Mrs Ronson Ch. 04

I was continually amazed by Mrs Ronson's ability to shake my expectations of her. I was genuinely shocked when I heard her swear describing her reaction to her ex-husband sucking his boss's cock to get her to do the same.

Although she had gone along with it, his expectations of her seem to have been equally misplaced. She considered fellating his boss degrading to her husband but not to herself. She showed a somewhat disturbing strength of character in apparently adverse situations, using them to drive change in her life rather than being a victim of them.

I was also aware that she had effectively manipulated and seduced me - not that I was feeling unhappy about that, but I was feeling increasingly less in charge of matters.

I told my mom that I would be helping Mrs Ronson out now, from time to time, and that she appreciated having a man about the house for the odd little jobs. Mom was quite happy about that and did not enquire too deeply into what the 'odd little jobs' were, which I was grateful for. Although I could easily make something up, I didn't like to lie to mom, but neither would I have wanted to tell her the truth, especially since that might have reflected very badly on Mrs Ronson, and it was also quite likely that Mom would have put a stop to it. I would not have wanted that either.

My feelings towards Mrs Ronson had undergone a significant sea-change and I was no longer thinking of her as a sweet little old lady. Although some of those feelings remained, confusing me, I was also thinking of her as sexually aggressive, although also passive in her wanting me to take the dominant role.

She was certainly keeping my juvenile and impressionable young mind in a spin.

How healthy that was, I don't know, but I was thinking less of girls of my age, who I had never had much success with, and more of an older mature woman - a much older and more mature woman, in fact.

My mother would have been shocked if she had known where my masturbation sessions, upstairs in the privacy of my bedroom, were currently focused. Not that I had any idea to what extent mom might think about me masturbating, if at all.

Bizarrely, I did have a masturbation session where I imagined a conversation with my mother about the subjects of my masturbation fantasies, specifically including some of her friends. I imagine she may have thought those kind of fantasies possibly normal, but certainly not lusting for anyone in the granny generation.

It was likely to remain a secret between myself and Mrs Ronson. especially since we both regarded that as the best option for both of us. That and the continuing fucking.

It didn't remain a secret between the two of us, but how that came about will have to be told another time.

Our private sessions tended to follow the same pattern: I would show her my young cock stroking it to make it stiff for her ("make it proud for me, Danny dear") and her expertly sucking it to take some of my cum into her mouth to savour and then swallow. She would then sit beside me gently stroking my cock, whilst telling me parts of her sexual history, followed by a hard and energetic fuck. Generally, it was me providing the energy, both physically and verbally as I hammered into her cunt with my hard young cock and the nastiest phrases that my young imagination could provide for her.

I don't know what it says about me, but I found it an incredible turn-on, to be roughly fucking an old woman and using such abusive language towards her.. Although the fact that she loved it and wanted it, too, was also exciting.

I had conflicting images of myself: a mean and nasty pervert getting kicks out of physically and verbally abusing and old woman sexually; and being a nice young boy kindly helping out an old lady.

The stories that she told me, I think, were mostly true but one or two might have been embellished a little, maybe for my benefit, maybe for her own. I suspect that they provided an important preliminary to get us both in the mood - not that the mood to fuck wanders far from a young guy's mind or physical tendency.

Thus it was that the following Saturday my mother took a call from Mrs Ronson asking if I could call over to help her get some stuff down from the loft. It might have been to take stuff up into the loft, or something similar. The details didn't really matter. I knew what it was about and that Ruth would not be around for at least a couple of hours, probably the entire afternoon.

So, I had a quick shower, dressed nice and presentable (because I reckoned if Mrs Ronson was going to suck my cock, I should have brushed my teeth and wear a clean ironed shirt) and headed over to her house.

On reflection, that might have looked a bit suspicious to Mom, but that nuance was too subtle for my young mind and of no relevance at all to what was driving me from within my young pants, where I was aware my cock was preparing to stiffen.

"Thank you for coming over, Danny dear."

"It's no trouble, Mrs Ronson," I said, "happy to oblige any time."

"You're a good boy, Danny. Come on in."

"That should satisfy the neighbours," I said quietly as the door shut behind me.

