My name is James and these events took place in the early 1980’s. Leaving university at 20, I began work in IT in a town about 50 miles from where I lived with my parents. Lodging during the week with a landlady and going home by train at weekends got tiresome and expensive after a while. Deciding I would be better off taking out a mortgage on a place of my own, I saved up for a small deposit on a first floor maisonette in a small town a bit further North; the town where I worked was out of my price range being a desirable place for commuters. That meant a 25 minute drive each way as although both places were on a train line, it was not the same one and required a change of lines with waits of up to 45 minutes if I got the timing wrong.

At first some of the older guys who were car-sharing gave me a lift until I was able to buy a second-hand car of my own. Then they suggested I should offer a lift to my manager’s secretary. Apparently Jean was getting up early to catch a train then making the interchange to catch another and then a taxi from the station to the office. In retrospect I wonder if they were setting me up.

Jean hadn’t been in the job long and was short stocky, stern-faced and very mature, probably in her late 50’s. Looking like a strict older relative such as a grumpy aunt or granny, the way she dressed reminded me of them as, like them, her formative years had been in the 1950’s where her fashion sense was rooted. I certainly didn’t find her attractive. Her oval shaped face was pale due to heavy-handed use of foundation with thick mascara, eye shadow and eyeliner around hawklike small grey eyes. A short slender nose sat above a firmly set small mouth with sour down-turned corners as though sucking lemons while glossy dark pink lipstick coated her thin lips. Tightly curled hair was upswept from the forehead and swept back away from the face into a bob which flowed behind the ears to the nape of the neck. Its light auburn or ginger colour didn’t look natural and there were a few strands of grey. Her dresses and skirts were modest and old-fashioned, flaring from a narrow high waistline and out into a shin-length full circle, usually pleated and worn with a wide cinch belt. When she wore a skirt it was with a simple button-down blouse and a snug fit and always tucked in. The style was more feminine and flowing than younger women wore, although the phrase ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ sprang to mind.

Walking down the corridor past my manager’s office, I noticed Jean was in there alone, tottering about on high-heeled shoes without which she would probably be under 5 foot tall. Wearing a simple pink stripe shin-length skirt with pleats, a basic white blouse was tucked into a wide black belt. Deciding now was a good time as any, I entered the office. As soon as I did, her strong floral perfume hit me reminding me of Granny. Standing with her side to me, she was at my manager’s desk sorting through the mail. She must have noticed me but kept me waiting. I thought it polite to wait until she acknowledged my presence. As I did my eyes were drawn to her side profile. I knew in the 50’s it was the style to accentuate a small waist by having a padded bra but had never encountered the reality until now. The effect greatly accentuated the old woman’s assets with a short but slender hourglass figure in side-profile with a large thrusting chest like two barrage-balloons stretching her blouse tight. They stood there, so full, firm and gravity-defying, stretching quite a way from her front, I realised that most of it was really her and that she was flipping stacked! Large-busted women always turned me on and it was a shock to suddenly realise that Jean had a hell of a rack on her. I’d never really given her that much attention before to notice! The impact went straight to my groin as I stood there unable to stop looking.

“Can I help you?” Jean’s voice was frosty and her face stern with glaring eyes as she turned to find me staring at her well-endowed chest. My face burnt with shame because I had been caught looking. I knew I mustn’t sound flustered and needed to look her in the eyes. Unfortunately because she was so much shorter than me even in high-heels, that meant I was looking down at those wide thrusting slopes. Trying to keep my eyes on her grumpy made-up face and noticing quite a few creases and wrinkles, I tried to remain calm as I explained how I had heard that she lived near me and would like to offer her lifts to and from work. I found it quite hard speaking to her as she maintained a haughty hard stare and haughty posture.

“No thank you,” she declared “I like using the train.”

The cold tone was clear. She thought I was trying to pick her up! That would have been like fancying my granny! Before I could say another word, the grouchy woman turned her back on me in dismissal. I was annoyed by her snotty attitude but relieved I didn’t have to share my car with the old bag who would only complain about my taste in music and make boring if any conversation.

