Coming of Age


"Hey, Andy! Some lady here to see you!"

The call from my coworker Melvin came across the warehouse as I was rearranging the third tier of toolbox shelving. Instantly, my heart leapt as I thought, is it her?

I scrambled down the side of the shelving column, dusting myself off upon landing on the floor. Melvin watched me with a bemused smile.

"Don't think it's like that, man," he said. "I think she's your aunt or something."

I shot him a look. "I don't have an aunt," I said. Well, the only one I did have was seven states away at any rate. Leaving Melvin behind, I pushed open the door to the customer pick up area to find Mrs. Fontana standing there, a smirk decorating her pretty face. She wore a peasant blouse and matching skirt, showing off lean, long legs.

"I thought you might be hungry," she said casually, as if we had seen each other just that morning. She held up a brown paper bag I recognized as coming from Trudy's.

I gingerly accepted the bag, feeling more than a little tongue-tied. "Uh, thanks. Um, what--"

"See you around," she trilled casually, turning on her heel and heading for the door. I wasn't sure what to make of the little exchange. Did she mean "see you around" as an implication of meeting up later? Or was it just a brush-off?

I could have gone after her, I suppose. But if this was a game, I had to play it. And if it was not, then I would just make an idiot of myself for chasing after an older woman So I watched her leave, admiring the swish of those experienced hips.

"Now that's a fine woman," Melvin commented, almost startling me with his presence.

"Yes, she is," I agreed, then looked down in the bag as Melvin ambled away. Atop the food lay a pair of silky beige panties and a note.

"You'll have to put these on me later."

My heart flipped and my groin swelled. I couldn't wait for my shift to be over.

* * * *

By the time four o'clock came, anticipation over what was in store for me had me nearly shaking. I found myself distracted throughout the last half of my shift, but not to the point where I was unable to perform my duties. I was simply consumed by desire to perform in other ways.

To say my libido was overwhelmed would be like saying a beaver dam was overwhelmed by the Mississippi. The unique combination of sexiness and mystery, of promise and uncertainty was making my head swim. In short, for the first time in my life, I was being seduced.

"Yo, man, where you going in such a hurry?" Melvin asked me as I started to bolt out the sliding glass doors.

I hesitated, looking back with a sheepish smile. "I just have something to do."

He nodded with a funny grin. "Uh-huh. Something?" he asked. "Or someone? That wasn't you're aunt earlier, was it?"

There were two parts of my brain that wanted to respond, the part that wanted to brag, and the part that wanted to keep Melvin guessing. Thankfully, the second part won out. "No, it wasn't," I confirmed.

"Yo, Andy, hold up," he cautioned, approaching. The look on his face was grim.


"Just do yourself a favor," he said. Melvin clapped my shoulder. "Go on and hit that. Have your fun. But don't get serious. 'Cause trust me, man, she ain't."

I frowned. "You know her?"

He grinned, flashing his gold tooth. "Wish I could lay claim to ass like that," he said. "But I don't know her. I know bitches like her, though. They're called cougars, and believe me, man, they act like them. So watch out for the claws."

His words were confusingly encouraging. I just nodded and told Melvin I'd see him tomorrow. I then returned my attention and libido to what I hoped was a thoroughly pleasurable imminent future.

* * * *

But almost half an hour later, I was still waiting for Mrs. Fontana. Too many times, I would see a car of similar color and shape to her Mercedes, but it would roll by as I sat in the summer sun on the curb near where Mrs. Fontana had found me the day before. It was finally the discomfort of heat and sweat that compelled me to rise and jog down to the bus stop, just in time to catch my ride home.

I was dejected and angry when I went through the door. The day-old beef stew did little to assuage any of the hungers screaming for satisfaction, and doing my chores was nothing but frustrating. But there was still the car to occupy my time.

The function of mechanical thinking was a welcome relief that allowed me to temporarily push Mrs. Fontana to back of my brain. Having to line up gasket seals and affix them perfectly in place was precision work, one which required all my concentration.

The sun was hovering above the roofs of the houses across the street, telling me it was getting close to nine o'clock. When a set of headlights flashed upon me as I was tightening some bolts on the engine, I expected to see Chuck step out of his own vintage P.O.S.

But Chuck didn't drive a Mercedes. And he certainly never had legs like the ones I saw.

