a massage until you get one. Oh, honey, you're a natural at this. Just the right amount of pressure. I love it."
Her voice was like magic to me. All I wanted was to hear more of her moans and to make my own. I had to back away a little so my cock wouldn't poke her in the back. It stuck straight out, and like an untamed weasel it sometimes bounced involuntarily.
After a few minutes working her shoulders and neck, she got down on her back. I watched each muscle flex and relax. Her beautiful breasts were right in front of me. With her eyes closed I could stare at her beautiful hair, her regal face, her kind smile. I studied her breasts, stomach, hips, pussy, legs. Gorgeous! I wondered how on Earth I could deserve this. Then I told myself never to wonder that; it might be bad luck.
"Now, gently massage my breasts. They're not thighs or feet, so squeeze gently. Mmmmmm, yes, just like that. Oh, you are a natural. Go around and around, squeezing...oooooh...and rubbing. Mmmm, oooooh, Oh, oooooooh, Mmmmm, honey! Oooooh, yes. Oh, just like that. Keep going. Take your ti...oooooh, Mmmmmm, unh. Ooooh."
My heart rate must have jumped and my breathing with it. As I ran my fingers across her nipples, they hardened, more with each pass. My cock swelled right along with them and I suddenly had an urge to suck her breasts. But I was still under Ms. A's power, knowing I must wait.
But that didn't mean I couldn't be creative. As I rubbed and squeezed her breasts in circles, I let my knuckles bounce over Ms. A's nipples. Four bounces with each pass, one for each knuckle. Each time, Ms. A. moaned. Each time, her rate of breathing increased and her chest heaved. Occasionally, I would run my fingers up her rib cage. She jumped, "Ooooh," the first time, but then just sucked in her breath and withstood the tickle, "Shhhhh," then exhaled, "Mmmmmmm," as she shuddered.