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Don and Rita
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"OK, so Rita wasn't expecting me to turn up on her doorstep at eight thirty. That was obvious. Did I deserve the full on sulk she gave me? I should explain. Don knew I was off to uni in the autumn, and asked if I wanted to make some cash in hand doing their garden. Not that Don was flash, well, no more than the sales manager of the biggest car dealer in town would be, but he'd bought an old house with a lawn the size of two tennis courts and a back garden the size of a football pitch. Don wasn't the kind of bloke who'd get his loafers mucky behind a mower. Did that explain Rota being sulky? Not so far as I could tell. She was just a bit of a mardy cow. Don insisted she work part time since they had no kids, and I knew today was one of her days for working. Rita ran the cosmetics and perfume counter in the local department store, the same store where my mam ran the kitchen in the cafeteria / coffee shop. Mam thought Rita was a stuck up bitch who was up her own arse. Me? I thought she looked good for her age, but not at eight thirty when she was still in a dressing gown and slippers with her hair up. Anyways, she twigged that Don had offered me the gardening gig, and told me to go in the kitchen and put the kettle on while she got sorted. It took about as long to find the kettle as it took her to let her hair down, dot some lipstick on and wrap herself in the white, looks like an expensive doctors recceptionist uniform she wore at the stores, and I made her a tea while she chuntered about the garden. Front lawn today, back garden next week, and sweep the drive this week which should keep me busy till she came back in at two. She'd pay me then. " She showed me where the mower was in the shed attached to the garage, then told me she'd pop her head round the door once she'd finished getting ready for work. The mower was petrol, but push along, I wa sin for a long morning. Getting all the crusted on glass out from under the blaad took ten minutes, at which point Rita reappears. All finishing get ready had involved, apparently, was putting on stockings or tights,, three inch heeled shoes with open toes, and a gold ankle bracelet. She did a twirl before me as I knelt by the mower. 'How do I look? It's the morning sales meeting for the director today. He always likes me at my best.' What to say? 'You look gorgeous Rita.' I decided to take a risk. 'You look sexy too. Nice legs.' Rita did another pirouette. Like I say, always the best for the boss. A glimpse of stocking may be something shocking, but it takes his mind off the sales figures.' The third pirouette didn't lift Rita's uniform tunic to show off enough of a stocking top with a black lace suspender. Her hand did though, deliberately confirming what she'd said with just a glimpse of the darker top of the stocking. I tried to say 'gorgeous' but it came out like a ventriloquists dummy saying 'gottle of geer'. Rita didn't mind. 'Oh thank you sweetie. See you at two o'clock.' With that she was off; her lowslung MG Midget, brand new, the American styled model with the black rubber bumpers meant that I got just another glimpse of thigh and stocking top as she climbed in, and I was left with five hours to mow two tennis courts and trim the edges. | |||
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"OK, so Rita wasn't expecting me to turn up on her doorstep at eight thirty. That was obvious. Did I deserve the full on sulk she gave me? I should explain. Don knew I was off to uni in the autumn, and asked if I wanted to make some cash in hand doing their garden. Not that Don was flash, well, no more than the sales manager of the biggest car dealer in town would be, but he'd bought an old house with a lawn the size of two tennis courts and a back garden the size of a football pitch. Don wasn't the kind of bloke who'd get his loafers mucky behind a mower. Did that explain Rota being sulky? Not so far as I could tell. She was just a bit of a mardy cow. Don insisted she work part time since they had no kids, and I knew today was one of her days for working. Rita ran the cosmetics and perfume counter in the local department store, the same store where my mam ran the kitchen in the cafeteria / coffee shop. Mam thought Rita was a stuck up bitch who was up her own arse. Me? I thought she looked good for her age, but not at eight thirty when she was still in a dressing gown and slippers with her hair up. Anyways, she twigged that Don had offered me the gardening gig, and told me to go in the kitchen and put the kettle on while she got sorted. It took about as long to find the kettle as it took her to let her hair down, dot some lipstick on and wrap herself in the white, looks like an expensive doctors recceptionist uniform she wore at the stores, and I made her a tea while she chuntered about the garden. Front lawn today, back garden next week, and sweep the drive this week which should keep me busy till she came back in at two. She'd pay me then. She showed me where the mower was in the shed attached to the garage, then told me she'd pop her head round the door once she'd finished getting ready for work. The mower was petrol, but push along, I wa sin for a long morning. Getting all the crusted on glass out from under the blaad took ten minutes, at which point Rita reappears. All finishing get ready had involved, apparently, was putting on stockings or tights,, three inch heeled shoes with open toes, and a gold ankle bracelet. She did a twirl before me as I knelt by the mower. 