Older Women at the Farm Store

Ellen was my first love affair. She was considerably older than me, but opened doors in ways I'll never forget. She was a major impact on me, as was my boss who I looked up to. Years after these events occurred, I had to write my essay for my college application. My first choice school asked me to write about an adult I admired, and I chose my boss, Hank. I was tempted to write about Ellen, but was afraid it wouldn't look so good to an admissions counselor. Thirty years later, I'm finally writing that essay about Ellen. I'm afraid an admission counselor today would reject it as too long, but I'm hoping at least one of you will find it to be an intriguing read.

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I had just taken a part time job in the local farm store. The old man who ran it had been there in one location all his life. He was amazingly independent, a real life self made man. He had purchased the land he lived on with money he had made working other area farms. He had built his first barn by himself, bought a couple of cows, and sold their milk at a roadside stand. He supplemented his blossoming dairy operation by continuing to work for other farmers in the area between milkings, and often sold their produce at his little stand.

His business had grown into a very popular little dairy store, where he featured his own ice cream and butter, local produce and national brands on the shelf. By the time I came to work for him, the cattle were gone and his ice cream recipes had been sold to another dairy (though we still sold it freshly dipped). Finally, he sold off most of his land to housing developers, and was more than financially secure, he was outright wealthy. Though he was 75 and his wife and sons wanted him to retire in the worst way, he couldn't live without working his store.

You see his store was his truest love, right after his wife. He would spend hours talking with customers, telling stories about his life on his land, about his boys, about the other customers, and about the 4 kids who had made it to the major leagues after starting to play organized baseball on the fields next door which he had donated to start the local little leagues. Every year, Hank threw out the first pitches for each league at each level that benefited from his fields. Every day, I was Hank's relief pitcher, coming in for 2 hours while he ate dinner. I came in Saturdays and Sundays as well, for 6 hours each day while Hank gathered his family and cronies in his home on the second floor, above the store. Yes, the bureau of labor would have had a fit at a kid working for 2 hours a day all week, and 6 each day on the weekend, but there was more to working at the store for me than just the sub minimum wage I made.

You see, I was Hank's only employee, and I was his favorite kid in the whole county. Often he didn't go upstairs, but stayed around to "jaw" as he was fond of calling our talks. He introduced me to everyone, but spent special time with the ladies. Now no one believed Hank's friendliness was anything but harmless flirtations from an old man, and that was the honest truth. He was still in love with Lisa, his wife of almost 60 years. Of course, everyone who knew her was in love with her, as she was the sweetest woman you could know, and as sharp as a tack.

Hank used to tell me when the store was empty, especially after one of his ladies had just sauntered out "You have to love 'em all Tommy. Just don't go too far, because at the end of the day, you need one to grow old with."

I so admired Hank's easy way with people, especially women. I realized that staying in my shell was a way of staying isolated from the wonders society had to offer, and I began speaking up with the regular customers. I discovered that if you smiled and was pleasant, so would they. And I especially discovered how much I liked it when they friendly customer on the other side of the counter was female. I hadn't had much luck with girls by the summer I went to work for Hank, and several of the regular customers, especially in their more scantily covering summer attire, could easily bring my brave soldier to attention.

There were countless women of all shapes and sizes who came through those doors every day. Many were beautiful, most talked, and lots even liked to flirt a bit. Friends of mine would come in and ask for a little extra on the ice cream cones they'd order, of course I was happy to make the cones a bit heavy, and word got out that if you went to see me wearing something skimpy, or something that would open up, your cone was definitely full. Little did they know how my own "cone" would fill up. I gained a great degree of popularity with girls my age that summer. I don't really remember dating them though, because there were a couple of women who were very regular customers, and very memorable for more than their shopping habits or ice cream preferences.

There was the biker chic, slim but chesty, who wore a low cut leather vest all summer, but often appeared in moderately suggestive "office wear" the rest of the year. She'd come in with her boyfriend riding a chopper on the weekend, and lean over the counter just to let me look at her low hanging orbs while her guy grabbed a couple of sodas. She'd ask for a pack of Marlboros, knowing I'd have to ask her whether she wanted the soft or hard pack. She'd pull her mirrored glasses down her nose, get me frozen eye to eye, and whisper long and low "Hard. I want 'em hard....always hard."

