The Wily Ways of Mrs. Wilson Ch. 01

Theresa Wilson looked out the window at the boy cutting her lawn.

"Nice," she cooed to herself, her hands running down her front and into her tight running shorts for a quick feel that left her fingers moist. "He'll do."

Mrs. Wilson was a widow, living in a modest home on the outskirts of the town's upscale area, a town by the sea near Cape Cod where many rich people had second summer homes. Mrs. Wilson was not one. She didn't do badly; her husband, a standoffish businessman more interested in hostile takeovers than doting on his wife of 40 years, died a few years back. He left her comfortable, though not terribly well off. At 65, she could go on Social Security, but had just enough of what the late Mr. Wilson had left her to make it to 70, perhaps beyond, when Social Security contribution would be maximized.

She lived simply, not wanting for anything, but not wanting to do the menial tasks that fall to homeowners of modest means. Which included mowing the lawn. She always used the eager labor of the young men in town for such things, college-aged types looking to make a few bucks on summer vacation. And she used them for other things, sexual things, things that fulfilled her aching needs that were long unsatisfied in her faithful years of marriage.

Now looking at the young stud gleaming with sweat, shirtless as he cut her lawn in even swaths, neat and precise, she thought this one would do nicely, this cock du jour...or semaine...or mois...however long she cared to use them, some of short duration, some longer.

Young Tyler Bradman was thinking of Rachel as he mowed Mrs. Wilson's lawn, a pretty 20-year-old he'd just asked out recently, and whom he'd take on a date the next night. The strapping lad of 19, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, built like the collegiate swimmer he was, had knocked on Mrs. Wilson's door this day, and she answered, fresh from a run. The silver-haired granny looked fetching, he had to admit, her athletic old body supple and lean, a five-foot-six physique with nicely honed muscles. She wore a tight t-shirt, hair in a ponytail under her ball cap, and sexy short green short shorts, white socks and sneaks.

"Certainly, you can cut my lawn young man," Mrs. Wilson said, eyeing him appreciatively, the young man shifting nervously from foot to foot on her patio as she did.

He'd heard things about Mrs. Wilson. This was a very small town, after all, word traveled fast and if word wasn't true, rumor would suffice. He wasn't sure which was the case with Mrs. Wilson, nor did he care. He just liked hard work and making money. Still, the sultry look the sexy older woman was giving him caused him to fidget as they talked.

He finished his job on the smallish lawn, pulling his t-shirt back on with Mrs. Wilson at the bay window of her kitchen, watching unseen. She smiled, pulling her hand out of her furry snatch, smelling the funky clean sweat on them, licking them. Tyler put the mower in her garage and walked up the patio to the sliding doors where she greeted him with a glass of lemonade.

"You've earned it," she said, handing him the chilled glass. "Please, come in."

He did, following her to the living room, eyes fixed on her remarkable legs, lean and sinewy, tendons flowing under the soft tanned flesh. She sat down on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. He sat and they talked for a few moments about nothing in particular.

"Uh, Mrs. Wilson, I have to get going, I have other clients to attend to," the young man said politely. "If you don't mind..."

"Of course you do, and I don't mind," she smiled, picking up her purse that sat on a side table next to her open laptop, and rifling through it, adding in a tone that Tyler instantly saw as insincere, "Oh my...I seem to be out of cash."

Tyler tensed. He'd been down this road before, but never with someone exuding pheromones like Mrs. Wilson. His mind raced at what could happen, shaking his head to dispel them. She was easily as old as his grandmother, though not nearly as sexy.

"Uh, OK, well, if you have a check...."

"Fresh out!" she sighed brightly, palms up as she stretched her hands to the side. "What will we do?"

Hers was a postage-stamp sized lawn really, so eating the $20 loss for the 30 minutes it took him wouldn't be the worst thing. Nor the first time it happened to him. Such was life in the freelance world of mowing. He rose with a sigh, standing before her as she remained on the couch.

"Well, OK, Mrs. Wilson, I can always come back tomorrow or whenever's convenient, whenever you can get the $20, I guess," he said.

