Mrs. Bradley


The last summer of high school, I spent most afternoons in my bedroom watching our next door neighbor, Mrs. Bradley, sunbathing by her pool.

Mrs Bradley was a sexy divorcee in her forties and I was in love with her body. She was tan and dark haired with a superior air and a sophisticated look, but you could tell she'd be a great fuck. She had a strutting cat-like way of moving when she walked across the stone patio. She'd shake her long tawny hair, wiggle that curvy ass and stick out her tits that always looked like they were going to spill out of her bikini top.

She sat in her lawn chair by the pool each afternoon like a queen, rubbing lotion all over herself. As she smoothed the oil on her legs and shoulders, I'd watch from my window behind the blinds.

At some point, Mrs Bradley always undid her bikini clasp and turned over to get an even tan on her back. Her efforts to keep her breasts covered during this maneuver were not always successful. I lived for these moments when I saw flashes of pale skin, tan lines and dark nipples. Sometimes those heavy breasts swung completely free of her bikini cups and I'd get to see the whole picture for a moment before she hid them again. I stood there mesmerized, holding my hard cock in my hand dripping pre-cum.

Mrs. Bradley was better than porn, she was real, but when she was laying still I'd close my eyes and picture her in scenes from porn movies. I'd be the lawn guy and Mrs. Bradley would watch me cut her grass with my shirt off. She'd beckon me over to her pool recliner. With her eyes and lips level with my bulging shorts she invited inside for iced tea. In her kitchen she brushed against me accidently-on-purpose, touching my hard cock through my shorts. She'd stick out her tits as we drank our tea. Pretty soon I'd have my hands on her juicy body, undressing her and then we'd go at it all over her kitchen.

As I jerked off, I stood at the window staring down at those big tits busting out of her bikini top. If only I could lure her up to my room. I wanted to undo the magic clasp and ease the straps down her arms, slide the cups off those breasts. Thinking of her nipples brushing my chest was enough to send me over the edge. I saw a movie where a blond with fake tits lets a young stud fuck in between them. I pictured Mrs Bradley letting me slide my cock against her oiled breasts and I went off like a geyser.

I came three or four times a day, watching Mrs. Bradley. In bed at night I'd jerk off many more times, thinking about her naked and lonely in her big bed. She was so sexy. How could she be naked and not drive herself crazy? If I was in bed with her, I couldn't keep my hands off her. How could she stop herself from touching her tits and stroking her pussy in the dark? How many times a night did she touch her clit? How did her sheets smell? I showered myself with hot jizz, tossing and turning, my mind full of Mrs. Bradley.

All the months since her divorce and I'd never seen her with a man. I could satisfy her if she'd only let me. I imagined her coming in my room and sliding into my bed. I pictured her in stockings and lingerie, stripping for me. I wondered if she was kinky. Would she want me to tie her to the bed? Spank her? Use her as my sex slave? If only she would marry me, I'd have her tits and pussy all the time. Night after night, I used my tee shirts and my sheets to mop up the cum. I came so much it took boxes of Kleenex to absorb it.

When I watched her from my window, I didn't even get soft between orgasms. I'd close my eyes and picture her spreading her thighs, slipping her hand into her bikini pants.

The doorbell might ring one afternoon and there she'd be in her bikini all oiled and ready.

"Hi Sam. May I come in for a moment? I need you to fuck me silly."

She'd step inside and undress. She'd be all tan lines and big pale tits, dark nipples, tan thighs, white triangle, pink pussy lips, round pale ass cheeks, ready to be fucked into next week. I'd wrap my fingers in her long hair and take her doggy style, with her big tits shaking. She'd get rug burn on her knees from me fucking her so hard. A woman like Mrs. Bradley had to be on the pill so I wouldn't have to use a condom. I could just cum in her over and over.

"Sam, before I go please cum on my face one more time. Cum is so good for the complexion and the juice from a young man is best. Cleopatra kept young male slaves around her for that very reason. They touched their cocks all day while they looked at her. That gives a girl a lot of confidence, always surrounded by hard cocks. Then they'd shower her naked body at night and her female slaves would rub it in. All those sex slaves, all those cocks and pussies! No wonder Cleo's skin was famous for its glow! Oh yes, that's a nice big load, Sam shoot it all over me!"

Cum welled up and dripped down my shaft. Then I moved closer to the window and shot streams all over the glass, aiming for her face.

I could lie and say how one day she made my fantasy come true, but that was the closest I ever got to having sex with Mrs. Bradley. Now I'm in college and I have had my fair share of girls, but my ideal fantasy woman is still Mrs. Bradley. It's not that I'm just attracted to cougars and MILFs. Not all older women have that sexual power. Some just get fat or lose interest. But the ones who keep their sexual engine tuned, service it regularly, and keep it purring, they have something younger woman never seem to have.

The sad part is that Mrs. Bradley might have enjoyed what I had to give as much as I'd have enjoyed giving it to her. What divorced woman wouldn't want a no-strings summer of lust with the boy next door who can do it all night and cums like a gusher every time? Mrs. Bradley could have had a lot of fun educating a raw youth like me.

So Mrs. Bradley, I use your real name in this story, hoping that if you ever read this you'll recognize yourself. I'm the curly haired young guy from next door who once had to ask you for his Frisbee out of your yard. Remember? It's been a couple of years, but I still think about you. Not in a creepy way, but in kind of a sentimental, "if only" way. Your body gave me so much sweet relief that summer of my eighteenth birthday.

I figure if you're on a website with stories like this, you may be aroused or sexually frustrated. Maybe you need a release. Perhaps my story can give it to you, just like you did for me. If you're reading this, Mrs. Bradley, I hope my memories turn you on as much as you turned me on all those times. This memoir is my gift, or rather my way of repaying you a little for all the gifts you gave me, without ever knowing it.

Or did you know? You certainly knew there was a boy living next door that summer, mostly left alone when his parents were working, hanging out all day, bored and horny. Were you aware that my bedroom overlooked your pool? Did you think about me when you were sunbathing? When you were alone in bed at night did you ever wish my hands were roaming over your gorgeous body? I guess I'll never know.

Before I go, if you ever want an uncomplicated rendezvous with a young guy who worships your body and can keep it up all night, please contact me through this website. Until then, Mrs. Bradley, I'll have to keep dreaming.

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