'How do I look? It's the morning sales meeting for the director today. He always likes me at my best.' What to say? 'You look gorgeous Rita.' I decided to take a risk. 'You look sexy too. Nice legs.' Rita did another pirouette. Like I say, always the best for the boss. A glimpse of stocking may be something shocking, but it takes his mind off the sales figures.' The third pirouette didn't lift Rita's uniform tunic to show off enough of a stocking top with a black lace suspender. Her hand did though, deliberately confirming what she'd said with just a glimpse of the darker top of the stocking. I tried to say 'gorgeous' but it came out like a ventriloquists dummy saying 'gottle of geer'. Rita didn't mind. 'Oh thank you sweetie. See you at two o'clock.' With that she was off; her lowslung MG Midget, brand new, the American styled model with the black rubber bumpers meant that I got just another glimpse of thigh and stocking top as she climbed in, and I was left with five hours to mow two tennis courts and trim the edges." Pushing the mower was hard work. So was getting down on my knees with hand shears to trim the edges. The worst bit was getting the mower over the ridges and despressions where there had been flower beds before someone grassed the whole area over. I felt like giving up by one o'clock and sat in the shade of the porch, shirt off, wishing it was sunnier but the same tmperature. Knowing that Rita was coming back I took off my teeshirt and got on with the final, awkward bits around the edge of the drive. That mean I was exactly where I needed to be when Rita came back. I was about finished, and if I was tired I tried not to show it as her car swung onto the drive. She reversed in, which meant I ccould open the door for her and get another look at her legs. She knew I was looking; she paused with her left leg still in the car, her leg right, letting my gaze go all the way up to her cream coloured panties, before climbing out. 'Nice job handsome, the lawn looks great. Put the mower away and I'll get you a drink and pay you.' was she deliberately swinging her hips as she walked up the drive away from me? I hoped so. It gave me an incentive to get the mower put away quickly, but it took long enough for her to have poured orange juice for me, a coffee for herself, and to have changed out of her uniform into a cream silk wrap. Her legs were still covered by stockings, but the peep toed shoes had gone to eb replaced by backless mules, just a thing strap across the arch of her foot, the rest of the foot exposed, and the heel higher, if anything than the shoes she'd taken off. I still had my teeshirt tucked into the belt of my jeans. When I went to put it on her voice sounded tired but determined. 'Leave it off handsome, you've got nothing to be ashamed of.' Rita crossed her legs so that her wrap uncovered both stocking tops. I was sure that was no accident. I felt my cock stiffen - it wasn't just my eyes and my brain enjoying the view. | |||
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"OK, so Rita wasn't expecting me to turn up on her doorstep at eight thirty. That was obvious. Did I deserve the full on sulk she gave me? I should explain. Don knew I was off to uni in the autumn, and asked if I wanted to make some cash in hand doing their garden. Not that Don was flash, well, no more than the sales manager of the biggest car dealer in town would be, but he'd bought an old house with a lawn the size of two tennis courts and a back garden the size of a football pitch. Don wasn't the kind of bloke who'd get his loafers mucky behind a mower. Did that explain Rota being sulky? Not so far as I could tell. She was just a bit of a mardy cow. Don insisted she work part time since they had no kids, and I knew today was one of her days for working. Rita ran the cosmetics and perfume counter in the local department store, the same store where my mam ran the kitchen in the cafeteria / coffee shop. Mam thought Rita was a stuck up bitch who was up her own arse. Me? I thought she looked good for her age, but not at eight thirty when she was still in a dressing gown and slippers with her hair up. Anyways, she twigged that Don had offered me the gardening gig, and told me to go in the kitchen and put the kettle on while she got sorted. It took about as long to find the kettle as it took her to let her hair down, dot some lipstick on and wrap herself in the white, looks like an expensive doctors recceptionist uniform she wore at the stores, and I made her a tea while she chuntered about the garden. Front lawn today, back garden next week, and sweep the drive this week which should keep me busy till she came back in at two. She'd pay me then. She showed me where the mower was in the shed attached to the garage, then told me she'd pop her head round the door once she'd finished getting ready for work. The mower was petrol, but push along, I wa sin for a long morning. Getting all the crusted on glass out from under the blaad took ten minutes, at which point Rita reappears. All finishing get ready had involved, apparently, was putting on stockings or tights,, three inch heeled shoes with open toes, and a gold ankle bracelet. She did a twirl before me as I knelt by the mower. 