Age is No Problem

Story Info
Youth meets a mature woman and has sex for the first time.
7.2k words
4.28
41.1k
26
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
uksnowy
uksnowy
190 Followers

Maybe it was Auntie Maureen that triggered Cyril's feelings for older women. It seemed to increase the number of times he was getting stiffies which was like all the time anyway, because they were happening all over the place regardless of the presence of girls or dirty pictures. Known as Mo to his parents and Auntie Maureen to Cyril and his three sisters Ann, June and Catherine and his two brothers Nigel and Kevin, she had stayed with the family Carter for three days before and two days after grandfather's funeral. Apart from the dirty magazines Cyril and his mates pinched from stores or found behind the cistern in public toilets and the odd flash of Catherine's tits when she emerged from the bedroom she shared with June, he had never seen a woman's body in so much detail. Catherine had sometimes giggled and pointed at his crotch when a stiffy occurred even just watching sport on TV. He wondered, Why does it happen like that?

Catherine was the oldest of the girls at nineteen, June was twelve and Ann eight. Ann shared a room with Nigel who was seven and Kevin and Cyril shared. Kevin was seventeen, moody and never bothered with Cyril. He said he was a useless spotty faced kid, however Cyril was eighteen but much smaller than him, but Kevin earned proper wages and Cyril helped part time at the charity shop and had never packed in the Sunday morning job sorting and delivering papers for the lovely Khan family who owned the corner shop. The Khan's were a friendly hard working couple with a Downs Syndrome son who had bonded with Cyril.

Loads of times he had views up Auntie Maureen's skirt at dark stocking tops or tights, down her blouses, or knicker leg under a loose tee shirt she wore to bed. Never getting sight of her nipples although they vaguely showed through her shirts, but they didn't seem to be as lumpy as his Mum's for instance, which always poked through her brassiere and top whatever the material. The nights that Auntie stayed, meant that Catherine and June shared a bed top to tail and you should have heard the fuss about it. Auntie Maureen got the other bed in their room and of course there was a scramble for the one bathroom in the house. The best sighting of all for Cyril came late in her stay, too fucking late in fact - because it was a blast when it happened. She was due to leave on the Saturday morning on an early train. Most of the Carters slept in on Saturdays except Cyril, a natural early riser, which helped with one of his hobbys of bird watching, having to leave the house at silly times to be out early to get the various species at best. This particular Sunday morning, his Mum and Dad would take Mo to the station, so they were up well before their usual time, downstairs getting breakfast ready.

Cyril left Kevin snoring last night's beer off and aimed for the bathroom at his usual time. As he opened the door, he realised his plans were thwarted by Auntie Maureen who was coming out of her, temporary, bedroom. Cyril stopped with the door slightly open and watched as she wandered sleepily to the bathroom, mistakenly opening Ann and Nigel's door first until she got her bearings. He knew she had had lots to drink last night as did his Mum and Dad. She wore a sort of loose flowery coat, but it hung open. Fucking hell! Cyril's cock zoomed back to hard and vertical immediately, as it had been, in his hand, before getting out of bed. He removed his cheap, circular, essentioal, specs and gave them a cursory wipe on his tee-shirt

She had enormous boobs he knew, but to see them loose, wobbling free, hanging low with two wide, pink, flat nipples was very exciting especially when they were so close. The bonus was to see her fleshy belly and the mass of brown hair at the bottom. Her belly wobbled too and her belly button was buried in a deep hole amongst the creases of her skin. She disappeared into the bathroom and Cyril waited, wanting to piss but wanting to see her body again. He pulled his cock automatically as he waited with hushed breath, listening to her noises and keeping an eye on Kevin in case he woke up and saw him wanking near the open door.

His Auntie farted and grunted and Cyril heard the splash of her piss, making him want to piss even more. It was hard to bottle it up and he wondered how he could manage such a stiffy and a piss at the same time; it would hit the fucking ceiling first. Then the taps ran, her washing commenced and it was even worse, but after a while she finished and came out. Cyril closed the door a bit so she wouldn't spot him and the great pole under his tee shirt. It was cool what he saw next, favouring his better eye.

