When I was twelve years old my father took a job that required we moved away from the town in which I had lived all my life. We ended up in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of winter. Even worse, I had to commute to school, a trip that lasted almost forty minutes. But it could have been worse I guess. I was an eager reader and spent the trip reading, most of the time some book or other, but sometimes I 'repetition read' that days homework. There were no other kids on this particular bus so I had a lot of time to kill. The funny thing was that while the bus was never really full, everyone had their 'own' seats. What I mean by that is that they always sat in the same seat and no one else took it. And everyone said 'good-morning' when they boarded the bus, and everyone else acknowledged, in one way or other, that they had heard.

A couple of months into my commuting, a new woman came aboard the bus. She smiled a rather shy smile instead of speaking, and it was accepted. She looked around for an empty seat and saw my space. I had chosen it very carefully. It was behind a divider with a wall that prevented the driver, as well as other passengers in front of me, from seeing me. The only drawback was that it was directly over the rear axle of the bus, which made my travel a bit bumpy, at least until we came out onto the main highway.

She stood in front of my seat, looked at me with a smile and asked if the seat was taken. I just shook my head and went back to my reading. She slid into it, after putting her briefcase up on the overhead shelf. She had the morning-paper tucked under her arm. Without a word she opened the paper and was soon as engrossed in it as I was in my book.

About half an hour later she folded the paper, looked at me and then fanned herself with the folded paper. The light, fresh fragrance of her soap drifted into my nostrils. It was a nice smell. A very nice smell.

"Phew," she said. "Tomorrow I'll have to leave my coat off. Do you travel this route every day?"

I told her that I did.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. You don't mind me sitting here, do you?"

"Of course not."

"Good. I really don't want to sit by myself because all the m... Well it is nicer to sit beside someone, isn't it?"

Even though I'd much rather have had the seat to myself, I agreed with her. While we had been talking the bus had arrived at the end of the line. She rose to her feet and walked ahead of me down the isle. Outside she turned her head and smiled at me, then walked away.

She turned up again when it was time to go home. It seemed that she had the same hours that I had, 8:15 till 4:45 was my school-day.

"Oh, hi again," she said with a smile. "It seems as if we have the same hours."

She chatted with me almost all the way back and gave me a smile when she got off the bus, one stop before mine.

She sat by my side every day all that autumn. Then I had a few weeks off from school during Christmas, and when I again started to commute, she seemed happy to see me.

It was at the end of March when she, as usual, hung her coat on the hook by my side, and when she sat down, she looked at me sideways, in a way she had never done before. She opened her paper, but when she was hidden behind it she turned to me.

"Tim," she said in a low voice.

I looked at her, expecting her to start talking about the weather or something equally trivial, instead she sat silently looking at me for a long moment as though she was trying to reach a decision about something. I was just about to go back to reading my book when she continued.

"I overslept this morning," she whispered.

"Oh," was all I said about this revelation.

She sort of made sure that she wasn't visible above or at the sides of the open newspaper, then she turned to me again.

"Could I ask a favor from you?"

"Sure."

"I - I didn't have time to fasten my bra... Could you... You know... Fasten it for me?"

"Sure."

I put my book down and turned towards her. Then looked at her in bewilderment. I knew that a bra covers the breasts, sort of. But how should I get too it? She solved the problem for me when she turned her back to me.

"You'll have to pull my blouse out of my skirt," she whispered over her shoulder.

I tugged at the silk of her blouse and slowly the back of her blouse came free from her skirt. Now I could see the bare small of her back. I was fascinated to see some very light strands of small fuzzy hair on it, it sort of glimmered.

When I turned, she again whispered her instructions over her shoulder.

"You have to get the sides."

I reached inside her blouse and by now my cock was straining against my briefs. It had been doing this at unexpected moments for some time now, since it seemed to have a mind of its own nowadays. It never needed any coaxing to stiffen, it was more the opposite. But either my will was too weak or the will of my dick was too strong for my own will, it never succeeded for me to will it flaccid again, and this time it was no exception.

I could feel her hot skin against my hands as they grazed the sides of her back. My right hand even made contact with what I thought could only be one of her breasts! When Mrs. Anderson didn't react in any way that would indicate to me that I had been indiscreet, I continued to fumble around at her sides and finally found the two strips of silky material. Uncertainly, I just held them. I had a vague about how to proceed but wasn't quite sure so I waited for instructions, and they came.

"Now, draw them around to my back and slip the hook into the eye."

I did as she said, but when it was done she turned her head again.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I think you'll have to do it again. My - The - My breasts... are still... Mm, not in it... They need to b-be pushed in!"

