tagMatureThe Ladies of the Mall

The Ladies of the Mall

bymangrove jack©

Tom was bored. His mother had asked him to help the ladies auxiliary of the schools parents and citizens committee conduct their fashion parade. He had agreed and then found that he was the only male student to do so.

Mrs Turnbull from the local franchise of Victoria’s Secret was supplying the clothes. The schools younger mothers were acting as models. A sprinkling of older mature women was added to help swell the crowd.

Tom was upset because the parade was to be on a Saturday night with rehearsals after school.

“Another fucking weekend shot to pieces,” he grumbled as he rode his old Harley Davidson down to local 5 star Hotel where the parade was to be held.

The bike was his pride and joy. His father had been a top rider and ran the local auto accessory shop. Tom who had for years helped out at the shop on Saturday mornings was given the restored Harley for his eighteenth birthday.

Being the only available male made Tom virtually indispensable to Mrs Turnbull and her team. Mrs Turnbull was a striking woman. Her thirty eight years had not harmed her appearance. She dressed meticulously, not a hair out of place. Her make up and colour drew Tom’s attention to her high cheekbones, her blue eyes and her full lips.

Tom, who thought twenty was old, studied her as they worked together. She was tall and slim with what appeared to be a good sized pair of tits. “She would have been a top bird a few years ago” he though. After that assessment he forgot about her as he studied one or two of the other ladies.

His final assessment left him panting to get back to Mrs Turnbull’s daughter Sherrie. Sherrie would snog for hours before finally letting him kiss her tits. Last weekend his hand had finally reached Sherries cunt. His fingers had stroked her clit before being brushed away. He couldn’t wait to get her alone again.

Listening to talk about dresses and make up, while he shifted and carried what ever the ladies wanted, bored Tom out of his brain. But his ears started to prick up and listen when a few of the younger ladies in their thirties started to gossip about the love life of their neighbours and other mothers. He noted the names of a few women who were apparently keen to play. He thought it might be interesting to see what they looked like.

He had been hanging around for a couple of hours when the final rehearsal started in earnest. The older ladies dominated the early parade. Gradually as the evening and day wear items were completed and summer swim wear and under wear came out the younger ones played a more prominent part.

Tom’s prick took a greater interest as the clothes grew more daring. Mrs Turnbull worked hard showing the young mothers how to walk seductively and show off her items to advantage.

She finally decided that she would show them by doing it herself. “You have to feel sexy and think sexy when you model my honeymoon selection,” she told the young mothers. That’s when Tom found himself developing a colossal horn. He couldn’t hide it, it was standing up and out, making it obvious to all what he was thinking.

Mrs Turnbull was the cause of his frustration. Tom couldn’t believe the way Mrs Turnbull`s body moved as she strutted down the catwalk in hight stiletto heels.

Her body moved seductively as the tiny nightie showed more and more tantalising glimpses of the cheeks of her arse and her hard tits. Her eyes shone as she licked her lips. “Ladies these clothes are designed to make you feel sexy.”

“They are designed to make you look sexy, wear them with seduction in mind as you strut down the aisle, think sex and exude sex.

“Shit” Tom thought as he heard her, “she’s fucking hot she knows it and it shows.” Within minutes other mothers followed her lead. None turned him on like Mrs Turnbull but Tom decided that a combination of high heels, sexy music, mood lighting and the parade’s nightwear made them all look “fucking horny.”

“Down boy, down” Sarah Smith’s mother whispered as she drifted past and gave his prick a flick with some hard object. Tom watched her wiggle her backside as he grunted and his prick deflated.

Late that Saturday night Sherrie struggled to sit up on their front veranda. “My god Tom what’s got into you, you’re all hands,” she moaned as she tried to rescue her bra and panties.

“Mum and dad will hear us, if they come out they’ll see us, stop it right now, or I’ll go inside.”

Tom was horny. He had left the hotel after the parade as horny as hell. Kissing Sherrie had added to the fire in his loins.

Even now after her warning his mind was on sex. His hands reached again to pull her back into his arms where he proceeded to kiss her until she relaxed. Feeling her relax Tom slipped his hand up until his fingers could again enter her now sopping wet pussy.

“Oh Tom” Sherrie moaned “we must stop. You promised you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want to do.”

