Afternoons With Mrs K. Ch. 2

This story follows on from an encounter between Jay, a young English naval officer home from service off of the Iraq coast, and Mrs Hazel Kellerman, a neighbour of his aunt, who is in her early fifties. I’ve written it as a split narrative; relating the tale first from Jay’s then from Mrs K’s perspective.

JAY’S STORY 

I woke up after a short sleep of an hour or so. My head had moved from its resting place against her big soft breasts and was now against her tummy. Mrs K was stroking my face; it felt good. Better still was my memory homing in on what had happened.

"Hello sleepyhead, looks like I wore you out," Hazel said, laughing, and then smiling broadly.

"Hello my beautiful lady," I replied.

I wriggled up her body and we shared a deep kiss. Then I gently nibbled her ear-lobes, kissed her neck and moved my mouth down over one of her huge pink nipples and sucked. It hardened beautifully in my mouth. As I feasted on her, Mrs K resumed stroking my face. I felt my cock press hard against her leg, and I ran my hand through her lustrous, thick, dark pubic bush and teased my fingers over the increasingly slippery wetness of her pussy. We lay like this for a while. 

"Ahhhh, the vigour of youth," she almost purred. "Jay, make love to me again."

I removed my mouth from her breast and kissed her, slipping my tongue past her teeth. As I did this, Hazel held my cock tenderly and guided it inside her. She was just so wet and warm. I rode on top of her with our chests and stomachs joined and our mouths and tongues playing together. I fucked her slowly at first, with deep but gentle strokes. It was heaven. 

Firstly, I clenched then pushed alternatively with one then the other of my butt-cheeks, so I was probing all parts of her vaginal tunnel. I felt her react to this instantly, her hips rose to meet my strokes and I revelled in the warmth of her body. Then I shaped my hips and drew a figure-of-eight inside her pussy with my cock.

I was balls deep inside Mrs K, and moving very slowly. I broke our kiss and sucked and lightly bit on the flesh between her neck and shoulders. Her breathing became ragged, and in a quiet but husky voice she rasped out:

"Oh fuck, fuck me hard, fuck meeeeeeeee."

My mouth met hers again. I started riding her straight on… quite fast, then very fast and deep with each long thrust. Sweat was wet on my face. Hazel was moaning now, and repeating more loudly: 

"Surrender, sweet surrender."

I was holding off from cumming with a huge effort of concentration. Finally, feeling her body tense and almost spasm, she flowed juice onto my balls, and I released my restraint. My sperm flew out of me, splattering inside her pussy with force.

We lay together in a tight hug, smiling at each other between kisses. My stomach then began rumbling which caused her to form a mock frown, before she laughed.

"Well Hazel," I said, "you’ve certainly satisfied my cock’s appetite, but my belly tells me I’m starving."

"Jay, I’m sure we can rectify that problem if we try; go back to your Aunt’s and shower and get changed lover, while I do the same, then I’ll treat us to a meal."

I left. Under the shower, once again I found it curious how Mrs K’s voice fluctuated so much. During foreplay or the actual act of sex, it was girlish, gigglish, and very youthful. But in normal conversation, it was deeper, riper, and almost authoritative. I found both forms affecting. 

As well as her being a wonderfully expressive, sensuous lover, I had to admit that I found the big age gap between us, maybe as much as nearly thirty years, a huge turn on. I’d always had girlfriends of my own age, or slightly younger; and while I had some good times with them, I just seemed to find a heightened sensuality with this mature lady. Whether it was some sort of power thing, or maybe even a form of repressed guilt, I neither know nor care. It was hard to define, but it was oh so delicious to experience. 

MRS K’S STORY

I showered and dressed. I wore a pale blouse, black skirt and high heels. I took care with my make-up. I felt good, better than I had for a long time. I had a lovely warmth in my stomach; that exquisite feeling I have known in the past after I’ve had long, satisfying sex.

I called a favourite restaurant and ordered a table, then rang for a taxi; I didn’t want to drive; I felt like sharing a drink with Jay. I went and knocked on my neighbour’s door. Jay seemed to answer almost immediately. He looked so gorgeous. In ways he reminded me of my son. He looked so tall and handsome; with a kind, yet very vaguely sad face, and beautiful eyes.

