A young man by a girl was desired
To give her the thrills she required,
But he died of old age
Ere his cock could assuage
The volcanic desire it inspired.

License: Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0

When my neighbour, Mrs. Wilson, turned me into her boy-toy at the impressionable age of fifteen I was torn between pleasure and embarrassment.

The woman was fifty-three years-old when it started, her husband the manager of the neighbourhood bank just blocks away, mother of three and the grandmother of two. She wasn’t overly attractive, she didn’t exude youth or look half her age and she didn’t particularly work out. Guys my age just didn’t notice her as a target for our frequent fantasies. Mrs. Wilson, Sheryl is what I call her in private, was an average looking woman, on the thin side and very petite.

Growing up, Sheryl had always been a bit standoffish - giving me little of her attention or time. Her husband was the one that hired me out in the summers to wash his car or cut the grass of his large lawn after his only son left home. It didn’t appear to be a particularly warm household - all were cold and distant.

Moving the boxes in the large dusty cluttered garage one warm afternoon for Mrs. Wilson had changed my relationship with her forever. Standing on the old wooden ladder I could not help but look down the front of Mrs. Wilson’s dress, to her small breasts covered with white lace. The affect was slow in coming and I felt my face burn in shame as my hardness eventually pressed against my cutoff shorts. It was not an unusual response, being only fifteen, but one that brought him a surge of adolescent shame.

Mrs. Wilson saw it as well, starring in surprise at what was eye-level to her, and any attempt on her part to speak for some minutes was nothing less than a failure. It was the first time I’ve ever seen this woman as anything but calm, cool and distant about everything.

For that very reason my heart calmed considerably and my fear of humiliation and discovery disappeared. I continued to openly peak down her dress while making sure to stand at least in profile to give her a better view of what she was starring at.

At this point, it wasn’t about sex but about playful teasing. I was looking down the top of this old woman and she knew I was doing it - and in response she starred at my hardness in frank interest and surprise. Sex was still a thing of fantasy to me at that point, a flash of skin and twinkle of an eye, that was the total of my experience.

Without the ability to communicate intelligently, I did not have the direction needed to retrieve the correct box packed high above the rafters in the garage, so I stepped down to the cement floor. And inadvertently stood directly before my older neighbour.

Then something that I knew was not planned, an act that was alien to the woman I had known all my life - her hand reached out and gently measured my hard penis pressing firmly against my shorts, tenting them out obscenely. Even through my pants I knew her hand trembled.

It was the first touch of any woman, of any age, on my penis - clothed or not.

Then Sheryl groaned deep down in the back of her throat before launching herself into me, her arms wrapping possessively around my shoulders as if stopping me from running away, her lips smashing painfully into my own, a tongue already invading my mouth.

I have only used tongue with a girl one time, which left me breathless and embarrassingly excited, that ill-prepared me for the assault from this fifty-three year-old woman. I’ve never known this passion or hunger in another person, but having tasted it within myself and having the need to release it in a more manual manner was common.

So I was left on the defensive, pleasantly shocked and so very excited! Her hands were all over me, from the top of my head to groping my bottom. And do you want to know what I thought about, what I worried about, was that I may be too sweaty from working in this heat and dust! Isn’t that a kicker?

Sheryl had awkwardly reached beneath her dress to shove her panties down to her ankles, kicking it away. She shoved me into stack of boxes and chests behind me, forcing me to sit - my mind confused but pleased as it simply experienced. I had no clue what was happening, what she as doing or planning to do!

Then she was straddling my lap, reaching between us so that her small cool hand grasped my hard throbbing penis after violently yanking open the button at the waist.

And then before I had any time to realize the enormity of this moment I was inside her and her face changed from determined fanaticism to look like she had just eaten the best chocolate in the world and wanted to savour it. She placed her hands on my shoulders and began to move up and down on my waist, my small brain just starting to notice the heat and wetness.

I heard the noise, something sloppy and so very suggestive, that I will never forget my first experience of it. And her smell changed, from delicate flowered perfume soap to a sharp earthy smell that filled my head and almost made me dizzy.

Up and down she went, steadily moving herself to some unseen time piece, her face slowly becoming more determined with the passing seconds.