"Yes, Danny, now go through and sit down."

I went through into the lounge and sat down on the left side of the sofa, so that Mrs Ronson could sit beside me on my right, which is where she normally sat. My hand softly stroked the bulge in my jeans, afraid that events might take it by surprise although past events had shown that my cock was usually more prepared than I was.

She came in shortly after with a couple of coffees and a tin of cookies, sitting down beside me. I was unsure why the coffee and cookies were necessary because I think we both knew what was going to happen next.

"Dick, Danny dear, I want to know how pleased you are to see me."

I have to confess that I love having any excuse to get my cock out (even a bad one), but Mrs Ronson seemed to be even keener than myself to have my young penis free from the confines of my clothing. Mrs Ronson's interest in cocky's freedom and her willingness to take it into her mouth was also exciting me and I was rising to the occasion, so it was a relief to stand up, drop my jeans and pants, and let her see what she wanted.

She was sitting down and I was standing in front of her with the head of my stiffening cock pointing at her chin. I noticed that she had recently put lipstick on.

"Oh, Danny dear!" She said admiringly, but acting surprised. "What are you going to do with that thing?"

I had the feeling that I was intended to take the initiative, so I moved towards her and pushed my thick cock, though not yet fully stiff, between her freshly lipdticked lips and into her mouth. That might have been a bit rude but I was unskilled in such etiquette. I seem to have done alright, though, because she settled down to sucking on my erection making exaggerated slurping noises.

"You filthy old cocksucking slut, Mrs Ronson." I said and, with my hand on her head, started fucking her mouth slipping my cock in and out between her red lips. Although she had said that she wanted me to treat her roughly I did not think she meant in her mouth and throat, so I was doing it gently. Then I thought to myself that I should be telling her that.

"You notice how considerate I am to you, grannyslut? You notice how kindly I push my cock into the back of your throat, so as not to hurt you?"

She moved her head away from my knob at that point to say, "yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir!" and then resumed sucking along my length.

'Sir', I thought, that's new! Was this some other fantasy playing out?

"Just make sure you do a good job, cocksucker!"

She nodded her head or, at least, nodded her head as much as she could with my cock sliding in and out of her mouth. I suddenly felt that I wanted to fill her mouth with my jizz and started thrusting harder and deeper, my hand moving behind her head, my balls hitting her chin with each forward thrust. I felt her start gagging and resisting but soon afterwards I felt my semen release over her tonsils and down her throat.

She took it and swallowed it all and, getting up, sat down beside me.

"You're very creamy today, Danny, dear," she said, I could smell my cum on her breath.

"Thank you, Mrs Ronson," I said, thinking that it was probably intended as a compliment, "you seem to bring out the best in me!"

"I hope there is more of your best to come, Danny, dear," she said, her hand moving over my ballsack, holding the base of my cock between her thumb and forefinger so that it stood up stiff and proud again.

"You have a lovely young dick, Danny, dear. I think you bring out the worst of me."

She moved her hand along the length of my shaft to the swollen cockhead and then back to the base.

"Much nicer than Mr Ronson's," she said, miving her hand up and down again.

"What happened to him?" I asked.

"You know Danny, dear," she said, "I don't really know."

I didn't believe that but I guessed that she simply didn't want to talk about it.

"We didn't have things like marriage guidance then, at least not like now," she said "and for religious families there was really only one option, which was the church and a local priest.

"Not that I thought of us as being very religious, but it was important to Mr Ronson as being seen to be so, both at work and in our social community. I had already realised that was all about appearances. People had to be seen to be and do what other people thought they should be and do.

"Do you think I'm naughty, Danny, dear?"

"I think you're a filthy old slut who likes to have a young boy up inside her cock hungry cunt!"

"You nasty boy," she said, continuing to stroke along my length, "you're right, of course."

She went quiet for a while and I slipped my right hand inside her blouse to grope her tits. She wasn't wearing a bra but, although her breasts had a little sag, they still had a satisfying fullness. I tweaked a stiffening nipple.

"I like it," I said.

"I know I'm naughty," she said, but I'm not bad."

"No," I said, "you're quite good at it."

