"Oh, hello Johnny!" Mrs. Hanson said cheerfully as she answered his knock on the door. Johnny's jaw dropped; at how stunningly beautiful Mrs. Hanson looked this morning! She wore a sort of collared halter-topped white dress - a VERY revealing halter-topped dress - that flared out to a full, wide skirt ending right below her knees.
Mrs. Hanson's white dress was very low and daring - she was practically bare to the waist, save her skimpy top portion. Johnny could not keep his eyes from roving; Mrs. Hanson was displaying a LOT of bare skin. "So tell me, Johnny, do you notice anything different today?" she asked, raising her arms behind her head. This caused her knockers - quite a respectable pair - to thrust straight forward, right in Johnny's face.
Johnny gulped, flustered.
Does she mean, like, she isn't wearing a bra?
he thought. Was it the cool, early spring air that raised goose bumps all up and down his spine, or the effect that cold fresh air had on Mrs. Hanson's nipples through the thin, almost translucent fabric of her dress? She obviously never dressed this way at school. Embarrassed to be staring so obviously at Mrs. Hanson's tits, Johnny dropped his eyes, only to notice her sleek calves and narrow ankles ended in a pair of lace-up 'wedgie' sandals. "I dunno," he stammered, "uh, is it your shoes?"
"No, silly!" Mrs. Hanson laughed, placing a hand on his chest. "I'm not wearing my pearls!"
That was it, of course. Mrs. Hanson's famous six-foot long pearl necklace was her trademark. She usually wore two or three strands tight about her neck as a sort of choker, then let the remaining loop dangle down below her waist; often playing with it absentmindedly, occasionally chewing on the pearls in a subconscious manner that seemed full of connotation.
To top things off, today Mrs. Hanson sported a new coiffure; her long blond hair, usually done up in the back with a pencil to hold it in places, was cropped to a short style of bouncy blond locks, full of flounce. To Johnny, her stunning new look - confident, mature, sexy - brought to mind a sort of ultra-hot Mrs. June Cleaver, the mom from the old Leave It To Beaver TV show.
Johnny had dutifully reported to Mrs. Hanson's house at nine o'clock this Saturday morning to meet Mrs. Hanson, or rather, her daughter Susie. They intended to go over some work in the college-level physics class he was having difficulty in.
"Susie's not back yet," Mrs. Hanson informed him.
"Not back yet?" Johnny asked, puzzled. Where could she possibly be this early on a Saturday morning?
"No, she spent the night with her cheerleader girlfriends at the 'Girl's Sleep-Together'."
Ah, that explained it. The Stuffville High School Girl's Sleep-Together was an annual tradition, a sort of 'girls only' rite-of-passage the cheerleaders went through in their Senior year.
"But you're welcome to come in, Johnny," Mrs. Hanson continued. "Maybe we can go over some, uh, advanced concepts, or something."
Johnny swallowed, half out of anxiety, half from enthusiastic memory of the last "one-on-one" session Mrs. Hanson had put him through. He'd tried to rationalize their last encounter; it was a sort of spontaneous thing that had just happened, he told himself, the sort of one-time thing that goes on between adults all the time; it meant nothing in regards to his steady relationship with her daughter, and probably wouldn't happen again. Now he wasn't so sure.
He caught a whiff of her perfume as she held the door for him. That, and the close proximity to her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her dress top, caused him to go immediately hard in his trousers. Mrs. Hanson didn't even try to hide the fact that she was staring right at his crotch, and despite his overwhelming embarrassment, his boner seemed to be growing longer by the second!
Mrs. Hanson led him to the breakfast nook, by the countertop that connected to the kitchen area, and indicated for him to have a seat at the table. Johnny placed his books on the table and turned his head to encounter Mrs. Hanson's massive boobs right in his face. As Mrs. Hanson arched her back her monsters jutted forward, seemingly suspended in the air mere inches from his face, straining at the thin fabric that seemed barely able to contain them.
"Now, Johnny," she began, "I want you to tell me the truth about something. You're a good looking young man - in fact, I think you're
hot
- and I'm, well,
older
..."
Oh boy,
thought Johnny,
here we go. She's going to bring up what happened the other day...
"...do you think I still have the kind of breasts it takes to get away with wearing a dress like this?" she breathed huskily, letting her fingers play gently about the sides of her round tits.
Johnny gulped, speechless. He could only sit there, frozen in time and space as he regarded her formidable pair. "Here, let me help you," Mrs. Hanson said caringly as she took his hands and placed them over her huge cans.
Johnny could only marvel as he cupped Mrs. Hanson's cantaloupes in the palms of his hands. Like the other day after school in Mrs. Hanson's office, he was simply awestruck at how they felt; full, round and firm yet quite soft and pillowy, remarkable for a woman in her late forties. Johnny didn't know a lot about tits; he didn't know much about women at all, come to think of it, but he estimated Mrs. Hanson's melons had to be somewhere in the 44DD league.
"Well... ...I... ...uh..." Johnny mumbled with characteristic dumbness while allowing himself to fondle and squeeze her impressive hooters.
"Go ahead, Johnny," Mrs. Hanson continued, "pinch my nipples." Johnny pinched and rolled her pointy nipples between finger and thumb. As he did so Mrs. Hanson emitted the most sublime sigh, "Oooooooooohhh!"
"Look," she said, straightening up, "it comes off like this." Reaching behind her neck, her dress suddenly seemed to come flying off, and Johnny became aware that her brassiere wasn't the only undergarment Mrs. Hanson had gone without this morning.
Mrs. Hanson now stood before him stark naked, save for the laces of her 'wedgie' sandals that criss-crossed up her well-shaped, muscular calves. As before, Johnny marveled at how perfect her body seemed for a mature lady. He let his eyes wander from her spectacular breasts to the way her waist almost narrowed, to her nearly flat belly with but the slightest roundness, then down to appreciate the way Mrs. Hanson kept her nether hair neatly shaved and trimmed into an abbreviated blonde triangle. Mrs. Hanson's generous hips gave way, as she turned, to the cutest pair of little round asscheeks, perched above a most impressive set of muscular thighs; her remarkable lack of tanlines indicated she was an ardent practitioner of sun worship
au naturel