Story Codes:  MF, Consensual,  Exhibitionism

by Verno

I used to see Mary tending her flowers along the front walk first thing every morning as I delivered the papers. It
had to be a really nasty day to keep her away, and I had to be there no matter what. It was a long time before we
even started speaking. I mean, what does a 16 year old say to a middle aged woman, and every middle aged
woman knows how surly a teenager can be. So we politely ignored each other and went our ways. It was in the
second spring when she put out the first petunias and I was a grown up 18 that I actually started saying good
morning to her, sometimes even stopping to say more. She was really quite nice, and loved to talk. I knew she was
married, but never saw him, and it seemed liked she had no-one but me to talk to. Must have been a nice
relationship. I asked mom once about him, but her lips just went tight, and she said she hoped I would never be like

‘Like that’ turned out to be a piss tank. He held down a job, but his interest was in having a few with the boys after
work, picking up a dozen more, and watching football on TV. And he was fat. I mean really obese. How he could
drive to work with that gut was a feat in itself. The only times I saw him was when sometimes a taxi would pull up
and the driver would take another box of beer in to him. He at least was able to come to the front door.

So it wasn’t a shock when mom told me that he had had a heart attack at work and wasn’t expected to live. Which
he didn’t. I thought I might miss Mary, but the next morning there she was putting out some marigolds, looking like
nothing had happened. As we talked, I could feel no sorrow or regret. Odd. I always thought when a husband dies
the wife has a mourning period, downsizes, and maybe even goes to live with her sister or something. Not Mary.
She made it clear that morning especially there was no change. She never saw him then anyway. At night she
could put Chopin on the stereo and not be yelled at. AS far as she was concerned, the death happened years ago,
when it became clear that he wasn’t going to straighten up and clean up. The cremation was nothing more than
closure for Mary.

As a bonus, she now had a craft room after she cleared his bed and stuff out. It had been ten or more years since
they had shared even a room, let alone a bed. It took me a while to come to terms with her being happy about his
death, but the part about him actually being dead for years did make sense, sort of. The trouble was, now that she
had the house to herself, she was happy spending more time in it, and taking less interest in her flowers. I had the
feeling that we were confederates, of a sort. My folks were great, but having an adult sounding board outside the
home was good too. I guess I felt a little like a protector too. Why I thought she needed one, I don’t know. Just male
chauvinism, I guess. Anyway, I knew I was closet to her than her husband had been. Then I found out that she
really did need protection.

A guy her husband had worked and drank with decided the widow needed another man. He started phoning and
just showing up at her door. She made the mistake of actually letting him in once, and he thought he was in for
good, I guess. Anyway, she became a prisoner in her own house when he wasn’t in the pub. Right after the pub
was the worst time, really. The only time she came out was our early morning talks. She even talked of pulling
stakes, but she liked the town and anywhere else in town would still be in his reach. What she needed was a good
man to scare off the rubble. When I mumbled words to that effect, I didn’t really mean them. As a protector I was
starting to think there was no man good enough for this lady. Besides, what would she need me for then? Anyway,
whenever the guy called, all he got was nobody home. If only that had stopped him I might not be writing this story.
But he just kept pestering, too stupid in his little chauvinistic piss-tank world to see the rejection.

It was me who came up with the idea of maybe it should be me who answered the door if he called around again. I’
m a kid, sure, but at 18 I’m 6 feet and 160 pounds, which isn’t all that skinny for my age. And as I high school
footballer I wasn’t afraid to get my nose dirty Mary was amused with the idea, but grew thoughtful.

“It would be a bit tough to know when you had to be here, though. He comes when the drinks makes him brave
enough. And odd times. I think he thinks he can catch me unawares. You’d have to practically live here.” She
looked at me levelly, no guile at all, not that I was looking for any. “It’s so sweet of you to even think of doing that
for me. I almost wish it could happen.”

I had only floated the idea as a kind of macho joke, but the way she said it made it sound like not that bad an idea.
Mom knew the trouble she was having and, while maybe she might worry about my safety, she had full sympathy
for Mary. The more I thought, the more logical it seemed.