When Tom’s fingers stroked her clit and his head dropped down to suck on her nipple she groaned, “You promised you wouldn’t try to fuck me if I let you touch me.”

Tom knew she was right, he had promised. He had been more insistent, more sexually aggressive tonight than he normally would have been. He couldn’t tell her it was her mother whose mature body had made him so fucking hot.

At school his mates teased him about the fashion parade. “What were you doing down there with all the oldies,” his mate Charlie said when they were walking home.

Tom swore him to secrecy. “Don’t tell anyone mate, I had a fat most of the time. I reckon there’d be some hot fucks amongst those mothers. You should have seen some of them in bikinis. I’ve never seen tits like it and mate their undies and sleeping gear was awesome.”

Tom became busy when his dad’s brother had a heart attack. Tom’s family were forced to help out in his pizza shop in the mall.

Each afternoon Tom reported to the shop after school. He hung around to fill in if additional deliveries were needed. The only saving grace was most deliveries required him to ride his Harley.

He worked until eight each evening. Then he generally took Sherrie or Sarah Smith out on his bike. Sherrie was now allowing him every liberty except fucking. Within minutes her small hard tits filled his mouth. It took longer before his hand reached her cunt, but once there she would let him finger fuck her but not touch her clit. Despite the fact that she allowed him every liberty with her body, he had not succeeded in getting Sherrie to touch him. Each night he was forced to resort to what Charlie called Mrs Palm and her five daughters.

Sarah had no such inhibitions and found the bike a powerful aphrodisiac. A ride makes me horny she told him as they laid naked in the cool summer breeze on a picnic table at lakeside. “I love your bike” she whispered as she played with his now limp dick. “What do you love about it” he asked.

“I love it when I’m sitting behind you with my legs wide apart.” “When I wrap my arms around you and the engine throbs, I wish we could fuck up there on the bike.” They tried it, but ended up using the picnic table so he could lay her face down on its surface and fuck her doggy style while standing.

While Tom waited for pizza orders he strolled the mall studying “the form.”

“The form” was Charlie and his words for the ladies of the mall. At every turn there were girls and women in all types of outfits, from the shortest of shorts to Arabian ladies with only their eyes to be seen.

Women and girls of all sizes, shapes, colours, and ages frequented the mall; it was like a giant smorgasbord for the boys. Tom and Charlie rated their finds on a scale of one to ten. Ten was drop dead gorgeous and horny as hell. They had spied a few eights and nines but no tens.

Tom quickly realised that women in their thirties had great bodies and most had time to spare. Delivering pizzas had introduced him to a few who rated high on his form guide. On the night of the fashion parade he had heard the ladies gossip about Mrs Johnstone from the Post Office. They were laughing as they whispered; “now her husband’s away overseas she won’t stay lonely for long.

When he delivered a pizza to Mrs Johnstone she had told him to call her Mary and invited him for a cool drink while she found her purse. Dave liked tall women but short bubbly Mrs Johnstone had big tits and a round arse that excited him.

While he sipped his drink he studied her. She was dressed in a tight top that was cut low displaying what looked like hard fat nipples. “What are you staring at?” she asked with a grin.

“You don’t need me to answer,” he said “you know.”

She raised her eyebrows when Tom asked “did I hear the other night that your husbands overseas?”

“Yes he will be away for over a month,” she replied as she watched him lick his lips suggestively.

“Well I `m available if you need a man around the house,” he said as he noticed her shift to stand with her legs apart.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Oh if there’s any thing you can’t handle or anything that your husband used to do, give me a ring and I’ll slip over,” he said.

She blushed, “Thank you, but there’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Lexie Johnstone was enjoying herself. “A little flirting and byplay wouldn’t hurt” she thought She had been missing her husband Robert’s sexual attention. Sex was fairly routine but it was regular. He had been away two weeks and she surprised how much she was missing him.

She told herself that she had flirted with this young lad because of his cheeky approach but she wasn’t ready to cheat.

Tom’s heart was beating fast as he stood up and moved over to put his glass on the counter.” That’s good” he whispered as he moved to kiss her. He heard her gasp as his hand reached her firm round butt and pulled her to him.

She was taken by surprise by the excitement his kiss generated. She felt her cunt grow wet within seconds of his arms encircling her. His hand stroking her butt moved quickly around between her legs to rub her mound.