Auntie Maureen held a towel to her front, the coat in her hand, as she walked back to the bedroom. This time Cyril had a full view of her back and bum. He assumed she thought she was private. The big fat cheeks bounced around the dark crack that ended in a little Y shape at the bottom of her back flanked by two dimples. She dropped the flowery coat and bent to pick it up and he saw right up her arse crack and the dark smudge round her arsehole and the way her pubic hairs created a fringe below her cunt lips that were big and fat. Cool! He nearly creamed onto the carpet at the sight. During the funeral, Catherine and Cyril had shared a car with her and some other distant Auntie. He had got a flash of Auntie Maureen's legs and thighs when she got in and sat to sort out her black suit. She wore black stockings because he saw bits of bare flesh until her skirt was arranged. Cyril had got in the car before she did and when she climbed in, stooping in the low interior, her big bum had swivelled across his face within inches. The skirt material was shiny and tightly stretched and seemed vast as it passed him. His trousers were stretched to the limit and Catherine frowned and pointed at Cyril's crotch bulge but thankfully didn't say anything.

Cyril dashed to the bathroom, levering his cock painfully down until the hardness gradually gave in to a nice heavy fleshiness and pissed furiously. Then within seconds he cranked it up again, put down the toilet seat and sniffed it for traces of Auntie Maureen's buttock scent. Imaginary or not, he got the most tremendous hardon to the neat idea that had come to him and had a glorious wank imagining her bum spread and overhanging the plastic as she let go her piss and maybe a dump. He washed and shaved off the sparse fluff on his chin with a dry scrape of Kevin's razor - fuck him. Thinking about Auntie Maureen's mature body occupied Cyril's breakfast as she sat across the table, her big tits carried high and huge in a black lacy bra that showed through her white shirt. She wore tight trousers and high heel shoes and loads of makeup and perfume. A permanent hardon was thankfully hidden under the table and he held a magazine over his crotch as he said goodbye and went to the paper shop.

That morning's tabloids had a feature on some scandal involving Sophie Loren - the film star and pictures of her were all over the front pages and inside too. Cyril ogled them as he sauntered round, letting the heavy paper bag shield his bulging crotch and give it some weighty pressure keeping his dick at it's concrete like feeling, thinking how fantastically sexy she looked. He knew Auntie Maureen was fifty something and wondered how she would look when she was in her eighties. Mrs Carter was forty nine and looked older, but she wasn't sexy either. Cyril's Mum had flat droopy tits, but he got hard, although guilty, even watching his Mum cooking the dinner sometimes..

Entering the driveway of number fourteen in the posh area of town, Cyril saw the usual array of cars parked on the tarmac. The black BMW, the maroon Range Rover and the yellow Smart car were all in their regular places. The little left hand drive Smart's doors were open and he caught sight of a bum wiggling outside the off side door. A bucket and a hose were alongside the car. It was unusual at 8am to see anyone around this house and as he neared the dwelling he realised the bum was female, housed in loose grey gym shorts revealing the underhang of the woman's buttocks over fleshy but shapely legs. Cyril had never seen the new occupants of this place for six months. They had moved in since last Christmas when he last saw the previous owners who gave him a handsome cash tip.

Cyril studied the bum, watching it's swaying, flexing and stretching as his Nike trainers took him quietly over the tarmac. A hint of white knickers, near the edge of the shorts caught his eye. As he neared and approaching from a wider angle, he could see up under the woman's body where her loose shirt hung low, exposing her belly and the occasional sway of her tits. He was thrilled - she had no bra on. Cyril rubbed his dick, covered by the bag of newspapers and felt the surge of hardening at the little flashes of female intimacies, regardless of what she looked like or her age. He didn't know what intrigued him about her, he could geta stiffy in a moment. She was clearly not a sprightly college girl, a new young housewife or fit little PR or marketing bird. It must have been the ample although curvy nature of what flesh was exposed to him.

Suddenly she extracted herself from the city car and turned to grab a rag in the bucket seeing him. Her bleached. dirty blonde hair was a mess, although tied back in a head band. Cyril didn't look too long at her hair, his eyes fixed on her boobs which were thrusting at her top until she stooped and he saw glorious views of them as they hung beyond the loose neckline of her top. He swung the bag down and realised too late the state of his tented shorts. She glanced at his crotch, frowned then looked away and back to it before smiling and dipping the rag in the bucket.

