Auntie Angela is absolutely the life and soul of the party and you couldn't find a more lively and fun character than this attractive lady of sixty. She has been the mainstay of the Women's Institute in her picturesque Hampshire village since she retired from an acting career five years' ago. She's always in and out of the village hall with her many friends, baking cakes, making jam, organising fetes and other worthy, voluntary activities that make rural England such a pleasant place to live.
Although now living in Scotland, I regularly drive down to visit her, staying in a wee converted barn in the garden of her pretty thatched cottage that sits by a twinkling stream teeming with trout. You could hardly imagine what a pleasure it is to be there, being looked after by Angela, who's a fantastic cook always stuffing me full of home cooked scones, cakes and delicious meals. It's such a peaceful place and I can sit by the fire after a few beers in the local pub, later collapsing into a comfy king size bed. I truly love the English countryside too and there is nothing better than walking the footpaths through woods, fields, along meandering rivers and up and down the gentle hills of the Green and Pleasant Land.
Although Auntie Angela loves my company, I do try to pay my way when I'm down there by doing chores like a bit of gardening, cleaning gutters, running errands and suchlike. One summer's day when she was busy with her WI friends in the village hall, she phoned me to ask if I could go to the nearby town to pick-up some compost from the garden center. On returning, Angela asked me to place the heavy bags in a corner of the hall, which the lovely, mature ladies were going to use to pot some plants. I am quite tall and strong and some of the ladies seemed to be giving me admiring glances as my muscles bulged under a tight polo shirt.
Invited over for a cup of tea and a slice of Victoria sponge, I sat next to a cute little lady who seemed a bit shy, but yet greeted me with a wide smile under sparkling, wide, brown eyes. She introduced herself as Hazel, a friend of my Aunt and also living in the village. I'd guess Hazel to be in her late forties, small at only 5'3" with straight brown hair below her shoulders, framing a round and very pretty face. I couldn't help but notice what a tidy curvy figure she had too, with a fine cleavage and perfect round boobs filling her cotton blouse above a nice flat tummy.
As I towered over Hazel in height and size, I couldn't help but feel the flutter of excitement in my chest and the light pulsing in my groin that I get when I first meet a girl that I fancy and instinctively wish to hold and protect. Angela then came over and put her arms around both Hazel and I, saying to me: "I see you've met my lovely friend Hazel, she's a nature lover and hiker herself" and then with a cheeky wink: "you two should go for a walk together".
That evening I went over to the Feisty Weasel inn with Angela for a pint and was pleasantly surprised when Hazel came into the pub to join us. I suspected this was at the invitation of my auntie, who would never miss any opportunity to act as matchmaker.
Hazel might have been on the shy side, but I enjoyed chatting with her and when she became more comfortable in my company, I could clearly see how bright and intelligent she was, enjoying the male attention. We both became a little typsy which made her somewhat open to flirting.
After a few drinks, Hazel got up to leave, so I offered to walk her home, which wasn't too far. At her garden gate, I lent down to give the lass a gentle hug and kiss on the cheek, noting how she stroked my back and then along my arm, brushing my hand as we parted, a subtle sign of romantic interest.
Over the next week, I met Hazel in the pub on a couple of occasions and went for a stroll with her along the river bank, managing to hold her hand as she crossed some styles. At one point, I picked her up in my strong arms to help her over a fence, much to her delight.
This lovely mature woman began to open up to me about her life and I was surprised when she mentioned she had been single for many years. I later asked my aunt about this, who said that Hazel had been engaged in her early twenties, but had been cruelly dumped by her fiance, hurting her so badly that she had difficulty at trusting men. She'd actually never known Hazel to have a boyfriend in over fifteen years since they first met. Angela was elated that she had met me though, as she knew I would treat the obviously vulnerable Hazel in a loving and gentle manner.
One evening, after a lovely supper at Angela's cottage, I went with Hazel to sit on a bench at the end of the garden next to the stream to watch the sun go down. I put my arms around her, holding her little body close to me and then leaning over to kiss her softly on the lips.
Deep brown eyes looked up at mine as our gentle kissing slowly morphed into a full blown snog. I pulled her to me stroking her back in circles as our mouths opened and tongues started to swirl together in a lusty french kiss, A small hand rose up to stroke my face and head lovingly whilst she clung to me and small mewing noises came from deep within her throat. My groin began to throb as blood pulsed into my cock making it poke uncomfortably into my trousers in instinctive hope of finding a warm wet home. This glorious activity seemed to go on forever whilst our hands stroked and fondled each others' bodies deliriously, as our mouths opened and closed over each other, tongues fencing and swirling.
I could bear it no longer and with a deep drive to satiate my lust, I scooped Hazel up into my arms, carrying her to the door of my barn, then crashing it open in the desperate urge to ravish this little beauty on the large sofa in my living room.
