It bothered me, like really bothered me that at 19 years old I would spend so much of my time thinking about Mrs. Cathedra. It didn't make any sense. She's over 50, over-weight and, I gather, a childless widow. But I couldn't shake her; she's on my mind most of the fucking day and, honestly, I don't know why.
I do know that I want to fuck her, and that doesn't make any sense, either. I am a virgin, have absolutely no experience with women, and don't know why I wanted to initiate myself into the world of sex with Mrs Cathedra. I just do.
In fact, Mrs Cathedra is much older than my own mother and different from her in every way. My mother is slim, hip, funny, excitable and blond. Mrs Cathedra appears hefty, shy, quiet, conservative and dark. But there is something about her that gets to me, and it isn't just her big breasts, although they are probably a factor. And her size might be, too: when I think of being with her, as I do constantly, I am enveloped in her, almost smothered in her, it excites the hell out of me, the thought of lying in her flesh.
But there is something about her that attracts me that isn't merely physical — and I don't quite know what it is. It could be her apparent vulnerability or her shyness; maybe I think I can be sort of like a saviour to her. Or maybe there is a side of me that needs to help people, and she is the most convenient target. I don't know what it is but I think of her all the time, think of being with her.
Mrs. Cathedra lives across from us in an attractive house on the other side of the strip of green belt running between our properties. And most of the time, that's where I see her, on the green belt; most every night she walks from one end of the belt to the other, maybe two miles in all. I have never spoken to her; wouldn't know what to say to her if I did. But I'm getting really frustrated that she is over there, not 500 feet from my bedroom window and I am here, in my bedroom, looking at her house, imagining what she's doing in there.
And I didn't know how I was going to get a chance to find out, to meet her. I thought through a thousand ploys but I rejected each one for one reason or another. But there is one tactic that stays with me. It is bold, daring and wrong but if it works it would certainly set in train the events I have long hoped would transpire.
In evaluating my options, I had skulked out Mrs. Cathedra's property. As I said, she has an attractive house with a small back yard that is surrounded by a tall fence, wooden on two side and a high, nicely trimmed cedar bush facing the greenbelt where I discovered it was possible to gain access to her backyard by squeezing through a small space beneath the foliage near the left fence.
Her back yard is very small and very neat, with one of those circular clothes lines in the corner where, in early evening after I saw Mrs. Cathedra leave for her walk, I squeezed through the opening. On the line was white washing and I was surprised to see some very delicate underwear hanging limply in the sun. My dink wasn't. At the first sight of Mrs. Cathedra's panties and bras I got a ranging hard-on. So much for my plan. There were two bras and five panties on the line, all white. I took one of the bras and one of the panties, stuffed them in my pockets and got the hell out of there.
I wore myself damn near raw while looking at them and feeling them and imagining Mrs. Cathedra in them. She looked kind of beautiful: full-figured, sure, and not young, far from it, but she looked really good in the white bra and panties ... for about a week, and then I started feeling like a thief, and the worse kind of thief, a sneeking panty thief and I started to really dislike myself. I could have chucked them out, that would have been the easy way out, and I was going to, too, maybe five times, but I really felt like a shit so when I rang her doorbell and handed her the bag and said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Cathedra, I stole these from your clothes line," I really meant it. I was sorry.
She took the bag from me and looked inside, "Oh," was her reaction, but she looked a little shocked, too. "Why would you take them?"
I said it before I thought it through, "May I come in?"
She frowned with uncertainty but then stood aside and I walked in and closed the door behind me. "My name is Bill Harvard, I live just across the way. From my bedroom window I've see you out walking, maybe a hundred times. I love to look at you, Mrs. Cathedra."
She was as confused as she was shocked. "You do?"
"That's why I got into your back yard. I wanted to see if there was some way I could ... look at you, like through your window. But your underwear was on the line and I couldn't resist it. I took some and I ... ah, used it until I started to feel ashamed of myself. But I couldn't just throw it away so I brought it back and I want to apologize for stealing it ..." then I quickly added, "but I don't apologize for watching you and thinking of you. I'm an adult, Mrs. Cathedra, you're an adult and you have needs and so do I."
