Several weeks had passed since "curtain call" as I had come to refer to it. I had seen Mrs. B on numerous occasions since, briefly; just the usual greetings and comments. Nothing more was said about the incident. Danny and I were busy planning a weekend camping trip with a few of the guys in the neighborhood. This was a yearly event sponsored by one of the church social groups. Mr. B and two of his poker buddies would provide the "adult supervision" and handle all the driving duties. This, of course, satisfied the parents of the minors in the group.
For me, Danny, and a couple of guys, fishing, beer, and bullshit were the usual order of business, and we busied ourselves getting our gear ready for the trip which was scheduled for this coming Saturday. The weather had been perfect. My folks were glad to have the weekend free and had planned to use it to go out of town visiting family. They were leaving Friday evening which meant I would be spending the night at Danny's. We pitched a tent in the back yard and got a head start on our camping trip.
When morning came, we rolled out to start the day and pack up for our trip. Well, sort of. During the night, something must have bitten me on my left leg. My knee was red, swollen, and so sore I could hardly walk. When Mr. & Mrs. B got wind of it, they insisted on taking me to the hospital emergency room to get it attended to. After a lot of back and forth discussion and a phone call by Mrs. B to my parents, I begrudgingly agreed. The pain was getting worse. Unfortunately, Mr. B, Danny, and the rest of the guys were geared up and ready to roll. Mrs. B put me in her car and off we went to the hospital. I was going to miss the trip and I was not too happy.
At the hospital, after a two hour wait, I was treated for what turned out to be a spider bite with an injection of anti-venom, given some medication to take at home, and told to keep it iced and quiet for a day or two. Nothing too serious. Mrs. B called to give my folks the details, and we headed back home. My weekend was shot, or so I thought.
On the drive back, Mrs. B asked me if I would like to be dropped off at home or come back to her house where she would make us some lunch, and keep an eye on my knee for a while. I was starving, so the latter sounded like a pretty good idea. She prepared lunch as I sat in the kitchen and watched. She was moving about from the stove to the refrigerator to the sink and back. She was wearing a light colored, floral house dress that clung to her ample hips as she moved. And, as the spring air was warm and humid, the fabric was starting to cling to her damp skin. I could not keep from staring at her ass and legs as we carried on with some small talk while she worked in the kitchen before sitting down to eat.
When lunch was finished, she began clearing the table and while leaning over to pick up the lunch dishes, unknowingly offering me a peek at her cleavage. Of course, I stared. But before she noticed, I turned away. She asked if I would like to lie down on the sofa to ice my knee for a while. It was feeling a little better already and I told her I'd be happy to help with the kitchen chores. She refused and sent me to the sofa with an ice pack and the TV remote. I guess I shouldn't complain. She was being the sweet person she had always been and I was reaping the benefits.
When she finished in the kitchen and with some other light housework, she joined me in the living room and sat in an overstuffed chair to the side of the sofa with a book and glass of iced tea. I had been watching some game show re-runs and nodding off from time to time. But as she sat and read for a while, I was now being distracted by her gently swinging foot in my peripheral vision. Her sandal was dangling delicately off of her toes, and she crossed and uncrossed her legs while being drawn into her book. The story must have been a good one because she was really getting into it. And as she continued the movement of her legs, her dress rode higher and higher, and I was again being treated to a view of her fleshy white thighs several inches above her knee. At one point, she shifted and sat on a curled leg.
Now I could see right between her legs almost up to her panty clad pussy. At that point, I was oblivious to everything else. What was it about this woman that got me so worked up? I had a "knock out" girlfriend and had dated a fair number of girls from school. This woman was as plain as a brown paper bag, and old enough to be my grandmother, yet she was making me harder than I could imagine. Thoughts of our encounter from weeks ago ran through my mind. The scent of her sex and the feel of that thick, hairy pussy through those nylon panties as my face was smashed against her, was absolutely maddening. My knee was feeling better, but by cock was aching. Suddenly, she sat very still, placed the book in her lap and her feet flat on the floor. I looked up to see her glaring at me over her glasses. "Oh shit" I thought. "Busted again." "Here comes another ass chewing."
"Anthony," she calmly said. "Do you recall the conversation we had a few weeks ago when you, uhm,... helped me with the drapes?"
"Yes," I replied with my head down and my eyes attempting to avert her stare while glancing at the TV.
"And did you reflect on what we talked about that night; about what happened as you said you would?" she asked, obviously hoping that I had gotten a grip on our last encounter, found the error of my ways, and asked the Lord for direction.
"Mrs. B, I have re-played that moment so many times in my mind I can't even begin to count them" I truthfully admitted, thinking of the many nights of self administered pleasure I had enjoyed recently. "Well, so have I" she stated trying her best to be stern and judicial. But I swear a slight smile crossed her lips.