Walking to the door, I glanced back before I left. Jean still had her back to me but what made me stop and stare in astonishment was the sight of her calves. Raised up on high-heels and sheathed in tan coloured sheer nylons, quite thick ankles flared out dramatically over a short distance into enormously wide dense calves. I’d already discovered that well-defined calves on a woman was exceptionally sexy especially in high-heeled shoes and several of the ladies at work had caught my attention with theirs. However, Jean’s were far larger and more powerful looking with massive round-sided heart-shapes featuring a deep diamond shaped cleft at the base and an extraordinarily deep edge that made them stand out prominently from the widely tapering part below. They were clearly-defined with a muscle tone apparent even through the nylons. They were the largest, most defined muscular calves that I’d ever seen and my manhood stiffened immediately.

“Was there anything else?” Jean’s grouchy voice interrupted me and I realised I had been standing there with a stiff bulge forming in the front of my trousers! Luckily she hadn’t even bothered to turn around.

“Uh yes. If you change your mind don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Fine,” she replied with rude uninterest.

The older guys questioned me on whether I’d offered Jean a lift and I told them her response which shut them up. However I kept thinking about her stunning bust and incredible calves for days after, but not brave enough to steal another look. I thought that the end of the matter but some time later when the weather had turned bad I was surprised to get an internal phone call from the crabby old woman.

“The weather is awful. I accept your offer of a lift,” she stated bluntly.

I could hardly say no so agreed to meet her outside my manager’s office shortly after 5pm. At the appointed hour I approached the office with trepidation to find her waiting there in a long coat and an attitude like she was doing me a favour than the other way around. I walked with her out to the car park, getting a few amused glances from my work-mates, then showed her to my car. She didn’t look impressed as she waited for me to open and hold the front passenger door for her from the outside. As she got into the seat, the lower part of the coat she wore opened and the patterned skirt beneath slid back to reveal a white petticoat which had also ridden up. I got a brief glimpse of short, stocky thighs sheathed in sheer tan nylon. She quickly pulled her skirts down giving me an indignant glare for daring to look as I closed the door. Walking around to the driver’s side, I got in, buckled up and began driving.

Rather than the silent treatment I’d expected, Jean was actually quite chatty asking questions such as where I raised, my education and whether I had a girl-friend, which unfortunately I hadn’t. In return I discovered that she lived alone and wasn’t married while implying she had plenty of men pestering her, which I thought was more wishful thinking on her part. She mentioned learning her secretarial skills at some women’s organisation about which she was a bit vague. Asking whether I played sport, I replied that I didn’t while she told me she exercised for fitness but the grim old sour-puss didn’t elaborate. Not that I really cared. Following her instructions, I took her to her house. It was raining and I got out the car, grabbed an umbrella from the boot then went to the front-passenger door and opened it for her while holding the brolly to keep her dry. I got another brief eyeful of her thick nylon-clad thighs as she got out of the car seat. I told her to keep the umbrella and return it to me the following day if she let me take her to work.

“Let’s get inside in the dry and I’ll fix you a little something,” she told me then headed to the kerb.

Locking the car, I followed Jean through a front gate and down a path. I had a good view of her immense muscular calves flexing and waning as she tottered down the path in front of me on high heels and found myself very turned on by the sight. I was really surprised that such an old crow should have such sensationally large sexy calves and wondered whether it because of the high heels she wore to compensate for her lack of height. Stopping behind her as she unlocked and opened the front door, I ogled with a strong stirring in my groin at those enormous developed calves right before me. I had the overwhelming urge to reach down and feel them but the severe look she gave me when she turned around to address me killed off the wild temptation.

“Take off your shoes before you go inside,” she ordered then took the step up and into the open door.

As she did, those calves flexed so hard and became sharply-defined. My dick gave several big lurches inside my pants at the incredibly sexy sight! The old lady’s calves were absolutely sensational! Closing the brolly she entered the hallway and placed it by the door.

Removing my shoes at the doorstep, I picked them up then entered. Closing the door behind me then, I placed my shoes to one side on the door mat while watching as Jean took off her coat and hung it on a coat-hanger to reveal a pink blouse with a floral pattern pink skirt. I also noticed that she left her high-heels on.

“This way,” she said then turned to walk down the short hall.