"Yes," she said, exploring my stiffness and length with her hand. "You have a lovely young dick, Danny, dear!

"Father James had a nice dick, too."

"The priest?" I asked, shocked again. "You saw the priest's dick?"

"Oh, yes, Danny, dear. I think he was quite keen on showing me his dick but, of course, he had to do it in a proper kind of way. It would be most improper for him to get his dick out like that without some good excuse."

"It sounds very improper to me, anyway Mrs Ronson."

"Yes, Danny, dear, it probably was, but I was a naughty girl and the wickedness of seeing Father James' dick was quite exciting for me."

"But why did he show it to you?"

"Well, Danny, as I said, I needed some guidance for my marriage, not necessarily spiritual guidance but, honestly, I wasn't sure what kind of guidance I needed.

"Father James was not our usual priest, but I would have been uncomfortable discussing such intimate matters with our usual parish priest and Father James specialised in such cases.

"He was very nice and easy to talk to. I told him that I was finding my marriage unsatisfactory in a number of ways, though I didn't want to be very specific about that. I certainly wasn't going to tell him about the business with my husband's boss. I did not want Father James thinking badly of Ernest, so I kept quiet about that, although it was the main reason for my dissatisfaction.

"Father James asked me how our 'marital relations' were. I didn't know what he meant, so he said that it wasn't unusual for 'marital relations' to be affected by the birth of a child, especially the first. I said that I didn't think that I was able to satisfy my husband like before - which was true, except that, from my point of view, Ernest was not very good as a husband and not satisfying me at all. Father James asked me why I thought that was.

"I knew why that was, Danny dear, but I couldn't tell Father James about Mr Smith, so I went awkwardly quiet.

"Father James asked if my husband was 'giving me attention', which seemed odd, Danny dear, since I had said that it was my fault, but I think he may have seen through that mistruth.

"I said that I wasn't sure what he meant and he said 'in physical relations' and I said, 'well, we have Ruth.'

"Father James then went into a kind of lecture upon the sanctity of marriage and how our marriage vows were not just a covenant with each other but also with the Lord, in whose sight we had made them and in whose name we should be fulfilling them. As a priest, it was for him to represent God in whatever capacity he could and to act as his instrument to bring about happiness and contentment between those entering into the sanctified union of marriage.

"'There seems to be an imbalance in your marital relationship', he said.

"That seemed to me to sum it up for me quite well, although not very helpfully, Danny, dear."

"Yes, Mrs Ronson," I said, a bit impatiently, "but why did he get his dick out?"

"Oh, Danny, dear, I could see where Father James was trying to get to. That naughty priest wanted to fuck me.

"Yes, really, Danny dear. That naughty horny priest wanted to get his dick up inside me. He was very very naughty, but I found it incredibly arousing knowing what he wanted and, of course, I found myself wanting it too.

"It was making me feel naughty.

"Oh, Danny dear, your dick feels so hard."

I grunted some kind of agreement. I didn't know what to say, but Mrs Ronson seemed to have all the words and saying everything that needed to be said.

"'Father,' I said, 'I am sure that you are right, but Ernest is the first and only man that I have known and it has been difficult for me to know where the balance needs to be between us and how we might be failing each other and our covenant with The Lord, our God.'

"'You are right to be concerned, my child, and right to come to me with your concerns. I am sure that with the help and guidance of The Lord, we can come to a satisfactory conclusion and bring your marriage and the covenant with your husband and God into balance.'

"'Oh, Father James,' I said, I would be so grateful for that opportunity.'

"'Very well,' he said. 'You are aware, of course, my child that I have taken an oath of celibacy. This is to avoid the distraction and demands of marriage and of a wife so that I can completely devote myself to the service of The Lord and his flock and act as his instrument here on Earth and intercede in matters such as this.'

"I said that I was grateful, Danny, dear. Father James then went into an overly long explanation of his role and responsibilities and how, through his sacred devotion he was empowered to represent God here on Earth and within the sacred covenant of our marriage which was not just between a man and a woman but also with God.

"Yes, Danny, dear, he was a bit of a windbag.