With the rag in her hand she faced Cyril and he had to drag his eyes away from her tits or more like her nipples which jutted through the material as if they were going to burst the threads and hit him in the eye. Still she smiled, her tanned face slightly sweaty as Cyril confirmed that she was not a young woman, guessing she was in her forties or fifties even, judging by the lines and creases around her eyes and mouth. She had quite a prominent curved nose, lush lips and a pair of small, gold rimmed spectacles perched on her nose. She folded her arms under her tits, urging them up into enormous soft piles on her forearms on which hung several gold bracelets. Tanned almost leathery freckled cleavage creased up to near her neck. He watched her eyes course over his body and realised he had swung the heavy paperbag down behind him a tad too far. Cyril's bulging half hard cock was clearly visible under his football shorts. Her smile widened to a leery grin then closed leaving a cheeky sort of expression.

'Ah! You're the paper boy,' she said somewhat obviously. 'Bit old for that aren't you, strong enough I reckon though? Anyway must get on, got a bit of a mess to clear up, Mitzy has been sick.'

Gratefully freed from her stares, Cyril grabbed the two Sunday broadsheets and thrust them towards her, but she ignored him and delved into the car again. He enjoyed the splendid bodily activity for a few seconds before walking to the front door and placing the bulky papers into the large letterbox in the expensive, wooden door. They were grabbed from the inside, then the door opened and a man, two girls in their late teens and a yappy chocolate and white Springer Spaniel clattered noisily out, ignoring him, calling and waving cheerily to the woman getting surly responses from her and then they opened up the BMW and Range Rover. The dog was called to heel by the woman in a somewhat irritated tone as Cyril leered at the two tasty chicks climbing into the BMW. They were extremely tasty and stacked, both wearing tight sweaters and smart slacks. Fuck! They were gorgeous, not just tasty. He heard the dog yelp as the cars pulled away and he guessed this was Mitzy. It was carried to the house and bundled inside and the woman returned to her chore. He picked the next doors tabloid papers from the bag and let them hang in front of him.

'Sick in the car then?' Cyril queried, unusually for such a shy youth, talking to the deliciously wiggling butt - not wanting to leave the fulsome views just yet.

Her knicker line was clearly defined under the gym shorts. It certainly wasn't a thong. Even the backs of her bronzed legs looked sexy as they tensed all the way down to her ankles which were clad in tiny grey tennis socks, then disappeared into her Saucony trainers.

The woman didn't reply, so Cyril walked round to the other side, to get a last glimpse down her top before he left. He got the glimpse as she vigorously scrubbed the floor carpet. Her bracelets rattled and her boobs jiggled wonderfully, as did the loose flesh hanging under her bare upper arms, what his Mum and Mo called bingo wings. He let the papers hang against his knob end that was bursting at the material.

'Look if you're going to hang around, do something useful and get me some fresh water in that bucket,' she grunted, glancing up at Cyril.

He thought about the idea and how many papers had to be delivered. Only twenty more and so what if she saw his erection - she had all ready. She was probably used to it, most women saw them every day he expected. He dumped the two papers back in the bag, dumping that. The hose dribbled nearby. Cyril swilled the dirty water out and refilled the bucket carrying it to her.

'How long have you worked here then?' he asked ,daring and hesitantly, getting her attention.

Slowly, she unravelled her body from the neat little vehicle and confronted him. Her face looked thunderous, her mouth grimaced but she looked him up and down, taking in his five two of slight but strong wiry body, his wonky left eye and ridiculously uncool specs. Again very unsure, he held the bucket in front of him, shielding his bursting erection. It would have probably stuck out the top of his shorts if he'd let it.

'Work here?' she exploded. 'I bloody well live here young man. I'm Mrs Goldstein. That was my old man and my two daughters leaving me to this mess, but I suppose it's my fault. Lazy I suppose - taking Mitzy to the common instead of walking her round here for her exercise. Bloody foot and mouth crisis, bloody government messing things up,' she added.

'Not used to the car then? The dog,' Cyril valiantly persisted, eeking out the time he could lust after her body. It was painful all this chat, but hs cock was telling him to speak not his brain.

'Not really that, something she ate I suppose. All the bloody footpaths have been closed off, but there's no animals miles round here,' she spat, wringing the rag dry of water before she stooped back in to the vehicle. 'Normally would have walked her through the gap there and onto those fields back there,' she indicated with a manicured forefinger behind her and past him.

