Pity me, the poor orphan! My mother gave me up for adoption when she was 17, and I was that many minutes old. I grew up with Mom and Pop Hadley on a quiet, tree-lined street in a quiet, little town in upstate New York. Good home cooking. Lots of love. And, to be honest, almost zero questions about my birth mom.
Really, by 14 or 15, I was over it. She was a kid. I had a pair of great parents and two great siblings. I was happy. And, I never looked back. Well . . . until I was forced to.
At 18, I went off to college at a quiet, tree-shaded state college campus about 3 hours from home. Pop Hadley owned a two-pump gas station, so I grew up working and went off to college without much money. Right away, I knew I needed to work, for the money and just because that's what I'd always done.
A couple of weeks after setting up in my dorm and starting classes, I started my job search. Within a week, I'd found a job at . . guess. A gas station. I pumped gas and helped out with repairs four about four hours every afternoon. On weekends, I'd get the late shift, from 5 'til midnight. No more than a little over minimum wage, but the work was easy. I could even study here and there on the late weekend shift.
I'm gonna tell you two things about me physically. First, as an ex-varsity athlete with four letters, I'm in pretty good shape. Second, I have a big cock. I've measured it: 8 ½ inches and about the same in diameter. My first real girlfriend freaked when she got her hands around it; my last girlfriend shrieked in delight when she fished it out of my jeans. That seems to be the way it is: either girls love it or they fear it.
Saturday nights at the gas station were pretty quiet, until around midnight when the bars closed down. I'd get all kinds of crazy drunks and disappointed singles driving home to empty houses and apartments. In a way, it was entertaining, except when they locked their keys in the car or forgot how gas pumps worked or realized they'd spent their last five bucks on that beer and chaser. I'd learned to take most of the drama in stride working at Pop's.
But, one night, just as the crisp winds of autumn were filling the air, a big Lincoln drove up to the pump at a minute to midnight. I watched as the door opened and a pair of long, sexy legs descended onto the ground. The legs were followed by a curvy body in a tight black dress. She had silver hair, cut short and stylish, and a big wide smile. For a woman pushing past her forties, she was in great shape.
She swayed on her heels over to my booth and blared that sweet smile across the bulletproof plexiglass. I smiled back.
"Hi," she said, waving her hand at me. "I know this is going to sound stupid. But . . . ."
She paused, and I motioned my head up and down to encourage her, still smiling.
She continued. "I'm coming back from big event out at the Country Club. And, I really don't want to get any gasoline on my dress or my coat." She paused again and turned up the watts on her smile. "Do you think you could help me out?"
I laughed. The clock read midnight on the dot.
"Sure," I answered. "Hold on a sec."
I switched the gas station sign off and flipped the neon "Open" light to "Closed." I pushed the door open and walked around to her car.
"Oh, thanks," she gushed. "Thanks so much."
I nodded and pulled the nozzle off the pump. "Fill 'er up?"
She nodded and leaned against the side of the car.
"What's going on up at the Country Club?" I asked.
She tittered. "Just an award dinner for some civic group. Booooooring."
I chuckled. "I thought maybe you were getting an award."
Her eyes widened. "For what?"
"For the cutest smile in town?" I laughed.
She giggled and pushed her index fingers into the corners of her lips and pushed her mouth up into a smile. I laughed harder.
"My name's Conor," I said.
"I'm Julie," she answered with a bow.
I noticed the thick gold wedding band on her finger. She glanced down to her finger as well.
"Now, Conor," Julie said, smiling back at me. "Yes, I'm a married woman."
I laughed and we started chatting. About college. About the weather. About Lincolns. And, of course, about her smile. I'd finished pumping the gas and hung the nozzle back up. But we kept chatting, both of us enjoying the easy, flirty chemistry. The clock ticked onward to 12:30.
"Well, Conor," Julie said finally. "I better get going before the Lincoln becomes a pumpkin, or at worst, a Chevy."
I laughed and closed her door after she slid into the driver's seat.
"Great to meet you, Conor," Julie said, offering me her petite hand.
I took it in my meatier paw and gently shook it. "Come back any time!"
"Oh, I will," she said with a laugh as she fired up the car.
The Lincoln rolled out onto the street and, smiling, I turned to close up the station. Maybe, I thought to myself, this is why younger guys dig older woman - - no drama, just pleasant fun.
Julie started popping by the gas station every couple of days. We'd chat while I filled up the Lincoln - - sometimes with as much as two gallons. We started to develop a nice friendship. She always seemed to be in a good mood, interested in me and what I was doing. And I was always happy to see that smile and that very alluring, plush body.
A couple more Saturdays rolled around before I saw Julie on the late shift. But, just as I was closing up one chilly Saturday night, the big, black Lincoln rolled into the station. I had just put the last lock on the pumps. Julie slid her window down.
"Sorry, no more gas tonight."
Julie laughed.
"More country club awards."
She laughed again and motioned me over to the car.
"Hi Conor. No. No more country club. But, I've got a different kind of problem."
I nodded.
"My husband is out of town on business, and I can't figure out how to turn on the alarm system. I have the code and everything. But, there are too many buttons!"
I laughed. "The old, 'husband about of town' ruse. Promise you won't take advantage of an innocent college boy?"
Julie laughed. "God, no. I just can't sleep without the alarm on. Help me out."
Smiling, I walked over to the passenger door and heard the lock click open. I jumped in.
"Let's go!"
Julie laughed and accelerated out of the station lot. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!"
I glanced over at her. She was wearing a long fur coat and a pair of high heels. Her bare calves flexed as she worked the car pedals. Her sliver hair almost glowed in the moonlight. I watched her long, slender fingers grasping the steering wheel. If this wasn't a MILF fantasy, I thought to myself, I'm not a porn aficionado.
Ten minutes later, we pulled into a long, shrub-lined driveway. Julie switched the car off and the two of us crunched across the driveway gravel to the front door. She unlocked the door and turned on the hall lights.
"This way," she said, walking in front of me.