Her boyfriend always got a kick out of how riled up I would get. You see, I blushed very easily when a girl would be direct and sexy, or if they were direct with me for any reason, or if I really liked them. Although that is a trait I never lost, it is one I learned to control, but at that age, I was so transparent to this couple. Sometimes the guy would come in alone, and tease me about missing her.

"Don't let her get to you, she's just having fun with you. I keep telling her she'll get hers someday. She's going to be old and droopy, maybe in some nursing home. Some young stud will flirt with her without giving it a thought, and she'll have to lie there remembering how she teased you. Listen, she teases you because she thinks you're cute, kid. Someday, women like her are really going to go for you, so get used to the idea."

It was an idea I could get used to.

There was the elegant redhead. She'd drive up in a Cougar convertible. It was the kind that was so popular along with their Mustang counterparts in the early 70's. The car was pure white, and she would dress up in something dazzling and stylish with a long white chiffon scarf tied around her neck and big round white framed sunglasses, like a movie star. Her blouses were always very low cut, and her skirts (never pants) were always those tight to the legs specials that really defined her sleek figure and heart shaped ass.

There was also the woman who rented the other apartment upstairs. She was a hippy type with two sons my age. One of them was always down hanging out and "jawing" until Mom came down to send them upstairs to homework and chores. Of course then she just took their place at the end of the counter. She had a short blonde "shag" haircut that was so popular then, and though her hippie style screamed "I believe in free love," her clothes were not revealing. Bell bottomed trousers, often vests or sweaters, or ponchos when it was cold. Underneath she always wore a body suit. You know, those dancer's leotard wannabes? If the vest opened just enough, you could see enough to know she had never replaced the bras she had burned in the 60's. Those thin and clingy shirts always made anything else she wore sexy.

There was also Ellen. Ellen was the oldest of these goddesses of my young manhood. I never found out exactly how old, but she had her share of wrinkles, both on her face and on her ample chest, which was always prominently displayed beneath the peasant blouses and low square necked dresses she always wore. She was always immaculately coifed, had long manicured nails, darting black eyes, and that kind of Scandinavian blonde hair that would never need dye and would never turn gray. She was very clever, an accomplished flirt, and in my eyes a timeless beauty. I loved the anti-shoplifting mirrors in the store, as I could always find views of her trim figure from any angle, from the breasts within those ample bustlines to the swaying little butt that still looked tight and inviting after a lifetime of loving.

All four of these women have stories. All four of them had a share in forming the man I became, the kind of father I am to my kids, and the husband and lover I am to my wife. All four of them shared adventures with me which I'll never forget, and all for very different reasons. None of them walked away from our encounters empty, for they all found some kind of satisfaction or peace they had been seeking.

I never walked away empty either! You see, this was that special time in life when a male's penis is invincible. The rest of my body was too thin, with arms too long, legs that made me gawky and clumsy, skin subject to breaking out, and hair that wouldn't stay combed and in place. My glasses didn't fit my face. Pants that fit today were too short tomorrow and we fondly called them "high-water" or "flood" pants. Jeans shrinking too much were so common we had a joke for them. What did a new pair of jeans and a new hotel have in common? No ballroom. I didn't get jokes, couldn't stop moving, and could get a boner if a female presence was detected in any of my 6 senses.

Yes I said 6 senses. Touch, sight, hearing, smell, taste and dick-dar. I don't care if Webster never put it in the dictionary, it is a word. Dick-dar is, as anyone who has ever been a male aged 14-21 (some younger, some older, these ages are approximate) can tell you, is radar informing you of things concerning women with superhuman accuracy. It means dick-based radar, and worked on all sensory frequencies. My dick-dar was even more sensitive than my friends. I knew things they couldn't.

"Tom should I ask Cathy out?"

"No, wrong time of month."