She didn't say anything, she just looked at the bag.
"Do you understand me?"
"I think I do, yes."
"And why would a young man like you think that way about an elderly woman ..."
"I don't know, but I do and I'll be very respectful and very discreet but I have to ask you if you'll ... if we could ... if I could ... touch you?"
She had been concentrating on the bag but she slowly looked up at me, obviously having no idea where any of this was coming from. "Why would you ask such a thing?"
I had nothing to lose now, I'd already made a bigger fool of myself than I thought possible, but, strangely, I had some hope, she hadn't slapped me or yelled at me or ordered me out of the house. "Because I've wanted to for so many months, I can't help myself. Do you want me to go?"
"I want you to explain yourself, why would you ask me such a thing?"
"Why would I steal your underwear? Why would I masturbate all the time imagining you in them? Why do I look out my window waiting to see you? I don't know why I do these things, Mrs. Cathedra, I just do. I want to be with you."
"You should go."
I felt a crashing defeat. "I'm sorry." And I quickly turned to go, to escape.
"But you can have these." She was smiling when I turned back. "I was young once, too." She held out the bag.
But I didn't take it. "Then you know how I'm feeling?"
"Well," she hesitated, uncertainly, "as I said, I was young once, too."
I took the bag from her and reached into it and pulled out her panties and handed them to her. Instinctively, she reached out and took them. "You think I kidding about this. But I'm not. I'm an adult. I want to be with you. I'd like you to take me seriously." I reached into the bag and got her bra and handed that to her, too.
She threw her underwear onto a chair, "Ok, Bill, I'll take you seriously. Have a seat, would you like something to drink? A coke?"
I was so surprised by her rapid change that I said, "Really?"
"Have a seat, I'll get us some cokes."
When she headed for the kitchen I sat down in a chair, then reconsidered and moved to the couch and I waited nervously and in a couple of minutes she returned, put two cokes on the table and sat down on the couch, too. "So, how did you expect me to react to all of this?" She was looking at me intently. She wanted to know.
"I didn't have any expectations. I thought I'd just hand you the bag and leave. I didn't expect to come inside, I didn't expect to be sitting here like this, talking to you."
"And now that you are, what are you thinking."
"I'm thinking that you are really cool."
She got up went over to the chair picked up her underwear and came back and before she sat down she threw it on my lap. "Show me what you did with these."
She didn't look mad, but this seemed really strange to me, I wasn't sure I knew what she wanted. "You mean ... like, ah, masturbate?"
She was nodding solemnly as she sat down.
"Really?" I waited for her to nod again. "Here? Like, now?""
"Show me ... I want to see what you did with my things."
"The whole thing?"
"I masturbated with them."
I froze for a moment, but my mind was kicking over a mile a minute then it occurred to me that I wanted to do it, it didn't look like is was going to shock her, or gross her out, she actually seemed like she wanted me to do it so I stood up, took my pants and underwear off and was about to sit down when she told me to take my shirt off, too. I did and when I sat down I lay back against the arm of the couch, positioned both feet on the couch between us and I brought her panties to my face and started in, surprised that I wasn't the least bit embrarassed, I just concentrated on the soft and familiar material against my face, looked at her, as I had always imagined her and in a matter of seconds shot a line of cum up my chest, then I sagged against the arm and watched her get up, go over to a table for a box of kleenex. When she came back and cleaned up my mess I took her hand as she sat down and I placed it on me. I could feel her trying to pull away, but not very insistently, then in a few moments she relaxed her fingers on me and a few moments later she very slowly, very gently began to pump my already stiff prick and when she did I reached out and ran my fingers over her breast.
"Why did you want me to do that?" I asked.
"I thought it would sober you up, and you'd realize what you did ... and go home."
"It didn't ... sober me up."
"No," she smiled, "it didn't."
"I'm not just a horny guy looking to get off. I want to be with you. You can see that."
"Why? I just don't understand that."
