Marge O'Connell was a well built woman, an angular, almost lanky woman, with a firm jaw, but with big hips, a full belly and long, hanging breasts. She was a fine figure of a woman in fact, of some fifty years. She had untidy red hair, green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her strong, straight nose, a firm generous mouth. She was wearing, on this particular day, an old silk kimono that reached only half way down her thigh, and a pair of old shorts, for decency's sake.
She had decided, this particular Monday morning, after three years of being a widow, of being depressed and lonely, to reform her life, to start again, and so she began to collect all her old things, and poor Andrew's, and put them in boxes on the back verandah. That took her an hour and she realised then that she must be out of condition for she felt tired. Or getting old, she thought with a shudder. She stood at the back door, stretched and looked at the spring sun shining on the chaos of old vegetable beds and on the tall grass that used to be their lawn. A magpie trilled in the gum tree next door and as she turned to look at the creature, she saw John, pottering around in the garden beyond her fence. John was eighteen and at school, but seeing that he was simple minded and was getting nowhere with his studies, and seeing that he kept getting bullied by the other boys and teased by the girls, everyone concerned was happy enough to let him take a day off now and then. He was wearing a pair of tight shorts and nothing else, and without thinking about it, Marge began to wonder at how fit the young man looked. Fit and lean and well muscled. She wondered too what he would look like without those shorts and suddenly realised that she was blushing, was starting to want him.
She gave an impatient grunt and promptly put all such thoughts out of her head. To work, she thought. "John!" she called. He loped over to the fence and she trotted down and asked him if he would like to help her shift some boxes into the old garage. He nodded and said yes and she made small talk for a while, simply to be close to him and to admire his arms, his chest. Then she realised what she was doing and abruptly closed the conversation and walked back to the house, telling John to come round the back. John joined her at the back door and she told him what she wanted, then went into the kitchen to put some lemonade into the fridge. She could still hear him working out there and so, restless, she went into the bedroom and on an impulse pulled off her shorts and bra. There, that felt cooler, for she was feeling strangely hot. She then slipped into a pair of thongs and padded out the back, feeling quite excited by the silk moving across her bare nipples and the cool air on her cunt.
One or two boxes were still on the verandah, but of John there was no sign. Nor could she hear any activity in the garage.
She walked down to the side door, which they were using for the big garage door itself was too much bother to raise, and looked quietly in. A workbench ran across the back of the place and there was John, standing and reading something, a magazine, opened on the bench. A cardboard box stood opened beside it and suddenly Marge realised that it was that old collection of porn that Andrew had and that he had refused to throw away.
Then Marge gave a little gasp, for John suddenly pulled down his pants and let them drop to the floor, revealing his tight, young man's buttocks. His right hand now moved to the front of his body, down low, and began to jerk back and forth and she realized with a shudder of arousal that he was in fact pulling himself off. Convulsively she slipped a hand inside her kimono, grabbed one of her heavy breasts with one hand and squeezed, as her other hand sank to her crotch, lifted the fabric and began to rub her hungry nether lips.
No, no! she thought. This is crazy. And she fled. Then she stopped at the back steps. She was tingling, wanting, breasts and cunt heavy with desire. She turned and called out to the boy. She had to stop him spending himself like that! "Are you finished?" she said loudly, as she walked slowly back down to the garage door again, pulling the kimono back into place. His voice in reply sounded a little breathless, but when she came in he was wearing his shorts again and carrying the box to put it up on one of the side shelves.He seemed a little red in the face.
"When you finish the last few boxes, come into the living room," she said, smiling nervously at him. Like a school girl, she thought. Ridiculous. She none the less noticed his eyes roving up and down her body with a slight gleam of interest that had not been there before. She started to blush again and turned quickly away, but could not resist giving her broad hips a little extra sway as she walked off.
When they were both sitting on the lounge with their lemonades, she tried to make conversation.
"I'd let you watch telly, John," she said. "But I've lost the remote control."
He grunted and drank some more lemonade.
"Might have kicked it under one of the lounge chairs," she said and again he grunted. She got up.
"I might get down and see if it's there," she said an idea forming in her mind. She stood a little behind him now and pulled up the back of her kimono a little.
