The Widow Parsons

A couple of times she even let a breeze brush open her shirt. That was particularly daring as the soft white flesh of her breast, the dark pink of her areola, and the pointed erectness of her nipple, would be very clearly evident through the entirely sheer camisole.

Quickly though she would lower her knee, pull down her skirt, and cover her breast with her shirt, correcting the fleeting inadvertent display, keeping herself decent and appropriate when in the company of the young man, the boy next door.

She did though eventually suggest, "Christopher, why don't you take your shirt off. It's a pretty warm day and I don't think your mother will appreciate getting any of the stain on such a very nice shirt."

The shirt was not actually so nice. It was in fact a rather old work shirt. It wasn't particularly frayed or tattered, but it was hardly new. His mother wouldn't care one way or the other, particularly as he was being so neighborly by helping out the widow Parsons (she had asked him to offer to do some chores for her). Plus, he found the idea of taking off the shirt to be rather disagreeable. He wasn't really out of shape or anything like that, but he was in no way athletic or muscular. Plus, he didn't have much of a tan. In fact, his skin was rather pale, reflecting the fact that he spent much of his time indoors, playing chess, searching the web, reading comics. "Oh, I'm fine, Mrs. Parsons. The lemonade is pretty refreshing."

"Now, Christopher," she said, sounding a bit authoritative, "you mind your elders." She was far from elderly but she was old enough to be his mother, if his mother gave birth when she was herself a young woman. "I play bridge with your mother, and I certainly don't want to have to explain to her why I let you ruin your clothes. Now, please, I insist."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied reluctantly and laid down the brush to take off the shirt.

Betty watched him, peeking around her text, a little smile creasing her lips. He wasn't taking off much but it was rather cute to watch the young man undress before her, particularly as it was under her orders. She never thought about using her authority as an adult to make a young man disrobe for her. It was kind of nice, and fun.

When Chris got the last button undone he turned his back to her to remove his arms from the sleeves. He looked around for where to put it.

"You can lay it down here, Christopher, beside my feet. That way it won't blow away."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, and turned to face her.

Betty admired his young trim chest. He was indeed rather lean, albeit it wasn't like he was terribly scrawny or spindly. His smallness just made him look cute and sweet. She noticed how pale was his skin, but that just made his exposure to her all the more personal and revealing. He clearly did not take his clothes off very often.

He laid down his shirt across the foot of the chair, feeling the woman's eyes studying his chest. He clenched his muscles, trying to give them more definition.

"Christopher," Betty suggested, "Perhaps you should remove your pants as well."

"What?!" His eyes turned to hers, in shocked surprise. Did he hear her correctly?!

"Your mother wouldn't want you to get any of the stain on your pants. You might as well take them off as well."

"Mrs. Parsons," his objection very evident in his tone.

"Oh Christopher, don't be silly. It will be no different than if you were wearing a bathing suit, and nobody can see you back here."

She was largely right about that. The neighbors on either side were totally blocked from view. The only persons who would be able to see would be his parents, and they were actually not home right now. But, of course, Mrs. Parsons would be able to see him, very clearly, in his underwear, in his tight white briefs. His dick swelled at the thought, which made him even more resistant. "Oh, I don't know..."

She said with a mischievous, flirtatious smile, "C'mon, Christopher, show Mrs. Parsons your undies."

He finally admitted, "Honestly, Mrs. Parsons, I think that would be a little embarrassing."

Betty smiled, "Oh Christopher, you don't think I was serious, do you? My goodness, having you work on my deck in your underwear? Now, that would clearly be very inappropriate, don't you think?"

"Well, yes, ma'am," not really understanding why or how he was now on the defensive, as if it had actually been his suggestion rather than clearly hers.

"Such a silly boy," she said. "Imagine that, parading around on my deck wearing only your undies," which she was precisely doing at the moment, imagining it. "I don't think your mother would approve of that, my gracious." She returned her attention to her book.