"I don't know, Mrs. Cathedra, I honestly don't, it's just the way you make me feel, when I see you walking, when I think of you, I just want to be with you, please let me, I'm an adult, I know what I want, I know I can make you happy, or try to make you happy." I put my hand on hers to stop her from pumping me, I was on the brink of exploding. "I need this, honestly, I do." I could feel her nipple harden as my fingers caressed her breast. "I want to take your shirt off, Mrs. Cathedra, can I?"
She just continued to look at me with the solemn look of hers but she didn't say anything.
"Can I take you shirt off, Mrs. Catherda, I really want to see you."
She smiled, her fingers still gently encircling me. "My big white bra?"
"I'd like that off, too."
"No." She pushed my hand from hers and started pumping me again. "I need to think about this, and right now I'm not thinking clearly." In a few seconds she was cleaning me up again.
"Can I come back?" I had made no effort to cover myself, or get dressed, I just lay back against the arm of her couch with my penis half-sagging, looking up at her.
She bent down a gave me a little peck on my cheek. "You're persistent, aren't you?"
"I'll come back, whenever you say. Please, Mrs. Cathedra, let me come back."
She seemed to be concentrating hard for almost a minute. "You can come back, Billy, tomorrow, but I don't promise that I'll let you in." She reached down, picked up my clothes from the floor and handed them so me. "But, I might." She chuckled for the first time since I got there. "You've been very persuasive."
She did let me in, standing aside while I brazenly and excitedly walked by her. "You're absolutely sure you want this?"
When I turned and watched her close the door, I could feel her heat, feel the softness of her flesh, feel her breath on my cheek, just as I did last night, lying in bed. "You think this is just an infatuation, don't you?"
She leaned back against the door and looked at me with a solemn look that was becoming familiar. "That's precisely what it is, an infatuation. The question is, why are you infatuated with me and," she hesitated, I could tell she didn't want to make the admission, "why am I tempted to succumb to it?"
"Because I think you know this is not an infatuation, Mrs. Cathedra." I spoke with the authority of conviction. "This is not even just a desire. I want to be with you, I've thought about it constantly for months, so it can't just be an infatuation. I'm not sure why, I just want to be with you."
She hadn't moved. "Why would a young man want to be with an older woman? That isn't normal."
I shrugged, "I don't care what normal is, and I don't want you to care. As I've said, I'm an adult, I want to be here, I really want to be here and I want you to want me to be here," I laughed, "that's obviously a little necessary."
"You want us to have sex together. You want me to take you by the hand, take you into my bedroom and you want us to have sex."
I laughed, "well, I actually want a lot more than that. I want to hold you, to touch your skin, I want to take your clothes off, I want to see you in the bra and panties that have been hanging on the line, I want ..."
She still hadn't moved. "And if I let you? If I gave you what you want?"
"Do you trust me?"
"I've thought a lot about that. You could have thrown away my underwear, you didn't have to bring it back, you didn't have to admit what you did, so, yes, I do, I think I do trust you."
"Do you think that I'm telling you the truth, that I really want to be here ... with you?"
She looked at me for a long time before answering, then she said, "I think you believe what you're saying, what you think you're feeling, I don't know why, but I think you do, yes."
"So it all comes down to you, Mrs. Cathedra. I'm a virgin, I desperately want to have sex with you. I'll be respectful, discrete ... I am all those things."
"I can't imagine this."
"Can we just sort of start and if you want me to stop, I will?"
"What would you think of me?"
"You're a very attractive middle age woman. Why wouldn't you want to have sex with a young stud like me who has foisted himself on you. I mean, aren't you curious? You said you trusted me, so trust me, give in, say yes, I mean, have you given up on sex?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I thought I had. Yes."
"And you were OK with that?"
"Did you think of me last night?"
Shrugging her shoulders, she bounced off the door and walked past me, "I'll get some cokes."
When I sat on the couch I felt my head spinning and then she was standing in front of me handing me a glass. "I don't understand this, Bill but last night I decided that if you came back I would let you in and if you still wanted ... me, and I felt I could trust you, then ... it appears there is still something left in me."
"Did you let me touch you last night, after I left?"
"Yes." She was standing just two feet in front of me, close enough that I could feel her. "But ... you were ... shocked at what you saw."