'Sometimes sheep in those fields,' he advised her knowingly. 'I live on the estate down there.'

The woman ignored him, recognising someone from a much lower social scale than she was and he decided to leave and finish his paper job, the Kellys next door would be wondering what happened to their Sunday Mirror and Express. He walked round the car and easily gathered up his bag, glancing across to her and seeing that she was watching him. Cyril stood with the bag half on his shoulders letting her have one more look at his cock bulge before disappointing her and leaving. She came round the car and leaned her butt against it, crossing one leg over the other.

'There, that's finished. Christ! That looks heavy, but you're a strong lad I can see,' she chuckled., eyeing his sinewy arms and shoulders.

'No problem,' Cyril told her swinging the bag fully onto his shoulder. He was sweating partly from the already hot summer sun and mild concern that she would see his stiffy which was very reluctant to go down. Of course she saw it and chuckled, raising her eyebrows.

'You look as hot as I am. Fancy a drink or something? Come on I'm going to have some fresh orange juice. Haven't even had breakfast yet,' she added slamming the doors shut and gathering the cleaning stuff. She left the hose uncoiled on the driveway.

She started to wander towards the house as he ogled her big swaying butt. She glanced over her shoulder with a sly smile. Her tits swung tantalisingly in and out of view as she did so, making him think about his earlier reluctance to leave. Fuck it, twenty more deliveries after a glass of orange and some more sights of her body -- easy, the other fuckers would have to wait. Momentarily Cyril, pondered his break from tradition and efficiency, proud of his six years continuous service to the Khans, followed her, eyes glued to the vision of mature loveliness and his mind swung to Auntie Maureen and Sophia Loren. Sophia was well out of reach and Auntie Maureen probably wouldn't give him more sights until the next funeral. This bird was real, live and up close -- a very rare species.

The dog ran around as they entered the kitchen, round back of the big detached house. She shoved it into another room after dumping the washing gear. Cyril leaned against a huge stout wooden table that dominated the bright airy room. It was much bigger than the Carter's living room at home. She came round towards him and opened the massive fridge immediately opposite him. He could have reached out and grasped her body she was so close. Cyril could feel her body heat. Before he could shift, after all he was leaning and his weight was firmly supported by the table, she bent down to reach something from the bottom shelf. Her body arched, skin was unveiled on her back as the top peeled upwards, her legs tightened and her buttocks brushed against his crotch. He was sure he heard a slight gurgle of pleasure as she applied slight pressure back on him with her arse crack lodged firmly on his stiffy, pinning him to the table edge, before straightening up, shutting the door and swivelling to face Cyril almost proudly offering a large jug of orange juice.

'This will be nice to cool us down, won't it? What's your name? I'm Lilian, but call me Lil, everyone does,' she said pleasantly.

'Er Cyril, everyone calls me that,' he added stupidly. She grimaced at the daft remark.

She poured two large tumblers of juice and came close to offer him one. Her eyes bore into his as she raised the glass to her unmade lips. He took in the traces of mascara round her brown eyes, the mass of wrinkles round her lips, the soft downy hair on her cheeks and the almost unbearable heat of her closeness. She sipped slowly as her eyes travelled up and down the eighteen year-old's body. Fuck! How he wished he didn't have such long lasting erections. He glanced down as he sipped his juice. His knob was nearly escaping the elastic round his waist and the thick curved bulge was carving vertically up from the folds below. Since he had encountered her, he was being caught in the trap of sneakily wanting to show her his sexually excited state and yet when she looked he was almost mortified that she should stare.

'Look Cyril. Whatever you're packing down your pants is itching to get out. Now I don't know whether you're kidding me with a carrot or banana or something. If you are it's a pity for both you and I because I'm.... going.... to... find... out.'

Mid sentence she grabbed Cyril's crotch and squeezed, letting a great sigh go as she realised there was no fruit and veg where her fingers gripped. She placed her glass on the table against his as he cried out when she pulled the waist band of his shorts down and out it popped. She lodged the elastic under his bollocks, making the whole lot stick out even further.

'Oh my God!' she wailed. 'How old are you?'

'Eighteen,' he squawked with pleasure as she fondled Cyril's dick.

'Eighteen???? You look about fifteen. Certainly old enough and definitely big enough. I haven't had an uncut for years,' she murmured.

uksnowy
uksnowy
190 Followers
12