"Nonsense, you've worked hard, you deserve to get what you want," she said, looking up his sturdy muscular young legs to the slight bulge in the front of his baggy shorts. "And besides money, young man, what is it you want? Or should I say, need?"

He froze the instant her bony hand cupped the back of one thigh. He looked down at her, as she looked up at him, brown eyes fiery, soft wrinkles around her puckered mouth twisting into an alluring smile.

The rumors weren't rumors, he realized as his thigh trembled under the hand slowly running up the back, then around the front, then under the leg of his shorts.

"Uh...Mrs. Wilson...I don't...I mean...." he stammered.

"You don't find me attractive, young man," she pouted, mocking hurt, that sexy smile still on her lips, lips she now washed over with a sweep of her velvety tongue. "Honestly?"

"No, no, it's not that, it's just...it's just...oh damn, Mrs. Wilson, please don't!"

It was too late. On the short trip her hand made from the back of his thigh to the front and under her shorts leg, his cock, always insistent, always hard, always ready as is usually the case with young men, stiffened just before her hand found it. She smiled broadly now, those long, slender fingers wrapping around the thickness of it in his briefs.

"Oh, I think you do find me attractive, how flattering!" she laughed, gently stroking it, pulling him closer as he tried to back away. "Are you seeing anyone, Tyler?"

He moaned as she stroked slowly, looking down at her smiling face.

"No...uh...I have a date...tomorrow...new girl..." he stammered.

"So you're not having sex with anyone?" she asked in a husky growl.

"No...not...at the moment...oh, god...."

"Young boy like you not having sex?" she laughed, stroking harder. "Well, then you need this don't you? Now be a good boy and do as you're told...you're technically still working for me, you know...."

"Please...Mrs. Wilson...oh shit...oh God...."

He closed his eyes, feeling her other hand expertly tug down his shorts and briefs with one smooth motion, the cool air rushing over his buttocks and balls and dick, all of which were now being caressed by her insistent fingers. She cooed, cupping his butt cheeks and squeezing them with one hand while the other danced over his smooth, hanging balls and hard dick, stroking them as one, making him moan with pleasure and pain. Then the sweet heat of mouth enveloped him, as she growled and slipped those alluring puckered lips over the leaking tip, down the shaft and to his balls, taking his long dick down her throat.

"HOLY SHIT!" he cried out, causing her to giggle around his dick as she swept her tongue over the base of his cock, tickling his bloated nuts.

There was no such thing as a bad blowjob, he'd always heard. And truth be told, he'd only had two in his life: One from a drunken college girl last year in his dorm, his first and as a result the best, though she wasn't that good at it, stroking him to completion in her slurring mouth, another from a very cheap hooker he and his teammates picked up. She, too, worked quickly, eager to be done with it, kneeling in front of him and his drunken friends, working her way down the line until her face was a gooey mask of white.

As she now worked her silver-haired head back and forth, bobbing happily up and down the length of his cock, he knew if he lived to be 100 and had 10,000 blowjobs, none would compare to this. He opened his eyes to look down at that head whipping on his dick, her groans vibrating on it, and he came, suddenly, intensely. He'd lasted a scant 20 seconds in her proficient mouth, and his balls exploded, thick rivers of spunk gushing over that nuclear-hot tongue and blasting down her gulping gullet.

She pulled away with a purposely noisy slurping swallows, smiling up at him, the wrinkles around the corners of her puckered mouth a pearly smear. She smacked her lips wetly, wiping the residue off with the back of her hand and then slowly licking it off. His cock bobbed before her, hard as ever.

"Oh, you young ones, so quick on the trigger, so quick to recover," she smiled, kissing his cock and leaning back on the couch, peeling down her shorts and panties, a gray bush of matted fur presenting itself to him. "Be a dear now and return the favor."

It wasn't a question. He looked at it, at her, her hands parting the thick bush, dark, oily lips folding out. A wet nubbin of flesh poked out, and she dribbled with her bony fingers, smiling at him and curling a finger, pointing to the floor between her spread, sagging thighs. He felt like he was out of his body now, watching himself kneel, placing his hands on those fleshy thighs. Bending, he put his face close and her scent overpowered him, a delicious mix of funky pussy and clean sweat.

