Doing Mrs. Hanson's Yard

It was hot as hell, and I still had three more lawns to mow. It was the drawback to making most of my summer money doing yardwork. Graduation was only a few weeks behind me, and college and its expenses loomed ominously over my head. Fortunately, I was going to a local school, but I still had a commute, and books were going to kill me.

Anyhow, I'd started early that morning, as soon as the dew was out of the grass, but after two yards already, it was just after noon and the sun pounded down.

I'd started getting my skin used to the sun as soon as I started in the spring. I'd start the morning with my shirt off, then after an hour or so, I'd put it back on, until I'd worked my way up to not needing the shirt at all. I know, sunscreen and all that, but I hate the feel of the stuff on my skin. Stupid, but there you go.

So anyhow, I was mowing Mrs. Hanson's lawn, taking pains to get around all the stuff she had in her yard. Actually, I liked Mrs. Hanson. She'd gone to school with my mom, even though they apparently only knew each other to say "hi" in the hallway. They'd gotten closer after graduation, but my mom went to college, while Mrs. Hanson got married and had a family. My mom waited until she had a career well under way before she had kids, so while Mrs. Hanson had her kids around age 19, I came into the world when my mom was 31.

Mrs. Hanson had had it pretty rough, in that her husband got killed by a drunk driver while jogging, three months before their only son, Tim, died in a National Guard training accident. It had been really hard on her, but she worked through it, and now lived alone, on a fair pension from her husband, and I believe some kind of stipend from the army.

Even as a kid, I'd thought Mrs. Hanson was pretty, but as I got older, I started thinking other things about her, too. I'd spent several adolescent nights with deeply etched memories of her out on a towel in her back yard wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini. She'd managed to stay pretty much the same through all the years I'd known her, and while she'd decided to quit fighting time and let the light strands shoot through her brunette hair, she was still damn sexy.

I was mowing around her bird bath, when she came out of the house in cutoff denim shorts and a bikini top. She had a wide-brimmed straw hat on, which told me she was going to work in the garden. I found my eyes following that body of hers, to the point where I damn near knocked the bird bath over.

I had no girlfriend at the time: the girl I'd been seeing decided she wanted to be free to see other guys when she went to college, and didn't want to be tied down by a high school romance. That just meant to me that I was free to drink in the sight of any woman I wanted, with no guilt whatsoever.

Mrs. Hanson waved at me. I noticed her tits jiggle just a little bit, and my cock jumped in my shorts. I'd had the hots for this woman since I was nine. When I was nine, I probably wasn't thinking the things that were running through my head most times lately, but I do know she'd been a fantasy of mine for a long time. Even at nearly 50, she was still a fine looking woman, at least in my book.

Watching her body move was a favorite hobby of mine. Having her next door made that a treat I was able to partake of often, and during the summer, she tended to not wear a lot. When it was warm, it wasn't unusual for Mrs. Hanson to spend all day in nothing but a bikini. Trust me, I'd noticed.

I just about ran over a budding rosebush when I kicked myself to pay more attention to the job at hand. The only thing was, when I offered to take care of her lawn those years ago, it was so I could be closer when she decided to venture outside on days like this.

Anyway, I got my shit together and got the lawn mown, while Mrs. Hanson tinkered around in her garden. Every once in a while, I'd glance over and catch her ass stretching the seat of her short cutoffs, or get a really great hanger shot as she leaned over and strained that lucky white bikini top.

Finally I was finished, and went over to the spigot to get a drink and cool off a little. Turned out that Mrs. Hanson had the hose out at the garden, so it was necessary to go there to get water. I could have gone home - it was only next door - but as I've indicated, I had it bad for this woman and had for years. If I was doomed to just surreptitious voyeurism and fantasy, then I'd take it for whatever I could get.

Mrs. Hanson straightened and smiled when I came over. I was a little disappointed, because she'd been bent at the waist, doing something, and I had a great view of her shorts pulling tight through the slit of her pussy. The crotch of her shorts was discolored from dampness, but I think it was from the heat more than anything else my overactive imagination could come up with. I *did* notice that her nipples were vaguely visible through the white material of her bikini top. If it was wet, it'd probably be as if she was wearing a soaked T-shirt. Regardless, my cock leaped to attention at the sight.

