Lending a Hand

I spent the next hour along the side of the road picking up some debris. Occasionally I'd glance back at the scarecrow and imagine that it was Mrs. Hollinger waiting in the field for me, her tremendous chest calling out for my attention and inviting me into the cornfield for a closer look at what she was hiding. About the entire time I was working my cock was half hard in my jeans, enough that you could see the outline of it running down my crotch and pushing out the denim a little bit. Of course this made me think of the way Mrs. Hollinger's tits pushed at her denim shirt and faded the dark blue to an almost white. She was really getting inside my head.

The thought of stepping off the road and into the cover of the cornfield to take care of myself definitely crossed my mind more than once. Inside my body a sexed up energy was swirling all around and creeping into everything that I did. Every curve that I saw was an homage to her, anything stiff or rigid I came across in the debris brought my thoughts back to myself. I certainly needed a release, or probably two, but I needed to finish this job first before I could do anything else with my day. I also wanted to make sure that I saw Mrs. Hollinger one more time before I left and got a proper look at her again.

When I woke up this morning she certainly wasn't on my mind, but fate had taken this day in a different direction and now she was pretty much all that I could think about.

When I thought about it, I had probably only been in the presence of Mrs. Hollinger less than ten times in my entire life. Mr. Hollinger had passed away before I was ever born, so I never knew her as anything other than a widow and the sole owner of a sizable piece of land along the highway. As a kid I remember her always being sweet and friendly when my family would see her somewhere, but she wasn't someone that I had many specific memories of. But her name always managed to come up in a story or was brought up in passing in a group or gathering of sorts, all of it had the effect of keeping her present in my life even if I didn't know her.

I had always assumed that her husband was a well liked guy because it often seemed like a lot of the men of my pop's generation would help her out with chores, or drop off some food or firewood from time to time. She certainly wasn't the only widow around the county, and some were far older than her, but Mrs. Hollinger seemed to be a favorite of a lot of people. I'm a little ashamed to admit that more often than not when her name was brought up it was usually followed by a gesture that emphasized the size of her tits, two cupped hands held out a considerable length from the storyteller. But the talk ended with that, though I'd be lying if I didn't concede that those tits of hers had quite a reputation. Having now had my hands on one of her actual bras, well I could say that the reputation was deserved. I didn't know if I would share that detail with anyone, nor if anyone would believe it, but I would certainly be pulling up that image for myself.

Her husband was a lineman and died doing just that, from what I recall. It left her with a big farm to take care of by herself. I was pretty sure that the farm was from her side of the family and it was never a full, working farm since Mrs. Hollinger had it. She tended to some animals, enough to help out a household but not enough for market, and sometimes she would rent out the land to someone who wanted to farm some corn. Some seasons there were no takers and the whole patch out there along the highway would go to seed and attract some junk and garbage, which is what I was cleaning up right now.

I was happy to hear that Mrs. Hollinger still collected that pension from her husband's union. I didn't need more evidence that trying to catch on with the electricians was a good idea for both me and whatever lady I would wind up with one day, but it was a nice reminder that there were still some good people out there that cared about more than just making a buck for themselves. To know that they still sent her a Christmas card and invited her to things, well, it put a little pride in my work and it was nice that I could do something for her too.

The edge of the road was cleared off and the wheelbarrow was just about full. Overhead the sun was rising up and bringing the worst of the summer heat with it, so now was as good a time as any to head back to the house and see Mrs. Hollinger again. I grabbed a trash bag from my truck and put all the debris in it, tying it up and tossing it into the cab after I moved it off the shoulder of the road. I'd swing by the dump later and get rid of it, no reason to leave that part to Mrs. Hollinger. Nor did I want to leave the job half finished and have someone else take care of the mess.

It wasn't that surprising that there were some nerves fluttering around inside of me as I followed the path back to the house. That hour of work had given me time to think and all my thoughts were of Mrs. Hollinger. I knew that nothing had changed between the two of us since she had taken that wagon and gone back to the house, but a lot had gone through my mind since then. Sure, some of it was about that meaty ass of Mrs. Hollinger and there were thoughts about what it would be like to see how she actually filled a bra. But I also decided that I liked her on account of her being a nice woman and I was happy to have helped her out today.

