I lived in a village in England when I was eighteen and still at school. I lived with my parents and was known to many people in the village. On Saturdays I did my job delivering groceries to houses on my trade bike and ran errands for people. I was sex mad, fancied every woman in sight and in particular older women. My friend's mothers, neighbours, and my parents' female friends, my teachers at school, just women I saw on the train and in particular women to whom I delivered groceries to. I would have given anything to have a sexual encounter with an attractive mum of, say thirty-five. I often saw them at the door early on Saturday morning. They would appear in their night attire or bathrobes and often were revealing more of their flesh than they would normally. My eyes were alert to this and I savoured every opportunity. In truth I did not see a lot, but my imagination ran wild. I had a permanent erection and masturbated for the county.
During holidays from school I would be at home and in particular on rainy days and stuck indoors wishing I could be with a friend's mum making love to her in her warm bed. My parents were at work and they would come home from work for lunch. Which I would prepare for us all.
My mother worked in a wine shop and on one occasion she came home for lunch carrying a shopping bag and in it was a paper bag containing a bottle. She put the bottle on the table and my father enquired whom it was for. She explained that an acquaintance, Mrs K had phoned her and asked her to drop it in to her when she came home for lunch. My mother had not had time to do this so she asked me to take the bottle of Gin around to Mrs K. after lunch. I agreed and immediately began to fantasize about this woman. She was around forty with two children; both of them were at private school and much younger than me. Her husband was a quiet man who worked away a lot. He commuted to the city as far as I knew. She was dark and average built for a woman of her age, but with fairly large breasts and was filling out around the hips. One reason for her filling out was the Gin. The word was she liked her gin and was inclined to indulge rather more than she should have. It was nineteen sixty-six and working people did not drink at home. Only the wealthy could afford that pleasure.
The Ks lived in a large private house on the edge of the village. It was secluded and they were relative new comers. I guess she was lonely, with her husband and children away and she did not work. I delivered her groceries and had often seen her a little hung over at ten o'clock on a Saturday morning. If I went any earlier, I only got the husband before he went off to golf or no answer at all. She had been quite demanding on occasions when asking my mother to bring the gin home, so mum was inclined to oblige. Even during our lunch she telephoned to enquire where her gin was. My mother told her that John (that's me) would be around with it after lunch.
I could not wait, I even lost my appetite, and as soon as my parents had left the house I went upstairs to wash and shave and make myself look presentable and smell as nice as possible. I walked the half-mile to Mrs K's and my heart pounded as I walked down the narrow path to her kitchen door. I rang the bell and after a few seconds she came to the door. She looked anxious and took the bottle from me. She was polite and asked how I was, how much she owed me, and would I come in for a moment while she wrote the check.
She chatted about her children and her husband who were away all week and then could not control herself any more. She had to pour herself a drink. It was a large one, probably four measures and topped off with tonic to the top of a tumbler. She took a swig and then sat down on a chair at the kitchen table. She had forgotten what she was doing. She looked up and smiled at me and asked again how much the gin was. She stood up and went to get the check book from another room. I sat there in her kitchen alone and thought about this situation. How am I going to get her into bed? I weighed up the odds. She was alone, she had been drinking, and she had known I was coming to the door, but still wore a loosely tied bathrobe. She had make-up on, had done her hair and smelled delightful. She was also very nervous and trembled.
She called me from the next room and I went in to her dining room where she was trying to reach the check book from a high shelf in the cupboard. She claimed her husband Ken put it up there out of her sight. She said that he tried to discourage her from buying more gin and how boring he was and went away only leaving her with one bottle for each week. He got drunk while he was away and when he was home, but she was not supposed to. As she reached up for the check book her robe rose up her thighs and I could see ample white flesh and even the hint of her ass. It was a very sexy sight, but not as sexy as the view I got into the robe revealing one of her breasts. She was naked under that robe. I could see the soft curve of her right breast and how it hung revealed a beautiful shape. I could not see her nipple - that was still hidden by the silky robe. There was a hint of a mound, which made me wish that the robe fell an inch further away. I offered to reach it for her and she agreed. She straightened her robe and I handed her the check book. My penis was hard by this time and I had to adjust myself. I tried to be discreet but she glanced down.
I followed her back into the kitchen where she placed the check book on the table and picked up a pen to write. She leaned forward and the valley between her breasts came into sight. She shook as she tried to write the check. I took this as another positive sign and took fleeting glances at the view which presented itself to me; those two soft white mounds and the hint of her nipples through her robe. The robe became looser and she could not hold it together and hold the pen and the check. More came into view. Her breasts hung before my eyes, almost two thirds were in view. Her right breast was more in view than her left. The gap in her gown even gave me a view of her belly. This was rounded as she sat there. She had a little pot-belly. I had seen nothing like this in the flesh before. I had seen photos of bikini clad models but never a naked girl; and certainly not a mature woman. It was very sexy and my head was swimming.