She pushed him away “that’s enough” she whispered “my kids are in the next room.”

There was finality about her stance and words that made him realise that nothing would happen now. Sensing his disappointment she took his arm and led him to the door. She looked around pulled him close then kissed him vigorously.

When he moved to kiss her again, Mrs Johnstone smiled at him and said “give me a ring at the Post Office tomorrow.”

Tom made his way back to the mall, his horn gradually subsiding as he worked his way through the traffic.

“The sooner I knock off tonight the better,” he groaned as he thought of ringing Sarah.

“Bloody hell look at that” Tom whispered to himself as he strolled past Victoria’s secret. “What a fucking magnificent arse,” he mused as he stopped to stare at the rear of a tall blonde in a tight skirt.

“Turn around” he whispered, “turn around; if you’re as beautiful from the front as you are from behind you’re a world beater, you could be a ten.” To his surprise she turned around looking at a paper in her hands.

“Shit its Mrs Turnbull, Sherries mum. Christ,” he thought as she stood with the light from the shop display behind her.

Tom `s mind was awash with conflicting thoughts. Mrs Turnbull had filled his wanking dreams since the fashion parade. He lay on his bed at night recalling the sheer animal magnetism of her performance.

He licked his lips as he remembered the movement of the cheeks of her arse and her tits. He couldn’t find words to describe how they jiggled in a number of flimsy, sheer black silk and satin outfits.

Every night he headed for the bathroom to clean up the mess caused by his recollection of her long legs strutting down the catwalk.

Even after finger fucking Sherrie most nights, it was her mother’s arse moving under that sheer black outfit that filled his mind as he played with himself in bed.

As he stood and stared, Mrs Turnbull looked up and for a moment caught him staring. Then in an off hand way she seemed to dismiss him and move on.

Tom went home that afternoon thinking of Mrs Turnbull. “I wonder if she plays he thought.”

He shook his head “it’s not for you.”

“She’s old” he thought “she’s married; and you’re trying to fuck her daughter Sherrie.”

In the bathroom he grinned “Just the same, what I wouldn’t give to have her squirming in my arms,” he said to himself as he looked at his rock hard prick.

Tom was checking out the ladies in the Mall when he spied Mrs Turnbull at the open air café and bar.

He bought a malted milk and moved over to the table where she was seated. “Hullo” he said acting surprised “what are you doing here.”

“Oh it’s......” she was stuck trying to remember him.

“Tom” he said “I worked on the fashion parade.”

“Oh yes that’s it Tom,” she said, virtually dismissing him as she took a sip from her drink and went back to her book.

Tom did not leave. Having built up his courage, to speak

He was determined, to make her talk.

Can I join you? He asked.

“If you want to,” she replied pushing her book aside.

“Mrs Turnbull, I’ve wanted to speak to you ever since the fashion parade. I’ve wanted to tell you how beautiful you were that night.”

“Why thank you, that’s nice,” she replied.

“I can’t get the vision of you parading in that little black silk nightie out of my mind.”

She looked up quickly, “are you trying to be funny?” She asked. “No oh no! I found you so beautiful that I just can’t forget you, you fill my dreams you’re fantastic.”

Angela Turnbull studied Tom as he spoke. She remembered him now. He had been helpful and she remembered Mary Johnstone and the other mothers remarking that he was good looking. A little thin she thought as she studied him now at close quarters.

“I’ve got an admirer,” she thought, “a cheeky one and a very young one but he obviously wants something.”

“Do you usually accost ladies and tell them of your dreams” she said quietly.

“Only you” he whispered. “I’ve never done anything like this before. “You’re so beautiful I had to tell you.”

Angela Turnbull didn’t know whether to be amused or angry. The cheek of the young bugger to just come up and tell her, that after seeing her parade he spent the night dreaming about her.

Not even her husband in their courting days had ever confessed to dreaming about her. “He’s so bloody busy now he never even pays me a compliment or remembers my birthday” she thought.

She was shaken out of her thoughts and startled when he reached across and took her hand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered “I just want to buy you a drink.”

“Will I let the young bugger buy me a drink?” she thought.

She looked at him sitting there staring at her, “oh hell! Why not! I’ll have a scotch and soda,” she replied.

At the bar the barman asked Tom “is this for Mrs Turnbull?” “She drinks doubles,” he explained.