“So why don’t I live here until the jerk goes away? Its not even inconvenient. When I’m at school he’s at work. We’ll
let him know your never alone.” I watched her eyes widen as she realised I wasn’t fooling, then a whole flood of
emotions walk across her face, hope, doubt, amusement.

Finally she said’ “Stay with me for supper and maybe a bit later. As long as you have nothing to do. Sure as hell he
won’t show now. But its time we knew each better anyway. You’re so nice.”

And the very first evening he showed, pissed and ready for action. Calling on his sweety. He even said, “Hi,
sweety” before he saw who he was talking to. Then;” Who are you?”

I gave him my best Conan the Barbarian stare, “I guess I’m sweety.”

He stared, was about to sputter something, thought better, and stumbled back down the walk. Mary watched him
climb into his truck and burn rubber down the street. The cop cruising the other way did a fast U-turn and was on
his tail within seconds, while we shared the best laugh Mary had had for a long time. Mary sent me home shortly
after that, but not before she hugged me. I’d never been hugged like that and I have to say it felt like more. I
floated home, trying to find a place for Mary’s hard little breasts against my chest in my universe.

Mom wasn’t that sure I should be home. She didn’t think the jerk would necessarily quit that easy. I didn’t need any
persuasion to go back to Mary, even if it was a bit tough to get her to answer her door. And you know, it wasn’t five
minutes later he called and wanted to know who the kid was, and was she fooling around on him, and when would
the kid be gone, and did she know how much his ticket was. She hung up before it ended, but that call made it
certain I would at least spend the night. And it might have been a good thing, I stepped out to pick up the paper the
next morning, just in my pyjama bottoms, and as I turned a truck pulled away down the block. I knew the truck, and
now he knew I was there for the long term. We would see where he wanted to take it from there.

We never saw him again, that week or so far. But after a few days I decided I better stay on just in case. Mary loved
having me around after all those years of only having a drunk for company, and I really got on well with her. Her
hug had changed my view of her a bit though. Now I could see her without her gardening stuff on, I was finding her
body intriguing to say the least. First of all, she had always been small and slim, but now I could see she had
shape. The memory of her breasts pressing into me never left me, and had me covertly catching any glimpse of
skin that I could. Once or twice I might have wondered what kind of honey she might have been when she was
younger, but the fact is she still was. I was almost starting to think I was a dirty old man, and I better get out before I
blew my cover.

Before it came to that, one night shortly after we turned in, Mary came to my room asking me to listen to a sound at
the back door. Since my window overlooked the backyard, we peered out the window between closes drapes,
hoping not to draw attention to ourselves. Then we were both laughing as the motion detector was triggered and a
family of racoons went on raiding the trash can. I jumped back into bed and Mary sat on the edge, tucking me in.
On impulse, mostly from nervous release I think, she flopped down and hugged me. The hug went on, and my
efforts to get an arm around her succeeded in getting her under the blankets. The hug at first had blankets
between us, now suddenly there was only her night dress and my PJ’s.

“Hmmm,” Mary nestled closer into me, snuggling her nose into my neck. In response I pulled her even closer and
kissed her ear, causing her to jerk back to look in my eyes with a question on her face. I guess I misunderstood,
but I kissed her then, and I guess I did pretty good for a rookie. Kissing was about the closest thing to sex I had any
experience in. Anyway, she kissed back rather emphatically. It was a hot steamy minute, her leg sliding up to pull
me even closer, close enough my boner bumped into her belly. “Oh, god, Donny, I sorry. I forgot who we are. It just
felt so good. Don’t hate me.” Snivelling, she was gone, and I felt very alone and…I didn’t know exactly what I felt,
but laying alone wasn’t helping it. Not when I could hear the lady still weeping in her room. I heard the creak of her
bed and wished I could be with her. I was here to keep Mary from having to cry, wasn’t I?