I happily obliged and unhooked the bra, it was much easier than it had been to hook it, and reached forward, found a tit, not a big one, just big enough to fill my hand. There was something almost in the middle of it that intrigued me. Something hard, that poked into the palm of my hand. Boy, I was really naive back then, but then most youths were in those days. Sex-Ed hadn't been invented yet and all I knew about the female anatomy was what one of the older boys had told us. He said that he had seen his aunt's cunt that weekend. They had a birthday party for his father and the night had been late when it ended. His aunt and uncle had stayed the night on their sofa downstairs. He had been walking around the house searching for his football and, when he passed the window to the living-room, where his aunt still was asleep, he had glanced inside. It was then he saw her. The blanket had slipped off her and she lay there naked from the waist down. He told us that he had an unobstructed view of her cunt. It was hairy. The hair had the same color as the mare in the meadow just outside town, reddish brown. And out from this red-brown hair a big skin-flap stuck out. He didn't know what it was and neither did we. We discussed it for a while. We had heard of something called a clitoris and we agreed that had to be what he saw! Not that I believed a word of what he said, but I wanked off to that image for several nights after that. This fantasy overtook the one I had about fucking my very beautiful teacher. Now however, I knew that Mrs. Anderson would turn up in the darkness of my bedroom and perform the most lurid acts I could imagine! Not that they were all that numerous. It pretty much consisted of her being naked, laying in my bed, spreading her legs and somewhere between them I would stick my cock inside of her.

I must have been holding her breasts in my hands a little too long, because she glanced over her shoulder. She gave me an encouraging smile and, with what I'm sure must have been a guilty expression, I woke up from my dreams.

I had to let one breast loose while I slipped the other inside the cup, she squeezed her arm closely to her side, preventing the bra from slipping and allowing her small breast escape again, while I repeated the action on the other breast. With a silent sigh of regret I was done.

"Thank you," she whispered, blushing a little.

I just stammered something, I still don't remember what. I was both embarrassed and turned on. During the rest of the ride it seemed as if she was deep into reading her newspaper, but I caught her looking at me, and at the same time she caught me looking at her. I swear; I didn't try to get a look at her breasts! I was looking at her face. I hadn't really looked at her before. She was old! At the age of thirteen everyone older than fifteen, maybe sixteen, is old. But she didn't look old at that moment. The blush that still colored her cheeks made her look like a young girl caught doing something naughty, in fact she had been doing something naughty.

Nothing like this happened again. Then it was Easter-time and I had almost a whole week with no school. I didn't have much to do, the nearest boy my age lived more than four kilometers away and even if I had a bike I didn't care for such a long ride just to talk or play some stupid game. I took the opportunity to scout my neighborhood though, on foot at first. The small forest wasn't all that small, it seemed to go on and on lengthwise but it wasn't more than a couple of hundred meters deep. On the other side there was nothing but farmland and what dwelled at the end I couldn't learn by walking the length of it so I decided that I should take my bike and ride to the end.

About five or six hundred meters down the road there was a smaller road that took off at a right angle. It was badly maintained but I turned into it. It ended at a house that was just standing there all by itself, just as solitary as ours. I stopped when I come to it, looking at the forest to see if I could tell where it was heading, when I heard a woman's voice.

"Tim? Tim is that you?"

I turned and looked at the house, trying to see where the voice was coming from but I couldn't see anyone. Then a hand waved from an upstairs window.

"Up here!"

Then I saw her. It was Mrs. Anderson!

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" she called down to me.

"Thanks!" I called back.

"Come in then."

I leaned the bike against the fence and walked up to the kitchen door. Just as I was about to knock, it opened and Mrs. Anderson stood in front of me in a bathrobe and a thick, woolen scarf.

"I'm home sick," she told me, unnecessarily. Then added, "Sore throat."

I stood just inside the door while she brewed the coffee and put some cookies on a plate.

"So, let's go into the living-room."

She led the way and we sat there talking for awhile, actually she did the most of the talking and I only joined in when she put a question my way. Suddenly she yawned.

"I should be in bed, this medicine is making me drowsy," she said, so I stood, prepared to leave when she stopped me. "Could you do me a favor," she suddenly blushed, remembering the last time she had asked me a favor.

"Sure."

"I have been too tired to read the paper today and I can feel the abstinence starting to get to me. Would you be an angel and read it aloud for me?"

"Of course."

"It's on the table in the hall, fetch it and come up to my bedroom, will you?"

I did as she asked and when I went up I found that she had already slipped under the blanket and was sitting with her back against the headboard, propped up on a couple of pillows. I looked around for a chair to sit on but saw none.

"Why don't you sit here beside me," she smiled, patting the bed. "That way I can look at the pictures while you read."

I sat down beside her, and like her, propped myself up against the pillows. Then I read the morning paper to her. It was when I came to the sports section that her head slowly rolled over and came to rest on my shoulder. She had fallen asleep! I didn't dare to move, so I just read the sports news... for the first time in my life.

I glanced down at her dark blonde hair, listening to her soft breathing, feeling her warmth against my shoulder. I saw that her robe had gaped slightly open and under it I saw that she wore a flannel nightshirt, the sort I had seen on the wash-line back home. My mother had one almost like Mrs. Anderson's.