'How do I look? It's the morning sales meeting for the director today. He always likes me at my best.' What to say? 'You look gorgeous Rita.' I decided to take a risk. 'You look sexy too. Nice legs.' Rita did another pirouette. Like I say, always the best for the boss. A glimpse of stocking may be something shocking, but it takes his mind off the sales figures.' The third pirouette didn't lift Rita's uniform tunic to show off enough of a stocking top with a black lace suspender. Her hand did though, deliberately confirming what she'd said with just a glimpse of the darker top of the stocking. I tried to say 'gorgeous' but it came out like a ventriloquists dummy saying 'gottle of geer'. Rita didn't mind. 'Oh thank you sweetie. See you at two o'clock.' With that she was off; her lowslung MG Midget, brand new, the American styled model with the black rubber bumpers meant that I got just another glimpse of thigh and stocking top as she climbed in, and I was left with five hours to mow two tennis courts and trim the edges. Pushing the mower was hard work. So was getting down on my knees with hand shears to trim the edges. The worst bit was getting the mower over the ridges and despressions where there had been flower beds before someone grassed the whole area over. I felt like giving up by one o'clock and sat in the shade of the porch, shirt off, wishing it was sunnier but the same tmperature. Knowing that Rita was coming back I took off my teeshirt and got on with the final, awkward bits around the edge of the drive. That mean I was exactly where I needed to be when Rita came back. I was about finished, and if I was tired I tried not to show it as her car swung onto the drive. She reversed in, which meant I ccould open the door for her and get another look at her legs. She knew I was looking; she paused with her left leg still in the car, her leg right, letting my gaze go all the way up to her cream coloured panties, before climbing out. 'Nice job handsome, the lawn looks great. Put the mower away and I'll get you a drink and pay you.' was she deliberately swinging her hips as she walked up the drive away from me? I hoped so. It gave me an incentive to get the mower put away quickly, but it took long enough for her to have poured orange juice for me, a coffee for herself, and to have changed out of her uniform into a cream silk wrap. Her legs were still covered by stockings, but the peep toed shoes had gone to eb replaced by backless mules, just a thing strap across the arch of her foot, the rest of the foot exposed, and the heel higher, if anything than the shoes she'd taken off. I still had my teeshirt tucked into the belt of my jeans. When I went to put it on her voice sounded tired but determined. 'Leave it off handsome, you've got nothing to be ashamed of.' Rita crossed her legs so that her wrap uncovered both stocking tops. I was sure that was no accident. I felt my cock stiffen - it wasn't just my eyes and my brain enjoying the view." I was hard, and when I looked away from Rita's stocking tops I realised that was what she was staring at. My cock. It's a cliche, I know that now, but she licked her lips. I felt as if my cock might burst. "Your jeans are getting tight handsome. Want to get it out and show me what you've got?" I knew she might be just teasing, or mocking me, but what did I have to lose? I had to pull at the zip to get it over my bulge, and to push my jeans down slightly so the zip didn't catch my cock, but I got it out. That's when I realised I didn't know what to do next. Should I wank it? I was terrified I'd shoot if I did, an it felt like if I did shoot, it would go everywhere. Rita was licking her lips again. "Nice work handsome, that's a proper cock." I decided if she just wanted a look I could cope. That was until she undid her wrap, opened it wide and cupped her tits with both hands, lifting them out of her bra. "You look ready to burst handsome. Come on, come on these and show me what you've got." | |||
