Sharing My Landlady's Bed

A bit later I went upstairs to my room, ostensibly to do some work, but actually to masturbate, my persistent and throbbing erection having become too uncomfortable. Afterwards, and before showering, I stood naked in front of the wardrobe mirror and asked myself what I was going to do next.

Downstairs in the kitchen my landlady was washing pans at the sink. I went up to her and put my arms around her and pulled her backwards against me, lowering my head and kissing her neck, nuzzling and nibbling the soft skin.

She stiffened. 'Whatever are you doing, Robin?' she asked, her voice puzzled.

I held her for a little longer, my hands feeling the slight bulge of her tummy, then I released her and stepped back and she turned to face me, wearing her apron and yellow rubber gloves, splashed with foam.

'I think I need to talk to you, Penelope,' I said, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down. She did the same, her dark eyes on me.

'I'm afraid that I've developed a rather strong crush on you,' I began, without preamble. 'It's not something I set out to do or even imagined, but it's happened and I can only apologise and offer to leave and find somewhere else.'

Penelope stared at me, her brow furrowed. 'I see,' she said.

'I know it sounds crazy, what with our age difference, but you are a very attractive lady, Penelope, and I've really enjoyed your company since I've been here.'

'Well that's kind of you to say so, Robin,' she said quietly. 'I've enjoyed your company too and you're a good-looking young man, but I'm sixty-five and you're twenty-three.' I don't really know what to say.'

'Would you rather I left?' I asked, feeling mean because it sounded like a threat.

A cloud passed over her face. 'No, I don't want you to leave.' She sat for a while staring at her hands then she got up and, stripping off her rubber gloves, she went to a cupboard in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of red wine and held it up to me.

'Thymiopoulos,' she said. 'Greek wine. My father always said that if you can't resolve an issue over a bottle of good Greek wine then it can't be resolved.'

She uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. 'Let's take these into my room and talk, the settee in there's much more comfortable than these kitchen chairs.' She smiled at me: 'I don't normally invite guests into my room, it's the only privacy I've got, but then my guests don't usually tell me they fancy me.'

Penelope's room was the biggest in the house, stretching from the sitting room to the garden. But much of the space was taken up with her bed and most of the rest by a big settee and a flat-screen television. We sat on the settee, a couple of feet apart.

'I can't believe I'm the first of your guests to... to say something to you,' I said as we sipped the fruity wine.

'You're not,' she confirmed. 'I've had rather a lot of offers over the past ten years. Mainly from middle-aged businessmen with paunches and bad breath.'

'Did you...' I began.

'Certainly not,' she replied tartly. She put her glass down and turned to me. 'I'd rather you didn't leave, Robin. It's been fun this week and I've not had very much fun recently.'

My heart swelled for this lonely, lovely lady and I suddenly regretted my sordid attempts to get her into bed.

'I'm sorry, Penelope,' I began, 'I was very stupid to try and kiss you. I don't want to leave either. I'm sure I can control myself for the next couple of weeks; if I do start to have feelings I'll just think about the audit, that'll do the trick.'

We laughed and I held out my hand and, after a tiny pause, Penelope took my hand and we sat staring at the silent TV until my landlady got up and said that she needed to start dinner.

'Stay here if you want,' she said, handing me the remote control. 'I'll bring you another glass of wine.'

After dinner we watched television in her room for a couple of hours and then I went up to my room, brushed my teeth and got into bed. I lay for a while thinking about the events of the day. Had I really thought Penelope would fall into my arms? Oh, callow youth! And what would I have done with her if she had? A mature and presumably experienced lady like Penelope was way out of my experience. Would have been fun finding out, though, I grinned to myself and turned over to sleep.

The tap at my bedroom door brought me to instant wakefulness.

'Yes?' I called out, trying to orientate myself.

The door opened and Penelope came into the room. 'It's me,' she whispered. The curtains were thin and quite a lot of light from the sodium streetlamps came into the room and I could see she was wearing a light-coloured nylon dressing gown. She stood looking at me.

'Have you got a girlfriend, Robin?' she asked. 'I won't be a party to cheating.'

I raised myself on my elbows, my head against the padded headboard. 'No girlfriend,' I said. 'No wife.'

