She’s tall and slender, and has one heck of a rack, seen in full glory even from the rear view. And even though she’s pushing 60, all of the guy’s heads turn when she walks by, no matter what their age may be. I’ve known her for years, living down Edgar Road, in Winchester UK from my parents house. Her son was the same age as me, his name was Tim Fisher. Tim was killed in a car crash on the M3 motorway over a year ago, and from what I’ve heard, it left her devastated. She does have other children, two daughters that are much older than I. I remember them being about thirty, if memory serves me correctly. Her husband who I heard was ten years older died from Prostate Cancer seven years back, so she’s had a rough time but seems capable in her activities in the city, the city library she manages and the badminton team she plays in.

Of course, she’s known me for years as well, being a friend of Tims. I’m the typical young male, average looks at just under six feet in height, and weighing in at about one-seventy. I was twenty years old, when this all happened. It was in early August, and of course Peter Symonds College at the other end of the city was on holiday, so was just hanging out so to speak. She was weeding her gravel drive when I was walking by, as she greeted me with “Hello there, Bryn.”

I smiled, “Hello Mrs. Fisher.” Of course I was smiling, as she was down on her knees, wearing just a pair of pink denim, ripped shorts and a floral pattern loose blouse, with a bra trying hard to keep her jugs in place.

She smiled, asking “What are you up to?”

“Oh, I was at Monty Gibson’s house ... you know round the corner in Ranelagh Road talking about our school days.” I said. I saw her smile turn into a slight frown, Tim had been a pupil too.

Wanting to the keep the conversation going, with intentions of ogling her lush body I asked. “So how you doing? Your flowers look terrific this year, as usual.” Her face lit up as she glanced down her cleavage and adjusted where her blouse had slipped.

“Why thank you, Bryn.” She slowly rose to her feet, grinning and said “I really appreciate you saying that.”

I blushed, “No problem, Mrs. Fisher.”

“So how was college this past year?” she asked.

“Oh fine. Looking forward to this coming term. Everything has been going well, and I haven’t had any trouble in classes so far.”

“That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.” she said, dusting her hands off on her slender rump, her knockers swaying and bouncing in the action. I suddenly felt a bit awkward, not sure why, but I was, looking at my watch.

“Well, I need to get home. I’m sure Mum has some things for me to do.”

She smiled, and she said a bit nervously, “Okay Bryn.” Then she stopped me, saying “Oh, by the way, would you mind helping me by doing some work around my house?”

“Course, Mrs. Fisher. I would be delighted to.” I replied.

She smiled, “Could you come over tomorrow then? maybe about ten? I’ll pay you for the work you do.”

“Oh, you don’t have to pay me, Mrs. Fisher. Friends and neighbours and all that. I’ll gladly help if I can.”

“Thank you, Bryn.” She looked up at the sun, and said “Well, I’ve laundry to get finished, I’ll see you in the morning then.”

I didn’t really think about it much. I mean, I had no idea what she wanted me to do, and after telling my parents, they said that they’ve heard that she had plumbing issues, so I was probably going to be working on her pipes. I thought nothing more about it though, as I spent the evening watching a European football game before going to bed. I was up at about eight, made my breakfast, and then caught the TV news before heading to her house. I knocked promptly at ten, and she opened the door, wearing just a bathrobe. My eyes boggled at the sight of what looked to be unfettered tits and nipple bulges.

“Come on in and come on up.” she beamed, so I did. I followed her up to a bathroom, and entering she said “I need the taps changed,” handing me a box, as she went on “I’ve some tools in the garage, I’ll show you what’s there. Hopefully you’ll find everything you need.”

It wasn’t much, actually. I knew I could handle this small assignment, having been well trained by my Dad who actually ran a large maintenance plumbing firm and thinking if, God forbid, my grades were crap, I had a skill to fall back on. She took me to the garage and showed me the tools available and where the mains water tap was to turn the supply off. She left me there, telling me she would be in the kitchen, as I looked for what I would need. A small torch, some copper piping, and a few more tools, and I was all set. I returned to the upstairs bathroom and went to work. It didn’t take long, maybe ninety minutes at most. I’ve done this before at home, and Dad has taken me to his sisters and other relatives to do work from time to time, so as I said, I knew how to do basic plumbing. And of course, pretty much any home maintenance routine.