He asked, she was pissed and went into a PMS rage, I said I told you so. Another time, at a party, when we couldn't see the front of the house, one of the guys asked "I wonder where the girls are?"

"Their car just pulled up."

"Bull!"

"It's a fact There are four of them out front, two in short, one in jeans, and one in a skirt. She's already horny."

A minute later, four girls walked around the house to the deck where we sat. One wore jeans, two were in shorts, and one was in a short little skirt. She walked right up to the guy she had a thing for and snuggled in. No doubt about what he'd be doing later that night! I was famous for dick-dar.

I was outwardly wimpier and shyer than Clark Kent, but my dick had potent dick-dar. My dick was a little Superman. Faster than a speeding bullet? Check, limp to steel in a blink of an eye. More powerful than a locomotive. Check. I could build a tent wearing a jockstrap in the tightest pair of shrink to fit jeans. Able to leap tall building with a single bound? Well, maybe not, but what it could do with a single bound and many rebounds, again and again, with little or no recovery time was certainly more impressive than some single senseless jump over a building. Now who would want to jump a building when you can walk around? I could jack off 2-3 times during the commercials without missing a snap of a football game. Beat that Superman, in your dreams!

Ellen knew exactly what she was doing. She was much older than me, and knew how to tease a man. I had to assume she knew how to do more than tease. She teased Hank incessantly, and often overtly. If I had a dollar for every time she invited him over for coffee sometime, I'd be rich. She lived just down the hill from the store, across the street from the ball fields. She was always in the store, and I so looked forward to seeing her.

As my personality behind the counter opened up, she began to flirt with me. She asked and said things that were equally overt as what she asked of Hank. She wanted to know about my girlfriends, if I preferred blondes or brunettes, how I liked what she was wearing. She would make comments about other customers' bodies when they were out of ear shot. She'd tell me what she'd do with the men and tell me what I should do with the women. Once she had me blushing, if there were no other customers in the store, she'd ask me to get something for her that required me to leave my counter. She'd always make certain she was in position when I came out to look at my fly, enjoying the view of that "more powerful than a locomotive" tent I had pitched.

I spent many a night fantasizing being with Ellen. I dreamed what it would be like to lay her down gently, kiss her while slowly disrobing her. I wanted to bury my face in her milky breast and to feel myself penetrating her over and over.

One Sunday near the end of my shift I was alone in the store. It was kind of busy, but when Ellen got her turn in line, she asked me to find her favorite packaged fish in the freezer, as it was low on stock and she couldn't see clearly when it was that low. I went to the freezer and bent over. Suddenly I felt her hands on my chest and slide down to my stomach.

"You are so slender, I just have to see what you feel like!"

I was instantly hard, yup, faster than a speeding bullet. I told you she was clever and quick, right. She didn't miss the change in climate in my pants. She saw it right away, probably because creating and atmospheric disturbance in my pants was her intent all along. She slid her hands down beneath my belt simultaneously squeezing my butt cheeks and my penis. I thought I'd cum immediately, as it was the first time a woman had touched me. But there was a crowd on the other side of the freezer, and I knew I had to act quickly or finish my shift with a gooey wet spot on my crotch.

"Ellen, please, I have other customers. Let me ring them up first and I'll come right back here for your....er....fish."

"I'll wait."

I rang up the other people, and when they had gone, walked back to the freezer. Ellen was waiting, smirking.

"You walked away so awkwardly Tommy. You look much more coming back."

"Ellen, that wasn't cool. Your timing could really be better!"

"But you were so cute, I had to touch you. I liked what I felt too!!!! Did you like it?"

There was no disguising that fact, because as she looked up, eyes sparkling with her mischief, that speeding bullet returned.

"Maybe you should come over after work. I have an odd job or two for you to do, and then I'll give you a ride home. I'll leave the side door open, just come on in when you get there."

She turned and left. I called to say I'd be late, and wouldn't be home for dinner. Hank came down to relieve me. It wasn't the relief I was looking forward to though, and I left in a hurry. I knew she was watching for me, as I saw motion in the curtains as I approached. Sure enough, the side door was open, and I walked right in.