She hesitated then undid the cord of her dressing gown and let it slip off her shoulders onto the floor. Then she climbed into my bed and I held out my arms and she came into my embrace. A glorious, warm, soft embrace, her naked breasts squashed against my stomach, her head on my chest. I stroked her hair and ran my hand down her back to the flare of her buttocks.

'Are you sure?' I whispered, my cock rigid and pressed to her loins.

She stroked my chest and traced a fingernail gently down my sternum, making me shiver with desire. 'I had a long think, after you'd gone to bed. I started out by thinking how crazy it would be for us to have a relationship, with me being old enough to be your grandmother. But the more I thought about it the less that seemed to matter. If you really do want me then... well, here I am.'

I rolled her gently onto her back and kissed her, my lips just brushing hers, savouring the moment, smelling her perfume, stroking her breasts, round and heavy and grapefruit-sized, her nipples big and hard. She moaned softly and I pressed my lips harder, working them slowly against her, opening my mouth, feeling hers open, sliding my tongue into her in that most intimate of acts.

We kissed for long minutes, exploring each other's mouths with our tongues, tasting saliva, sucking on lips. I'd never kissed a lady with such soft, full lips. And she kissed me back, biting gently on my lower lip, darting her tongue into my mouth, drinking my fluids.

I cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples gently and she groaned into my mouth and ran her fingernails lightly down my back, making me shudder with arousal.

Then my hand was going lower, exploring, sliding over her soft tummy, feeling the contours of her pelvis, feeling the thick bush of her pubic hair, silky and curly between my fingers. I cupped her vulva and she opened her legs and I found her labia with a probing fingertip, tracing the folds of flesh, up and down, pressing lightly to part them, sliding my long middle finger inside her.

I had worried that she would be dry but Penelope was moist enough for my finger to slide in easily and as I slowly fucked her with my digit she grew very wet and I added my index finger and slid them deep inside her vagina until she broke our kiss and gasped out loud, 'Oh, goodness, Robin!'

'Is that nice?' I murmured into her ear as I curled my fingers, seeking her special spot.

'It's wonderful,' she breathed.

So I kissed her again and kept on kissing her while my fingers slid slowly in and out of her sopping pussy and I felt the heat of her and the silkiness of her secretions. My cock was an iron bar, pressing against my landlady's thigh, and I knew I would penetrate her soon, the thought making my heart race. But I was in no hurry, content to let the anticipation build and most of all I wanted to bring pleasure to this kind, gentle, lonely lady who had come to my bed.

A little later I started using the ball of my thumb on Penelope's clitoris, stroking the little button as I worked my fingers in and out of her cunt. She made a little 'aah' noise and flexed her hips, putting her hands behind my head and pressing my mouth to hers, sucking my tongue inside her.

I rubbed her clit harder, sensing she was close to an orgasm, and she shuddered as the bubble of pleasure welled up through her body and she started bucking her hips and digging her fingers into my neck, gasping into my mouth.

I fingered her cunt and clit faster and harder as her climax peaked, feeling the muscles of her vagina spasm around my digits. Then she was coming down and I was slowing and stopping and she was relaxing, going limp, her breathing slowing.

I kissed her gently as she lay beneath me, stroking her face and her hair. But my needs were now aching to be satisfied. Giving her time to demur, I manoeuvred myself between her thighs and, gripping my cock shaft, lowered myself to her, seeking her slit with my glans, finding her thick bush and soft labia, parting as I pressed my head into her. Then I was in, sliding into the hot, liquid depths of my landlady's sopping cunt, inch after inch until my balls slapped against her perineum.

She moaned softly as I penetrated her, now resting on my elbows, my face inches from hers. God she felt fantastic! Slick and tight, the eroticism of the act somehow magnified because she was forty-two years older than me. A perfect example of delicious feminine maturity.

After bringing her to an orgasm, then penetrating her, I was on a knife edge. So I took her slowly that first time, knowing there would be others when I could slam my cock into her cunt and fuck her hard and fast. This first time I took her with long, languorous strokes, taking my cock to the mouth of her pussy and sliding back in slowly and deeply. And while I fucked her I kissed her lips, lightly and tenderly, with no tongue. And she responded, working her lips gently against mine, hooking her calves over mine and rolling her hips to meet my thrusts.

But slowly as I went, I couldn't stop the build-up of my own orgasm. I felt it in my balls and the base of my cock, I felt it creep like a cloud of gas up my spine and burst into my brain and I choked out a cry and gasped as my cock pulsed and squirted my come into Penelope's cunt.