I offered to write the check for her as she was struggling. She handed me the pen and I stood next to her as she sat on the chair. Now I could see down her robe. I could see all of her breasts from above, her belly and as her robe was parted, her thighs. Her thighs were, long and slim, but a little plump, however they were pretty, sexy, and unblemished. I wrote the check for her and she signed it. I could smell her perfume, hairspray and gin.
The transaction was complete, so I took the check, folded it and put it into my jeans pocket. "Don't lose it," was her comment as she stared at my groin next to the pocket.
I was still hard and could feel the little bud of semen excreting from the eye of my penis. Was I to leave now, how could I prolong this stay? She broke the silence, which seemed to last for minutes but was in fact only seconds. She offered me a drink, fruit drink, tea, coffee or may be gin and tonic. I went for the latter and she poured us both one. Mine was more liberal than hers, another sign I thought. I had drunk gin before but only beer as a rule. I took a swig and so did she. She led the way in to her living room and invited me to sit down for a chat. I sat in an armchair facing the sofa where she sat. The robe was fastened tighter now covering her intimate parts. I could just make out the tell tale signs of her nipples as she folded her arms across her chest below her breasts. She asked me questions about my life and school and my parents. We got along well, she needed the company and I felt sorry for her as she spoke of her lonely life.
The gin was taking affect on me because I drank it to quench my thirst, and to appease my dry mouth and to contain my nerves. She sipped hers but she was more careful with the consumption. She got up and excused herself from the room. I guessed she was going to the toilet. She did and she came back with the gin bottle and tonic. She topped us both off. I said that I ought to be going and she insisted that I stayed for a little longer as we were getting along so well. She sat now on the edge of the sofa and the robe was gaping again. I could see her cleavage and the inside of her thighs. I was in heaven, almost. She then moved to place her legs on the sofa and as she did so she was quite ladylike but inevitably less careful than she should have been. Was it the alcohol making her less careful and relaxed or was there another reason? She moved her legs to her left onto the sofa and sat with her right side towards me. As her legs went around I saw up her robe. The view was heart stopping for an eighteen year old. I saw her thighs up to her buttocks briefly and her dark patch between her legs. It was a fleeting glimpse, but I could see the curly pubic hair. I had never seen on a female before and maybe a hint of pink as her legs parted. I looked away for a second, but had to look back as she adjusted her sitting position. She pulled the robe down but in doing so revealed her thighs to her buttocks but this time it was a side view. I now could clearly see inside the gaping top of the robe. A side view of the inside of her left breast greeted my lustful eye, and yes the nipple was plain to see. She made an attempt to cover up and sipped again on her drink.
My head was swimming, my mouth was dry, my heart pounded and my cock was bursting. What should I do? I had to know and I had to make a move or I may regret missing this opportunity for the rest of my life. I had missed a half chance when I was younger and alone in a hospital room recovering, when a young nurse lay on my bed and stretched her arms above her head and said how much she liked me. Her breasts rose as she spoke and six inches of thigh was revealed as she stretched. I did nothing but I was only thirteen years old and she was in her early twenties. Looking back, I missed out but it was a huge risk. This time things were surer. If I offered to pour her a drink, from where the bottle was where she lay I would be able to see right up her robe and see her fanny again. This would also happen if I went to the toilet, but she may close her legs, she might not. Would this be a definitive sign? I could also say that it was time to go and offer her a good-bye peck on the cheek and see where that led. I decided to go for the toilet option. She jumped from the sofa, again carelessly, revealing cleavage and thighs and insisted on showing me upstairs to the bathroom. I followed her and of course got a reasonable view up her robe. I saw the curve of her white bottom and if that wasn't enough she bent over at the top to pick up a piece of fluff or cotton on the landing. This said it all. Her arse was in full view and the pubic hairs around her fanny were a scene of delight, as they were obviously damp. I had seen nothing like this in my life. She took a few seconds to straighten and when she turned to look at me her face was more flushed than mine. I went to the bathroom where I relieved myself but also took the opportunity to investigate the linen cupboard. To my pleasure I found bras, size 36c but plain and well worn as were her plain white but French knickers. Looking back, a sign of a lady resigned to not being loved. Suspenders and stockings were also part of her underwear, but only white and light tan respectively. I found girdles and corsets with suspenders in pink and white. She didn't need to wear a corset, but most women did as well as stockings in those days.