Both excitement and consternation fought for prominence in my mind. I was angry that Mrs. Fontana had apparently stood me up, but also aroused by her presence. My emotions were apparently telling, because Mrs. Fontana stopped a few feet from me, her carefully-trimmed brow narrowing in a frown.

"You don't seem all that happy to see me," she remarked, looking me over. I had stripped to the waist due to the heat, which left my chest bare and sweaty. I guess she liked what she saw, because a smile started pulling at the edges of her mouth.

I wiped my hands. "Thought you were picking me up after work," I said.

She arched a curious brow. "I don't recall telling you that."

My shoulders rolled, and I realized she was right. The note, after all, had only indicated later. "I just figured, since you picked me up after work yester--"

Her piercing, exotic eyes stopped me. "Don't make assumptions about me, Andy. I'm a very busy woman. I have numerous responsibilities that I have to satisfy before I can even begin to think about you."

Her words came out carefully enunciated and blunt. I felt like I'd gotten a speech from my own mother, which left me irritatingly chastised. "Right. Didn't know I was so far down your list of 'things to do.'"

She crossed her arms. "I thought you would be more mature than this, Andy."

I huffed. "You know, you talking to me like I'm eight years old sure doesn't help much."

"Then maybe you shouldn't act like it."

My teeth ground together as I held my anger in check. "What do you want from me?"

She chuckled. "I thought that was obvious by now."

A heavy sigh slipped from my lips. "I guess I just don't understand."

Mrs. Fontana softened visibly. She lowered her arms and approached me, the click of her heels echoing in the garage. That predatory look returned to her eyes. "It's very simple, Andy. I want you. Is it really that hard to accept?"

My mouth was drained of moisture as Mrs. Fontana traced random patterns on my chest and flat abdomen with a fingertip. The predictable response once more made my jeans constrictive.

"It's just, um, different," I whispered, voice breaking.

"Good different, or bad?" she asked casually, finger traveling down to the edge of my jeans.

"I-I'm not sure . . . ."

She laughed softly, cupping my bulge and massaging insistently. Her hand slid further down, gently squeezing my balls. She watched my face all the while, appearing amused at my reactions. "Well, let me help you make up your mind. Are we alone?"

I blinked, somehow able to concentrate on the moment. I found the wall clock hanging in the garage. "Uh, yeah, for about an hour."

"Good," she declared, popping the top of my jeans. Deft hands released the zipper and slid my jeans down to mid-thigh. My cock was hard and ready when it sprang out, and Mrs. Fontana's hands found it quickly, making me shudder.

I groaned in response, once more lost to the insistent command of my libido. I watched the seductive older woman before me as she dropped to a squat, legs fanned wide to make her skirt ride up. But not enough; the treasure between her thighs remained hidden in shadow.

A wicked smile stretched her glossy lips as Mrs. Fontana extended her tongue to swipe the head of my penis. She licked up and down the shaft, alternately watching my face and concentrating upon the object of her oral attention. A car rolled by on the street outside the garage, reminding me that we could be seen.

"Um, maybe we should move," I suggested nervously.

"You're room?" she asked.

Hell, no! That place is a mess! "Um, maybe just out of sight . . ." I trailed off, indicating the half of the garage that couldn't be seen from the street.

With a last lap of her teasing tongue, Mrs. Fontana rose. "If that would make you more comfortable," she said, stepping to the closed trunk of my car. Just before she stepped out of view of any wandering eyes on the street, she unsnapped her wraparound skirt and let it fall, giving me a glimpse of a heavenly firm, round, and very naked ass.

Coquettishly, she eased her naked cheeks onto the closed trunk and crossed one leg over the other. She seemed to be waiting for something.

"Well?" she asked.

I blushed, remembering. My hand slapped to the back pocket of my jeans, where I had stuffed the beige-toned panties she had given me. With a smile, I took them out, holding them aloft.

Mrs. Fontana giggled like she was my age. "Come over here, then," she directed, beckoning with a single curling finger.

I stepped around the back of my unfinished car, eyes wandering over my mature lover's toned and alluring body. Her skin shimmered in the dim light of the garage's single bulb, showing a few drops of perspiration here and there. Even at the time of night, it was still close to ninety degrees.

"So, uh, should I put these on you now?"

She stared at me with a catty expression, slowly spreading her legs. I was transfixed by the sight before me. Nude from the waist down save for her heels, Mrs. Fontana was a lewd work of art. The tendons of her inner thighs stood out like guide rails pointing the way toward plump, hairless vulva framing the dusky wings of intimate flesh beneath a swollen clitoral hood. Only the tiniest wispy swirl of light-toned hair lay above her clit, like the tiara of a princess. The aroma of her expensive perfume mingled with the basic, feral scent of feminine arousal.