You know, as a fifteen year-old virgin that I could not last long, that when my brain caught up to reality of what I was actually experiencing, what I was doing and where my dick was and why it felt so fucking good - did I explode within the surprising woman above me. It happened suddenly, and I had little forewarning to even contemplate giving Sheryl any.

She whimpered as I pumped my seed, small muscles within her body milking every drop.

I just looked up at her in awe, my first first sexual experience had just been completed - I was a man.

Sheryl slipped off my lap onto her unsteady legs - I caught my first glimpse of a woman’s pussy, the brown kinky hair glistening but could not hide the pink lips beneath. Her skirt fell back into place and she stood there trying, and failing, to fix her head of hair, her eyes looking everywhere but at me.

And then she saw it, or rather, she saw my still-hard cock. I never thought about it until weeks later how lame a question it was, “You are still hard?” A now-familiar twinkle sparkled within her gaze. “Would you like to make love to me again?” Yes, you read that right - but more on that later.

I nodded dumbly, my head still thick with the reality of my experience. Of course I wanted more! I certainly wasn’t in ‘love’ with this aloof older woman, and years later would contribute that first encounter as closer to being raped than consentual. Though of course, I regreted nothing.

A quick smile came to her normally somber lips and she looked around and then came to a quick decision. My neighbour lifted her skirt to her waist and then lowered herself onto the dirty cold cement floor. She positioned herself so that her legs were wide and that place between her legs exposed and gaping wide with wet pink flesh surrounded by damp curly hair.

She then looked at me almost nervously, anxiously. As if she were afraid that I should laugh at the strangeness of seeing this cold distant proper woman laying on her garage floor with her legs wide exposing herself to a boy younger than any of her three kids.

I was not near the thinking stage of this encounter, I did not care who this was, how old she was or even that I had respected and liked her husband for years. No, what I only thought about was that slippery looking pink vagina and stood before her to drop to my knees between the old woman’s bare legs.

Her small hand reached out to again guide me into her, but in this angle I watched everything from the fingers wrapping around my familiar hard penis to the gentle pulling of it towards her gaping pink bullseye. And then it was slipping between those hairy meaty outter lips, stretching them deliciously as I eased my penis into the hot wet folds of my married neighbour.

It was at that moment, I realized later, that I was hooked - on sex, on this woman, even on dirty forbidden sex on cold cement floors. A world had opened to me and I was looking at a world that was much bigger and much more colourful than mine had been up to this day.

My hips began to thrust with the energy of youth, the aging body beneath me bouncing wildly. I would have slowed my pace if not for the huge smile on Sheryl’s lips, her eyes tightly clenched and her own hands groping her still covered breasts through her dress.

I was fucking this woman - I was fucking her hard and fast and she was loving every second! I grit my teeth and ploughed that field over and over.

I fucked like the champion my recent-virgin mind thought I should until my arms, lower back ached and my body was dripping with sweat. All that didn’t matter though, Sheryl was getting louder in her responses, her body reacting more and more violently.

When she screamed out a half-second before clenching every muscle in her body I just watched the show amazed - not realizing until later what I was witnessing.

She eventually calmed to the point that I considered shoving myself even harder into her body to reinforce my point until her hands came off her own breasts to tenderly stroke both sides of my face and head. “Gently darling!”

My body slowed instantly, my cock moving in and out in a much slower, much less violent movement. In a more leisurely way, she seemed to enjoy this as well - her smile just as wide but her eyes now open and looking at me with a tender caring gaze. I found the slower pace more pleasurable, the intimacy and the feeling I experience simply better in all respects.

Her hands drew my face down to hers and we kissed again, less rushed and with more tenderness.

This closeness, this slow fuck, lasted for some minutes more before I was groaning and trembling before my seed again started to pump into the fifty-three year-old woman beneath me. Her arms and legs wrapped about me, holding me tight against her as my second and final orgasm subsided, my cock finally shrinking with exhaustion.

An hour later after I had come out of the shower and stood alone in my room did I realize what I had done and whom I had done it too. I was horrified that I should be discovered, disappointed that I could not share my good fortune with my friends. I could imagine the ridicule and shame if any of my friends found out I had sex with the ‘old bitch’ next door! Yet it felt so damn good - I can remember everything from the sounds to the smell to the new feeling of being inside a woman and that was not something so easily discarded.

