Lockdown Toy Boy

This is a lockdown story, but not necessarily the lockdown we are experiencing at the moment. It is merely the vehicle for the story. In it, a naïve and inexperienced eighteen-year-old boy and an older woman with an interesting past find themselves isolated together. They are a long way from civilisation and things inevitably happen.

All those participating in sex are eighteen or older and all acts are consensual.

Chapter One - Taking the Bait

It was a lovely day and for once I was awake and up early. I managed a cursory breakfast and loaded my fishing gear onto the little cart at the side of the cabin. It was only a couple of hundred yards down to the fishing area at the lakeshore but the amount of kit my Dad and I had accumulated in the six years we had owned the cabin meant the cart was a Godsend. I trundled it out onto the foreshore and hoped the noise of the tyres on the gravel would not disturb Mrs. Hanson in the cabin next to ours.

At least part of me hoped it would not disturb her. The other, testosterone-fuelled, adolescent part of me was willing her to make an appearance. After what I had witnessed her doing from a distance the previous night, I was longing to see her do it again. In equal measures I was scared of seeing her close-up, knowing what my reaction would be.

I tensed as I heard the sound of a bolt being drawn and felt myself reddening as her screen door opened. As she peered around the edge, I hoped she'd think it was the exertion of tugging the cart that was causing me to colour up, not sheer embarrassment. My Mum had once described her smile as 'enigmatic'. To me, it always felt like she was sizing me up - appraising me. Whilst her face radiated warmth, her eyes seemed to lock onto mine like lasers and I felt certain she could read my thoughts.

Given that my thoughts concerning her were rather improper, I prayed I was wrong.

"Good morning, Matthew, what a fine day!" Her voice was low and sultry and did nothing to allay my discomfort.

"Morning Mrs. Hanson. Yes, great for a spot of early fishing."

Her smile graduated from warm to full-on sunshine and my heart flipped as she emerged onto the porch in figure-hugging lycra fitness gear. "Sounds nice, but I have more energetic things in store. My morning workout - got to keep this old body in trim, huh?"

All I could manage was a nervous laugh. In that gear her body looked perfectly fine to me. More than fine - she looked incredible. I had watched her do her 'workouts' in the yard behind her cabin from one of our upstairs windows the previous summer season and to say she was fit was an understatement. Given her age, she had the grace and elegance of a gymnast and the physique of a woman half her years.

Feeling my embarrassment all the more, I made to move off but she was not done. "So your folks around? Didn't hear you get in last night - must have been late arriving?"

"No, we were supposed to come up together, but they got involved in meetings about this virus going around. They'll be up in a few days - sent me as an advance party to get everything geared up. Typical Mum and Dad - get me to do all the hard work and arrive late to enjoy the fun!"

Mrs. Hanson laughed. "Oh, you poor, downtrodden, put-upon youth! Well, have a pleasant few days on your own - just don't play that guitar too loud, hear me?"

Despite her stern look I knew she was toying with me. At the beginning of the previous summer she had seen me plonking away on an old acoustic guitar on our front porch as she passed. She had merely smiled and nodded at my efforts and disappeared indoors. Ten minutes later I heard footsteps on the gravel path and looked up to see her approaching with a guitar case in one hand and a large square box in the other.

She put them on the ground and gave me her inimitable smile. "You play well, Matthew. When my dear ex-husband... how shall I say it? When he traded me in for a younger model, he forgot these were in an upstairs cupboard. He won't miss 'em - he's got about fifty more!"

And so I became the proud possessor of a slightly worn 1968 Fender Telecaster Thinline and Vox AC35 amplifier that had been used onstage and in the studio by none other than Chuck Hanson of 'Baltimore Blues Inc' fame. Being a lover of the blues, I thought I had died and gone to heaven and couldn't thank Mrs. Hanson enough.

I pulled on the cart handle and promised her I would try and keep the volume down, giving her a little wave as I made to leave. When she spoke again, I almost had to bite my lip to stop from yelling out loud in joy at what she said.

"Oh and Matthew - it's been a while since I saw you, but I can safely say you've grown into a fine young man. Your Mom and Dad must be proud of you! You must be what, eighteen now? Yes, you've come a long way from the shy little Brit-kid I first saw when we bought his old place!"