"Not yet," she said. "I think turnabout is fair play, don't you?"

Unable to think beyond my desires of the moment, her question confused me. "What?"

She giggled, supporting herself on her arms. Her slim heels hooked onto the bumper of the Swinger. She was obviously comfortable in her brazen nudity. "Do you know how to go down on a woman?"

My heart jumped to the back of my throat before I forced it back down. ". . . maybe?"

Her amusement remained. "Come here, Andy," she ordered. "Get on your knees. I'm going to make you intimately familiar with a woman's pussy."

I did as she bade, lowering to my knees between her spread thighs. As close as I was, mere inches from her fragrant sex, the aroma was stronger, sharper, sweeter. In the ghostly amber light of my steamy garage, the inner lips of her pussy took on the shape of butterfly wings, with the darker, wetter opening to her vagina completing the illusion.

Her hand slid down over those sleek lips, prying them apart with a soft wet sound. "Now, you don't want to go for the jackpot right away," she instructed. Her eyes flashed impishly. "Well, sometimes you can, as a tease."

I suddenly came to understand my role in this game. "Where do I start?"

She grinned. "Inner thigh," she said. "Just . . . little kisses and licks. Make your way up, but not too fast."

I followed her directions, leaning in for the left leg first. There was a tiny beauty mark there that seemed as good a place to start as any. Mrs. Fontana cooed, lightly petting the top of my head as I licked and nipped further up her thigh. Her skin tasted vaguely salty and a little sweet. As my mouth and nose neared her pussy, the lips seemed to swell. Or maybe that was just my imagination.

I finally reached her lips, caressing the soft edge of it with my tongue. Mrs. Fontana trembled and clutched a handful of my hair.

"Lick the outer lips," she urged in a heated whisper. "The thick parts there."

The sleek, extended labia of her pussy brushed the corner of my mouth as I licked with the flat of my tongue along the salty-sweet fleshiness of her vulva. Her thighs spread wider, giving me better access. I licked up and down, switching to the other side. I started feeling something I could only think of as liquid silk against my tongue each time my tongue touched the bottom of her opening. She was getting more and more wet.

"Suck me," she whispered. I looked up past the tuft of hair above her sex to her reddened, impassioned face. "Suck my lips into your mouth," she continued. "Lick inside."

My jeans were painfully constrictive now, but I did as Mrs. Fontana desired. The way she responded to the apparent talent of my mouth was incredibly arousing, at least as much as if I had been inside her.

Looking up at her near-painful expression, I pressed my mouth to her needy sex, sucking those fleshy, slippery lips into my mouth. My tongue swiped between them, into the quick of her pussy, and I finally tasted the real essence of her, that tangy, sharp, oily sweet nectar. Mrs. Fontana moaned and pushed down against my face. Her heels fell to the floor and she planted her feet on my shoulders. This opened her up even more, making her pussy all but gape.

"Put your tongue inside me, Andy," she directed. "As deep as you can."

I smiled first, then extended my tongue and stabbed deep into her sex, shoving my nose against her clit. I wiggled my tongue around inside her, feeling her inner muscles flexing in an effort to grasp it. I did it again and again, making Mrs. Fontana gasp and writhe. Both her hands pulled at my head, holding me in place. She began rolling her hips, bucking against me, until the lower half of my face was glistening from her fluid.

Abruptly, she pushed me back, staring down with a feral expression. "Stand up, Andy. Show me your cock."

I was too turned on to do anything other than be her sexual robot. I shoved to my feet quickly, almost ripping open my jeans to expose my penis. A deep sigh left me when it was finally released, and again when Mrs. Fontana reached for it with both hands.

"You almost made me come, Andy," she told me as she pulled me toward her.

"I would have kept going," I said, as if to apologize.

She laughed softly under her breath. "No. I want this inside me when I come. I want your cock fucking me when I come."

Oh, those words! Coming from an older, obviously wealthy woman like Mrs. Fontana, they were so deliciously naughty and incredibly inspiring. My dick jerked in her slender fingers, seeking the moist heat between my mature lover's thighs. The trunk of the car put her at just the right height, and I grabbed her slender thighs, preparing to shove home. But she stopped me with her hands against my abdomen.