Her door wasn’t closed, and she turned to me as she felt my weight sitting on the edge of her bed. She looked so
miserable and helpless and I felt so much in control and manly. I slid under her down quilt and cuddled her body
back to me. She gave no resistance, just asked a question with her eyes that I had no answer for at that moment,
so I kissed her again., and again her leg found its way over mine to pull me in. She couldn’t help but feel my boner
butting into her pube and tried half heartedly to separate our hips, but I rolled her under me, managing to get both
knees inside hers. I could feel my cock cradled by her labia, praying she would let it last, not send me away. It was
so perfect, and she wasn’t crying anymore. She was struggling though, and I , like the good kid I was, lifted my
weight, expecting the worst. What I got was her dress pulled up to her neck and my PJ’s pulled down. Then I was
back on her, skin to skin, feeling more eroticism than I knew existed. We clinched desperately for minutes, me
afraid to move for fear of spooking her even yet, then I moved to bring my boner down to her vagina.

I had no real idea how it might be done, that it must just slip in. It’s what we were built for, right? If only it would slip
in before Mary guessed what I was doing, she might let me stay. But Mary knew. When she realised how
inexperienced I was, she reached down and guided my shaft into her vagina. Oh, god!, what a feeling to know your
cock is inside a lady at last! And not just any lady. This was Mary, and she liked me there, and was trying to pull me
deeper! And then I was as deep as I could go, and Mary was making little noises in my ear. I tried a couple thrusts
which drew only encouragement and so didn’t stop. Then there was the familiar feeling, the feeling that had
threatened so many sheets before I managed to sop them off my belly with a Kleenex. I couldn’t do that inside my
angel, could I? But Mary was humping back madly, and I knew I would, and then I knew I was, and I lost myself in
the wonder of both the sensations and the obvious fact Mary knew what was happening and begging for more. So I
gave her more, even as the orgasm faded, I switched my attention to the feeling of warm slippery muscles stroking
my cock, wished I could join her as she came again, but at least able to maintain the cadence that was driving her

It was with regret I eventually pulled out. Even then I didn’t know if it would happen again. I didn’t feel like I had
violated her, and I certainly wasn’t violated, but surely some taboo had been offended. How could it be allowed to
happen again?

Mary kissed my cheek and swung her feet to the floor, gravity making her night dress hide her body from me.
“Time for me to carry the cum to the toilet, lover,” she was gone and back in a few seconds, “Its been so long since
I last did that. I didn’t think it would ever happen again.” She snuggled into me again, to my great relief.
“You didn’t mind?” I stammered.

She laughed, then seeing my stricken face, became caring serious, “No, I didn’t mind. What would have bothered
me is you not filling me full. And I was full. Its what a girl longs for, to be able to get her beau off. Besides getting off
herself, I mean.”

My relief must have shown, because she was laughing again. Wow!!, this was so great. I could feel stirrings again
and became very shy, “Can we do it again sometime?” my earlier boldness replaced with yearning.

Mary cupped my face with both hands, “We can do it again as soon as you are able. I’m so full of myself that you
would find me attractive enough to want me. Do you know the last time I fucked was before you were born? Oh, my
goodness, you’re ready now, aren’t you? Oh, my, this is going to be a fun time.” She sat up quickly and drew the
night dress over her head.

Mary threw the quilt off and spread her sweet legs open for me, luxuriating in my gaze, stretching for best effect,
reaching eagerly for my cock when I rolled onto her. The feeling of re-entering, of knowing it wasn’t for the last or
only time, made it even sweeter. No clutching desperately in the fear that something might put her off. Just the
delicious feel of her vagina engulfing me, seeming to be pulling me in. Then the strokes not fuelled by reflex or
instinct, but by the purpose of giving her pleasure, seeing her slowly rise again to the rapture that I was at least co-
authoring. Glad that her bed was firm enough that most of my weight could carried by elbows, that I could feel the
length of her body against me without actually crushing her. My second orgasm was a mere bonus. I didn’t know I
could do that. Cool! And she had called it a fuck!