Blushing all the more, I thanked her and headed off down to the fishing spot. I rigged up a couple of rods and settled down in the large camping chair usually occupied by my Dad. On a normal day, I would relax within seconds of setting up my gear. Just switch off, listen to the wind in the trees, the sound of the birds and gentle lapping of the water.

Today I was unable to get the vision of Mrs. Hanson in that tight, black and silver lycra out of my mind. And she had called me a 'fine young man'. My parents had never even called me that and they had certainly never said they were proud of any of my academic or sporting achievements. All my Dad was interested in was getting to point 'A' faster than me when we were out running or on our mountain bikes, or landing a bigger freshwater trout than his only son. Competitive, driven and completely blinkered. That was part of why I was growing up in America, not rural England, and it had taken me a long time to come to terms with it.

Once I got over my little bout of resentment, I thought back to the previous evening. It was a long drive up from the city and I was fairly new to driving. The size of the family SUV didn't help and it was getting quite late when I arrived. The carport was around the rear of the cabin, so at least I didn't disturb anyone unloading the endless bags of food, gear and clothes we always seemed to need for a week away.

Not that there were many people to disturb. Going by previous years, the Aaronsons would not be arriving for another few weeks and the furthest cabin from ours had been put up for sale at the end of last season. As far as we were aware, it was still empty. That only left Mrs. Hanson and whilst I was looking forward to seeing her again and resuming my improper thoughts about her, I also relished the thought of a few days completely on my own. A few days of fishing, running and cycling and a few evenings of beer, playing my guitar at very anti-social volumes and viewing some of my favourite websites on a sixty-inch, Ultra-HD television instead of an iPad mini.

Any hope of the guitar element of my wish-list was soon dashed when I saw a light on at the rear of Mrs. Hanson's cabin. Oh well, at least there was a chance of catching a glimpse of her working out and there would be no-one to stop me doing something rather naughty as I watched her.

Little did I suspect that very soon I'd get rather more than I had wished for.

The trips from the carport to the house were never-ending and at last I crashed into a chair in the den with a beer and a microwaved burger. It was pretty gross, but it did the necessary and I felt a little more human after the long drive and the unpacking that seemed to take even longer. I was tired and decided my super-sized naughty movies could wait for another night. I popped the top from another beer and headed up to my room. The tv in there was not as big, but it would still do the job I required from it better than my iPad.

It was as I reached the top of the staircase and glanced out of the window into Mrs. Hanson's yard that my plans for the evening changed somewhat. I still got the end-result I was aiming for, but instead of watching one of my favourite starlets going at it onscreen with a hunky stud or another lovely girl, I had a bird's eye view of my own little private live show.

I was there for forty minutes and by the end, I had accumulated a camping chair, binoculars, my phone, a box of tissues and another two beers.

If I had been turned on by watching Mrs. Hanson working out the previous summer, there were no words to describe how I felt watching her masturbate on her back porch. I came twice watching her live and once more afterwards as I flicked through the ten images and the short video I had dared to take on my phone camera.

I was snatched from my reverie on the lakeshore by an alarm going off on one of the rods. Given the subject matter of my reminiscence, getting up from a low chair was a rather uncomfortable experience and I was relieved that it turned out to be a false alarm.

Back in my chair, I flicked through the photos again. There were some beauties, but it was the ones with the ribbed dildo that did it for me. I fantasised it was me and not a brightly coloured plastic effigy she held to her mouth and tried to imagine what those amazing lips and tongue would feel like as they worked on me. I flicked to the next one, showing her spread-eagled on her lounger, legs wide apart, the left one pointing skywards. The dildo was now deep inside her, her head thrown back, mouth wide open. I could still hear her muffled cry as she came.

I was barely aware I was standing at the shoreline with my shorts unzipped. I replayed the sixteen second video of her post-orgasmic cooldown, stroking myself as she licked the dildo with a satisfied smile on her face before she took a long sip of wine. As she let out her last, drawn-out sigh, I grunted and felt blessed release as I unloaded onto the sandy soil of the lakeshore. I stood, gazing at the final frozen frame, taking deep breaths as the tell-tale signs of my lust were erased by the tiny waves lapping at the shore.

