This story is a fantasy based loosely on a one-night encounter with a friend's landlord. The night occurred when I was a teenager, and the woman was about thirty. There is a lot of teasing and story build-up so if you are looking for sex on page one you will be disappointed.
She stood over me in her white string bikini, all curves, soft and womanly, tanned and mostly toned. I tried to avoid looking at the parts of her covered by the bathing suit but I wasn't doing a very good job. Because she sort of smirked and grinned suggestively, it seemed.
"Do you want some?" she asked, lowering a plate of cut strawberries close to my face. I couldn't see her eyes, hidden behind dark sun shades, but the toying curl of her full lips and the teasing tone suggested, hinted, that she might be talking about something besides strawberries.
"No thanks, Mrs. White," I replied, kicking my feet gently in the pool and looking away quickly—quickly, before my eyes bored a hole thru the flimsy material covering her privates.
"David, I told you to call me Ashley," she scolded. "It makes me feel so old when you call me Mrs. White." She straightened, raising her head to look off towards the hot tub for her kids, Jason and his sister Rachel.
"Okay," I said, not knowing what other response would be appropriate. I was kind of inexperienced with grown-up women. Pretty much inexperienced with girls my own age, too. Mrs. White was looking away across the pool so I stole a glance up at her crotch, only inches from my face. The thin triangle of white fabric was stretched tightly over the curve of her pubic mound, outlining her puffy pussy lips, riding up the longitudinal dimple between them. There were no prickly spots behind the fabric and I imagined she must have her pubes shaved pretty close. From the triangle, thin spaghetti straps hung over her curving hips to the slightly larger patch covering her bouncy rump. Glancing farther up, I admired her flat stomach and bulbous breasts, although they were somewhat obscured under her long dark hair. Her thick hair was so pretty, cascading off her dainty tanned shoulders over the strings of her bikini top. Jason's Mom was hot; there were no two ways about it. Surprise! How had I missed that? I guess most of the times we had met she was always dressed in baggy sweats and over-sized t-shirts, cleaning up their apartment, or cooking, or some other adult-type thing. Don't get me wrong, I had always thought she was pretty, especially her hair—but I had no idea just how hot she was until she was standing over me there in that white bikini on the first day of our beach vacation.
Craning her neck, she looked off towards the hot tub for Jason and Rachel. She walked several steps away with her plate of strawberries to get a better view and I continued my assessment, scanning her jiggly bottom. The white suit appeared to be a shade or two smaller than whatever she had been sunbathing in last and there was that line of pale flesh at its margins, then the tan of her taut butt cheeks. I ogled her bouncing ass, a little turned on but also somewhat embarrassed with myself. She was as old as my Mom, in her forties or something, I didn't know exactly. I didn't even know how old my Mom was. I just knew that Jason's Mom was hot. All of the other people at the pool were looking at her too—the teenage boys throwing the ball back and forth, the guys lying around on the lounge chairs, even the teenage girl sunbathers. She bounced down the stairs towards the hot tub and I sighed, my shoulders relaxing as she disappeared from view.
-
"How old is your Mom, Jason?" I asked, trying to appear totally unconcerned and nonchalant.
"I don't know, man," he replied. "Forty-four? Something like that." He was relaxing against the edge of the hot tub, leaning back, his arms spread wide over the sides. "Why?"
Rachel giggled, and I felt a burning in my cheeks and neck, hotter than the water covering me to my shoulders. Rachel was just seventeen, a rising senior, but I was only a year older and still not totally sure of my popularity and coolness. Just a big gangly teen-ager, growing into manhood.
"Shut up, Rachel. What's so funny?" I splashed her but she continued smiling smugly.
"Why do you want to know how old our Mom is, David?"
"Uhhh ..." There was no good reason. "I just wanted to see if she was as old as my Mom." Rachel gave me the yeah, sure look.
"Yeah, sure."
"No, really."
She tilted her head, peering at me intently. Jason raised his head—he was also looking at me funny. My good buddy, who had invited me to go to the beach for a week with his family.
"How old is your Mom?" Rachel was checking.
"Uhhh ..." I was afraid they were going to ask that. "C'mon, guys. I was just kind of, like, comparing your family to my family."
Jason's family was way cooler than my family. My parents were, like, boring and square. And Jason's Mom was super-hot, parading around in that white string bikini that was, like, less than ten square centimeters in total area. It was so thin her nipples were practically poking through it. She was sitting up there by the pool right now, heating up the atmosphere, speeding up global climate change with her supreme hotness. Plus, my parents would never bring us to a cool beach vacation like this one. They liked that stupid old golf resort where everybody was dressed in polo shirts. But not Mrs. White. She wasn't so hoighty-toighty like that—she couldn't afford it, I don't think. It was just her—there was no Mr. White, he had left a long time ago. The condominium we were in for the week was only two bedrooms and one bath—and kind of run down. But that's cool. If Mrs. White ... Ashley ... was going to be parading around in that bikini all week ... well, I could tolerate staying in just about any old dump.
-
Mrs. White was cleaning up after dinner ... in a flimsy white cotton pajama outfit so thin and loose that every supple movement of her body was amplified to the point of lightning strikes and galloping hurricanes. I was mesmerized.
"David, would you like some more tater tots?"
"No thank you, Mrs. White."
She flicked those smoldering brown eyes with a sizzling flash. "Ashley," she commanded.
I stared at my lap. "No thank you, Ashley."
"That's much better." Her smile dripped honey as she hustled the left-over taters into a plastic storage container. She was doing a good job, taking care of us, feeding us, cleaning up after us, reminding us to put on sunscreen. She bustled off into the kitchen. Then suddenly the sky fell, the moon spinning by in a flashing swirl. She was back, leaning over the table directly in front of me, wiping it clean with a sponge, her thin spaghetti strap pajama top falling open, displaying an amazing heaven on earth. Her natural breasts were fully exposed, from the freckles deep in her tanned cleavage to the milky white melon tips dangling towards the table. Her beautiful orbs shook slightly, trembling under their own weight as she swabbed the table. I held my breath, praying that the moment would never end. Time stood still. The textured edges of her aureole were just visible, pointed directly downwards. The pinkish irritated skin at the edges of her tan lines. Even the wrinkly lines of stretch marks were apparent, beauty marks extending directly down towards those nipples which were just beyond view. Oh. My. God. I could imagine those heavy breasts in my hands, could imagine those nipples in my mouth ... testosterone-driven thoughts that had never before appeared suddenly started racing from my hypothalamus. There was a twinge in my boxers—I wouldn't be able to get up for a while.
Way too soon she was finished and rinsing the sponge under the sink in the narrow condominium kitchen. Captivated, I watched her behind shake and jiggle under the short pajama bottoms. The shorts slid loosely across her bottom, coming down only as far as the white line between her tanned buttocks and the tops of her rippling hamstrings.
"Can I get you anything else, David?" she smiled, feeling my eyes.
I shook my head no, quickly looking towards the television. Jason was sprawled out across the pull-out sleeper sofa watching some mindless situation comedy and Rachel lounged near him in a reclining chair. We were all a little sunburned and tired, especially me, after a long day at the pool and the beach.