Once finished, I came downstairs, trying to find Mrs. Fisher, but she wasn’t around. I guessed her to be in the garden, and since I had to take the tools I used back out anyway, I opened the garage door, and as I walked on, she was just exiting, carrying a piece of frozen meat from a big chest freezer in there.

“I’m done up there.” I informed her; wafts of body and scent over me as we passed.

I heard a soft “Oh.” tidying her bathrobe, her back to me. “That’s fine, phew! Isn’t it hot again, go ahead and put the tools back where you found them ... Oh God sorry.” she giggled, grabbing the falling robe off her shoulders. The meat dropped to the floor with a dull thud, but she ignored it.

Wow! All I saw as she pulled the robe back up to her shoulders was her bare back, from her delightfully round, mature arse crack. Edges of her hanging tits swaying to her side But it was well worth it to see just a glimpse of her bare body. She remained there while I went to the tool cabinets and put things away. I turned, she was decent.

“Anything else you need worked on today?”

“No ... no thanks, not at the moment.” she murmured almost apologetically. I was a bit puzzled, as she seemed to be out of breath. I also saw she was rather flushed, glancing at the meat, and nervous. “Um, let’s go in and I’ll give you some money for what you’ve done so far, Bryn.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Fisher, I did say...”

She grabbed my arm, and laughed as she pulled me to the house saying “Nonsense, I need to give you something.”

She let go of my arm as she bent to retrieve the heavy carcass of meat. Great minds think a like - and I stooped at the same time, but she beat me to it. I was right behind her shapely rump, looking for and not seeing any panty lines. She asked if she could see the finished job and I followed her upstairs watching the sway and wobbles. And that’s when I smelled it. I was inches from her fanny, covered by the thin robe, which reached mid thigh. The smell of a woman’s wet twat. I’ve had the experience to get close and personal with a few college girls the past year, it’s a smell you don’t soon forget ... or want to. It dawned on me on why she was nervous, and short of breath. I think I had interrupted her giving herself some pleasure in the garage, in what she must have deemed safe as I was upstairs. My cock went to full alert, but thankfully I remained in control.

Back down, I followed her to the dining room, where she extricated her purse from a large brown leather handbag, and turned suddenly. Unfortunately, I was looking down at her legs, and I readjusted my gaze, seeing a surprised look on her face. She then smiled, and said “Would a pair of twentie’s be enough, Bryn?” as she opened up her purse.

I raised my hands, protesting “No Mrs. Fisher. Please? You don’t need to pay me a thing. It was a pleasure sorting your plumbing for you.”

I saw her blush, and I realized that maybe that was not a good choice of words. She sighed, closed her purse back up putting it down. I was surprised when she then faced me, stepped close and slid her arms behind my back, and hugged me tightly.

“Thank you Bryn. I appreciate this.”

Oh god, I could feel my rock hard cock pressing into her belly, and I knew she had to feel it. I stammered out “Anytime, Mrs. Fisher.” I added, feeling her tits against my chest.

She stepped away, her hands on my shoulders, and she said “If I find anything else that needs fixed, I’ll give you a call, okay?”

I grinned, “Yes, no problem.”

She squeezed my shoulders, and said “Good, thanks again.” as she walked by me towards the front door. She opened it and as I walked out, she said “Bye Bryn, have a good day now.”

I smiled and waved, saying “Thanks, Mrs. Fisher. And you too.” I saw her smile turn into a bit of a frown, and I wondered if I had said something wrong, as I went down the drive. I exhaled hard, and my cock was still feeling a bit cramped in the confined space of my jeans. Yes, I would jump at the chance at getting into bed with someone as beautiful and I guess experienced as Mrs. Fisher. But, she’s older than my mother! Of course, what was I even thinking? She wouldn’t want some young, unemployed lad anyway.

Once home, my Mum had things for me to do, after she briefly questioned me about what I did over at Mrs. Fisher’s. I told her about the taps, and of course about me turning down the offer of money. I didn’t tell her that the woman gave me one hell of a boner. The rest of the weekend went well. I went out with my friends Saturday night, only down to the Queen Inn in Kingsgate Street; the have a good selection of real ales, and was good and hung over on Sunday. My part-time job as a Costa Coffee barista had me working on Monday through Thursday, and on Friday I was walking to Tony’s house, when Mrs. Fisher stopped me in my tracks, yelling across the road waving frantically.

“Oh Bryn, could I see you for a minute?”

I smiled, walking across the road to see her.

