I was twenty-two years old when the events I am about to relate began.
Unemployed and working as a volunteer just about summed me up at that time. Well, not quite. There is a bit more to me than that, but it is not for to me to boast about my virtues, except to say I’m pretty hot with a computer, but so are many other people, especially those around my age.
No one seemed to want to employ me to play with their computers so, I was a volunteer computer teacher of over sixties for a Church charitable organisation, trying to bring the oldies into the twenty first century. The oldest student I have had was ninety-three, and the poor old dear could not even see the computer, let alone the icons.
There were about a dozen other teachers and we all worked in one big hall, and because it was one on one teaching, we all sat at our computers with our single student, trying not to notice the smells of decay and urine.
The teachers, with a couple of exceptions (three with me), were also sixty plus. The couple of exceptions were Digby, a thin, white-faced fellow about my own age, and Karin.
Karin is in her fifties, and whilst not being a great beauty, is as fresh faced and smiling as a girl. In fact, she was more fresh faced and smiling than most of the girls I know of. She was plump and reminded me of a beach ball as she bounced around smiling and laughing. She was a glittering ray of sunshine amid the atmosphere of decomposition.
One might pass her off as a pleasant, fun filled person with no particular sex appeal, but for one aspect of her bodily presence; her breasts.
I make no claim to be a breast expert or fanatic, but even given my low-level qualifications in mammareology, I think I can say without fear of contradiction, that Karin’s bust is magnificent.
Her breasts swell out from her torso like twin mountain peaks. Unlike many female bosoms, they do not display as one continuous heap across her frontage, but whatever she wears, seems to sink into her deep cleavage to reveal in all their glory, the two-fold mountains of her beauty.
These centres of my fascination are, unlike other large breasts, unassertive, lacking in that tendency to aggression that frequently accompanies such large protuberances, and that often remind one of a medieval galleon in full sail. Nor do they suggest that with the removal of that intervening devise of the devil, the bra, they will collapse into blubbery flopping appendages hanging in quivering tribulation.
One might say that Karin’s breasts have a welcoming look. One could get lost in them for days without boredom or fatigue. They always seem to arrive long before the rest of Karin, and serve to a give notice of her drawing near.
I would be remiss in this brief discourse on Karin’s mammary glands, if I did not draw attention to their crowning grandeur, her nipples. These out-nipple any nipples that I have seen before.
My country, small though our population may be, is famed for its prowess in sport. It seems a pity to me that included in the Olympic Games there is not some sort of Nipple Competition. If such there were, Karin would undoubtedly be a gold medallist, thus adding further lustre to our national athletic fame.
Again, I must say that even the demonic bra cannot hide the sweet beauty of these splendid nubs. I do not say that they are either overly large or pathetically small, but they are long, and seem always to be erect, suggesting either:
1. She is in a constant state of sexual arousal, or
2. The weather is excessively cold.
I freely confess to you, dear reader, I was in love with Karin’s breasts. It was love at first sight. The first day she walked into our computating hall, I was a lost soul. From then on, I dreamed of her bosom nightly. It was the object of all my fantasies. In my mind, I abased myself before them, swearing eternal devotion and fidelity to them. Had it been possible, I would have fallen to my knees before them and begged their hand (nipples) in marriage. Now, as I view other breasts, I do so with a derisory sneer. Nothing, I assert, can match the flawless mammary glands that are Karin’s.
As for the rest of Karin, she stands about five feet four inches. She has unusually dark blue eyes, and her hair is a mixture of gray and blonde, worn long and most often held in hair band at the back of her neck to form a sort of plait down her back. Her mouth is wide and lips full.
Such was the first impact of Karin. Beyond that, lay further Karinanian delights. She is a very friendly person and her warmth extended to me. When Karin smiles she displays carefully tended white teeth all her own as nature had provided.
We discovered that we shared common interests in music, theatre and books. Not that I could afford theatre and so on living on the dole. Also not being sporty people, we both liked hiking, the beauty of nature and shared a love of art.
Added to her other virtues, Karin came from a certain European country, the language being such that, when the natives of that land speak English, they tend to render it harsh to the ear. It was not so with Karin. Her accent, soft and contralto, delighted the ear, and almost made me desert my first love, her breasts, and be unfaithful to them with her voice.
In the growing intimacy that flowed between us, I learned that she was the mother of three and the grandmother of five. She was a widow whose dearly loved husband, Arie, had died of heart problems three years before I met her.
You may gather that, despite my youth, I was much smitten with Karin. I had experienced the charms of a number of females roughly of my own age, and found them wanting. They seemed brash, coarse and lacking in sensitivity. That I should find female excellence in someone so much older than I may seem to the uncultured, ludicrous, but it was not the first time I had been drawn to an older woman. If the age gap troubles, then I will let that be your problem and not mine.
Mind you, all this was in my head. Although we talked much, I had no thought that Karin considered me as anything more than a young chap she met while teaching computer to the aged. That is, until one happy day.
It chanced that Karin’s student did not turn up one day. I was teaching a poor old chap, who could not remember from one week to the next, what I had taught him about a particular programme.
I sensed that Karin was standing behind us, because, as I forgot to mention before, she has a particularly pleasant aroma. It was redolent of cleanliness and general hygiene, and assailed my nostrils so as to arouse my male predatory lust.
At the end of my vain endevour to instruct my pupil, and after his departure, she said, “Jason, I have got that programme on my computer, but it confuses me. Could you teach me how to use it?”
I began to explain that I had full load of students, but I would try to fit her in if we sacrificed our lunch break. Karin interrupted; “Jason, I didn’t mean teach me here, I mean at my place.”
The thought of being alone with Karin was exciting, even though I held out no hopes for anything special happening, but at least I would be close to her physically and would be able to wallow in her delicious aroma. So, suitable arrangements were made for me to go to Karin’s house and teach her.
Arriving at the house on the appointed day and time, starting at the front gate, all was in keeping with the rest of Karin. Everything seemed neat and tidy, yet it was unlike many neat and tidy places that seem cold and rigid, this place felt warm and welcoming.
Opening the door to me, Karin welcomed me with a big smile.
The inside of the house continued the theme begun outside. All was clean and tidy and furnished with excellent taste. It appeared to one in my impoverished state to be rather expensive.
Did I want tea or coffee? Was the first question. I elected to have tea, being an addict of that brew.
I examined her computer, which could be ranked at the top end of the market, with all the “bells and whistles,” as they say. I did not normally get my hands on a machine of this quality, so along with the delight of being in Karin’s presence, I had the added satisfaction of having this excellent toy to play with.