"Anyhow, Danny, dear, he went on to say that, inasmuch as the marriage covenant was with God as a third party, within that we could work out our problems to bring a healing balance, this was generally considered as a confidential matter and covered in a similar way to the confidence and privacy of the confessional.

"'Yes,' I said, 'I understand,' I said.

"'I am acting as God's instrument here, on Earth,' he said, 'representjng God's interests and not any interests that I might have as an ordinary man.'

"'Yes,' I said, 'I understand.'

"That's when he got his dick out Danny dear."

"and he fucked you?"

"Not just like that, Danny, dear. Exposing himself to a parishoner might have been improper, but he had to pretend to be acting properly and in accordance with God's ministry on Earth."

"I have to say, Danny dear, that I had long since concluded that religion for the most part was bullshit. Looking at it objectively, tegatdless of Father James preambles, within half an hour of entering the chamber, I had the priest's stiffening dick in my hand.

"That naughty priest must have been already prepared for the situation. He just lifted his cassock out of the way and there it was in front of me, not fully erect but swollen and semi-hard; he took my hand and placed it around his holy dick.

"'Is this bigger than your husband's?', he asked. It was still stiffening in my fingers.

"'Yes, Father', I said, because it was, although I would have said 'Yes' anyway because I didn't want to discourage him and saying 'No' would have been a bit rude.

"It was a very nice dick, Danny dear. It was a bit bigger than yours when it got fully stiff, not quite as lovely though and nowhere near the size of Mr Jacob's. You remember me telling you about Mr Jacob, don't you, Danny?"

"Yes, Mrs Ronson, carry on telling me about Father James, please."

"'Praise the Lord,' he said, 'I can feel his will working to help you through your troubled times, child.'

"'I can feel him feeling my tits, Father.'

"'Forgive me, my child, but the Lord moves is mysterious ways, his wonders to perform,' and his hand moved down between my legs, pressing hard through my skirt, 'is your cunt wet, my child?'

"He had already lifted my skirt, Danny dear, and his fingers were pressing against my knickers into my slit

"'You know it is, Father, and should you be using words like that?'

"'All words are from God, my child, He will use what words He needs to express His wishes.'

"'Is The Lord going to fuck me, Father?'"

"You filthy old slut, Mrs Ronson, did you really say that?"

"It was like a game, Danny dear. It was quite clear where it was all going and teasing him like that just made it more fun for me. I don't think that he realised that I was teasing him - when a woman has a man's stiff dick in her hand, the blinkers seem to go up.

"'I am merely the humble instrument of The Lord, but in His wisdom he seems to be proposing a solution to your unhappy plight. Do you feel it too, my child?'

"'I feel that The Lord understands the need to give me what my husband cannot. Can this happen within the sanctity of marriage, Father?'

"'The sanctity of your marriage was always within the church and the covenant with God, my child. Now, within the confidentiality of the confessional and the covenant that you entered into with The Lord, your holy vows can be honored through myself, his humble instrument. This will not be an act outside of that holy covenant.'

"I have to say, Danny dear, that looking at the 'instrument of The Lord', it didn't look very humble at all. A big proud thing it looked, standing out stiffly from his thighs, eager and hopeful. Oh, I was so wet for it!!

"And then, Danny dear, with his dick so stiff and ready for action (he was stroking it to maintain his stiffness), and I will never forget this, Danny dear:

"He said, 'The Lord needs your knickers off!'

"I don't know if he meant to be, Danny dear, but Father James was so very funny in his strange naughty priestly way and that was perversely charming. I didn't love him, but I would have let him fuck me anywhere, even with an audience watching. He was so beautifully obscenely lecherous."

"Oh, Wow", Mrs Ronson!"

She continued, "I almost collapsed into a fit of giggles, but that would have completely ruined the mood. I was tempted to say, 'well, can't The Lord take them off for himself?', but I know that would have ruined it too, and I really wanted that holy fuck so I wiggled out of my knickers for God, opened my legs, laid back on the table and said something silly like, 'Praise the Lord!'

"Father James did most definitely say 'Praise The Lord', but he probably had a lot to be grateful for. He lined the thick head of his dick up with my ever so wet and ready opening and without any more fuss or hesitation thrust forward, deep and hard as far up inside me as he could go.