Fun with Marge

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Older woman meet younger man.
2.2k words
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Marge O'Connell was a well built woman, an angular, almost lanky woman, with a firm jaw, but with big hips, a full belly and long, hanging breasts. She was a fine figure of a woman in fact, of some fifty years. She had untidy red hair, green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her strong, straight nose, a firm generous mouth. She was wearing, on this particular day, an old silk kimono that reached only half way down her thigh, and a pair of old shorts, for decency's sake.

She had decided, this particular Monday morning, after three years of being a widow, of being depressed and lonely, to reform her life, to start again, and so she began to collect all her old things, and poor Andrew's, and put them in boxes on the back verandah. That took her an hour and she realised then that she must be out of condition for she felt tired. Or getting old, she thought with a shudder. She stood at the back door, stretched and looked at the spring sun shining on the chaos of old vegetable beds and on the tall grass that used to be their lawn. A magpie trilled in the gum tree next door and as she turned to look at the creature, she saw John, pottering around in the garden beyond her fence. John was eighteen and at school, but seeing that he was simple minded and was getting nowhere with his studies, and seeing that he kept getting bullied by the other boys and teased by the girls, everyone concerned was happy enough to let him take a day off now and then. He was wearing a pair of tight shorts and nothing else, and without thinking about it, Marge began to wonder at how fit the young man looked. Fit and lean and well muscled. She wondered too what he would look like without those shorts and suddenly realised that she was blushing, was starting to want him.

She gave an impatient grunt and promptly put all such thoughts out of her head. To work, she thought. "John!" she called. He loped over to the fence and she trotted down and asked him if he would like to help her shift some boxes into the old garage. He nodded and said yes and she made small talk for a while, simply to be close to him and to admire his arms, his chest. Then she realised what she was doing and abruptly closed the conversation and walked back to the house, telling John to come round the back. John joined her at the back door and she told him what she wanted, then went into the kitchen to put some lemonade into the fridge. She could still hear him working out there and so, restless, she went into the bedroom and on an impulse pulled off her shorts and bra. There, that felt cooler, for she was feeling strangely hot. She then slipped into a pair of thongs and padded out the back, feeling quite excited by the silk moving across her bare nipples and the cool air on her cunt.

One or two boxes were still on the verandah, but of John there was no sign. Nor could she hear any activity in the garage.

She walked down to the side door, which they were using for the big garage door itself was too much bother to raise, and looked quietly in. A workbench ran across the back of the place and there was John, standing and reading something, a magazine, opened on the bench. A cardboard box stood opened beside it and suddenly Marge realised that it was that old collection of porn that Andrew had and that he had refused to throw away.

Then Marge gave a little gasp, for John suddenly pulled down his pants and let them drop to the floor, revealing his tight, young man's buttocks. His right hand now moved to the front of his body, down low, and began to jerk back and forth and she realized with a shudder of arousal that he was in fact pulling himself off. Convulsively she slipped a hand inside her kimono, grabbed one of her heavy breasts with one hand and squeezed, as her other hand sank to her crotch, lifted the fabric and began to rub her hungry nether lips.

No, no! she thought. This is crazy. And she fled. Then she stopped at the back steps. She was tingling, wanting, breasts and cunt heavy with desire. She turned and called out to the boy. She had to stop him spending himself like that! "Are you finished?" she said loudly, as she walked slowly back down to the garage door again, pulling the kimono back into place. His voice in reply sounded a little breathless, but when she came in he was wearing his shorts again and carrying the box to put it up on one of the side shelves.He seemed a little red in the face.

"When you finish the last few boxes, come into the living room," she said, smiling nervously at him. Like a school girl, she thought. Ridiculous. She none the less noticed his eyes roving up and down her body with a slight gleam of interest that had not been there before. She started to blush again and turned quickly away, but could not resist giving her broad hips a little extra sway as she walked off.

When they were both sitting on the lounge with their lemonades, she tried to make conversation.

"I'd let you watch telly, John," she said. "But I've lost the remote control."

He grunted and drank some more lemonade.

"Might have kicked it under one of the lounge chairs," she said and again he grunted. She got up.

"I might get down and see if it's there," she said an idea forming in her mind. She stood a little behind him now and pulled up the back of her kimono a little.

"Now," she said, getting down on hands and knees. "Let's see what there is to see."

She made a great show of looking under the couch, then shuffled round and looked under the two armchairs opposite, presenting her exposed slit to him. She could feel the air on her cunt so she knew that he was getting a very clear view. Finally, after giving him a good show, she stood and sat on the couch. She saw with satisfaction that his rod was pushing up the cloth of his shorts in a long ridge. "Do you have a girlfriend, John?" she asked. She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. A sort of friendly, aunty squeeze, to encourage him to talk. He did have a girlfriend, he said. Julia. She had lunch with him sometimes so she must be his girlfriend.