She had though been partially serious, and she continued to envisage how much fun it would have been if he had actually just done it, submitting to her authority and removing his pants. It would have been so cute to have him working in front of her, dressed only in his underwear, shoes, and socks. Heck, she might then eventually have him take his underwear off as well! And, what if all that exposure got him excited! The warmth was stirring so deeply between her thighs. She tried to concentrate on the novel, but now glanced at him just about as often as he glanced at her.

They occasionally glanced at the same time, and both quickly returned their eyes to their tasks at hand, not wanting to acknowledge their mutual interest.

Betty eventually stopped reading, stretched her arms out in an exaggerated yawn, causing the shirt to slip off her breasts. She pulled it though back in place, but not before providing Chris with a very nice peek of her full womanly white breasts. She said, sounding really very sleepy, "My goodness I'm tired, Christopher. I'm going to take a little nap. If you would, wake me up when you finish."

"Sure, ma'am."

"And, you'll have to shake me real hard. Don't be shy. I can sleep through just about anything. Once I fall asleep there is hardly anything that can wake me up. Seriously, I have to use two alarms to pull me from my deep slumber."

"Yeah, sure, of course," but he hoped he wouldn't have to do that. Having to shake her real hard would most likely cause her shirt to fall open, and then her breasts would be shaking and wriggling right in front of him. Actually, why was he worried about that? He turned away and smiled, hoping that he would indeed have to wake her up.

Betty got up to lower the head of the lawn chair down so that it would be fully reclining. She then laid down on her back. Lying fully reclined wasn't particularly helpful in providing the best presentation of her breasts, as they would tend to fall back to her sides a bit. So, she pretended to sleep with her arms crossed, effectively framing and supporting them.

She lay there for some time.

It wasn't very long though before half of her shirt was blown off by a breeze, the cool air wafting across her nipple, causing it to stir and stiffen, although showing off for Christopher had already made it rise up rather proudly.

It was difficult for Betty not to smile, knowing that she must be providing quite the show for the young man.

And, he was again very, very appreciative. He stopped applying the stain to simply stare at Mrs. Parsons' exposed breast. It wasn't really hidden at all beneath the sheer garment, and it looked so fucking nice: so big, so full, so white, soft, and luscious. The nipple was poking through the camisole like it was yearning to be kissed, to be licked, to be suckled.

His dick quickly swelled to full erection and he reached down to adjust it. He glanced around though as he was doing so, checking to see if Mrs. Parsons was right, that they were in fact very well concealed.

She was indeed correct, as far as he could see. That would make good sense. Persons do like to have privacy on their outdoor backyard decks. He therefore let himself simply ogle her exposed boob for a while, while fondling and squeezing his erection through his pants, his thoughts imagining him actually having taken his pants off for her, her watching him work in his underwear, complimenting him on the size of his erection within his briefs.

Mrs. Parsons' breathing accelerated. She had no idea if he was actually looking at her. She imagined he must be, but she didn't really know. She considered carefully opening up one eye, just enough to check, but she knew she dared not. If he noticed her doing so then the whole game would be as exposed as her breast.

Chris noticed her breast rising and falling more rapidly. She must be now actually asleep. Could she fall asleep so quickly? He recalled her comment that nothing could wake her up.

Mrs. Parsons pretended to shift a bit within a deep sleep, causing the other half of her shirt to fall away from her chest, exposing now both breasts.

Chris' eyes opened as wide as they would go. Her breasts were just so fucking big and gorgeous, and she even seemed to be pressing them together for full effect, and for his pleasure.

He couldn't just ignore them. He couldn't just resume his work as if nothing was going on, as if they weren't really there.

He set down his brush and softly, quietly, made his way up to her. He had to at least get a closer look.

And, the closer he got the better they looked, and the more he wanted.

He stood right beside her, staring down at them.

It was like the best possible desert a boy could want, and they were just sitting there, ripe for his taking, with absolutely no witnesses and no real chance of getting caught. What self-respecting boy would do nothing?

Betty had heard him stepping up to her. She felt shivery and tingly with anticipation. It was so, so hard not to give away that she was in fact fully awake. She wrapped her arms around them a bit more, providing them with even more prominence and display.

Chris again glanced around, particularly back at his own house. There was definitely nobody in eye sight. There seemed to be very, very little chance of getting caught.

