You need to read Pt. 01 to understand how we've reached this point. This story includes anal and incest of sorts. if you dont like those things, dont continue reading.
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The morning after our photography session, Amy went back to her normal persona and acted as if nothing had happened. I took her lead and didn't mention it and went back to our normal relationship.
About a week later, Amy was out when I got home from work, so I got out of my work clothes, into something to chill out in and went to the lounge room and watched TV.
Mrs Church (Amy) returned about 6.30pm with some Chinese take away. She came out with plates, cutlery and the food. She wore her usual modest clothing. A white button up blouse, mostly covered by a cardigan, a just above the knee skirt, hosiery and comfortable shoes.
We chatted about our respective days and when dinner was done, I went to gather the plates and cutlery, but she stopped me. "No, I'll do that Sean. You just sit and relax. There's something I want to talk to you about."
'Oh no,' I thought, I guess I'll need to look for other accommodation and that thought was made worse by the sight of, what I'd come to realise as, Mrs Church's very sexy arse walking away from me.
In her fifties, Mrs Church was twice my age and before last week, I'd never considered looking at a woman of her age with lust. She had an hourglass figure. Not the type people usually imagine when they hear that term.
She didn't have a pinched waist with a flat belly. She was fuller figured, but still hourglass shaped. I'd estimate her bust to be 40ish, EEish. I couldn't estimate her other vital statistics only to say she had an ample, nicely shaped arse and her waist was in proportion with the rest.
I was tense when Mrs Church returned, but couldn't take my eyes off her pendulous breasts. She stopped about two metres, diagonally to my right and came out with, "I want to talk to you about sexual harassment."
I was gobsmacked to say the least. I'd been nothing but respectful to her in the time I'd been staying in her house and what had happened last week was initiated by her uninvited groping of my arse (not that I minded).
Before I could say anything, she continued. "There isn't any sexual harassment going on and I would like to be on the receiving end of some." She came and stood beside my chair, side on. "When I stand beside you like this, it means I expect some sexual harassment. I do n't mean verbal harassment, I mean manual harassment."
With that she took my right hand and placed it on that gorgeous butt I'd been drooling over moments ago. Not slow on the uptake, I began stroking it with my open palm, feeling every contour and curve, feeling it's firmness beneath that tight skirt.
I pinched it all over with my whole hand, grabbing it all over and groping it. After a while, Mrs Church took my wrist and placed my hand on the inside of her left thigh, just above the knee.
The feeling of her hosiery was electric as my hand slid ever so slowly up her thigh, her legs were close enough together to mean the back of my hand also touched her inner right thigh as it rose higher.
Then I found what I was hoping for. The lace of the garter at the top of her stockings. My hand stopped as I explored the feel of the material and lacy pattern and contemplated the bare thighs waiting for me millimetres above.
It was an erotic moment and I held my breath unconsciously and I sensed Mrs Church had done the same. We both let out our breaths simultaneously as my hand crept slightly higher and my hand was on her bare, silky smooth skin.
I revelled in that feel and her in my touch. When I felt the beginnings of the fold in Mrs Church's thigh where her thighs meet her groin, I changed my direction. As much as I wanted to feel her pussy, I wanted to tease her and myself.
My hand ventured up to her well proportioned butt cheeks and all I felt was bare skin. 'Is she sans panties?' I thought to myself. I explored her cheeks as I'd done over her skirt, but without the skirt her flesh was more yielding and pliable, just as I like.
As my hand went higher, I felt the thin strip of material emerging from her arse crack. 'Ah,' I thought, 'a g-string.' Mrs Church roused me from my revelry.
"You have a lovely touch, Sean. So soft and gentle," she cooed as my hand fondled the bottom of her cheeks. I felt her legs separate in invitation to me to delve further under. "I usually prefer men with big rough hands. Viva la difference!"
Her cooing changed to a deep groan when my upturned hand slid under her cheeks and across the crotch of her cotton panties. I continued to take it slowly, as much for my pleasure as hers. There's nothing quite like the feel of a panty covered pussy and the gradual expansion of what was a tiny wet spot into a wet patch.
I stroked her pussy gently but firmly through her knickers. The bend in her knees would probably have been imperceptible to an observer, but what my hand felt was her pussy press against it in a plea to press harder.
Mrs Church groaned louder and pushed down a little harder as my two middle fingers pushed her knicker material into her pussy, not caused by me, but by the increased pressure of her bearing down.
She moaned and said rather breathlessly, "That feels so good. By the way, you don't need to wait for my sign that I want to be groped and molested. Feel free to do it anytime, if it's going to be like this. I won't be waiting for any signs from you. I'll molest you any time I like."
That last statement made me dribble precum into my pants. It wasn't a BDSM FemDom statement. It was more like, "As your landlady and a much older woman, I hold the power in this relationship."
I was quite happy with that. I was a confident young man, but happy to take the follower role with Mrs Church. She'd convinced me to call her Amy, which I now did normally, but in our short dalliances, I preferred her to be Mrs Church.
As I was thinking about that, she suddenly moved away from me and said, "Hang on a minute." She bent slightly and removed her panties in a ladylike fashion and my cock throbbed at the thought of her being so randy, she couldn't wait for me to finger her cunt.
She turned and looked in my lap, "Show me the bulge in your trousers, Sean." I leaned back pushed my hips forward to give my mature lady what she wanted. She surprised me by draping her wet knickers over my tent and said, "You can use those to finish yourself off. I expect them to be full when I find them in the upstairs bathroom laundry basket. And by the way, they were perfectly clean when I put them on, after arriving with dinner."
This outwardly reserved, demure 50 something housewife was a deviously seductive minx. She knew exactly what she was doing and where she was taking this. Me, as a mid twenties young man had no idea where it was going, but I was enjoying the journey.