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"OK, so Rita wasn't expecting me to turn up on her doorstep at eight thirty. That was obvious. Did I deserve the full on sulk she gave me? I should explain. Don knew I was off to uni in the autumn, and asked if I wanted to make some cash in hand doing their garden. Not that Don was flash, well, no more than the sales manager of the biggest car dealer in town would be, but he'd bought an old house with a lawn the size of two tennis courts and a back garden the size of a football pitch. Don wasn't the kind of bloke who'd get his loafers mucky behind a mower. Did that explain Rota being sulky? Not so far as I could tell. She was just a bit of a mardy cow. Don insisted she work part time since they had no kids, and I knew today was one of her days for working. Rita ran the cosmetics and perfume counter in the local department store, the same store where my mam ran the kitchen in the cafeteria / coffee shop. Mam thought Rita was a stuck up bitch who was up her own arse. Me? I thought she looked good for her age, but not at eight thirty when she was still in a dressing gown and slippers with her hair up. Anyways, she twigged that Don had offered me the gardening gig, and told me to go in the kitchen and put the kettle on while she got sorted. It took about as long to find the kettle as it took her to let her hair down, dot some lipstick on and wrap herself in the white, looks like an expensive doctors recceptionist uniform she wore at the stores, and I made her a tea while she chuntered about the garden. Front lawn today, back garden next week, and sweep the drive this week which should keep me busy till she came back in at two. She'd pay me then. She showed me where the mower was in the shed attached to the garage, then told me she'd pop her head round the door once she'd finished getting ready for work. The mower was petrol, but push along, I wa sin for a long morning. Getting all the crusted on glass out from under the blaad took ten minutes, at which point Rita reappears. All finishing get ready had involved, apparently, was putting on stockings or tights,, three inch heeled shoes with open toes, and a gold ankle bracelet. She did a twirl before me as I knelt by the mower. 'How do I look? It's the morning sales meeting for the director today. He always likes me at my best.' What to say? 'You look gorgeous Rita.' I decided to take a risk. 'You look sexy too. Nice legs.' Rita did another pirouette. Like I say, always the best for the boss. A glimpse of stocking may be something shocking, but it takes his mind off the sales figures.' The third pirouette didn't lift Rita's uniform tunic to show off enough of a stocking top with a black lace suspender. Her hand did though, deliberately confirming what she'd said with just a glimpse of the darker top of the stocking. I tried to say 'gorgeous' but it came out like a ventriloquists dummy saying 'gottle of geer'. Rita didn't mind. 'Oh thank you sweetie. See you at two o'clock.' With that she was off; her lowslung MG Midget, brand new, the American styled model with the black rubber bumpers meant that I got just another glimpse of thigh and stocking top as she climbed in, and I was left with five hours to mow two tennis courts and trim the edges. Pushing the mower was hard work. So was getting down on my knees with hand shears to trim the edges. The worst bit was getting the mower over the ridges and despressions where there had been flower beds before someone grassed the whole area over. I felt like giving up by one o'clock and sat in the shade of the porch, shirt off, wishing it was sunnier but the same tmperature. Knowing that Rita was coming back I took off my teeshirt and got on with the final, awkward bits around the edge of the drive. That mean I was exactly where I needed to be when Rita came back. I was about finished, and if I was tired I tried not to show it as her car swung onto the drive. She reversed in, which meant I ccould open the door for her and get another look at her legs. She knew I was looking; she paused with her left leg still in the car, her leg right, letting my gaze go all the way up to her cream coloured panties, before climbing out. 'Nice job handsome, the lawn looks great. Put the mower away and I'll get you a drink and pay you.' was she deliberately swinging her hips as she walked up the drive away from me? I hoped so. It gave me an incentive to get the mower put away quickly, but it took long enough for her to have poured orange juice for me, a coffee for herself, and to have changed out of her uniform into a cream silk wrap. Her legs were still covered by stockings, but the peep toed shoes had gone to eb replaced by backless mules, just a thing strap across the arch of her foot, the rest of the foot exposed, and the heel higher, if anything than the shoes she'd taken off. I still had my teeshirt tucked into the belt of my jeans. When I went to put it on her voice sounded tired but determined. 'Leave it off handsome, you've got nothing to be ashamed of.' Rita crossed her legs so that her wrap uncovered both stocking tops. I was sure that was no accident. I felt my cock stiffen - it wasn't just my eyes and my brain enjoying the view. I was hard, and when I looked away from Rita's stocking tops I realised that was what she was staring at. My cock. It's a cliche, I know that now, but she licked her lips. I felt as if my cock might burst. "Your jeans are getting tight handsome. Want to get it out and show me what you've got?" I knew she might be just teasing, or mocking me, but what did I have to lose? I had to pull at the zip to get it over my bulge, and to push my jeans down slightly so the zip didn't catch my cock, but I got it out. That's when I realised I didn't know what to do next. Should I wank it? I was terrified I'd