"No, John, what I mean is a girl that lets you kiss her and take her to the movies." He looked blank. "Nar," he said. "She doesn't kiss me." He paused and thought. "But she has got big tits." His gaze fell to Marge's breasts. With all the crawling round the cleavage had grown quite deep. "But not as big as yours, Mrs. O'Connell," he added, so she wouldn't feel too bad. He moved restlessly on his chair and Marge could tell where his thoughts were going.

Marge looked sad and shook her head.

"No, John, a girlfriend lets you kiss her and look at her breasts. Have you ever seen a woman's breasts?" she added, looking seriously into his hazel eyes, sinking into them. John looked down and said no.

"Would you like to see mine?" she said brightly, nervously. He mumbled something about his Mum (who was at work at the Post Office at the moment) telling him he shouldn't perve on women's tits. Marge soldiered on.

"That's only if the woman doesn't want you to, John," she said. "If she likes you looking at her tits, that's ok. You can. It makes her feel good." He mumbled something acquiescent and she grew impatient.

"Here!" she said. "You can look at mine!" She quickly pulled her kimono down around her waist as John looked nervously on.

"There you are!" she said. "Look all you like!" Her big pendulous breast moved gently with her breathing (which was for some reason quite heavy) and she could feel her big nipples start to engorge. John was fascinated. He noticed that she had freckles on the top slopes of her tits and that for some reason, she was blushing and that the blush went down her neck and onto the top of her boobs. He could feel himself start to get even harder and moved again on the couch. She glanced across at him and saw with a little shudder of desire that the tip of his erection was now visible, pushing out from under his shorts.

"You can touch them if you like," she said softly, pretending not to have seen that exciting piece of cock. His hand slowly reached out and stroked one of the nipples. Marge gave a little moan.

"Oh, that feels good!" she said. "Do you want to suck them?" she added with a quaver in her voice. Now she could feel herself getting very wet below.

"That would make me feel really good, John," She added. "Come on!" She took his hand and pulled him closer. The movement made his tool poke even more out of his shorts.

"Go on," she whispered. "Suck them!"

He did so, becoming quite enthusiastic and going from one nipple to the other, sucking and kneading. Finally, one of his hands strayed to her belly.

"Oh yes, John, that feels really good. Go down lower!" She was now writhing with desire.

"Here. Let me get this out of the way," she muttered and pulling on the kimono sash, she lifting her hips, pulled the garment free and cast it on the floor. She now grabbed John's hand and pushed it down over her naked pubic mound. Instinctively he knew what she wanted, and began to rub her swollen, slippery piss lips then to work his middle finger into the warm wet slit.

"Oh yes, yes yes," she cried and he moved his fingers faster till at last she bucked up, gave a cry and climaxed. They lay there for some time, he in a kind of excited shock, she catching her breath. When her pulse had slowed she turned to him and gave him a hug.

"That was very good, John. Let me do something for you."

She leant over him, her tits brushing against his side, and undid his shorts and pulled them off. His large, red organ stood up in the air, its tip gaping with readiness and wet with precum. His balls were huge too and Marge had a moment of misgiving. Would he fit into her poor little cunt? Then she gave an impatient grunt. It was worth it, the way she felt now.

She took his hand and got him to lie on the living room carpet with her. She smiled at him then lay on her back and spread her legs.

"Do you know what to do?" she murmured. He nodded, climbed on top of her and stabbed her vaguely between the legs with his organ.

"Wait," she said. "Let me help you in"

She took his tool and slid the tip up and down between her piss flaps. He held himself there on his knees and his hands, quivering with desire. Then he lost patience and pushed in to the hilt.

"Aaah!" she cried, then she began to make little ng, ng, ng sounds as he rammed into her. John paid no attention. He was fucking her, doing her, raping her, poking her, fast and hard. Then, in a flurry of rapid jabs, he shot his load deep into her, slapping his belly once, twice, three times against hers as he emptied buckets of his hot young spunk into her ripe womb.

"Oh yessss," she moaned as he lay on her, panting, exhausted and still in her, leaking his spunk into her heavy body.

Afterwards they went to her bedroom where they played with each other for a while and this time, when she was ready, he entered her and brought her to another climax. They remained lovers for many months but then John left school, got a job in a hardware store and a girlfriend. Still, he would come over now and then to visit her and fuck her stupid, for he was now quite skilled at this. Then he left home and moved to another town. By then Marge had found a older man herself. He lasted longer than John but sometimes Marge missed the quick, sudden tupping of a younger man. On those occasions she would put on a DVD she had made of them fucking and would bring herself to a violent orgasm. She would watch John's strong legs and muscular buttocks bobbing up and down between her long, well-fleshed legs, would listen his rhythmic grunts of passion and to her long wail of climax.

Mind you, sometimes he used to visit his mother, and then he would spend half the night in her room and in her.

You can't, she reflected, have everything you want, but you can come close.

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