The swollen rod in my jeans hadn't entirely subsided when I tapped the frame of the screen door along the side of the house.

"Ma'am," I called out into the kitchen, "It's Luke Thompson. I just wanted to let you know that I finished up that work."

It was shadowy inside the kitchen, or maybe it was just bright outside of it, but I saw Mrs. Hollinger's strong form step from the darkness and walk to the door. She had on the same denim shirt as before, but I'm pretty sure that one button had been undone because I would have noticed the small line of cleavage if it was there before. The wide hat was gone and I could see all the gray hairs that suited her so well.

She pushed the screen door and held it open.

"You are a sweet one, Luke. Come on inside and have a seat at the table. I'm not letting you leave here until you get something in return. A working man deserves fair compensation, don't you think?" On the kitchen table was a glass pitcher of tea and a pie two slices gone.

"Thank you Mrs. Hollinger, I did work up a little hunger out there and sitting for a couple would feel nice."

We each took a seat opposite from one another at the round table in the kitchen and she cut me a big slice of the pie, peach by the looks of it, and poured a full glass of the tea and pushed it in front of me.

"I'm not in the habit of pie for breakfast, but I wasn't expecting company this morning," she explained. Those light eyes lingered on my arms and chest before looking back up at me. "But you are a pleasant surprise, young man."

I nodded at the compliment, not really sure how to respond, and instead ate the pie in silence. I could feel that her gaze never left me the entire time that the two of us sat there. Mrs. Hollinger asked me about work and checked in about my parents, a conversation that felt normal and set me at ease. Coming inside her house had kind of got me flustered a bit, even if I didn't realize it, and it was nice to come out of that and feel like myself.

Our morning together should have come to an end when I finished my second slice of pie, but instead Mrs. Hollinger said something that I wasn't expecting at all.

"Well, you can't leave here looking like that. Your hands are all dirty and I could tell that you just about sweat through your clothes working hard out there. I don't know where you're headed next. What if you meet a nice girl or a man who could give you some work? We have to get you cleaned up," she stood when she spoke and her breasts lifted off the table and filled my field of vision. It reminded me of the time in science class when we took a telescope out to the football field and we all looked up at Jupiter through the tube. It was big and round and the only thing that you can see. Her tits felt like that right now, only a whole lot closer. Mrs. Hollinger leaned across the table to grab my plate, allowing me an open invitation to stare at her chest as she bowed slightly to clear the table of the plates and glasses.

I was dumbstruck by the size of them, an absolute massive amount of flesh was crammed inside of her shirt. Why, I wasn't even sure what I would do with them in my mind when I got home later today. It's fair to say that I was intimidated by Mrs. Hollinger and all that made her a woman.

She had mentioned cleaning up and that seemed like a good chance for me to step into the bathroom and get myself together, though the burning feeling I had in my balls told me that I would need to hide myself when I stood up.

I began to stutter out a response and Mrs. Hollinger didn't let me get three words in before she cut me off.

"Come on now, I drew a nice bath for you. Let's get you washed up." Her voice was all business, talking to me like I was a little boy about to get dipped in the basin before bedtime. She looked at me with those clear blue eyes of hers and my heart dropped into my stomach.

She placed the plates into the sink and walked over to my side of the table. Her hand found its way to my shoulder and gave me a little nudge, squeezing the bare flesh where my neck came together with my back. On reflex, I stood up and followed the subtle command that she was giving me. My mind was spinning like a top about what was to happen next. I was leading the way down the hallway but Mrs. Hollinger was no more than two steps behind me, I got the impression that she planned on coming inside the bathroom with me. She had said that she was going to get me washed up, but she couldn't have meant that she was actually going to do the washing.

Well, whether she meant that or not, the thought caused a big problem for me right away because my cock was just about ready to burst from my jeans and announce itself to this kind old widow. I kept my hands in front of my crotch and tried to hide what was happening there.