shoot if I did, an it felt like if I did shoot, it would go everywhere. Rita was licking her lips again. "Nice work handsome, that's a proper cock." I decided if she just wanted a look I could cope. That was until she undid her wrap, opened it wide and cupped her tits with both hands, lifting them out of her bra. "You look ready to burst handsome. Come on, come on these and show me what you've got." " I started to stroke my cock. Slowly. Scared I'd shoot too soon, scared that there was a right way to do this that I didn't know about. Rita was so sexy. How did I get to be here? She had one hand in her panties, burrowing into herself. Her left hand was pulling at her own nipple so hard the two gold bracelets rattled, and all the while she was licking her lips and talking to me. "Think you can control it handsome? Think you're in charge of when you shoot?" I figued if she was loving teasing me, I could fight back. 'Like the look of this do you Rita?" She was getting more aggressive in her fingering. She lifted her arse off the kitchen chair, shoved her panties down, then spread her legs so her ankles were outside mine. I stepped towards her, and wanked my cock a little harder. "Go on, say you want this...." Rita leant forward. "I'm gonna suck you dry." I could feel her breath on my cock. One more lick of her lips, and then she moved further forward, and my cock was in her mouth. I had to move my hand away because she wanted more of my cock. Her left hand took charge. I was sure I could hear squishing noises from her right hand, still digigng into her cunt as she wanked herself. "You've heard of deep throat handsome? Here's where you find out what it means." She was moving her head further and further forward. I wanted to put my hand on her head, to control what she was doing, but that wasn't the game. After the first effort Rita pulled back. Some of her spit trailed off my cock onto her chin. "Fuck thats a proper cock. Come on, I want your spunk." | |||
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"OK, so Rita wasn't expecting me to turn up on her doorstep at eight thirty. That was obvious. Did I deserve the full on sulk she gave me? I should explain. Don knew I was off to uni in the autumn, and asked if I wanted to make some cash in hand doing their garden. Not that Don was flash, well, no more than the sales manager of the biggest car dealer in town would be, but he'd bought an old house with a lawn the size of two tennis courts and a back garden the size of a football pitch. Don wasn't the kind of bloke who'd get his loafers mucky behind a mower. Did that explain Rota being sulky? Not so far as I could tell. She was just a bit of a mardy cow. Don insisted she work part time since they had no kids, and I knew today was one of her days for working. Rita ran the cosmetics and perfume counter in the local department store, the same store where my mam ran the kitchen in the cafeteria / coffee shop. Mam thought Rita was a stuck up bitch who was up her own arse. Me? I thought she looked good for her age, but not at eight thirty when she was still in a dressing gown and slippers with her hair up. Anyways, she twigged that Don had offered me the gardening gig, and told me to go in the kitchen and put the kettle on while she got sorted. It took about as long to find the kettle as it took her to let her hair down, dot some lipstick on and wrap herself in the white, looks like an expensive doctors recceptionist uniform she wore at the stores, and I made her a tea while she chuntered about the garden. Front lawn today, back garden next week, and sweep the drive this week which should keep me busy till she came back in at two. She'd pay me then. She showed me where the mower was in the shed attached to the garage, then told me she'd pop her head round the door once she'd finished getting ready for work. The mower was petrol, but push along, I wa sin for a long morning. Getting all the crusted on glass out from under the blaad took ten minutes, at which point Rita reappears. All finishing get ready had involved, apparently, was putting on stockings or tights,, three inch heeled shoes with open toes, and a gold ankle bracelet. She did a twirl before me as I knelt by the mower. 'How do I look? It's the morning sales meeting for the director today. He always likes me at my best.' What to say? 'You look gorgeous Rita.' I decided to take a risk. 'You look sexy too. Nice legs.' Rita did another pirouette. Like I say, always the best for the boss. A glimpse of stocking may be something shocking, but it takes his mind off the sales figures.' The third pirouette didn't lift Rita's uniform tunic to show off enough of a stocking top with a black lace suspender. Her hand did though, deliberately confirming what she'd said with just a glimpse of the darker top of the stocking. I tried to say 'gorgeous' but it came out like a ventriloquists dummy saying 'gottle of geer'. Rita didn't mind. 