The overall concept of this storyline came from remembering back, and wishing, hoping for an experience like this.
All character descriptions, actions, thoughts, and depictions are pure fantasy. All characters in this story are over the age of 18. Any resemblance to an actual person, incident, location, or slice of reality is purely coincidental. If anyone is offended by a story of an older woman and a younger man, then understand that I am trying to entertain and not offend.
Enough nice stuff. I hope you like this story. If you don't, then either click away or GET OVER IT.
I want and need to thank my editor in chief kenjisato. Thanks to his oversight, editorial genius, and hard work this story is a better product than it was before I started. Thank you!
My Appreciation of Older Women - Miss Gay
At fifteen years of age, my hormones explode into a raging, lust-filled orgy of wishful thinking and fantasy. I (Steve) walk around with a perpetual erection wishing, craving, dreaming of, and yearning for something; besides my palm, to bury my throbbing dick into.
As with a lot of young men my age, talking to girls or women usually ends up with me being in a tongue-tied, jumbled-up conversation, resulting in frustration and embarrassment. I get nervous and my mind goes blank; well, it really doesn't go blank, I go into a haze - fantasizing about getting my hands on, looking at, drooling on, kissing, or otherwise worshiping the breasts before me.
When I do think of something to say, it comes out wrong and I sound like a pervert or just an idiot. The only female that I feel halfway comfortable around is my mother. As my hormone levels surge, my mind changes; I morph into a teen horndog, perving on my own mother; checking out her underwear, her bras, and any other piece of clothing that had come in direct contact with her body. The scent of a woman when added to teenage hormones becomes an unsafe mixture concluding with endless, freaking, fantasy masturbation episodes.
The difference between me and a slut is... a slut, at least, has sex. I have never had sex, except for Rosie palm and her sisters. When I realize what a hard-on is and how good it feels to relieve myself, I turn into a continuous masturbation machine.
My mom and I are close; I don't remember dad ever being in the picture. I think she is the sexiest woman in the world. She is thirty-five years old, about five-foot-five, nice rack that jiggles just right when she walks. She is womanly, not skinny, not fat. She weighs about 125 pounds, and she carries it in the right places. I want this beautiful older woman in the worst possible way. I just can't get any traction with my efforts to make her mine. Every time I devise a convincing argument, at least in my addled lust-filled mind, on why we will be the perfect lovers and life partners for each other; she masterfully redirects the conversation without bruising or crushing my adolescent ego.
My mom tries to help by redirecting my energies; she recommends me for just about all household chores that she hears about in the neighborhood. I start out mowing yards, weeding, burning fallen limbs, and other miscellaneous yard work. Occasionally, I move furniture or do other non-skilled work. During my last couple of years in high school, I have studied vo-technical classes and have worked part time for the electrical instructor. By the time I had turned eighteen, shortly after starting my senior year, I am handling ceiling fans and other minor electrical repairs on my own.
Mrs. Allen wants a light fixture replaced and she calls to see if I am available to come and do the work. I plan to visit her on Saturday. Mrs. Allen is a little older than my mother. She is in her mid-forties. She is divorced and her only child, a daughter, has moved away and soon to be married. I arrive early Saturday morning, and when I knock on her back door, she answers wearing a silk kimono robe just long enough to cover her ass cheeks. The robe is loosely tied and reveals a transparent baby doll nightie that immediately catches my attention. She wears a demure smile on her face and eyeballs the crotch of my pants, which in them contains a raging boner aching to be let out.
I instantly go from hard to painfully throbbing hard, and my mouth starts to water, admiring her perky nipples hidden by the kimono's silk material. She asks me to come in and shows me to the light fixture. There is a step stool already set up. I climb up to check out what I am working with. My crotch is at just about Mrs. Allen's head height. I look down at her gorgeous face and enjoy the view down her cleavage, wishing for a total and epic clothing failure.