The house wasn't very big. I assumed that one of the closed doors we went past was her bedroom, the other probably a guest room, but the bathroom was at the end of the hall with the door half open. I hesitated outside the door and turned back to her, my arm brushed across her projected chest and her eyes darted downward to where my hands were folded in front of me.

"Ma'am, I do appreciate the hospitality, but the pie was enough, thanks," I said out of nervousness more than anything else. I just didn't know what to do. Of course, I knew what I wanted to do, but it didn't seem right.

Mrs. Hollinger took a step back and put a hand on her hip while she took her time to look me over. Standing there in the doorway she cut quite the impressive figure. If the lights had been low or if it was night time she wouldn't have looked any different than an old time pinup or a mudflap girl on a big rig. She pursed her lips and then opened them to speak.

"Honey, if you don't get yourself out of those jeans that cock looks like it'll rip right through," she reached forward and grabbed each of my wrists and pulled them away from what I was trying to hide. My cock was clearly visible to both of us, a supercharged pipe running down the left side of my crotch. I was mortified to see a small spot of dampness where I had leaked through the light denim. I had been thinking about Mrs. Hollinger in all sorts of ways for the last two hours and this was the result.

"Mrs. Hollinger, I'm really sorry about this. It's just that..well...," every other time I had tried to stutter my way through something she had cut me off. But now she just let me go on like a fool, a grin almost as big as her titties. "Since I got here this morning I've had a hard time thinking straight. I have to say that I...well, I think you're a real fine looking woman and sometimes I can't control how my body reacts." It felt good to come clean to her. Honestly, it also felt really good to stand there with her eyes on my hard cock.

"Are you saying that I'm the reason for this, Luke? That this is my fault?" She pointed to my cock and it twitched in response, her finger inches from me.

"Yes ma'am," I confessed.

"Good. That's what I was hoping to hear. Now get out of those clothes, young man." That was as clear an order as I'd ever been given.

I kicked off my boots and left them in the hallway. I had a moment of hesitation about the rest. There was daylight streaming in through the window and the door to the bathroom was open. Inside was an old claw foot tub standing on the black and white tiles that checkered the floor. Next to it was a stool, nicer than the one that Mrs. Hollinger had out in the field, and I could see some soap and washcloth in a metal bucket nearby.

I knew that no one was around but the two of us, yet it still felt different than what I was used to. Whenever Wendy and I would get undressed it was always dark and it felt like we were breaking rules, always on the edge of getting caught at something we weren't supposed to be doing. Here with Mrs. Hollinger I was taking orders and I got over the hesitation real quick. And we were in her house and not sneaking around, it all made it seem like a more adult way for two people to be. I peeled off my tee shirt and dropped it to the tile floor. I got a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and noticed the long lines of muscles running up my sides and the curve of my biceps, evidence that I had been putting in hard work with the electricians and it was paying off in more ways than one.

My pants came next and then I was just standing there in my underwear. The wet spot was bigger than I expected it to be and it looked like I had spilled something on myself.

Before I could take my underwear off Mrs. Hollinger reached forward. She had been watching me undress the entire time and not said a word, just smiling at me and sort of eating me up with her eyes. I was pretty sure that she was liking this and maybe getting me in here was her plan all along. It was a little weird with me being almost naked and her having all of her clothes on, but, again, I liked the feeling of being looked at the way that she was doing it. Her fingers slid behind the elastic waistband and I could feel the warmth of her skin against the soft flesh of my hips.

"Let me get this off of you, boy, and get you in that fresh tub. Clean all that working man's sweat off of this nice body of yours," she ran her hands all along the edge of my underpants, but didn't pull them down. Her body was pressed against mine, the heavy weight of her denim wrapped breasts pushed against my bare flesh and I swore I could see her tits wobble from the furious beating of my heart in my chest due to her touching me. "Is that what you want me to do?"

I answered eagerly without a wasted moment, "Yes. I'd like that very much Mrs. Hollinger."

"Good. I like to treat a hard worker well, make sure he's taken care of." Finally she pulled down and set me loose. My cock sprang free, surprisingly bouncy for a thing that had the consistency of steel, and she gripped it tightly in her strong hands. I glanced down but the swell of her breasts cut off my vision, two massive hills blocking the view of my cock in her hands.

