This is my first story on here, it's probably a bit of a slow build up for some but... It's been about 14 years since I wrote my last story, which used to appear regularly on Adrianna's list.
It's almost all true, there are just a few changes to protect the guilty ;)
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My First Landlady
I’m celebrating my 54th birthday next week; is it an achievement? Does it really matter? Well no on both counts, but for those capable of basic mathematics it means I was born in 1955 and the world was a very different place. Nice girls didn’t do anything and even the bad girls didn’t do much, so whereas now we’re led to believe that every girl over 14 is at it 24/7 back then they just weren’t.
Sadly I was a bit young for the “Summer of Love” and even the sexual liberation “the pill” brought to women didn’t mean sex became readily available, contraception was something married women used, not the stunner in Woolworths. Although I never understood it at 6’1” I was quite tall, I was lean and had developed the same muscled frame my Dad gained from 25 years of physically demanding work, I had what is described as rugged good looks and I was well equipped sporting nearly 9 inches of thick uncircumcised cock, all of which unbeknown to me got quite a few glances from girls.
When I turned 21 I didn’t really know anything about sex and yes, I was still a virgin. Sex was never discussed, pregnancy was very much a thing discussed by women, and the closest I got to the facts of life was my Mum telling me to stay away a girl who was “not nice” and who would get into trouble someday. I already knew her having received a wank from her at the cinema but she said I was a freak and far too big for any girl, so with my all but non existent sexual confidence shattered I opted for work over women, a decision which my boss told me was a very good idea.
I only got to learn about life because my employer wanted me to travel about the country installing new electronic exchanges, Hotels were only for rich people and I usually stayed for 2-3 months in lodgings, a home from home if you like, well almost, except that the landladies were not my Mum. They cooked, did my washing and ironing and generally provided most of my needs, it wasn’t until I stayed at the B&B of a 34 year widow that I found one who provided all my needs.
It was in a town about 50 miles west of London called Swindon, she was a quiet women whose older husband had died when she was just 28, leaving her a big house, no income and 2 children to raise, so she took in paying guests. Mostly lorry drivers staying for 1 night so having me there for 3 months was unusual and meant she didn’t need any other guests. I got on well with her and her kids partly because I never really caused her a great deal of trouble: breakfast, a packed lunch and an evening meal, a bath every night and clean sheets once a week, simple.
However spending every evening with her meant I got to know her quite well, even the dopey 23 year old I was could tell she was lonely and the things she said about her deceased husband made me feel she was better off without him. She was average height, thin build, had shoulder length brown hair, wasn’t what I’d call pretty but not ugly either, but from what I’d noticed had curves. I was somewhat intimidated by her for no other reason than my lack of knowledge of women, she discussed things with me I never heard my parents talk about, and I learned that she didn’t really like the drivers who all thought she was part and parcel of the overnight stay. She told me once that now she was on the pill she had given a couple of drivers more to remember than just breakfast, she watched for my reaction but all I did was blush.
It was her who took matters in hand when one evening I went for a bath: it had become my favourite place and time for playing with myself her being my prime fantasy. I would get out, come in the bath, get dried, wash the bath and spend the evening downstairs. That particular evening, after realising there was no towel, I shouted to her asking if she could leave one by the door. I heard her come up the stairs and open the closet door, I was stood by the bath about to shoot my load when, thinking I was still in the bath, in she walked. I was on the vinegar stroke and to be honest had a pink elephant wearing a tutu playing Verdi’s requiem on a banjo charged in I wouldn’t have noticed, so I had no idea that she was watching me as I spurted my jizz into the bathwater.
I felt her there more than anything else, I turned and looked at her, she was rooted to the spot holding a towel, her mouth slightly open staring at my hand slowly squeezing out the last drops. I wished I was dead, all I wanted was the floor to give way. She dropped the towel and walked out without saying a word. Well what could I do? I picked up the towel, let out the water, dried and went to hide in my room dreading the moment I would have to leave it again. I heard her put the children to bed and then she went into the bathroom and I realised she was washing the bath. That made things worse, I realised that I’d not cleaned up my deposit, that she’d probably gone to clean it anyway because of me and the evidence would be there. I really did want to die, perhaps I could sneak out and find somewhere else to stay for the next month?
I drifted off to sleep, I awoke when she knocked on my door and said there was a pot of tea in the lounge if I wanted a cup. I was thirsty but what could I do? Go down and hope she wasn’t there? Stay where I was? If she was there what would I say? What would she say? I’d have to apologise there was simply nothing else for it. She’d probably ask me to leave and who could blame her. I pulled on a shirt and some jeans and bracing myself for the worst, walked downstairs, I put my hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and entered. Oh god she was there and pouring me a cup of tea. She held it out and waited for me to take it. I put it down and said
“about upstairs...”.
“No need to explain I know men have needs, I’ll just clean the bath more often” she answered.
I went as red as a beetroot, what could I say? Did she think I wanked every night in the bath? Which of course, I did.
“You certainly left a lot to clean up but I suppose you’re young and in your prime”.
I sat in embarrassed silence.
“Do you have a girlfriend at home?”
“No”.
“So there isn’t a girl missing out while you’re here?”
“No”.
After a moment she asked “Do the girls know what they’re missing?”
“I don’t understand”.
“Well any girlfriend of yours would have a lot to be thankful about”.
“What?”
“There’s no need to be coy, I’m just saying if you had a girlfriend she’d be missing you a lot”.
“But I don’t”.