"Slow, Andy. Put it in me . . . slowly." She touched my chin, my lips, and smiled blushingly. "Remember, you're a little bigger than the average man."

I smiled back, then looked down, watching the head of my cock pushing against her flared lips. Mrs. Fontana's heat seared through me, lighting my nerves on fire. We both watched, and groaned in unison as my cock was gradually swallowed up inside her. Her inner muscles gave way to my intrusion, then relaxed and started massaging along my length. With the last inch, I thrust as deeply as I could, making Mrs. Fontana gasp painfully.

"What's wrong?"

She eased me back just a little, wrapping her lean legs around me. "Cervix," she explained simply. She smiled, face flushed and shimmering with sweat. She pulled her blouse loose, then drew it over her head. Though on the small side, Mrs. Fontana's breasts were round and firm, capped with dark, thick, and very stiff nipples. Slipping a hand behind my neck, she lifted herself until our sweaty bodies were pressed together. I easily supported her weight, my hands gripping her slippery buttocks.

"Now fuck me, Andy," she insisted between licks and sucks of my lips. "Try to last as long as you can."

I'll try, I thought. But I'll be surprised if I can go even a full minute . . . .

With her ankles locked behind my back, fingers laced about my neck, Mrs. Fontana was able to swing back and forth, my hands gripping her ass acting as a guide. I had never had sex standing up, had never even contemplated it. Doing so involved more than simply inserting tab A into slot B. I had to maintain my balance, and the bursts of passionate breath on my face was distracting. Whether Mrs. Fontana planned it that way or not, the position certainly helped stave off my orgasm even as she stiffened, face grimacing, pussy sucking and clenching at my cock. Even I could tell she was coming.

She vibrated against me as if a police officer had snuck into the garage and zapped her with a taser. Her body quivered against mine, nipples stabbing into my chest, vaginal muscles clenching then relaxing with aftershocks. Her sweaty forehead rest upon my shoulder; I felt hot puffs of breath snaking rapidly through the hair on my chest.

Finally, Mrs. Fontana raised her euphoric face, glazed eyes beaming upon mine. "You didn't come."

"No," I blurted. "But I'd sure like to!"

She laughed, then smothered my mouth with a steamy kiss, while disjoining us. Her feet settled to the ground. "I'm sure you are, young man," she purred, before dropping to a squat and engulfing me with her mouth. I moaned, gently holding her head in my hands as she bobbed and licked along the shaft, lapping up her own creamy streaks of fluid. No girl I had ever known would consider tasting herself on my penis after sex.

"How do you want me, baby?" she asked at last, rubbing her cheek against my erection. "Maybe doggy?"

I shrugged, ready to agree to anything if it meant me getting off. "Sure."

With a devilish grin, Mrs. Fontana stood once and turned about, planting her hands on the trunk of my car and pushing her spread legs up onto her toes. She arched her back deeply, allowing some of the garage light to illuminate the swollen lips of her pussy. The powerful, heady aroma of her excitement filled the air between us. She looked at me over her shoulder. "Come on, tiger. What're you waiting for?"

Just admiring the view, I thought, then lined up my cock, settling my hands to her hips. Again, I watched as my penis disappeared past soothing pink lips and into the eager cavity beyond. Mrs. Fontana bit her lip, eyes fluttering closed as I buried myself once again, then pulled back. I pushed in and out, slowly increasing the tempo until my hips slapped against her taut, barely-quivering cheeks.

My lover began panting and moaning yet again, inspiring me to fuck her as hard and sure as I could. I wasn't thinking of her pleasure, to be honest, but it seemed to me that my selfishness was not noticed. No sooner than a few minutes later, she was shoving back against me hard, panting and gasping, sweat dripping from her face to the dirty lid of the Swinger's trunk.

I felt her clenching once again, signaling her second orgasm. The knowledge that I was making her come again heightened my own outpouring of orgasmic bliss. My cock burned and throbbed inside her, releasing every jet, drip, and dribble of seed I had to give. My orgasm was so strong I swayed on my feet and had to sag over Mrs. Fontana's heaving body, slapping my hands to either side of her on the trunk.

I was suddenly aware of the term "afterglow." Having sex with my few previous girlfriends had been satisfying, but never so pleasurably draining. I felt like laughing and crying all at once. I was both ready to take on the heavyweight champion and collapse onto the floor. For several moments, not a single coherent thought entered my mind. Just the jumbled images triggered by sporadic and overloaded neurons.

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