"Ohhh...," I moaned, seeking any outlet that I could find to express how excited I was. I tensed up my body to hold off what I knew was inevitable.

"My Luke, this cock of yours is...," whatever she was going to tell me was lost as her voice was replaced with a moan of her own as I released everything that I had. The feeling came on quickly and there was nothing I could do about it. All the pent up energy of the morning came exploding out of me like a runaway horse. Spurt after spurt like I had never felt before, Mrs. Hollinger pulled it all out of me and never stopped.

"Oh sweetie, give me all of it," she encouraged, whispering into my ear as her hand worked up and down my rigid shift. "Don't stop."

Suddenly lightheaded, one hand found her hip so that I could steady myself and my fingers sank into her soft flesh and slipped over to the top curve of her ass. The thick flesh was peeking out to the top of her pants and I rested my hand there as my cock finally began to settle.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to...," she raised her finger to my mouth and silenced me like a little child.

"Hush, no need for that. I think that this is just what you needed and no less than you deserve for a morning's hard work. And anyone who tells you otherwise ain't looking out for you the way that I am." Mrs. Hollinger was only a little shorter than me and she lifted up on her toes and put a little kiss on my cheek. "Now get in that bath. We got a little more cleaning to do on account of this mess we just made." She patted me on my bare ass and then reached into the water and swirled it around.

I did as I was told and stepped into the cool bath and let my body sink below the surface. The water felt incredible on my skin, cooling me from the heat of the day but doing nothing for the fire that was still burning inside of me. Even though I had just spit my seed a moment ago I knew that I was far from done. My cock bobbed in front of me and I could already feel life inside of it, stiffening the flesh that had never gone entirely soft. Mrs. Hollinger sat on the stool and pulled over the bucket with the washcloth and the soap.

She reached for the top button of her denim shirt and popped it open, followed by the next two, and her glorious chest began to come into view, developing slowly like an old style polaroid camera. As each button was undone my cock throbbed, an outboard motor kicking to life and shaking the water all around it. Mrs. Hollinger didn't even try to hide that she was looking at me, nor did I hide any of what I was thinking. The two of us were past that.

Her shirt found its way to the floor of the bathroom and Mrs. Hollinger sat up on her little stool to let me see all of her. She put her hands on her hips and thrust her mighty chest forward, her eyes never once looking at anything other than my naked body and the reaction she was responsible for.

Her bra consisted of two full cups engineered to each cover the entirety of one of Mrs. Hollinger's massive breasts, a fool's errand if there ever was one. A delightful task, for sure, but ultimately futile. Instead of being contained within, her pale flesh bubbled out from the tops and sides, pushing the overworked garment away from her body. The shoulder straps and the band that wrapped her back were straining from stress, much like myself they were begging for the release that would come when the bra was removed. My eyes were as wide as two pies staring at the shapes in front of me.

"You like what you see, Luke? You're enough to make an old lady blush." And sure enough there was a touch of red on the white skin of her face, color that trailed down to her chest.

"Yes ma'am, I like it a lot. Why, I think that you can see how hard you're making my cock again," I said and gripped my dick with one hand and squeezed, wanting to be touched so badly and unable to wait that I did it myself. I even surprised myself with how easily the words came out of me. Until this moment I had considered myself a bit shy with ladies, often struggling to express how I felt. I was never a dirty talker.

Regardless of whatever else Mrs. Hollinger may have had planned, she certainly did right by me in cleaning every bit of my body and making me feel like I was royalty instead of just a working stiff. She started on my chest with that soapy washcloth and got me lathered up real good, eventually working her way down my arms and legs. Her hands were magic and every part of me that she touched lit up with excitement, all of the energy between us welling up in my balls. Each touch only added more fuel to the fire inside of me. I glanced down and I don't think I had ever seen my balls look any bigger or fuller than at that moment. I wanted to say something, I wasn't sure what, but whenever I tried to talk she'd hush me and tell me to lean back in the bath and to just enjoy it.