I kind of lose my balance; she reaches to steady me in a panic. Her hand lands on my crotch. She has to feel the hard-on in my pants, as my cock pulses enjoying the contact, yearning for some attention. She smiles and slowly removes her hand. She shows no embarrassment and doesn't mention it. I am stuttering and stammering with visions of various sexual fantasies running through my lust-filled hazed. I disassemble the light fixture, handing Mrs. Allen the pieces as I remove them. When I can disassemble the fixture no further without securing the power; I climb down the stepladder, Mrs. Allen keeps her hands on me until my feet are safely on the floor.
She looks like sex personified. God, this woman is HOT.
"Well, I need to turn off the electricity to finish this job."
She smiles. "Follow me," she says, using her sultry voice.
"Anywhere," I think to myself.
I admire the view, watching her from behind. I am hypnotized by the cheeks of her ass that tease my vision by peeking out from the hem of her kimono with each step - right, left, right, left. My dick is so hard, it hurts to walk. I follow her down the hallway and into her bedroom. She walks into her closet, and then asks me to help her. She is moving her hanging clothes. She must reach up to make the clothes slide on the pole revealing her ass cheeks even more. Her ass is visible through the sheer panties.
She is struggling and asks for my help. If you have ever been inside a woman's closet, you understand how cramped it can get. We end up with our bodies pressed against each other. Somehow, the bulge in my jeans is all but invading the crack of her ass. She grinds that gorgeous ass against me (inadvertently, at first), which I thoroughly enjoy. Periodically, our hands end up grasping the other, in order to maintain our balance. By the time her clothes are moved and access to the breaker box is established, we are sweating and highly aroused.
Our faces are close, and our lips meet. The first kiss is a lingering peck. Our lips separate, but our eyes remain locked. We slowly re-engage the kiss and it rapidly flourishes from a closed-mouth peck, to a tongue-wrestling, passionate, make-out kiss. Our hands explore each other's body, caressing and groping, my hands find those glorious ass cheeks and hold them like precious gold. I pull her body into mine and grind my aching bulge against her. She hops up and wraps her legs around my waist and reciprocates my grinding with a little humping action of her own.
She breaks the kiss, and using a quiet husky voice, she whispers in my ear, "Let's take this outside of the closet."
She rides me and pulls off my T-shirt, struggling to remove it, one arm at a time. We make it back into the bedroom and share a lust-filled kiss. Our tongues search each other's mouths, acquainting each with the other's tastes and sensations. Her hands run up and down my back, groping my ass cheeks occasionally. We are in each other's arms; her legs are still around my waist.
We are grinding our sexes together, she pauses long enough to moan, "Time out."
I smile and stop.
"Let's get naked and do this right!" she pants.
"Mrs. Allen," I quietly whisper, "I don't want you to be disappointed; I don't have a lot of experience."
"Enough with the Mrs. Allen, call me Gay. No, Steve, the only way I can be disappointed is if you tell me that you are gay!"
I smile.
"Just let me know how to please you and I will do my best!"
"God, I hope so."
We start removing our clothes. She kneels in front of me and caresses my throbbing cock.
"Oh my, I am going to have fun with this thing. Baby, you are magnificent!"
She kisses the helmet and licks me from the base of my cock to the tip. She parts her lips and literally swallows me. My balls are resting on her chin and her nose is buried in my pubic hair. She wiggles her face side to side, and buries the head of my throbbing cock in her throat.
"Oh God, that feels so good! I am going to cum real soon."
She looks up at me and smiles around my dick.
"Let it go, baby. Give it to me. I want it."
She grabs the back of my thighs and starts fucking her face with my granite-like dick. Her carpet won't be the same,as my toes have a death grip on the pile. She feels it throb and she knows I am close. I tap her shoulder and she pulls off until she holds just the helmet in her mouth. She works the rest of my manhood with her hands, driving me to climax.
It pulses and I deliver an impressive load into her mouth. My load escapes with such force that she flinches when it hits the back of her throat. She recovers quickly and milks me until I grow soft. She twirls her tongue around the very sensitive helmet, making my knees go weak and making my body shudders.
"Oh my God, Gay, that was fantastic."