His experience giving oral equaled that of getting. There had been two, and he enjoyed them both, with girls his own age who seemed to appreciate his skills, cumming in his mouth. He thought of them now, what he did, and tried the same to the moaning Mrs. Wilson. He stabbed through the unfamiliar fur with his tongue, something he'd not found on the clean-shaven slits of his two previous cunnilingus subjects, and tickled the clit, whipping his tongue up and down.

She moaned, but not loudly. He looked up as he worked, over the slight puff of her white belly and tits splayed to the sides. Somewhere in his transition from standing to kneeling and licking her pussy, she'd pulled off her t-shirt and bra and was now naked under him, save for her low-rolled white socks and sneakers. He lapped madly at her clit, the metallic tang of it transferring to his tongue. She moaned a bit more impatiently.

"Oh for fuck's sake, boy, get IN there!" she finally growled, cupping his head in her hands and directing his tongue to the gripping muscle of her slick hole. "In, get IN there, use your tongue, DEEP!"

He knew, or heard, that every woman's preference for oral sex was different and apparently hers wasn't anything gentle. It was rough, he was finding out, rough and hard as she used his head like a drill, grabbing his ears and pulling it back and forth with his tongue straight out, thrusting his face in and out of her abrasive wet pussy, stabbing herself with it and grunting with each thrust. She was fucking his face quite literally, pleasuring herself with it and banging his nose painfully off that oily clit.

"That's it, that's it, gotcha now," she mewed, holding his face as tightly to her cunt as she could, snapping her surprisingly strong brown thighs around his neck, cinching one calf over the back of it, keeping his mouth flush to her soaked hole. "Deep...that's right...in and out...gonna grind ya, boy...tongue fuck that hole!"

She sounded like a porno film, dramatic dialogue nasty and raw as she punished his face and head, grinding her clit against his nose until it hurt, the curly wet pubic hair tickling his cheeks, brushing his eyes. He did as he was told, tongue fucking the hole harder and deeper and her muscular old thighs tightened in response, the inner cords of them pressing into his neck, imprisoning him. He went slightly dizzy in her scissoring limbs as her thighs, which he'd seen saggy and wrinkled in repose moments before when they were spread slackly waiting his face, thickened and hardened as they clamped on his head, trapping his face to her hunching quim.

"UNGH! UNGH! UNGH!!" she screamed, snapping her legs out straight now, sneakers locked and squeaking as they rubbed against each other and she slammed her cunt into his face, flooding it with her cream. "UNGH! UNGH! UNGH!"

He groaned in her grip, hands cupped over the tops of her thighs, tugging to open them slightly so he could breathe, as he gulped her down, her squirt filling his mouth, a creamy, minty flavor to it. She came hard on his face, squeezing it blue in her crushing old thighs, and finally released him, legs parting, feet on the floor. Tyler pulled his face out of her sopping crotch, wiping it with his hand, eyes wide and staring at the sexually overcharged old woman smiling at him.

"Not bad, not bad, certainly 20 bucks worth, I'd say," she laughed, sitting up now to cup his wet face in her old hands, kissing him deeply and slurping her fluids off his face. "I'd say you enjoyed that..."

With that, she looked down at his dripping dick between his legs, harder than ever. He blushed.

"I guess...it's just that...God, Mrs. Wilson, I never..."

"Thought an old woman could be this hot?" she laughed, pushing him to his back to the floor and jumping atop him. "Stick with me kid, I'll teach you things..."

"Oh...oh...FUCK!" he roared as she settled her scorching pussy on his dick tip, fisting it under her and sheathing its length inside her.

He'd not fucked that many women in his young life either, but again Mrs. Wilson's ways shot to the top of his short list as her pussy walls milked him with velvety muscle on the way down, the hole opening wide over the thick base and moistly kissing his balls. She leaned over him, hands on the floor beside his head, tits swaying from her chest, her smile dark and enticing. She rode him slowly at first, pulling her velvety pussy off his cock, teasing the tip with its tight wet grip, and then slithering back down. Over and over she rode him, up and down, increasing the tempo until her meaty, dimpled ass slapped painfully at his balls, a pounding, woman-dominant fuck that had the boy staring up at her, eyes wide, mouth open.