Jay smiled and invited me in. He kissed me lightly on the cheek and put his hands on my breasts.

"No," I said, removing his hands, "plenty of time later for that though, lover." Although, in truth I was really turned-on at his touch. The taxi came and drove us to the restaurant. Jay paid the driver and ordered him again for later.

I told him this meal was on me; he accepted this graciously. It was an Italian restaurant and the food was sumptuous. I enjoyed it but ate rather sparingly. Jay, in contrast had an enormous appetite. We had starters, and then a glorious beef dish accompanied by a fine bottle of red wine.

At one point the waitress began flashing Jay a flirty smile. I felt my face flush. I was surprised at my level of jealousy. Jay did smile back at her, but only in concise politeness; and then, bless him; he gave me his full smile and briefly held my hand.

He looked so handsome in his crisp button down white shirt. I was aware that a few women dining there gave him a distinct look, so to speak. I thought to myself that someone might think I was his Aother or Aunt or something. I told him this, which made him laugh. 

After the meal we ordered coffee and brandy and chatted some. I asked Jay about his career in the Navy and the Iraq situation. He admitted that he had got frustrated and was considering his options; he was thinking of leaving the Navy when his service period was up; but that he had two more years before he could do so. He seemed patriotic though, which is not that common a trait in the young English these days. He didn’t say much about Iraq, and I didn’t push it. 

When I’d made love with him this afternoon I had noticed, what appeared to my untrained eye, to be two healed-up bullet wound scars in his left thigh. I do vaguely remember his Aunt, my neighbour, Cathy, telling me about her visiting her nephew Jay in a military hospital one time. I’d have though it more usual for those serving in the Army rather than the Navy to have such wounds. Again though, I figured if he wanted to tell me about his experiences then he would in his own time.

When we returned to my house, and Jay had paid the taxi driver, I poured us both a large glass of brandy. We sat on the settee, sipped some, and kissed; then I took Jay’s hand and led him upstairs. Inside my bedroom we fell lightly onto the bed. I was feeling horny; I wanted his hands on me and his cock deep in me. Yet, I wanted somehow to prolong the feeling of expectation, while he, young and eager, was obviously aroused and ready for action, as it were; his penis was straining hard against his trousers, forming a funny, but at the same time sexy, tent shape.

Although he was clean and smelt wonderful, I asked Jay to go into my shower, and to "get fresh please young man, before you get sweaty and dirty with me." Although he looked reluctant, he went. I wanted a few minutes alone.

I stripped naked and for once was brave enough to look into my full-length mirror. I felt amazing, desired, and confident. I was glad I was active and exercised regularly. Yes, my big breasts did hang lower than in my youth, and my tummy was gently rounded instead of flat; but I still felt good. Hell, I looked good. 

I’ve been blessed with good skin, and although I’d no doubt be considered about fifteen to twenty pounds overweight by a body fascist, I was happy with my shape. Above my full hips my sides did curve in to make a long shallow ‘C’ shape up to under my arms, and I have always been proud of my quite long, shapely legs, which were tanned by summers days spent outside in my garden. My bottom is quite large but it is fairly firm. 

Contrary to fashion, I’ve always kept a very full thick bush above my vagina. I like its look and feel. My late husband Alan loved it, and so does my young lover, Jay.

For myself more so than Jay, I slipped on a pair of loose black silk panties; I loved the feel of the silk on my skin, and I put on black suspenders and black stockings. I touched up the make-up on my face and put on more lipstick. I pushed my boobs into a brief black semi-transparent wonder bra. My God, they did look enormous and high like that. My nipples were jutting out hard in anticipation. I grew impatient for Jay to return from the shower; I longed for another ‘Sweet Surrender.’

I walked towards the shower. Behind the curtain I could see his young body in silhouette. He was so athletic; being slim but broad-shouldered. He moved sideways, and the horny young guy was sporting a very big erection. Mmmmmmmmm.