'Oh thank you sweetie. See you at two o'clock.' With that she was off; her lowslung MG Midget, brand new, the American styled model with the black rubber bumpers meant that I got just another glimpse of thigh and stocking top as she climbed in, and I was left with five hours to mow two tennis courts and trim the edges. Pushing the mower was hard work. So was getting down on my knees with hand shears to trim the edges. The worst bit was getting the mower over the ridges and despressions where there had been flower beds before someone grassed the whole area over. I felt like giving up by one o'clock and sat in the shade of the porch, shirt off, wishing it was sunnier but the same tmperature. Knowing that Rita was coming back I took off my teeshirt and got on with the final, awkward bits around the edge of the drive. That mean I was exactly where I needed to be when Rita came back. I was about finished, and if I was tired I tried not to show it as her car swung onto the drive. She reversed in, which meant I ccould open the door for her and get another look at her legs. She knew I was looking; she paused with her left leg still in the car, her leg right, letting my gaze go all the way up to her cream coloured panties, before climbing out. 'Nice job handsome, the lawn looks great. Put the mower away and I'll get you a drink and pay you.' was she deliberately swinging her hips as she walked up the drive away from me? I hoped so. It gave me an incentive to get the mower put away quickly, but it took long enough for her to have poured orange juice for me, a coffee for herself, and to have changed out of her uniform into a cream silk wrap. Her legs were still covered by stockings, but the peep toed shoes had gone to eb replaced by backless mules, just a thing strap across the arch of her foot, the rest of the foot exposed, and the heel higher, if anything than the shoes she'd taken off. I still had my teeshirt tucked into the belt of my jeans. When I went to put it on her voice sounded tired but determined. 'Leave it off handsome, you've got nothing to be ashamed of.' Rita crossed her legs so that her wrap uncovered both stocking tops. I was sure that was no accident. I felt my cock stiffen - it wasn't just my eyes and my brain enjoying the view. I was hard, and when I looked away from Rita's stocking tops I realised that was what she was staring at. My cock. It's a cliche, I know that now, but she licked her lips. I felt as if my cock might burst. "Your jeans are getting tight handsome. Want to get it out and show me what you've got?" I knew she might be just teasing, or mocking me, but what did I have to lose? I had to pull at the zip to get it over my bulge, and to push my jeans down slightly so the zip didn't catch my cock, but I got it out. That's when I realised I didn't know what to do next. Should I wank it? I was terrified I'd shoot if I did, an it felt like if I did shoot, it would go everywhere. Rita was licking her lips again. "Nice work handsome, that's a proper cock." I decided if she just wanted a look I could cope. That was until she undid her wrap, opened it wide and cupped her tits with both hands, lifting them out of her bra. "You look ready to burst handsome. Come on, come on these and show me what you've got." I started to stroke my cock. Slowly. Scared I'd shoot too soon, scared that there was a right way to do this that I didn't know about. Rita was so sexy. How did I get to be here? She had one hand in her panties, burrowing into herself. Her left hand was pulling at her own nipple so hard the two gold bracelets rattled, and all the while she was licking her lips and talking to me. "Think you can control it handsome? Think you're in charge of when you shoot?" I figued if she was loving teasing me, I could fight back. 'Like the look of this do you Rita?" She was getting more aggressive in her fingering. She lifted her arse off the kitchen chair, shoved her panties down, then spread her legs so her ankles were outside mine. I stepped towards her, and wanked my cock a little harder. "Go on, say you want this...." Rita leant forward. "I'm gonna suck you dry." I could feel her breath on my cock. One more lick of her lips, and then she moved further forward, and my cock was in her mouth. I had to move my hand away because she wanted more of my cock. Her left hand took charge. I was sure I could hear squishing noises from her right hand, still digigng into her cunt as she wanked herself. "You've heard of deep throat handsome? Here's where you find out what it means." She was moving her head further and further forward. I wanted to put my hand on her head, to control what she was doing, but that wasn't the game. After the first effort Rita pulled back. Some of her spit trailed off my cock onto her chin. "Fuck thats a proper cock. Come on, I want your spunk." " I put my cock against her mouth again, and she took it deep. For my first blowjob from a mature woman I'd picked an expert.Or rather, she'd picked me. Either way I was stood there with my hands by my side while her head bobbed back and fore on my cock, her tongue caressing the underside, her grunts and gasps as she fingered herself getting more forceful, more urgent.... I felt myself starting to come, wanted to ram my cock deeper into her mouth, wanted to push out my come. Rita gagged, of course. It was too hard, too forceful, and my come shot onto her face, into her hair, and then down onto her tits. I felt like I was going to keep coming for ever.... | |||