"Here," she growled, cupping one tit in her hand, creasing the wrinkled flesh into a cone, the dark brown nipple at his mouth, forcing it inside. "Suck that tit!"

He groaned, obeying, washing his tongue over it and the meat filling his mouth, bathing the fleshy old tit, cupping her ass as she pounded up and down, the flexing flesh hot in his trembling fingers as they caressed every wrinkled, rippling inch. He licked from one tit to the other, exploring the freckled crevasse between them, lapping the salty sweat.

He looked up at her fleshy neck. Turkey wattle, he knew it was called, that loose flesh of older women's necks. His mom had a bit of it, his grandmother a lot, more than Mrs. Wilson, and he long viewed it with displeasure, an unfortunate side effect of age as skin loosened and sagged. But now, as he madly devoured her wrinkled tits, it looked heavenly. He found his face buried in her wattle, licking the salty folds of flesh and lapping like a dog, devouring the meaty creases in gulping, worshipful mouthfuls.

She cooed, letting him know he was on the right track. She smiled as she felt him suckle her neck, his hands twisting into the meaty flesh of her ass, his cock thickening, his balls slapping up into her. He was close, she knew, and now sat up straight, hands on hips, smiling down at the boy's face vacated of neck and tit and looking disappointed for it.

"Before I make you cum, you will promise me to satisfy me whenever I want," she said plainly, not as a request but a command. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes, Mrs. Wilson, please, oh yes!" he cried.

"Good," she smiled, sitting still, his hands resting on her tanned thighs. "Now then..."

She didn't fuck him. Instead, she moved her pussy walls, the muscles tightening and flexing, squeezing and releasing and it drove him mad in its slow pursuit of his load. She cupped her saggy tits, fisting the softly wrinkled meat of them, twisting nipples in her long, slender fingers, watching him react. He was open mouthed, silent, feeling her work her pussy on him, his balls aching for release. Clamping down hard on the base, she worked the muscles up the shaft and down again, a virtual vibrator of sorts, massaging every inch.

"You may cum now, Tyler," she growled, tracing a hand down her middle to finger her slit. "Now..."

He did, helpless to stop it even if he wanted to, and his nuts erupted, jetting streams of cum inside her madly clutching pussy, which squeezed and massaged him harder and faster, then slowing as the last of his load dribbled inside her. He never took his eyes off hers, and now, smiling, she dismounted, a thick trickle of cum splashing out of her hairy pussy and plopping wetly on his dick and balls. Playfully, she bent over and slurped it into her mouth, relishing the flavor and texture by washing it around her cheeks before gulping it down.

"Now then," she said, standing naked before the prone boy too stunned to move. "Your number."

She fished her cell from her purse and waited. Tyler blinked.

"Number?" she said impatiently. "For when you will come back to service me again? Whenever I want?"

"Oh...oh, OK," he said uncertainly, not all that comfortable with giving this sex-crazed granny his number, but acquiescing, rattling it off.

She keyed it into her cell, saving it, placing the phone next to her purse. She went to the bathroom to clean up, returning back in her running outfit as Tyler pulled his clothes back on. She smiled, leading him to the door.

"Good day, boy," she said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, darting her tongue inside, tasting of him. "See you soon...whenever I wish..."

He walked out to the patio into the waning afternoon sun, turning to look at Mrs. Wilson as she stood in the sliding doorway opening.

"And have a good time with...what's her name?"

"Uh...Rachel," he said.

"With Rachel," she said. "Have a good time with Rachel. But not likely as good as you just had with me, I'm sure of that."

She watched him go on unsteady legs, balls no doubt aching from two wrenching loads he'd given her within a half hour. Smiling, she walked back to the living room, picked up her phone and looked at his number.

She tucked it back into her purse, next to the wallet with the $20 bills in it.