My penis was again hard, tenting the bath towel wrapped around my waist from my recent memories.

Thus began my secret affair with Mrs. Sheryl Wilson that early summer. She called my mother with plenty of work for me to do during the day when her husband was at the bank - but when I was over there we were intimately involved - lovers as she calls us.

I acted the part of the mature man, sitting straight eating a delicious dinner cooked for me before retiring to her bedroom. I did not realize it then but she was training me - using me as a young girl uses a toy doll. Only this girl could not get enough of my hard penis - constantly touching it with her hands or wanting it inside her vagina.

She pampered and spoilt me those visits, me sitting in her husbands chair with the non-alcoholic ice-tea drink she had prepared for me while watching her prepare for our bed. Thats what she called it, ‘making love’ or ‘our bedding’ - never fuck or shag like my buddies liked to call it. She was a lady and she never let me forget it, chastising me when I told her I love ‘fucking’ her. Even watching her prepare herself for our bedding, she acted in a distant and cold manner - sure she would give me private smiles, her hand reaching to caress my naked flesh, my penis. At her dressing table she combed her hair, touched up her makeup and even applied perfume to odd places of her body - behind her ear, inside her elbows and knees and then at her navel and beneath her small breasts. The best times was when I sat and watched her undress from her normal dresses into nothing, or better yet, into some skimpy lingerie she had bought for the express purpose of wearing it for me. I thought she looked best in thigh-high stockings and nothing else and seemed to enjoy when I caressed her covered legs, kissing and licking them when we were ‘intimate’, as she called it.

It was never ‘fucking’ but ‘making love’ or being ‘intimate’. Never mind that she would lay in the middle of her marriage bed and spread her legs wide and high, the unmistakable signal for me to mount her. This lady wanted me inside her as often as was possible - taking me in most rooms of her house and admitting to removing her panties as soon as her husband left for work to make it easier for me to access her sex, she the chance appear.

I was finding my affair almost humorous - in the way she acted so out of character while continuing to act the part of the stuck up bitch. Yet I loved fucking her - I really did and didn’t see a reason why it should ever stop.

Not long after my affair with Sheryl started when things at home started to change - subtly at first. I didn’t even notice it initially, not until mother came into my room one morning an hour before noon while I still lay in my bed just waking up. Mother had been grumpy these last weeks but since I spent most of my time with Sheryl, I did not give this much thought. But that morning mother came into my room wearing one of dad’s shirts - you know the kind, buttoned up the front, long tails and with the folded collar. Well she came striding into my room with a disapproving frown at the late hour waking up when she bent to gather some of my discarded dirty clothing on the floor to put in the basket she was carrying in her free hand. In bending, mother revealed she was bare beneath the shirt - her bottom became exposed - the long crack of her ass, the fleshy thighs and even the slit of her sex, all on display. I just lay there frozen at the sight. She did not leave immediately, she bent one more time, this time facing me - the top buttons of the shirt open enough for me to see down to her dangling large breasts. And if that was not enough, at the moment she was bent over mother looked up and directly into my shocked face and doing something that would forever change our relationship, the frown melted from her face and a slow smile spread.

Now, I was no expert in the ways of women - old or young. But I’ve seen the same look from Sheryl - the sly smile, the side ways glances. Even with Mr. Wilson in the room, his wife would sit so that her skirt faced me with legs crossed, her foot dangling a pair of heeled slippers almost innocently. But I had learnt that it wasn’t innocent. Women didn’t look at any man like that unless she desired him, wanted him.

The realization shocked me more than the images I had just witnessed.

Mother left my room much more silent than she had entered - the earlier frown forgotten.

My head spin but my mind could still see her bending down a couple meters away from me, her eyes looking into mine.

With the shows that Sheryl liked to do, having me sit so I was witness to her preparations, I had realized she wanted me to watch her, wanted me to want her as much as she obviously wanted me. Sheryl didn’t wear those stockings for herself, she wore them because she knew how crazy with lust they made me. I had already realized all this with amusement, thinking that while she dictated where and when we had intercourse, where we fucked, it was I that really held the power - she needed me as much as I wanted her. The only reason my theory had not been put to the test was that I was still having so much fun that I saw no reason to rock the boat.