I cleaned myself off and sat once more. Did I dare keep the images? If they were found, I'd be in big trouble. But they were just so erotic I couldn't bring myself to delete them. Maybe I'd use them again tonight? Yes, just the once more, then they could go.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be sending Mrs. Hanson copies of them at her request within the next few days.

It was a bit of a surprise to realise I had been down at the shore for over two hours. It was now mid-morning and I'd not so much as had a nibble. I wound in the lines and left the gear there. It would be safe - it was a gated community and Mr. Aaronson usually left his gear out undisturbed all summer.

I trudged back up the path to the cabin wondering what to do with the rest of the day, hoping I'd not meet Mrs. Hanson again. As I rounded the final corner, I knew my luck was out. She was sitting on her front porch, now in a pair of tailored khaki shorts and a sleeveless, low cut t-shirt. The minimalist ensemble should have looked ridiculous on a woman her age, but she looked sensational.

She smiled at me over her coffee mug. "The intrepid hunter returns."

I held up my hands. "Empty handed though. They're not biting this morning."

She sighed. "Oh shoot, given the news we've just had you're going to have to do better than that, aren't you Matthew?"

I shook my head in puzzlement. "What news?"

In return, she pulled a face. "Uh-oh. Houston, we got a problem. I take it you've not spoken to your folks this morning then?"

"No - I was up early as you saw and there's no reception down by the lake."

She took a long sip of coffee. "Ok, in that case, I suggest you go indoors, call your Mom and come back so we can discuss a plan of action."

Now I was really confused. "Plan of action? I don't understand."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "That virus - the one that's delayed your folks travelling. It's gotten serious, Matthew. There are travel restrictions in place - no interstate travel, no-one allowed to move from where they are unless it's life or death." She let out a mirthless little laugh. "We're locked down here, Matthew. Just you, me, the fishies and the beasties. Just hope the perimeter fence keeps the bears out!"

I was aware I was standing with my mouth open in disbelief when her phone began to play a bluesy ringtone. She checked the incoming number and smiled at me, mouthing, "Your Mom!"

"Hey Helen, how's it going?" There was a long pause. "Yes, he's here with me now, safe and sound. I heard the news, but it seems this fine son of yours likes the great outdoors so much he was up early to catch fish." She grinned up at me and winked. "Unsuccessfully, I might add!"

The conversation went on for a few more minutes - surprisingly light-hearted given the worrying news we had all just discovered. Finally, Mrs. Hanson stood. "I'd normally pass the phone to him Helen, but given the distancing rules they've imposed, I guess I'd better get him to call you himself." Another long pause. "Yeah, we'll look out for each other, hon - don't worry. As long as he can catch the odd trout and Eddie can still do his weekly deliveries to the main gate, we'll be fine and dandy!"

She ended the call. "She's been trying to get you all morning since the news broke. Think you'd best speak to her then come back for a little council of war!"

Half an hour later I was sitting in a picnic chair a few yards away from Mrs. Hanson. She had emerged from the cabin as I returned with a large wineglass in her hand and gestured for me to sit. On the small table next to me were a bottle of the local beer and an antiseptic wipe.

She laughed ruefully and nodded to the wipe. "Give the bottle a clean. I've been here three days and I was on my own at home for two before that, but we should be careful. You've just come up from the city. Best not get too close until we are sure we're ok. Up to seven days they said for the symptoms to emerge. If either one of us starts to cough or run a temperature, we let each other know, yeah?" She held up her wine glass. "It's a bit early even for me, but given the news... Oh, and I thought you might prefer a beer to wine. Chuck liked the local stuff and there are still cases of the damned stuff in there. What's it called? Moose Pee or something?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, I laughed. "Fat Moose. And thanks, I could do with it!"

"So, your Mom give you all the details?"

I nodded. "Yeah, looks like we're here for the duration. She says the Aaronson's have had to shelve their plans. Shame as I know they live for coming up here."

She twisted her mouth. "Seems to be hitting the elderly hardest - hope they're ok and we see them soon."

We were there for an hour and it was by far the longest I had ever been in conversation with her in the five or so years I had known her. And for the first time I could recall, I was treated like an adult. My folks would have been condescending and talked to me as if I were still twelve or thirteen. In fact, my Mum had done just that for the previous thirty minutes and it made a refreshing change. As we talked, I began to look past her long, tanned legs and the sleek, jet black hair that fell in a thick ponytail over her left shoulder. Her gaze softened and the lasers became less intense. I began to listen to the words coming from her mouth instead of wondering what it would feel like working on my erection.