Ellen came walking down the hallway, wearing a long silk nightgown. Her figure was so slender in the backlighting from her bedroom. She also wore a flimsy robe that flowed in the breeze as she walked. As she drew close, I could see that the fabric on both garment was nearly sheer. She took my hand and led me to the bedroom. I started to speak but she put her finger to my lips to hush me. She dimmed the light.

"You don't have to say anything. I do. I think you are about the cutest thing I've ever seen. I have had my share of men in my life, but something about one as young as you is irresistible. You are so slim, you don't even shave yet, and as fast and often as you get erections, I'm betting you are a virgin."

"Oh no, Ellen..." I started to give her a macho line about, well, you know, my vast experiences. She'd have none of it, and placed her hush finger back on my lips. She left it there this time.

"I know you are a virgin. And if you wish to keep it that way until you meet the right young lady to share a special moment with, I understand. But if you will give that moment to me, I promise you will not regret it."

I didn't answer. I was speechless. Ellen knew how to find out though. I felt her hands on my chest as she had in the farm store, but this time she placed them there as we stood face to face, in front of my wide awake eyes. Those hands slid down my sides, as she whispered those words she had first uttered in the store "so slender."

Her hands, now on my hips pulled me closer until our bodies touched. They then slid down my hips, with her right hand curling between us, stopping to rest gently over Superman. As her hand closed over my erection, I realized how good it was that there was more than a single bound in good ole' Sup'. I could feel my dick explode in my pants, and she massaged it firmly milking every spasm of orgasm from me while my arms enveloped her and pulled her tightly to me.

"That's it baby. That's ok. That's what I want tonight. I want to feel your body cumming in everyway with me. Now, let's get more comfortable. She loosened my belt, and slid my jeans over my ass to the floor. She pulled my shirt over my head, and ran her hands so gently over my chest, it almost tickled. She slid my briefs off next, and laid me down on my back on the bed. She stood back up and entered the bathroom next door. I watched as she put my soiled briefs in the sink, washed them and hung them to dry. She then came back to me.

"Can't send you back home all crusty, can I? Now let me look at you."

She sat on the bed beside me, and took a warm washcloth which she had brought from the bathroom. Her hands and the warmth of the cloth felt amazing as she washed the cum from my penis and pelvis. I felt my blood pumping and in no time, was erect again.

"Oh Tommy, this is so beautiful! Men my age might not get two erections in a month of Sundays."

She slid her robe off her shoulders, and lowered the traps on her gown. I reached out and followed its path as it slid off her shoulders and gathered around her waist. The sight of her body in the twilight that managed to drift through the shaded windows was intoxicating. I pulled her body to my face and she obliged by guiding my face to her breast. Her skin was so soft, and she smelled of a lightly perfumed powder. She pressed her nipple to my lips, and I tasted her. I let it flip around my tongue as I circled it, and heard her gasp with delight.

"Yes baby, just keep it light and gentle. A girl likes you right where you are, but she likes you to remember you are a guest there, Be her partner in this delight, not her conqueror, and she'll gladly take you further."

I spent an eternity playing with her this way. When we both were feeling pretty good, she pulled my head up and drew a kiss from me. It wasn't like the kisses I had experienced with girls my age. It as reserved and clean, not rushed and frenzied. Her tongue went exactly where she wanted, and nowhere else. There was all the intent of passion without the wasted energy. I would always remember this kiss. The way I was feeling now was exactly how I envisioned future lovers feeling after spending time with me. I was the focus of all the loving attention this beautiful creature could muster.

Right now this beautiful creature was positioning herself above me, and as she lowered her torso to mine, I suddenly knew the meaning of life. My virginity disappeared in a display of fireworks that completely overtook all of my senses. I met her gentle undulations with my own easy thrusts, and during the breaks in the fireworks show, I could see her eyelids fluttering in pleasure, and her breast heaving with each breath. I couldn't believe how amazing it felt, and could barely believe I had survived so long without this kind of ecstasy. I felt my orgasm building, and was suddenly aware of all my health class lessons.