I followed, gobsmacked by the sheer size and power of her calves, which were now clearer to see under the hall lights as she click-clacked before me. The sheer width and depth were amazing along with their well-toned muscular definition. I’d never seen anything like it before and despite her aged and grumpy appearance I found it very arousing as I followed close behind, but not too close so that I could keep a good view.

The mesmerising muscles in motion took a turn to the right and disappeared through a doorway. I followed and found myself in a long living room. From the outside, the semi-detached house had looked pre-second World War and deduced this must have been two smaller rooms knocked through into one. In fact there was an arch in the middle where the dividing wall had been with two short waist-high walls either side at the base. The décor was dated with simple floral patterned wallpaper and a glossy dark green painted skirting board and doors. One end was a dining area with a folded table and chairs while the other was furnished with a three piece suite and TV unit. Strangely the furniture had been pushed back against the walls to create a large open carpeted space in the centre.

“Are you perving at my legs?” Jean accused, looking at me over her shoulder.

“No ... I ... You have amazing calves,” I stammered. “Do you do dance or something to develop them like that?” instantly regretting how lame that sounded.

“I’ll show you,” she grumbled turning to face me.

My eyes went wide in surprise to see the top buttons of Jean’s blouse were undone causing it to fall wide open at the top. That was so unlike the prim and proper conservatively dressed woman at work. The straps and the top of a lacy black bra could be seen, which amazed me as being especially racy for the old woman. It felt like accidentally walking in and catching your granny in saucy underwear! Huge mounds of bare breast cupped by the bra, were lifted up and presented like an offering. Despite her age and facial appearance, it was an incredibly arousing sight as two sensually curvaceous wobbly mounds pushed out towards me, firm and blemish-free. The rolling expanse fell into a long deep cleavage between her plentiful breasts that drew my eyes and was hard to escape. A thin black necklace chain disappeared into the dark chasm between those voluminous man-baits and I could just glimpse the top of a black pendant. I couldn’t stop looking at the tops of her sensational bosom although I knew I shouldn’t, while my dick quickly hardened and my breath deepened.

“I knew it! You only came in here to get your grubby little hands on my tits and have your wicked way with me!” Jean declared.

“No! I gave you a lift home and you invited me in for a cup of tea or something. I’m not going to rape you.” I protested.

“Why? What’s wrong with me?”

“I’m not like that! Besides, you’re more than twice my age. Old enough to be my mother or grandmother.”

The indignant glare she gave me was chilling. Her eyes narrowed and her sour mouth tightened.

“Men you’re all the same! You keep staring at my tits and have a stiffy at the front of your trousers. How about these for Granny breasts?”

Suddenly flinging the blouse wide open, I got an eyeful of a big stuffed bra straining to contain her ample endowment as they sloped towards me. My body temperature and heart-rate rose while my rate of breathing increased as I stared in growing lust at those big soft wobbly beauties. I was panting fast as my dick stiffened really hard in wanton desire of the incredibly sexy bust of a woman old enough to be my grandmother.

“Oh Jean!” I groaned, aching to get my hands on those wide steep-sloped cock-teasers.

“I was right! You’re a masher!” A victorious smile appeared on her lips stepping forwards with a fierce expression and a provocative bounce of her well-endowed assets.

“No! I’m not here to hurt you,” I raised my hands before me with palms forwards to placate her.

“You’ve certainly got that right!”

She came close and my right palm accidentally pressed against her warm soft pliable mammaries and sank in before I was able to stop it.

“I’m sorry Jean, it was an accident!”

“You will be sorry.”

The ill-tempered woman glared at me then unexpectedly seized the front of my shirt with both hands. Her ferocious look unnerved me as she gave me a strong tug, pulling me close. I heard a rustle of her long skirt and sensed a sharp movement of her right hip then was howling in agony as a knee, and a good portion of the top of the wide thigh above it, pistoned straight up between my legs into my groin. It struck like a cannon-ball pounding my balls and the stiff shaft against my pelvis while lifting me completely into the air as sheer agony exploded in my groin. The pain was excruciating, I couldn’t even feel my balls. They were so numb I feared the crazy old bitch had ruined me between the legs! It hurt so bad! Totally devastated, I was incapable of doing anything except crease over in absolute torment.