I had always been attracted to older women. As an elementary student I had crushes on my teachers. In high school I lusted after my girlfriends' mothers; fantasizing about them while I was screwing their daughters. In college I hounded, but never caught, my older professors. I regularly bought the various "Over 50" magazines and jerked off to episodes of "The Golden Girls."
I never had the guts to ask an older woman out. I guess I was hoping that, sooner or later, it would just happen like the stories in the granny porn mags.
Luckily for me, it finally did ...
I had taken the day off to run some errands and was returning to my apartment around lunch time. I came bounding up the stairs to find Mrs. Cotter, my neighbor, sitting dejectedly on the metal firebox bolted to the floor of our shared landing.
Mrs. Cotter was 50-something (to my 32) and totally unaware that I often daydreamed about her. She wasn't attractive in a traditional sense, but she wasn't ugly either. She was pleasing plump with wide shoulders, thick legs and full breasts. Her hair was a short, white-blonde and she was rarely seen without heavy blue eye-shadow, even though the 80's were long gone.
She was squatting on the metal box wearing a colorful silk robe. Being on the lower steps gave me a wonderful, if fleeting, view up and into her belted robe as she stood up. It was painfully clear she had nothing on beneath it.
"Oh, thank goodness," she said, "I'm so glad you're home."
"What's the matter?" I asked arriving at the landing beside her.
"I've locked myself out," she told me, "Trying to get my darn cat. She didn't want to take her medicine."
"Where's your cat now?" I asked, unlocking my door and trying to peek into her robe unnoticed. The soft dark beginnings of her cleavage were barely visible.
"In my apartment," she said, "The inconsiderate beastie. Can I use your phone?"
"Of course," I said, ushering her in with a wave. I watched happily as her butt jiggled beneath the smooth material. She pulled it closed more tightly as if she could feel my eyes on her.
"Is your sliding glass door open?" I asked, looking out at our connected balconies with only a metal railing dividing them.
"It might be," she said, brightening, "Can you get to it?"
"No problem," I assured her, stepping out onto the balcony. I landed on her side with a thump and tried the sliding door. It was locked.
"Locked," I hollered, "I'll try the windows."
Pulling a patio chair over, I tried both windows and was happy to find the far one unlocked. I pushed it open and leaned in to determine the likelihood of my being able to get completely in. It would work, so I dropped down and stepped back to my half of the balcony.
Looking into my apartment I saw Mrs. Cotter sitting on my couch flipping rapidly through a magazine. My face went red! I had left some granny porn on the table and she had found it. My cock jumped involuntarily.
I made some noise before saying, "Your window is unlocked."
She quickly discarded the magazine and stood up as I came in. Her nipples were pushing at her robe as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Great," she said huskily and maybe a little flushed, "I really appreciate this."
I returned to her window and pulled myself in. After a few awkward moments I found myself sprawled on her firm bed. Her room was pure feminine – pink and lacey to a fault. It smelled heavenly and I was lying in a pile of freshly washed and folded lingerie. My fall had knocked it about and I tried to straighten it a bit, enjoying the feel of the soft cotton.
"Meet me at the door," I hollered, leaning out the window.
I made my way through her apartment; it was exactly as you would imagine it would be – frilly and softly lit. There were pictures of her kids – all grown – scattered decoratively about and little knick-knacks everywhere.
