Chapter 1: Grace

"My God! What an ass on that woman!" I thought as I looked out from my patio. Although Grace Archer must be past forty, her figure didn't show it. Or rather, it did. She was plump in all the right places! I had been watching my sexy new neighbor leave the house in a skimpy nurse's uniform each day since she moved next door a few weeks ago. It seldom failed to send me off to work horny or back to my room for some relief. On weekends I had seen her in frilly, translucent blouses that made it impossible not to stare. And the miniskirts and high heels she wore -- a little trashy, but damn they were hot! I couldn't keep from looking at her beautiful ass. She gave me a hard on almost anytime I caught a glimpse of her.

Right now I was guiltily watching her hang out her laundry: lacy bras and high French-cut panties, not the sorts of things that most middle-aged women wore — nor the sort of things any woman would hang outside in public view unless she had a reason, but I was too naïve to know that at the time. This morning she had on a pair of tight pink short shorts and a bright yellow halter I hadn't seen before. The halter displayed her full breasts and the shorts hugged her tight round ass in a way that stiffened my prick as usual. No doubt about it, Mrs. Archer was one hell of a stacked woman.

Suddenly, to my embarrassment, she noticed my eyes on her and blew me a kiss before wiggling her hips back into her house. The rest of the week I had the impression she knew I was watching and that she was deliberately putting on a show for me. Although embarrassed at my attraction to this sexy older woman, I couldn't get her out of my mind.

When Friday night rolled I was alone, Sarah, my girlfriend thought that that seeing each other once a week was enough. I think what she meant was that way she only had to turn me down for sex once ever seven days. I had a few beers and turned in early. That night I dreamed about Grace. I saw her standing by my bed in a short black dress rubbing her tits and touching herself between her legs. I tried to get up, but I seemed paralyzed. Then, very deliberately, she let the dress fall away. She was naked except for panties and heels. Grinning, she slowly and deliberately slipped out of the panties and into bed with me. As she straddled me, she offered me one of her luscious breasts. I took it and the dream faded away.

When I awoke very late Saturday morning, I could see I must have had a Hell of a wet dream. The bed was a mess and I felt totally drained as if I had come several times in my sleep. I tried to put the strange dream out of my mind, but it seemed always to be there.

I set about straightening the house, doing the laundry and catching up on business and tried to think about my date that night with Sarah. It was annoying not to be able to get this sexy older woman out of my mind. Even to compare the two women was ridiculous. My fiancee was slim and pretty, a lawyer a few years younger than I who did work for my firm occasionally. We were obviously right for each other. Sarah was sensible and orderly and destined to be a perfect wife. We would have sex once a week on Friday night -- lights out. She would decide when the best time was for each of our exactly two children to be born and I would wear a condom on all other occasions. I had given up on getting her to go out for a romantic evening or a night of dancing. At 25, she said she was too old for that. Sarah was sweet and oh so sensible, but I couldn't shake the raw sexuality Mrs. Archer exuded.

Later, just as I was about to leave to pick up Sarah for our date at the opera, I heard a knock on my door. To my dismay, I found a grinning Grace Archer there with a big plate of stuffed jalapeno peppers, ready for a "neighborly visit." Considering my uncomfortable attraction to her, I was not eager to let her in. Besides, I really didn't have time for her visit right then. Still, I found with the memory of that dream still on my mind and I couldn't close the door on her.

She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a too-tight hug as she sashayed in, looking around as if she were going to buy the place. Planting herself on my couch, she began downing the stuffed peppers, talking a mile a minute. I sat as far away as possible on the love seat across the room hoping I could get rid of her as soon as possible, but my stiffening prick did not agree.

Try as I might, I couldn't ignore her display of cleavage while we talked. Soon I realized she had her skirt hiked up as well, and I could see she wasn't wearing any panties. I tried to control myself, but I couldn't keep my eyes from peering up her skirt, or into her blouse. The more I looked, the more difficult it became to follow what she was saying. I was getting so horny just looking at this woman I couldn't think about anything except wanting to bury my face in those titties and run my hand up under her dress.

