Different Worlds

David recently sent me this true story and we communicated for a while to get all the details right, then I wrote it up for him and got his approval on what I wrote. It's a strange and fascinating story but should appeal to all mature woman lovers. The commentary begins here:

The line of hedges between our yard and the Stankowski yard might as well have been a real wall. It separated two different worlds – the one I lived in and the Stankowski world. We could have lived on different planets.

This was about 25 years ago and I was 18 & just finishing high school. I attended a private school and lived in a big two-story house with a well-manicured lawn, two wonderful parents, a big friendly Labrador retriever and lots of money. I was happy, healthy, financially comfortable and really, really hot for Donna Stankowski.

Donna's world was quite different from mine. They lived in a brick ranch house that was about 50 years older than ours – and looked it. The lawn was a mass of weeds, no one really cared about the landscaping or maintenance on the house and there was junk strewed around the yard. A rusted car sat up on blocks behind some boxwood hedges for as long as I could remember. My folks didn't talk much about the Stankowskis but it was clear that they were not their first choice for neighbors.

Although my family never socialized with them, we were friendly enough. There were friendly waves on the street although I never actually heard any words exchanged.

There was no Mr. Stankowski. Nobody seemed to know what happened to him. Mrs. S (as we usually called her) ran the household on some kind of meager pension and her good-for-nothing son Steve seemed to stay around at home a lot but would find jobs for a month or two before he was laid off or fired.

Donna, on the other hand, was something else. I was attracted to her as much for her forbidden distance from my world as I was by her looks which, frankly, were merely okay. She was a little beefy but had a pretty smile and a nice manner, just like her mother. I also liked her because she was in her 30s and her maturity as well as her voluptuous femininity really turned me on. I admit to jacking off many times to the thought of sliding my hard cock between her tits.

I wished I could see more of her (in more ways than one) but, unlike her good-for-nothing brother, she seemed to have a regular job. I think she was a waitress but I didn't know for sure. In any event, I didn't see her much but managed to find excuses to bump into her sometimes when I knew she was around the yard. It was clear she didn't take me seriously and I don't think she was bright enough to figure out I had the hots for her. Nevertheless, hope (and young cocks) spring eternal so I would go over there from time to time and talk about this and that. Mostly she just talked about the weather and even as horny as I was, sometimes I just couldn't go on with that kind of mindless blather forever.

I fantasized that she would take me into her room or behind the falling-down garage but it was fairly clear she wasn't interested and, besides, her mom was always there.

Mrs. S. was always there.

I never saw a woman do so much laundry. Maybe she was doing laundry for other people, I don't know. Frequently, I would see her hanging out the laundry to dry in the backyard and I could also hear a dryer running. Anyway, she was outside a lot.

This woman was no visual feast. She was kind of short – maybe 5-2 – and sort of lumpy. That's the only way I can describe it. She had short, stubby legs that peaked out from the bottom of the plain shift she always wore. I used to think she was pretty shapeless but once I saw her reach way up to hang a shirt from the clothes line and the shift lifted high enough for me to see a huge and surprisingly shapely ass.

But it wasn't the sweet ass that turned me on. It was something else quite unexpected and I wasn't able to get it out of my mind.

The panties she was wearing were plain white but they were loose and sort of dainty and I could see her ass clearly jiggling inside them.

I was smitten.

She was one of those ageless women. She could have been 45. She could have been 70. I didn't know for sure but guessed she was closer to 60.

Mrs. S wasn't exactly forthcoming with this kind of information or anything else for that matter. She was friendly and smiling but seldom said anything. One time she fell down over a hunk of junk in her yard when I happened to be outside. There was some blood on her knee from the fall and I ran over there to help her up. She smiled appreciation for my helping her but never said anything at all. She simply went into the house to dress the cut. Very strange.

There came a day in May when I was so horny I didn't know what to do. I was off from school (teacher's conference – hooray!) but didn't have a car because both my folks were working. I went into an unattached garage behind our house and went upstairs where there was a little room with a window. I was just sitting there breathing in the spring aroma when I saw Mrs. S in the yard. She was sitting outside in a chair and putting socks together in pairs.

What was interesting is she had her legs separated and her shift hiked up well up her thigh as she lifted down to the clothes basket between her legs to search for matched pairs. These legs, I decided, were not bad legs at all. And she shaved them, which surprised me a little. But, best of all, I could see the wonderful, floppy white panties between her legs.

It was at this point I decided Mrs. Stankowski needed some help matching socks.

I wandered over there and said, "Hi, Mrs. S. Need some help?"

She smiled and never made any move to close her legs or adjust her shift. She just kept about her business looking for socks in the overflowing clothes basket. I decided to squat down on the ground right in front of the clothes basket so I was facing her and staring right up the powerful legs and into the crotch of those wonderful white panties. My heart was pounding.

I idly started digging through the basket. I'll admit I was a little annoyed that she didn't seem to care if I helped her or if I was staring rather unashamedly at her panty-covered snatch. I wondered how far this little charade could go. I was going to find out and let the chips fall where they may.

Eventually, I found one pair of matching socks and when I did, I carefully threw the balled-up pair toward Mrs. S but missed the box where she was putting the socks. Instead, I dropped it on the ground right between her legs.

I slid the basket a little out of the way so she could continue to work and pretended to feel around for the errant sock ball. As I moved closer to her, I could smell her scent. It was a pleasant floral smell and was rather fetching, actually. It only inspired me all the more to make my move.