He reached out with his right hand and gently touched the tip of Mrs. Parsons' erect right nipple.

Betty flinched just a bit as soon as his finger made contact. She instantly regretted doing so, but it was just such a natural reaction to an unexpected touch. Well, she kind of actually had hoped that he might in fact do something like that, but she really wasn't expecting it.

Chris instantly pulled his hand away and his eyes went to her face, trying to detect if he had woken her up. If he had then she most definitely had been wrong that it was real hard to wake her up, although perhaps any form of sexual contact, no matter how mild or timid, sends a big shock through the brain.

But, there didn't seem to be any further reaction. Her breathing remained steady, her eyes remained close, although he could see that her eyes were moving around beneath the closed lids. That was weird, but he had learned in psychology that while dreaming the eyes at times do move around, if the person is dreaming.

His eyes went back to her breasts. He enjoyed how they rose and fell with her breathing.

He reached out again, and laid the tip of a finger lightly on a nipple.

This time she didn't move at all. She remained perfectly still, although a flood of warmth surged through her loins.

Chris began to slowly circle his finger around and around, feeling, caressing, and playing with Mrs. Parsons' thick stiff nip. It was so strange how it felt so erotic, so exciting to touch, yet there was really not much to it at all. It was just this pointy little nub.

But, of course, it was exciting because it was the nipple of a breast, and one that he should not be touching at all. Plus, it was just so cool how pointy it was.

He eventually played with both of them at once, flicking them, rubbing them, even pinching them between his finger and thumb, but not at all hard, just enough to provide a little squeeze. He was tempted to pull on them, but figured that would be too risky.

Betty couldn't help but smile just a little bit.

A discerning eye would have noticed a touch of pleasantness in her expression, but even if Christopher did notice he wouldn't necessarily realize that she was awake.

His innocent, playful toying with her nipples was rather fun, and perhaps especially for her. It was like she was his big life-size female doll, being able to witness what a boy would do with such a doll if given a chance.

Chris couldn't stop with just the nipples. What boy could when given a chance like this. He again glanced around, checking once more that they were indeed hidden from view. Frankly, even if his mother suddenly appeared on the back porch, which was itself unlikely, Mrs. Parsons' body was partly hidden by the wooden rails along the front of the deck. He opened up his fingers wide, poised them just above both big round boobs, and then softly clasped each of them within his hands.

Betty released a soft gasp at the feel of the boy's hands clutching her breasts. She instinctively thrust them up a bit, pressing them more tightly within his fingers and palms.

Chris noticed the movement and froze in place, his eyes fixed on the eyes of Mrs. Parsons, his hands glued to her boobs. Her eyes did not open. She was still asleep. It was apparently just a reflexive reaction, like a flinch in response to a tickle. His eyes returned to her breasts, and he gazed with wonder at the sight of his hands softly grasping them.

They were just so fucking big, much too big for either hand to fully embrace. He truly did feel like a boy clutching big womanly teats. He began to explore them, to feel their fullness beneath the slick smooth silk, their roundness, their softness, although often returning to the nipples, noticing the stark contrast of the stiff hard nubs poking out from the squishy soft pillows. His equally stiff cock was yearning for release, for someone to grasp and squeeze it as well.

He wondered if he could in fact jerk himself off while he fondled a boob. But, that would really be much, much too risky. It was conceivable that if she woke up now he could remove his hands quickly enough that she wouldn't notice where they had been. She would likely be in a half-awake, sleepy state of mind, not yet fully aware of her surroundings. She would notice him standing right next to her, but he could just say he was getting the pitcher of lemonade. There would not, however, be a very good explanation for his erect cock sticking out of his pants.

Betty's breasts began to heave with increasing excitement. No man had felt, had caressed, her breasts for quite some time. She now realized how much she missed the feel of a man's hands on them, how nice it felt to be caressed, to be appreciated. Plus, the fact that it was the boy next door, now of course a young man, but a man she knew as a boy for quite some time, made the experience all the more pleasing, daring, and titillating. "Oh, honey, that's so nice," she softly gasped.

Chris immediately removed his hands, his eyes wide with shock and worry. He stared at her face.