Nothing was said afterwards. I rolled off her and she came into my arms and we must have fallen asleep in that post-coital embrace because the next thing I knew it was starting to get light in the room and I could hear the shower going in the bathroom across the landing. A bit later the bathroom door opened and I heard Penelope going downstairs.

I had a leisurely Sunday morning shave and shower and went down to the kitchen where the morning sun was blazing through the window and Penelope was putting out the breakfast things.

'Good morning,' I said, a little awkwardly.

'Good morning, Robin,' she replied and I sensed that same awkwardness in her as in me.

'Come here,' I said and she came to me and we hugged, tightly. 'Are you alright this morning?' I asked her.

'Yes, I am alright.' She paused. 'Better than alright. Oh Robin, you were so wonderful last night and you made me feel so good! It just feels a bit odd this morning, as though last night was just a dream and didn't really happen at all. It did, didn't it?' she added with a smile.

'So far as I remember it did,' I smiled back. 'Look, it's a great morning out there, why don't we go for another walk? A proper one this time. I've always wanted to do Kinder Scout.' (And for those readers who have never heard of Kinder Scout, it's an upland plateau in the UK's Peak District, close to the outskirts of Greater Manchester).

'Oh that would be lovely,' squealed Penelope, hugging me tighter. 'I haven't been there for years and it was one of my favourite places. One of the problems of not having a car,' she said, ruefully.

I felt suddenly guilty. I hadn't realised she hadn't got a car. 'Right then,' I said, 'that's settled. Shall we take some sandwiches?'

An hour later we'd parked in the village of Hayfield and were climbing to the Kinder plateau, warm in our walking clothes, despite the temperature being close to zero. And as we walked we talked and Penelope told me more about her upbringing in Greece and coming to England and how difficult the first few years had been at school. And she told me about her husband and how happy they had been and how devastated she had been when he died. And I walked by her and I listened and I didn't interrupt or try to kiss her although she looked very desirable to me in her close-fitting red walking jacket and matching woollen hat.

'I'm sorry about asking so bluntly last night if you had a girlfriend,' she said at one point. 'I suppose I couldn't believe that you wouldn't have someone. You haven't have you?'

'You mean did I lie to you last night to get you into my bed?' I laughed. 'No, I didn't.' And then I did kiss her, pulling her to me and fastening my mouth onto hers and feeling her arms go round me and her lips respond to mine.

'It all seems a bit unreal, I suppose,' she said as we walked on, now holding hands. 'It's the age difference thing. I'm struggling to see what you see in me. Do you really find me attractive?'

'Yes I do,' I told her seriously, 'very much so. You're a good-looking lady and don't underestimate the effect of your maturity on a young, impressionable accountant!' We laughed and I went on. 'It's hard to describe because it's not a conscious thing that you can analyse, but I think you're really sexy and desirable.'

'Thank you,' she said, warmly. 'I'm not sure anyone's ever called me that before!'

'Not even your husband?'

She gave me a small smile. 'Especially not my husband. Oh, don't misunderstand me,' she said, seeing my expression, 'we loved each other very much, but the physical side of our marriage wasn't very...' she paused, looking for the right word. 'Adventurous, I suppose. Geoff wasn't a very physical person, not in that way, and I feel awful saying that about him but he wasn't.'

'But me on the other hand,' I grinned.

'Yes,' she smiled, 'you on the other hand are. I have never had such a powerful orgasm as the one you gave me with your fingers last night.' She stopped and turned to me and then we were kissing and I was cupping her buttocks and pressing her to my crotch and she was pushing her tongue into my mouth. 'I was rather hoping that you might give me another one when we get home this afternoon.'

We got home as the early winter dusk was descending. The central heating was on in the house and it was blissfully warm after the arctic air of the Peak District. We took our coats and hats and scarves off and went into the kitchen. Penelope went to the corner cupboard and pulled out a bottle of red wine.

'I know it's early, but I thought we could have a glass of wine and take it through to my room and... you know, see what happens.'

'Well,' I said, picking up the bottle and opening the drawer to look for the corkscrew, 'I'll open the wine while you go and get into something a bit more appropriate. What do you think?'

'Appropriate?' she echoed.