I grabbed the socks with my left hand and with my right hand, I grabbed the inside of Mrs. S's leg, as though I were losing my balance and needed support. This was my "plausible deniability" move. If she said anything, I could plead ignorance.

But she didn't. Mrs. S kept about the business of matching socks as though I were just an errant breeze that blew up her shift. But my hand was no breeze. I had all five fingers wrapped around the inside of her left thigh and the softness and closeness to my prize made me even bolder.

It was very quiet which only added to the eeriness of it all. All I could hear were some raucous blue jays. I took my hand, just inside the pulled-up shift and moved it to the top of her other thigh, then ran it all the way up to her waist.

"You have wonderful legs, Mrs. S. You really should display them more." I was breathing heavily and she finally stopped digging for socks. I boldly took my other hand and ran it on the top of her right thigh and started rubbing the outside of her legs, all the way up to her panties which I just flicked at with my fingers.

I was so taken with the depraved intimacy of the moment that I don't really remember her reaction. All I knew is that I wanted to do something with this woman. Something sexual. My excitement built as I realized she was unlikely to stop me.

Finally, I tossed out all pretense and started rubbing her panty-covered crotch with one hand and feeling the top of her ass with the other. I could just about slip my hand into the back of her panties to do both.

"Does this feel good, Mrs. S?" I asked her. "I hope I'm making you feel good."

Bending down, I kissed the inside of her thigh and licked her leg all the way to the panty. (Now I want to say right here that Atkins kept asking me if I could tell she was aroused at this point but the fact is I couldn't and she wasn't. At least I don't think so.)

I was wearing a pair of jeans and I stripped them off in front of her, tossed away my underwear and I could immediately feel the cool spring air tickling my hardened cock. "There," Mrs. S, "I said. "Now look what you've made me do."

Here I remember her looking down at my cock, then up at my face but there was no other reaction. Meanwhile, her shift was hiked up past her panties which were halfway off her ass due to my earlier manipulations.

In retrospect, I'm amazed I was so gentle. I was determined to do something – I didn't know what – but I didn't want to hurt her. I firmly pulled off her panties and caught a whiff of her feminine scent as I did so. She did nothing to help or hinder me and, as always, said nothing.

Her cunt was hairy and matted and I ran my fingers through the mat like a comb and worked a little finger inside. She was dry but I didn't care. I pushed her back against her chair and mounted her parted legs. When my cock felt the mounds of pubic hair, I exploded on her with my cum soaking her cunt as I groaned my exertion.

Still nothing from Mrs. S.

Breathing hard from my passion and horny as ever, I took one of her hands and ran it over my still stiff member and pushed it into her mat of cum-soaked hair. Then I mounted her again with the back of her hand beneath my scrotum. I kissed her full on the lips and, to my surprise, she opened her mouth. Encouraged, I lifted her shift still higher and felt gloriously fat tits and palmed her nipples while kissing her.

Then I rubbed her back, her shoulders, her fat belly and when my hand reached her cunt, she took it and rubbed herself with it. Finally, blessedly, I heard her breathing pick up. I put two fingers in her, then three and she bucked against them and breathed faster and faster until I think she came – but I wasn't sure.

I guess women always cum with a huge orgasmic scream of release in these stories but I'm here to tell you that doesn't always happen. All I know for sure is something happened and she finally settled back into her chair.

"You know what, Mrs. S?" I hissed into her ear. "You've got to turn over for me. I want to run my cock over your ass."

This was risky, I know, but I had fantasies of her ass ever since I saw her panties while hanging laundry. Mrs. S said nothing but laid down on a picnic bench next to her chair and her big, curvaceous ass spired into the spring air like a mound of azaleas in bloom.

I was in heaven. Still naked, I ran my cock along her ass, kissed it, licked it and reached under her to feel the great tits at the same time. She spread her legs so she was straddling the bench and her yawning pussy was lifted from the bench thanks to her chunky belly.

It was at this point I wished I had more hands. I touched her in every conceivable way, probed her cunt, her ass, her tits, her ears, her mouth. She was an accommodating if unenthusiastic partner.

It wasn't easy but I got behind her and found the matted twat waiting for me. Maybe it was my juices from earlier or maybe it was her own finally, but I had no problem pushing my cock into her. I pummeled her with my full length for many minutes while grabbing her ass to keep us both on the bench. Mrs. S got into the spirit of the thing and grunted while pushing against me and when she sighed and stopped rocking to my cock pounding, I came for the second time and I swear, I pushed so much cum into her elderly pussy that I practically blacked out.

When I was finished, she finally turned over and quietly put her shift back on and started for the house. I was disappointed. I was hoping for – what? – thanks, goodbye, you bastard, anything.

But Mrs. S didn't let me down. Just before she opened the screen door, she turned and smiled. And that's all I needed to know.

Just for the record, I spent that entire summer doing some pretty remarkable things with Mrs. S. By some miracle, her kids never caught us. She really loved to 69 and by the end of that summer, just before I headed off to college, I fucked her in the ass and she finally became vocal, resulting in my most spectacular orgasm ever – even until this day.

This is Atkins again. Thanks, David, for that great story. If anyone else has a true story of a sexual adventure with old woman, contact me and I'll work with you to tell your story so we can let the whole world know!