She smiled, and said “Listen, I’ve some chores that need to be done, I was wondering if you could help out?” She quickly added “And I will be paying you this time.”

I laughed, “I’ll do the chores and like before you don’t need to pay me.”

“Nonsense.” she replied. Then she went on, “Could you come over tomorrow? I need the outside of the windows washed on the second floor. I think my usuals are on holiday and it’s been so hot and dusty ... and then I was wondering if you could change a shower head for me.”

Smiling, I said “No problem, assuming you’ve got the replacement. Would ten be too early?”

“Yes got it yesterday. That will be fine, Bryn.” was her grinning reply, brandishing a box.

I had a party I was going to that night, and yes, alcohol was involved. I’m not sure what time I arrived home, but I do know that Mum was a bit agitated as she roused me up at about nine, reminding me of having to help Mrs. Fisher today. I groaned as I climbed out of bed, my head pounding as I showered and went downstairs where Mum made me breakfast. Then off to Mrs. Fisher’s. She was all smiles, something I was finding hard to do, as she put me to work. She showed me the ladder, and the bucket and cleaning supplies, and soon I was washing windows. Eight in all, six in front of the house, one on the end, and another three on the rear. Luckily the whole place had modern triple glazed windows so the were no fiddly panes, although it was all Georgian style. I did the front first, before moving to the side, then the rear of the house. I didn’t see her the whole time, and I was doing the one for a bedroom, Murphy’s Law combined with Sods Law ... when I saw her once again ... it was her bedroom. Surely she must have seen me; the ladder over the panes; my noise climbing, as she walked into the bedroom, wearing that same robe. No reaction, covering and stuff. But this time, she didn’t have it closed in the front and there was a reaction ... from me. I stepped down a rung, thinking I was screened behind the inner curtains.

I about fell off the ladder as I caught a brief glimpse of her mature, drooping breasts as she walked to the door to the landing. They were beautiful, even if they did sag a lot. They still stood out from her chest, full and proud. When I remembered to breathe again as she disappeared, I finished the window, and moved to another one. And still, the image of her fine boobs were in my mind. I only had one more window to go, and after getting it done, I climbed down and put the ladder away in the garage, before knocking on the front door. A few seconds went by, until she opened it, now wearing a halter top and a pair of baggier shorts, smiling as he asked “All done with the windows, Bryn?”

“Yes. And you said something about a shower head?” I replied.

Laughing, she opened the door more, and stepped aside, letting me pass through. “Yes, I bought a new shower head for my bathroom. It has a second handheld head on it.”

I stopped as she closed the front door, and said “No problem, this shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

She grinned, “Good, because I made you some lunch once you get done.”

I protested, “Oh no, Mrs. Fisher. I can’t.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the stairs, saying sternly, “Now Bryn, I feel like I’m taking advantage of your good nature.” We started up the stairs, and I was admiring her rear end once more ... no scents this time, her legs are not bad, toned. I smiled, as she said “So please allow me to have the pleasure of your company while you eat, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Fisher.”I replied, as she showed me into the very same bedroom I’d glimpsed from the ladder. We entered the en-suite bathroom. She handed me a box, and I opened it, seeing the parts spotting I needed a pair of mole grips. I said “Well, this will be easy, but I need a pair of mole grips from the tool cabinet in the garage.”

She smiled, saying “Well, you know where they’re at. Go ahead and do this, then come have lunch in the kitchen.”

“OK in a jiff.” I chuckled. She followed me back downstairs, and then I went on to the garage. I was right, in ten minutes, I had the old head off, some plumbers tape on the pipe, and the new nozzle on. I tested it and it all worked fine. I cleaned up what little mess I had made, then I headed to the garage to put the tools away, before coming back to the kitchen. She was placing a sandwich down on the table, and a bag of Salt and Vinegar crisps plus a glass of weak lager, as she said “It’s ham and pickle on brown. I hope that’s okay? I made the pickle last winter.” she told me proudly.

She took a seat across from me, and as she settled in, she said “By the way please Bryn, call me Pearl.”

I swallowed then chuckled “Okay Pearl.”

She must have been in a talkative mood, she asked “What’s the joke?”

“Sorry, your name Pearl Fisher, reminds me of an opera.”

“Oh yes of course funny that. My husband was Clement ... you know Clem? his pals called him Clam ... Clam Fisher sort of funny. So, did you go out and party last night?”

I blushed, “Yes.”