Mom’s show brought all that back to me with a vengeance. And I also realized that she had started to act grumpy around the house, around me in particular about the time Sheryl and I started our affair. Something else, mother was dressing differently as well - and I don’t mean with another of dad’s shirts but dressed as if she were going out to dinner even as she stood at the sink cleaning the dishes. This wasn’t normal, she used to wear old sweat pants and tee-shirts.

The house was silent, father at work and my older sister out with friends, as was normal on a weekday. Wearing only my boxer shorts, my normal bed wear, I walked the few meters to my parents bedroom and eased the door open.

Mother was standing at the foot of her bed, a pile of her clean laundry before her a she stood folding it - she turned her head at my entrance, not looking surprised at all but neither did she look particularly glad to see me...

Silently we stared at the other - she still wearing that man’s shirt me in boxer shorts that had quite the bulge within.

With a calm demeanour, one that I certainly did not feel, I strode into my parent’s room to stand before my mother. She turned on her bare feet to face me, still no facial expression or body language to help me read this situation by. I had come to know the looks of my only lover Sheryl, the way her eye twinkled or how her tongue would moisten her trembling lower lip - all signs of what she wanted ... me!

A hand rose between mother and I, grasping the laundered pants from her hands to throw it back onto the pile of clothing on her bed. Her hands dropped to her sides and she faced me uncharacteristically quiet.

At that point I was ready to turn and run, this was insane, crazy! My heart was thumping so violently that I felt like it was the cause of those random shivers that ran through me.

But a quick glance down would give me the resolve to continue, acting more on instinct than experience or any plan. Mother’s nipples beneath the man’s shirt were hard, thrusting boldly towards me - she was excited!

My hands rose, quivering with desire, and I awkwardly opened the last half dozen remaining buttons.

“This is wrong honey.”

I’ve known this woman my whole life and though she now seemed a stranger with my realizations so far this morning, the voice she had used was almost distant and most certainly nothing like the angry or demanding voice I’ve known and heard so frequently these last years. My hands did not even pause until the shirt was open, exposing my mother from her generous fleshy cleavage down to her soft rounded belly and deep navel to the thick dark fur between her legs.

A groan escaped my lips as I starred at my own mother. So different from Sheryl’s petite thin frame - voluptuous and curvy, with large hanging breasts with wide pink nipples and fleshy hips and thighs with a jutting ass. I, evidently, have never before noticed this woman!

My hands gently pushed the shirt from her shoulders where it fell to her feet. Mother stood there frozen as I openly inspected her. Those big fleshy breasts had small goosebumps, the pink nipples wrinkled and thrusting with desire, I saw her trembling slightly as I was.

She whispered, “We have to stop?”

My hand cupped the bottom of one breast and hefted it, finding it heavier than expected but soft and warm, inviting. Mother pressed her lips tightly together as I leaned over. There was little taste to her nipple but felt so good having it in my mouth. And I could feel her flesh beneath me quivering, could feel the groan escape her from somewhere deep inside her throat reverberating her body. She smelt of comfort and cleanliness.

Standing back up my hand slide down her rounded curves, past her slim waist to her flaring wide hip before moving inwards. Her sex was wild with hair, thick and bushy but yet it could not hide the treasures beneath, or hold back the desire from seeping through. Her sex was a veritable furnace of heat and my hand came away slick with her juice.

I starred dumbly at my hand before exploding with the need to have this woman, being my mother no longer mattered. Frantically I shoved my shorts to my feet and stepped out of them, noticing mother licking her lips watching my hardness throbbing between us.

As soon as I was as bare as my own parent she turned away from me, which caused my heart to break with disappointment until I watched her bend over at the waist and place her hands on the end of her bed, carefully she spread her feet and legs and then wiggled her bottom while her hair hide her face.

I’ve seen Sheryl present herself too many times not to take this for what it was. I stepped behind my mother and aimed my hardness, moving it smoothly into her hot wet sloppy sexy with a single movement.

Mother gasped and groaned all at the same time, her bottom wiggling against my front, her sex sloshing with wetness around my cock.

I was amazed at how different the two women I was now intimate with were - with their bodies I mean. From mother’s curves to her looser sloppier sex, much more wet than Sheryl became. There was no ‘winner’ here, it was simply an amazing comparison at this point.