"Can we go into your bedroom and I could ... hold you, that's the way it always starts with me, I lie down and hold you and you hold me."
She looked down on me and I could see her making her decision, a decision she confirmed when she reached for my hand.
I was so dizzy I almost stumbled as I followed her to her bedroom, my hand in hers and when she hesitated at the side of the bed I was so anxious for my world to stop spinning I just climbed onto the bed and lay down and reached up for her and when she lay down beside me I pulled us together, with me face in her neck, my arm over her middle and my leg over hers so my hard-on was pressing into her thigh and I just stayed like that for a few minutes, revelling in the intimacy. "Are you all right?" I finally asked.
"Do you still want this?"
I leaned up on an arm and looked down on her, "You don't get it, do you, you just don't understand how much I want to be here."
"No, I don't," but her solemn look weakened with a little smile and she took my hand and squeezed it, then she brought it up to her lips and kissed it gently, "It has been a long long time for me."
She smiled but didn't say anything but she didn't flinch when I moved my hand to her breast, instead, I could feel her hip press into me so I bent down and lightly kissed her all over the face, her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her eyes, her chin, her lips, little pecking kisses as my hand felt the steep swell of her breast and I could feel her thigh pressed insistently into me.
I think that's what set me off, the realization that she finally was acknowledging that she wanted me there. All I had to do was rub a little against her leg and I pressed my mouth against hers and groaned into it as she pushed her leg against me and hugged me until I went limp and she was struggling to get out from under me. "I'll get some tissue."
But I held on to her, I didn't let her go. "See what you do to me?" I got to my knees and started in on her buttons and when I got about half of them undone I looked at her and I thought I saw some fear in her eyes. "You can tell me to stop and I will," I laughed, "I won't want to but I will."
She squeezed my fingers that were resting on her chest. "I don't want you to be disappointed and if you were with a young woman your age you wouldn't be."
I didn't say anything, I just hurriedly finished off her buttons, then I sat down with my legs crossed very close to her and I opened her shirt and gently ran my fingers across her upper chest. "There is no chance that I'm going to be disappointed, Mrs. Cathedra. None."
I smiled at her. "Mrs. Cathedra, that's who I have way up there on the pedestal, that's who I want to be here with, the woman I've watched so often walking on the green belt." I put my hand behind her neck and helped her to sit up, then I took off her shirt and when I reached behind her to unfasten her bra I kissed her on the lips and lingered there until she kissed me back, then I pulled the bra from her shoulders and when I looked at her I said, "You're beautiful, Mrs. Cathedra, I knew you would be." I gently pushed her back and quickly got to my feet and stripped off all my clothes. "I'm going to take your clothes off, OK?"
She was looking up at me and I thought I still saw the sadness in her eyes. "I've not managed my life very well, Bill."
"I want to take you clothes off, and I want to touch you. OK?"
She smiled a little grimly. "What will you think of me when this is over?"
"I'll always wonder why you let me in; I'll always wonder how lonely you must be to let me in and I'll always be thankful that it is with you that I first had sex. For some reason, that's really important to me."
My fingers were on her waist band now, undoing the button there and then unzipping the zip. "Would you like to know how lonely I am?" she said, raising her bottom as I stripped off her pants and panties. "I'm miserably lonely, Bill, I've become almost entirely isolated, I am letting a young man take off my clothes just for his company."
I bent down and kissed her, a gently kiss and, I hoped, a loving kiss. "How does it make you feel that this young man so desperately wants to be with you, to have sex with you?"
"It makes me feel very sad." Then she kissed me, pulling me into her and I climbed on the bed and struggled to get between her legs and when she opened them to make room for me, I placed myself at her opening and slowly eased myself in and I gathered her into my arms with my lips still on hers and I thrust at her three, four times and then it was over and I was lying on her with my face in her hair and I could feel her hot fat pressing into me and I could already feel myself growing in her when I rose up on my arms and looked down on her. "Do you think you could orgasm with me?"
She hesitated, I think she was surprised by my question. "It would take some time."
"I've got it, tell me what to do, tell me you want me to suck on your breasts, on your belly and on your ... you know, your pussy."