She didn't seem to be awake, but she had spoken, hadn't she? He wasn't entirely sure what she had said. It wasn't anything in anger or shock. On the contrary, she seemed to be calling him "honey."

A little smile of relief and wonder creased his lips. She was talking in her sleep! She was having a dream, and it must in fact be a sex dream! He was making her have a sex dream. How cool is that! He gently returned his hands to her breasts, which were now rapidly rising and falling with excited lust.

"Yes, Jack, that's so nice," she again softly sighed as the young man's hands returned to her breasts. It was perhaps taking a chance to actually say something, but as long as she kept her eyes closed and remained still there was no way he would be able to figure out that she was in fact awake. She did though want to provide him with a bit of encouragement, as well become more active herself in their little innocent play.

Chris smiled. She was apparently having a dream about her husband. He cautiously escalated his playing, taking the breasts in his hands to gently squeeze them together, admiring the deep cleavage she provided, how the boobs swelled when pressed together, how responsive and pliant they were to his clutching and groping.

Betty spread apart her thighs and lifted up her pelvis, just a bit, just enough to draw the young man's attention. A gentle breeze kissed her thighs as her skirt rose up.

Chris stopped, his eyes shifting to another very interesting part of Mrs. Parsons' body. He knew he couldn't really touch her there. Now, that most definitely would be going too far. But, he could at least just take a little peek. There was no harm in doing that.

He recalled how as a boy he kept trying to do that one evening, look up her skirt. He didn't know what he was really looking for, not for anything in particular. He just noticed how much it flustered her, so he kept trying. Well, he knew what he would be looking for now...

With no small reluctance he released his hands from Mrs. Parsons' bulbous boobs. He hesitated, his hands still just inches away, poised to return. They so much wanted to return. What was better: feeling big, soft, squishy boobs or peeking under a skirt? Feeling was clearly much more tangible and satisfying than just seeing. But, peeking under a skirt was new, and what would be there would be even more enticing than her breasts, albeit that was really hard to believe as her boobs were just so fucking sweet. He shifted down the lawn chair, adjusting and squeezing his stiff dick as he did so.

Mrs. Parsons' thighs did appear to be quite receptive to the idea, as they were slightly parted, as if spreading open to invite inspection. Chris leaned forward, carefully took hold of the hem of Mrs. Parsons' skirt, lifted it up, and gently laid it on her abdomen, opening up her panties to the light of the summer day, and his eager eyes.

Her lacy pink bikini panties were a delight to his eyes. They were just so intimate, feminine, and spicy. He wouldn't have expected a woman to routinely wear such sexy lingerie for no apparent reason. Chris was impressed, and so fucking turned on. He again squeezed his dick through his pants.

He smiled at the thought of just leaving her like this while he resumed working on the railing. She had jokingly suggested he work in his underwear. The shoe was now clearly on the other foot, and even if she woke up she couldn't really blame him. A sudden breeze, the movement of her legs, would be the likely culprit.

He leaned down even further, to get a real close look.

He bit his lower lip as he detected her thick womanly lips through the lace. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, absorbing her rich womanly scent.

He couldn't just leave it at this. His eyes shifted away to study her face as he gently laid his fingers on her soft feminine mound.

"Mmmmmmm," Betty quietly moaned, her thighs spreading apart a bit more, her cunt pressing back against the young man's fingers.

Chris began to explore and caress the woman's pussy through her panties, feeling around and about the little hairy hill through her lacy undergarment.

"Oh yes, honey," Betty softly breathed, as if speaking to someone within her dream, encouraging him to go further, to do more, letting him know how much he was pleasing her, how much she wanted him.

Chris pressed harder with his fingers, sliding them up and down her fleshy slit, feeling warmth emanating though her panties from deep inside her, even detecting a bit of moisture seeping through the lace.

It took all of his self-control, his sound judgment, not to rip his stiff cock from his pants.

It took all of Mrs. Parsons' self-control not to respond more openly. She had never been passive during sex. She would normally squirm, thrust, squeeze, and squeal. But now she tried to be as passive as possible as she subtly pressed and rubbed her pussy against the young man's fingers.