Attempting to defuse the situation, I offered her some tea. "Don't you have any beer? Pacifico would be fine." she grinned. I didn't have beer of course, of course, Sarah didn't approve of my drinking beer, but against my better judgment, I produced a couple of scotches. "How about another slug and some more ice for this, honey?" she grinned as I was about to sit down again.

When I returned from the kitchen, Grace was parked on the love seat; my drink was sitting on the end table. I could hardly pick it up and take it back to the couch without being obviously rude, so I wedged myself into the little space Grace had left. This left me pressed against a large, soft and very sexy woman. I was embarrasses, but my prick thoroughly approved and hardened in appreciation.

As we sipped our drinks, I began to realize what a big mistake it had been, letting Grace into my house, and worse, to let alcohol cloud my judgment. I supposed it was my excitement, but the drink hit me hard! I tried to make small talk, but I was having increasing trouble concentrating on anything but Grace.

Suddenly she broke off, smiled at me, and said, "Do you like my breasts, David?"

"E ... excuse me?"

"Oh, don't be shy," she coaxed. "You know what I mean. You have been drooling at my titties for a half hour, boy. It's kind of cute the way you glance away occasionally, trying not to look, but your eyes keep being dragged back. I guess you just enjoy looking at women's boobs."

"Please forgive me, Mrs. Archer," I began. It's just that..."

"Oh, don't apologize," she interrupted, breezily. "And I've told you to call me Grace. It's the expected male reaction to a really nice set. The drink has probably gone to your head, poor baby, and I am sitting quite close to you." She giggled a little and snuggled a little closer. "Is it your fault that a couple of naughty buttons of my blouse are undone, giving you a nice peek at my big ... round boobs? You are a healthy young man; it's only natural for you to be getting horny."

"Well, yes, but still I shouldn't..."

"Don't be silly, David. It happens to men all the time when I show 'em these jugs. I kind like it when a man can't keep his eyes off my bosom. In fact, I want you to KEEP on looking at my titties while I open my blouse a little more," she said softly, unfastening a couple more buttons. "I want you to keep your eyes fixed on my big, round tits, David. Nice titties ... You could gaze at them forever. Say that you like to look at my tits."

"I like to look at your tits, Mrs ... Grace" I repeated, before I could stop myself.

"Very good, David," she smiled. "You are doing just what I told you to do. You are looking at my tits, as I instructed. You called me 'Grace, ' as I told you. You said just what you were supposed to. You like doing what you're told, what a woman tells you to do, don't you? You like obeying me, don't you, David?"

"Yes, ma'am." I heard myself say. God! Why would I admit that?

"That's right. Now just keep looking, you can't help looking at my big ... pretty tits ... because you want to obey me." She had lowered her voice to a gentle, rhythmic flow of sound. "Of course, I like it even better when you peek up my skirt. You were peeking at me from across the room, too, weren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." I murmured, "But..."

"Of course you were, you naughty boy. I've got on a really short, sexy skirt that naughty boys like and I hiked it a little to give you a nice view. You couldn't keep your eyes off my crotch. Would you like to see some more?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now be careful," she teased. "You should realize that peeking at my crotch will just make you hornier, but you like me making you horny, don't you?" she coaxed.

"Yes, Grace," I barely breathed. I wasn't thinking too clearly now.

"Of course you do, sweetie," she whispered, shifting and turning to expose herself even more. "It feels good to let me get you horny. I want you to be horny, baby. Being horny helps a man does what a woman tells him. It helps you obey me. You want to be horny and obey me, David."

By now, I guess I was just staring, stupefied. "Well, don't waste my time just eyeballing me, my young friend. These titties are itching for some action. Why don't you get these puppies out of my blouse? Get yourself a couple of handful of tit and start working me over. I think you'll like what happens when a man gets his hands on my boobs!"