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"OK, so Rita wasn't expecting me to turn up on her doorstep at eight thirty. That was obvious. Did I deserve the full on sulk she gave me? I should explain. Don knew I was off to uni in the autumn, and asked if I wanted to make some cash in hand doing their garden. Not that Don was flash, well, no more than the sales manager of the biggest car dealer in town would be, but he'd bought an old house with a lawn the size of two tennis courts and a back garden the size of a football pitch. Don wasn't the kind of bloke who'd get his loafers mucky behind a mower. Did that explain Rota being sulky? Not so far as I could tell. She was just a bit of a mardy cow. Don insisted she work part time since they had no kids, and I knew today was one of her days for working. Rita ran the cosmetics and perfume counter in the local department store, the same store where my mam ran the kitchen in the cafeteria / coffee shop. Mam thought Rita was a stuck up bitch who was up her own arse. Me? I thought she looked good for her age, but not at eight thirty when she was still in a dressing gown and slippers with her hair up. Anyways, she twigged that Don had offered me the gardening gig, and told me to go in the kitchen and put the kettle on while she got sorted. It took about as long to find the kettle as it took her to let her hair down, dot some lipstick on and wrap herself in the white, looks like an expensive doctors recceptionist uniform she wore at the stores, and I made her a tea while she chuntered about the garden. Front lawn today, back garden next week, and sweep the drive this week which should keep me busy till she came back in at two. She'd pay me then. She showed me where the mower was in the shed attached to the garage, then told me she'd pop her head round the door once she'd finished getting ready for work. The mower was petrol, but push along, I wa sin for a long morning. Getting all the crusted on glass out from under the blaad took ten minutes, at which point Rita reappears. All finishing get ready had involved, apparently, was putting on stockings or tights,, three inch heeled shoes with open toes, and a gold ankle bracelet. She did a twirl before me as I knelt by the mower. 'How do I look? It's the morning sales meeting for the director today. He always likes me at my best.' What to say? 'You look gorgeous Rita.' I decided to take a risk. 'You look sexy too. Nice legs.' Rita did another pirouette. Like I say, always the best for the boss. A glimpse of stocking may be something shocking, but it takes his mind off the sales figures.' The third pirouette didn't lift Rita's uniform tunic to show off enough of a stocking top with a black lace suspender. Her hand did though, deliberately confirming what she'd said with just a glimpse of the darker top of the stocking. I tried to say 'gorgeous' but it came out like a ventriloquists dummy saying 'gottle of geer'. Rita didn't mind. 'Oh thank you sweetie. See you at two o'clock.' With that she was off; her lowslung MG Midget, brand new, the American styled model with the black rubber bumpers meant that I got just another glimpse of thigh and stocking top as she climbed in, and I was left with five hours to mow two tennis courts and trim the edges. Pushing the mower was hard work. So was getting down on my knees with hand shears to trim the edges. The worst bit was getting the mower over the ridges and despressions where there had been flower beds before someone grassed the whole area over. I felt like giving up by one o'clock and sat in the shade of the porch, shirt off, wishing it was sunnier but the same tmperature. Knowing that Rita was coming back I took off my teeshirt and got on with the final, awkward bits around the edge of the drive. That mean I was exactly where I needed to be when Rita came back. I was about finished, and if I was tired I tried not to show it as her car swung onto the drive. She reversed in, which meant I ccould open the door for her and get another look at her legs. She knew I was looking; she paused with her left leg still in the car, her leg right, letting my gaze go all the way up to her cream coloured panties, before climbing out. 'Nice job handsome, the lawn looks great. Put the mower away and I'll get you a drink and pay you.' was she deliberately swinging her hips as she walked up the drive away from me? I hoped so. It gave me an incentive to get the mower put away quickly, but it took long enough for her to have poured orange juice for me, a coffee for herself, and to have changed out of her uniform into a cream silk wrap. Her legs were still covered by stockings, but the peep toed shoes had gone to eb replaced by backless mules, just a thing strap across the arch of her foot, the rest of the foot exposed, and the heel higher, if anything than the shoes she'd taken off. I still had my teeshirt tucked into the belt of my jeans. When I went to put it on her voice sounded tired but determined. 