It was a nice calm, relatively cool evening that night that turned into a glorious night. I had gone out after dinner for a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood. I wasn't one of those people who took power walks to exercise the muscles they had sat on all day at work. I took walks to enjoy myself, to get a little fresh air, to let dinner settle, and to enjoy whatever sights nature gave me.

In my neighborhood, a walk around the block is like a typical walk around several blocks. It is laid out in a sort of kidney shape, with occasional cul-de-sacs breaking up the monotony. The lots are all large and wooded, providing more than a modicum of privacy for each house. There are a lot of old-growth evergreen trees that provide both wind and sight breaks, especially good for keeping the winter snows from drifting.

I had actually completed my usual circuit and was about to turn into my long driveway when I noticed a woman standing on the walkway some distance ahead. Even though it was on the path I had already covered, curiosity got the best of me and I started a second time around. She seemed uncertain what she wanted to do, first turning the way she had come, then turning back toward me, and repeating the same process several times, pausing between turns as if contemplating her options.

As I approached her, I slowed my pace even further, not anxious to by-pass this Amazon. She had to be at least four inches taller than my six feet and looked like she had the weight to rival most NFL tight ends, if not more.

That is not to say that she was not attractive, because she was. She had dirty-blond hair cut rather short and her tall figure had lots of curves — enticing round mounds in the back of her jeans and nice protrusions in her denim shirt that overshadowed a bit of a pudgy look.

I stopped about ten feet away, wondering if she needed help or directions but she didn't even seem to see me in her preoccupation. I soon had a preoccupation of my own; when she turned toward me, I saw the most pronounced camel toe in the crotch of her jeans that I'd ever seen! The outer lips of her pussy were big and puffy, outlined perfectly by the tight pants which were pulled deeply into the crease between the mounded lips.

I was mesmerized by the sight of her and her most private location so on display, even if it was behind cloth. After several moments of staring first at her framed pussy and then, after she turned, at her well-rounded bottom, I glanced around only to see that there was no traffic on the street, either vehicular or pedestrian. When I turned back, she was again facing me with her camel toe so very pronounced. Still she ignored me.

I made a decision.

Slowly walking up to her when she next turned away, I stopped and waited. When she turned again, I slowly but surely reached a hand forward, palm up, slipping my middle finger into that obvious crease.

She gasped as my finger touched the top of her slit, what must have been her clit; I felt a hard little protuberance behind the cloth.

"What... are you... doing?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Just testing," I said.

"Testing what?"

"Why, testing the place I want to kiss and lick and suck."

"You... you what?" she demanded.

"Just testing what I want to kiss and lick and suck," I responded, moving my finger around her little button.

Again she gasped. "Why... would you... do that?" she struggled with the words.

"Because... you are so beautiful and sexy and desirable," I said, hoping the truth would not scare her away.

"You think I'm... sexy?"

"Absolutely!"

"Would you... would you do anything else?"

I slid my other hand around her waist and down, cupping one of her buttocks. "I'd like to kiss and lick this too."

"No! You'd kiss there?"

I moved my hand right over the center of her bottom. "Yes, and stick my tongue in there and make you feel so good!"

"Oh... oooohhh! I... I can't... believe... you'd do... that," she stammered.

"Oh, yes, I would," I responded. I moved that hand up to cup her breast. "And I'd love to kiss and suckle this too."

"You would? You don't know how much they droop though."

"I don't care. They are still beautiful to me. I want them!"

"You do? You really do?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I... um, are you sure you'd... you know... lick this?" she asked, her hand sliding down her side and around to brush her butt.

"I would love to. Give me a chance to show you."

For a few seconds she was perfectly still, her unwavering gaze locked onto my eyes. Then she gave an almost imperceptible nod and suddenly we were rushing back to my driveway. For once, I wished the house was not so far back from the street but there was an advantage — as soon as we were behind my seven foot tall hedge, she began to unbutton her blouse. By the time we entered the house, the blouse was open and so was the front-clasp bra.

She was as eager to get her jeans off as I was to take off my clothes so we bunny-hopped to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing along the way. She was a little on the hefty side, as I knew she was, but I loved my women with meat on their bones; it gave me plenty of "cushion for the pushing."

Almost as soon as she had settled on her back on my bed, I was between her legs with my tongue doing yeomen work around those puffy pussy lips and everything hidden between them. She was very wet — either from my fingering or from her own thoughts — and I found sweet savory liquid all over her treasures. I set about kissing and licking her from knee to knee and missing nothing between them. She seemed most appreciative, locking up into a board-stiff pretzel of twisted limbs before I ever had a chance to touch her clit. She nearly smothered me in her lust-filled orgasm before relenting and letting me go back to work.

In all I spent nearly an hour licking her pussy and watching her cum four times, before I switched to licking her anus. She came twice more before she seemed to become boneless, laying limply as she panted for breath. I moved up her form and asked permission to slide my cock into her; too tired to speak, she nodded her approval.

Although she was soaking wet — again — she was tighter than I had expected. I guess that, since I knew she was married and she was such a tall woman, I assumed she'd have a large husband who'd have proportional sized equipment and he'd do her often enough to keep her somewhat stretched. Just goes to show what assumptions do for you.