“Well give her a double” Tom replied wondering if he had enough money.

While she drank Angela Turnbull questioned Tom about his Harley. “I’ve always wanted to ride a bike,” she said as she seemed to relax.

Tom seized the opportunity and spoke quietly “I’d love to take you for a spin, my bikes out the back we can go now if you like.”

Taken by surprise by his offer she replied, “Oh no, not now, not this afternoon.”

A feeling of elation swept over Tom. “She didn’t say no,” he thought “only not today.”

“Well I’m down the mall every afternoon I’ll take you tomorrow, or any afternoon or evening you like.”

“We’ll see,” she replied and signalled the barman for another drink. “Get one for Tom” she called.

“At least she remembered my name” Tom recalled as he was called away to deliver a pizza.

Mrs Turnbull liked a drink. She had started to drink when her husband started coming home later and later. She wasn’t a drunk, but she liked to have a few drinks before she went home to what was becoming a lonely house.

The housemaid and cook made sure meals were always available so she could concentrate on her business. Sherrie was old enough to look after herself and went out with her friends most evenings, leaving her mother alone.

Tom made a habit of joining Mrs Turnbull most afternoons at the mall. He started to bring her a single rose or whatever flower caught his fancy in his mother’s extensive garden. ”What’s this for? She asked when he presented the first rose. He leant over and whispered “For you, I want you.”

“Behave yourself” she scolded. Even though she treated him coldly for the next few days she felt herself responding to his constant attention.

He in turn was cheekier each time they met. When she wore a blouse that displayed some cleavage he clapped his hands. “It’s about time you displayed some cleavage,” he told her when she asked what he was clapping about. “I still dream over those boobs every night. I remember there was no bra under that little satin top. Don’t wear a bra you don’t need one.”

“Stop talking like that” she growled as she looked around to see if anyone could hear.

When she ignored him, the next afternoon he kissed her cheek in front of the barman. Whispering so he could not hear, “I bet he pervs on your tits.”

He was more and more certain that they would fuck. He took more and more liberties, getting cheekier and cheekier. She laughed when he told her she should always stiletto heels “because they make your bum wobble sexily.”

He bought her perfume, “wear it” he said “it makes me hot.”

Mrs Turnbull was responding, she tried not to let him see it but she loved the attention he was showering on her.

Each afternoon he asked her to come for a ride on his Harley. To his surprise one afternoon she agreed. In the car park he handed her a helmet and watched as she hitched up her skirt showing plenty of leg as she sat side saddle on the bike.

“Hang on” he said as they took off. She slipped her arms around him and held him tight. He could feel his horn rising. She leant forward with her face against his ear to talk to him as he whipped down some suburban streets and out into the countryside.

Where are we going she asked? “When a boy gets a girl on his bike he generally takes her out to lakeside,” Tom replied

Isn’t that the local lover’s lane?” she laughed

“Yes that’s it,” he agreed as he swung the bike over to turn down a secluded lane.

“You’re a bikies girl now.” He grinned as he took her hand and helped her off.

“Great legs! Legs to dream over! He whispered in her ear as she showed a full leg dismounting.

“I’ll wear slacks next time,” she said with a laugh.

“Next time I will take you to lover’s lane and take them off,” he laughed as he sat her up on a picnic table.

“Now you must pay for the ride,” he whispered as he stood next to her legs and slipped his arms around her.

She let his lips brush hers and turned her head

“What are you up to Tom?” she asked. “Meeting me for a drink while you wait to deliver pizza is one thing, but what do you think your doing?”

“You know what I’m doing, you know what I want,” he groaned.

“I’m going to kiss you, I’m going to make love to you, I want you to be my lover,” Tom whispered.

“Oh Tom be sensible, I’m married, I’m old enough to be your mother. Anyway what makes you think I want a lover?”

Tom ignored her. He held her and kissed her lightly on the lips, “I want to make love to you.”

“I lay in bed each night as horny as hell dreaming of you.

I want you. This has got nothing to do with our ages or your marriage.”

“This is just two people, where the man wants the woman, and I think the woman wants the man.”

“Let me make it very very plain I am going to fuck you.” I want to feel your body responding to mine.”

“I want to kiss you all over. I want to lick your clit.”

“I want to hear you moan and feel you come.”

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