'Leave it off handsome, you've got nothing to be ashamed of.' Rita crossed her legs so that her wrap uncovered both stocking tops. I was sure that was no accident. I felt my cock stiffen - it wasn't just my eyes and my brain enjoying the view. I was hard, and when I looked away from Rita's stocking tops I realised that was what she was staring at. My cock. It's a cliche, I know that now, but she licked her lips. I felt as if my cock might burst. "Your jeans are getting tight handsome. Want to get it out and show me what you've got?" I knew she might be just teasing, or mocking me, but what did I have to lose? I had to pull at the zip to get it over my bulge, and to push my jeans down slightly so the zip didn't catch my cock, but I got it out. That's when I realised I didn't know what to do next. Should I wank it? I was terrified I'd shoot if I did, an it felt like if I did shoot, it would go everywhere. Rita was licking her lips again. "Nice work handsome, that's a proper cock." I decided if she just wanted a look I could cope. That was until she undid her wrap, opened it wide and cupped her tits with both hands, lifting them out of her bra. "You look ready to burst handsome. Come on, come on these and show me what you've got." I started to stroke my cock. Slowly. Scared I'd shoot too soon, scared that there was a right way to do this that I didn't know about. Rita was so sexy. How did I get to be here? She had one hand in her panties, burrowing into herself. Her left hand was pulling at her own nipple so hard the two gold bracelets rattled, and all the while she was licking her lips and talking to me. "Think you can control it handsome? Think you're in charge of when you shoot?" I figued if she was loving teasing me, I could fight back. 'Like the look of this do you Rita?" She was getting more aggressive in her fingering. She lifted her arse off the kitchen chair, shoved her panties down, then spread her legs so her ankles were outside mine. I stepped towards her, and wanked my cock a little harder. "Go on, say you want this...." Rita leant forward. "I'm gonna suck you dry." I could feel her breath on my cock. One more lick of her lips, and then she moved further forward, and my cock was in her mouth. I had to move my hand away because she wanted more of my cock. Her left hand took charge. I was sure I could hear squishing noises from her right hand, still digigng into her cunt as she wanked herself. "You've heard of deep throat handsome? Here's where you find out what it means." She was moving her head further and further forward. I wanted to put my hand on her head, to control what she was doing, but that wasn't the game. After the first effort Rita pulled back. Some of her spit trailed off my cock onto her chin. "Fuck thats a proper cock. Come on, I want your spunk." I put my cock against her mouth again, and she took it deep. For my first blowjob from a mature woman I'd picked an expert.Or rather, she'd picked me. Either way I was stood there with my hands by my side while her head bobbed back and fore on my cock, her tongue caressing the underside, her grunts and gasps as she fingered herself getting more forceful, more urgent.... I felt myself starting to come, wanted to ram my cock deeper into her mouth, wanted to push out my come. Rita gagged, of course. It was too hard, too forceful, and my come shot onto her face, into her hair, and then down onto her tits. I felt like I was going to keep coming for ever...." What to do next? I didn't know. Seriously. I'd seen exactly one porno mag that showed real sex, and it didn't include this. Rita looked like someone had set out to ruin her makeup, and succeeded. What was she going to say? What would Don say if he found out? Was it going to bee wrong to offer her the teat towel to get the come off her eyelids? Rita took charge. "I hope there's more where that came from handsome. Follow me. Get your boots off." With that she was off to the bedroom. Through the living room with its deep pile carpet, unsullied by my socks, and into the bedroom. Sunshine streaming through the blinds, a huge mirrored wardrobe facing the bottom of the bed reflecting the light, and a super modern (for the time) Trimphone on the bedside table. "Come on sweetheart, get stripped and get over here...." It's not as if I should have needed that instruction. Rita was on the bed, naked except for her stockings and suspenders, stroking her cunt. It was a cunt in my mindd, not a pussy or a minge, because it was bare. No hair, no artully airbrushed out of existence perfection like the photos in mens magazines like Mayfair. It was a cunt. Two pink lips on a background of suntanned flesh that shocked me. She sunbathed naked? Lips that parted to her fingers, with a slippery noise as she dipped her fingers into herself. SHe was so in charge, so cool. "Don't rush sweeetheart, just lie here next to me while we get you nice aand hard again, and I make a phone call." A phone call? Sure enough, as I ay next to her, her on her back, me on my side, my cock stiffening against her thigh, she picked up the sharp edged Trimphone handsset and made a phonecall. "Yes Trina, can I speak to Don please?" | |||
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