'Well that nice nightgown you had on last night, maybe. And perhaps some sexy underwear?'

'Ok,' she said, dubiously, 'I'll go and see what I've got. I might have some stockings, somewhere. I haven't worn them for years.'

I uncorked the supermarket red and poured us both a glass and I sat at the kitchen table and waited and stared out into the darkness of the garden. After about twenty minutes Penelope appeared at the kitchen door in her nylon dressing gown. 'Ok,' she said, 'I'm ready.'

I took up the wineglasses and followed her down the passage and into her room, where she had switched on one of her bedside lamps, casting a limited but intimate light into the room. I put the wine down on a small table and we stood by the settee, facing each other. 'I hope you won't be disappointed,' she said quietly, undoing the sash of her dressing gown. She let it slip from her shoulders to the floor and I stood and looked at her in awe.

My sixty-five-year-old landlady was wearing a silky black negligee which looked to be a little on the small side. Deliciously so. It was tight across her breasts, showing plenty of cleavage, and fell to mid-thigh, beneath which she was wearing black stockings. In the dim light of the room she looked beyond enchanting.

'God, you look gorgeous,' I gasped, taken by surprise. I hadn't really expected anything like this.

'Thank you,' she said. 'It took me ages to find it all. I'm afraid the stockings don't quite match,' she said apologetically. 'And this thing's a bit tight on me,' she added, pulling at the lace hem of her nightie.

I grabbed her then and pulled her to me and kissed her with a passion and intensity that I had rarely known, even with sexy Lucy. I ran my hands over her negligee, feeling the rich curves of her body, cupping her silk-clad buttocks and squeezing them, feeling suspender straps beneath. 'You're wearing a suspender belt,' I said.

'Is that alright?' she whispered.

By way of reply I pulled her down onto the settee and kissed her and squeezed her breasts and ran my hand down her stocking-clad leg and underneath her negligee, feeling the tops of her stockings and the suspender clips, feeling the softness of her inner thighs and the silky gusset of her panties, damp to my touch. Great heavens! How could any women so perfectly click the switches of my libido? And apparently without even really trying!

I stroked the gusset of her panties with one finger, tracing the outline of her labia and she sighed and opened her legs to give me better access. I slid my finger under her elastic and found the warmth and silky hair and wetness and I shuddered and my cock strained at the leash in my trousers.

'Do you mind if I get a bit more comfortable?' I asked, standing up. Penelope watched me with her dark eyes from the settee as I stripped to my underpants before pulling them down over my rigid cock, letting it spring up wave about.

'You're lovely,' she said with a tinge of sadness in her voice.

'So are you,' I replied, sitting down. 'Now it's your turn. Take your knickers off for me and come and sit on my cock.' Suddenly, playing the dominant male seemed the right thing to do.

Penelope stood up and lifted her negligee, reaching for the waistband of her panties, working them down over her hips and bum, parting them from her sticky pussy, rolling them down her stockinged legs and discarding them on the floor. She straddled me, lifting her negligee again and I gripped the shaft of my cock as she lowered herself to me, brushing against my cock head, lining herself up for my penetration.

She pressed down on me and I felt her labia part and I was in and she was sinking slowly down my shaft, taking my full length, her hands now on my shoulders, clutching me with her red-tipped fingers.

We sat motionless, looking at each other, my landlady's weight pressing into my lap with exquisite pressure, my hands on her hips, feeling the smooth fabric of her nightie and the swell of her flesh underneath.

'Am I too heavy?' she asked softly.

'It feels wonderful,' I said, looking up at her and she smiled and started gently moving her hips backwards and forwards, putting a tiny pressure on her clitoris. She tilted her head back, her dark hair splashing over her back.

'Oh, God, Robin, that feels so good.'

I reached up and pulled her head down and we kissed as she rode me, mouths gently working against each other, tasting her saliva, feeling her tongue in my mouth, stroking her long, dark curls and running my hands over her back, tracing the ridges of her spine.

I raised the hem of her negligee and put my hands on the bare flesh of her hips, revelling in her mature curves, sliding my hands further round to cup her buttocks, massaging the fleshy orbs, tracing her intimate crevice with an exploratory finger, finding the knot of her anus and pressing my fingertip lightly against it. I felt as if I was pushing my luck but I was being carried away on a tidal wave of lust and arousal.