There was a little frisson of excitement when she said we should swap phone numbers. I now had her as a contact on my phone and I was on hers. We resolved to look out for each other and if I caught any fish, I was to leave them on her porch in a Ziplock bag on ice. She said she had some great recipes for trout. "Hey, I'm part Italian - cooking is in my DNA!" During the conversation she called Eddie at the 'local' store, a mere forty miles away, and he said he would still be running the weekly supply route. All we needed to do was phone ahead and he'd leave the order at the main gate.

We were sorted. All I had to worry about were my folks on the front line at the hospital.

At least, I thought that was all I had to worry about. It was when I rose to go that Mrs. Hanson changed the dynamic of an already strange situation and dropped a few megatons of fallout into my life.

"So, good to talk, Matthew. Hopefully, we can get to know each other a little better before this is all over."

I swallowed hard as another improper thought wormed into my brain. "Yeah, be nice. I'll try and rustle up some trout this afternoon. See you later!"

I turned to go and for the second time that day she caught me unawares.

"Oh and Matthew... I hope you enjoyed my little show and tell last evening?"

I froze to the spot. I turned back and she had her full-on laser stare back in action. I felt the blood rush to my face and she burst into laughter, a hand going to her mouth. "Oh my, if proof were needed!"

I didn't know what to say, so I stood mutely, my face burning as she stood appraising me with her tongue in her cheek and her hands on her hips. "Oh Matthew, I wish I could give you a big hug. Do you have any idea what it means to a woman of my age to think that a handsome eighteen-year-old finds her attractive?" Despite the fact that there was probably no-one within forty miles of us in any direction, she lowered her voice as if trying not to be overheard. "You

do

find me attractive, don't you?"

Oh God, oh fuck. My panic knew no bounds. "I... I... suppose..."

"You

suppose

? You watch me fetch off with a multicoloured ribbed dildo from your upstairs window and you fucking

suppose

?" She shrugged. "Oh well, that's gonna have to do isn't it? Better than nothing, I guess. Jeez these damned repressed Limeys!"

Despite my terror, I managed to blurt out, "Mrs. Hanson, I'm sorry, but yes I find you very attractive indeed. I'm sorry I watched you, but it was so erotic, so beautiful I couldn't stop."

Her smile softened. "Good. I'm glad - because it was all for you, young man. Your Mom phoned to say you were on your way up, so I'm sorry at my little white lie earlier. I knew you were here. I know you watched me last year doing my workouts. I've seen the way you look at me." She narrowed her slightly hooded eyes. "I'm used to being looked at in that way - it's been happening for a very long time now. I love being watched, Matthew. I love it and I love it that I turned you on. I hope you had - how shall I call it? A happy ending?"

I closed my eyes and bit my lip, willing the hard ground to open up beneath me. I decided honesty was the best policy. "Three, actually. How did you know?"

I watched in amazement as Mrs. Hanson bounced on the spot like a teenager, clapping her hands, her eyes wide. "Three? Yowzah, you still got it, girl!" She became serious once more. "I know because I have a sixth sense, dear boy. If you can see me, I can see you. I was hoping we could maybe have a little fun together before my planned entertainment showed up in a few days. But this morning's news has shot everything out of the water. So my hunky young gardener/handyman will not now be arriving to keep me warm and cosy at nights whilst trying to maintain a pretence at being a competent labourer in the daytime!"

She raised an arm and pointed at me, running her tongue around her wide lips. "But I got a ready-made replacement right here. We're gonna have some fun, Matthew, you and me. At first, it's gonna be long-distance fun. Once we're over the quarantine period, we're gonna get closer and closer and that is when the

real

fun will start!"

She picked up her wineglass and turned towards her door. "No need to rush things - we got all the time we need." As she spoke, she reached up and untied the ribbon in her hair, letting it flow down over her shoulders and thrust out her full, ample breasts. She put her hand over her pubic area and gave herself a little squeeze through the rough fabric, gyrating her perfect butt. "Show-time will be the same time tonight. I want a picture of your first coming. No touching yourself before then, got that, Matthew?"