In the afterglow, knowing that was all either of us had for a while, Mary became shy again. She wondered if I would
mind sleeping with her. She didn’t want to wake in the night and have to wonder if this all had actually happened,
that it was still all right, that wouldn’t start having remorse. I stopped her with a kiss, then faked a snore in her ear,
which go a laugh. She went on to ask if it might be alright if she slept nude, skin on skin. What a question. She did
wake up once in the night, though, to feel my boner in the crack of her bum. With a pleased little ‘oh’, she showed
me how she could be easily made slippery again, then we were fucking again, This time she didn’t carry me cum to
the toilet. She just pushed a wad of Kleenex between her thighs and passed out.

We fucked often over the next couple weeks Mary had been closely watched in her adolescence, and been a virgin
when she married, but had quickly become very fond of sex,, but her husband had a weakness for the booze.

Thing is, he never felt very adequate as a lover. He knew he wasn’t very big and the only time he felt like a real
man was when he had a few. Trouble was a few made him even less adequate, and few more made him absolutely
limp. Maybe if Mary hadn’t been so inexperienced herself she might have been able to help him. After a few years
he just gave up on it and by that time Mary was willing let him. Being mauled by a soft-dicked drunk wasn’t what sex
was like. So she became the little gardener that I knew, doing whatever she could to keep out of his way. Now she
wouldn’t even speak his name. She knew the heart would happen long before it did. So no mourning period.

We both know this can’t go on forever, no matter how good it is. I’m just going 18 and Mary is 45. We had been
fucking for almost a month before we talked of it, but when it came up, it was plain both of us had been thinking. I
am going off to college in two months, that much was sure. Also sure was that neither of us was about to go back to
celibacy, even if the quality of sex did dip. But Mary had no notion of how to get with another man. She certainly
wasn’t about to troll the bars. I wasn’t worried about me. I’d heard stories of college girls. Mary had made me
confident enough that I had no fears of that.

Mom was no help. She was a bit happy to hear of Mary’s quest, though. I think she might have been a bit worried
or suspicious about how deep our involvement might be. I learned in that time that my father was not really my
father. Mom had got pregnant in hr last year of high school and had me and married Dad a few years later. I really
had no problem with that. I thought I was a bit dark skinned for either of them. That was why she had raised me so
conservatively and why in this age I could be a 17 year old virgin. Anyway, she knew of no-one for Mary.

So we checked out the on-line match makers. So far it looks like the best bet. There are a couple guys she wants
to check out, and believe it or not I’m not jealous. I’m there to make sure she doesn’t cry, remember? Even if the
first one isn’t the permanent one, at least she will get some nooky. And our relationship has taught us there is
nothing wrong with casual sex, although we’re still not that casual. Mary reckons we have fucked as many times
and she and her husband had and we still had a lot of time. I mean, we’re still like the proverbial minks. But she
had little she could teach me about the arts of it, so we’ve been teaching each other with much help on-line. Doing
pretty well, too. Mary didn’t know nice people did oral, but she’s all for it now. After that revelation, she isn’t about
to question anything without at least trying it.

We even looked into cyber matching me, but what we got mostly from that were singles looking for one-night
action, or swingers looking to hook up with a young stud third. That thought got us giggling.

“Do you think your new man would like a threesome maybe on Christmas break?” I almost choked.

Mary considered and reckoned the kind of man she wanted probably wouldn’t share her. “Mind you,” she was quick
to add, “If he was it sounds like a fun time. Lets keep that thought open.”

I had opened another Window. “Maybe my girlfriend would like a swinging romp with you two.”

“Oh, that’s sick! My man is going to be maybe fifty. Your girl will be less than twenty.”

“I don’t know,” I looked sideways at her body, still partially dressed from the last fuck, “Any guy that you choose is
going to have lots of life left and won’t be hard to look at. And you stipulated he had to like sex, which is saying you
do too, so he’s coming forwarned. And what’s sick about us? Are you being sexist?”

She regarded me with an open mouth, “God, you know, you’re right. It would be the same spread, wouldn’t it?” She
paused to picture it, liked what she saw. “Can we hold that thought? It’s a fun thought, isn’t it? Maybe, just maybe,
September isn’t the end of it.”

I told her I’d hold the thought and then we fucked again. It was going to be a lot easier, leaving in September, with
just the possibility that it wasn’t over.

© 2013 Verno
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