“So you said”.
“Look the truth is I don’t really know how to speak to girls”.
“So you don’t think I’m a girl?”
“What? No, you’re a woman, not a girl”.
I was becoming flustered.
“Are you a virgin?”
Once again I turned red as a beetroot.
“Ahh”.
I sat in silence sipping my tea, feeling slightly relieved that the bathroom incident appeared to have been forgotten, but wondering why she was so interested in me having a girlfriend and dreading where this would go next.
“What do you think of when you’re in the bath?”
Oh god, we were back to the bathroom again.
“What? I don’t know”.
“Well you must think about something? Do you think about the page three girls?”
“Sometimes, sometimes not”.
“Do you ever think about me?”
“No”.
“Why not, is there something wrong with me?”
“No”.
“Then why don’t you think about me?”
“I don’t know. Because you’re nice”.
She smiled and bowed her head, “That’s sweet but silly. Even nice girls like to be thought about”.
“Even when I’m..., you know”.
She raised her eyebrow and said. “Especially then”.
“I know older men want me but it’s nice knowing younger men do as well”.
“Really?”
Yes, really”.
I didn’t know what to make of this, should I respond? Should I tell her? I doubted it would make things worse so I decided to tell her the truth.
“OK, I think of you whenever I..., you know”.
We sat in silence for a while sipping tea. Why hadn’t she said anything? Had I gone too far by telling her? Was she so embarrassed she didn’t know what to say? My mind was racing coming up with worst case scenarios.
“Tell me what you think about”.
“What! I can’t. I don’t know. It’s... I just can’t”.
“Do you think about me touching you? Do you think about me naked?”
“Do you think about your big cock inside me?”
“Do you think about us making love? I do.”
“What?”
“It’s not just men who can make themselves feel good, I do it as well.”
“Really?”
“Really, and when I do I think about you.”
She walked over to the sofa, sat next to me and put her hand on my knee. I jumped slightly, she lifted my chin and looked into my eyes
“If you want to find out what else I think about you’d better come with me.”
She took my cup put it on the table and took my hand, she lead me in silence to her bedroom and guided me to her bed.
“Sit down”.
I did, mesmorised as this quiet women stood in front of me and started to undo her blouse, button by button, I could see the strap holding her blue bra together as she undid the buttons on her cuffs, then it fell to the floor and I was transfixed by her breasts. Without warning her skirt dropped to the floor revealing long shapely legs covered in tan stockings, held up by a blue suspender belt and between the darker stocking tops and the suspender belt was a pair of blue panties, almost see through, with a hint of darkness behind the thin material.
My cock was harder than I ever remembered it being, I didn’t know what to do, touch her or myself, get undressed or finish getting her undressed. She knew. She took my hand and I followed her lead, she stood in front of me and moved her hands to the buttons on my shirt, undoing them top to bottom. If she was nervous she didn't show it, after pushing my shirt off my shoulders she reached up on tiptoes and kissed my lips lightly. As I felt the softest caress on my lips her hands undid first the button and then the zip on my jeans, her hands came back to my chest and she lightly stroked from my shoulders to my waist. As they went behind my back she hugged me and I could feel my cock push against her soft stomach.
“You can touch me, I don’t mind”. She said.
In that moment I was overwhelmed and my reply must have seemed childish
“I don’t know where?”
She stepped back and turned around, wrapped my arms around her and gently guided my hands to her breasts, with my hands feeling the soft warmth of her she unclipped the bra and opened it allowing my hands to touch her soft skin.
“Squeeze them.”
I did afraid that I might break them, her hands covered mine and she guided me, caressing them, lifting them, pinching and pulling her nipples away from her body. It could have lasted 10 minutes or ten years but I was lost feeling her so womanly flesh.
She turned around and we kissed, soft at first then harder, then our tongues met and soon were darting into each others mouths I hugged her to my body and I guess she could feel my need because she slid down my body and pulled down both my jeans and pants. I was so hard I thought I would burst, then her hand was touching me, she slid down from the head to the base with the lightest touch and when she reached the base she squeezed hard, I gasped. Looking down watching her, she started a slow but light stroking motion every time she reached the base she would squeeze hard and return to the light stroke. I felt like I was in heaven.
The next moment I knew I was, she opened her mouth and slid the head of my cock past her lips and into her wet, burning hot mouth, she continued to stroke the shaft lightly squeezing the base hard, her tongue wrapped and caressed my cock head until I could hold back no longer and I came. The first spurt must have surprised her because her head jerked back a little but the second, third and fourth happened with no interruption to the licking, sucking and stroking my cock was receiving. It was paradise. Gripping the base hard she pulled her mouth away and swallowed all my sperm then letting go of the base I grunted and another spurt hit her nose and cheek.
“I think you needed that”.
She laughed and I joined in, my legs were zapped of all strength and I half collapsed half sat on the bed. She was kneeling in front of me her hands on my thighs looking at my still fairly hard cock.
“Do you want me to teach you how to make a woman feel just as good as you do?”
“I don’t know if that’s possible. I doubt anybody can feel as good as I do right now. But I’m willing to give it a go.”
“I’ll go and make some fresh tea, don’t you fall asleep or there’ll be trouble.”
She stood up and bent over to pick up our discarded cloths, watching her stocking clad legs and her panties stretch over her fabulous bum my cock reached its full hardness again. Sleep was the furthest thing from my mind as she disappeared through the bedroom door.
If people like it I'll get onto the next bit...