As I grabbed the hose and turned the water on, Mrs. Hanson looked around the yard and said, "Looks good, Duane. Great job as usual."

I took a big gulp of water, then ran the hose over my hot head. God, but the cool water felt good. "Thanks, Mrs. Hanson. I about ran over your rose bush over there, but I think it's okay."

She chuckled a little, making her breasts jiggle again. My cock jumped a little more. "I'm sure it's fine. You're always careful, even if you do let yourself get distracted occasionally. And didn't I ask you to call me Glenda? You're getting too old to call me Mrs. Hanson anymore. Besides, it makes me feel old."

I hadn't been brought up that way. "I can't do that. I've known you as Mrs. Hanson for all these years, I don't think I can change." Then it hit me. "Distracted? What do you mean?" A cold fear swept away the heat in my body at what she was implying.

Mrs. Hanson gave me a knowing smile. "I think you know *exactly* what I mean." With that, she took the running hose from me and soaked her upper body with the water. As I suspected, the white material went nearly transparent, and her nipples stuck out almost as big as the end of my little finger. My cock stood full-mast in my shorts, and there was nothing I could do to cover it without bringing attention to the fact that I was hard.

There was no hiding my situation from the wily Mrs. Hanson, though. "I think *this* is your distraction. You like this saggy old body, Duane?"

I was cornered. I didn't want to admit it out loud, I'd never even admitted it to *myself* out loud, and yet my body was betraying me as I stood there. Finally, I swallowed my embarrassment and decided to go for broke.

"It's not saggy. It's perfect." There, I'd said it.

Mrs. Hanson smiled crookedly. "So you *do* like this old body, then?"

I decided while I was letting it all out, there was no need to hold anything back...

"I've been in love with you since the first time I met you. I wasn't old enough, then, to know what it was, but now I am."

She cupped her breasts in her hands. My mouth watered. "Surely you don't have to settle for this ancient old thing. There must be *somebody* your age who does it for you."

I looked deep into her eyes. Maybe it was the decisiveness of youth, but I stated, in no uncertain terms, "Not like you do."

Mrs. Hanson laughed. "Do you have any idea what people would think if they knew?"

"I don't care. Ever since the first time I met you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I still do."

She lowered her hands. Her skin gleamed with a combination of sweat and the water she'd sprayed herself with. "You don't know how long it's been since a man spoke that way to me. Mr. Hanson called me beautiful all the time. Most of the time, I took it as the idle flattery any husband gives his wife. I didn't realize how much I missed hearing it until he was gone." She went away for a moment, her thoughts back to another time, another life.

When she came back, there was something new in her demeanor. Not wistful, as she'd just been, but a determination. "...And you have no idea how good it feels to hear it again. Tim was the only younger man who'd ever called me beautiful... Are you sure it's me?"

I swallowed, then nodded. I hadn't been called a pervert or gotten my face slapped, so I confirmed, "Yes, I'm sure."

She thought a little bit. I felt both liberated and scared to death. Finally, I'd admitted feelings I couldn't even really admit to myself all these years, and the notion that she might think it cute, charming or appalling chilled me to the very soul.

Mrs. Hanson reached out and touched my upper arm. It was the first time she'd ever touched me. The sensation was electric. "You want something colder to drink? I think there's something in the fridge."

Silently, I nodded in acceptance of the invitation. Mrs. Hanson smiled warmly and took my hand, leading me to the house.

I let go of her hand along the way, preferring to hang back and watch her gorgeous ass hypnotically sway back and forth before me. She held the door open for me, and I grabbed another glance of her stiff nipples.

Walking through the door, I drank in the sight of her breasts, barely contained and even more barely concealed beneath her strained bikini top. My hands ached to feel that soft roundness, but I managed to restrain myself with some effort and got inside.

The air conditioning felt cool against my sweaty skin, and a glance to Mrs. Hanson showed that it *really* had an effect on her wet top. Her nipples stood out even more in the cold air, but she made no move to cover herself. If anything, she pushed her chest out a bit more so I could get an even better look at them.

While I marveled, she went to the fridge and rummaged around. This offered me yet another great view of her awesome butt stretching those incredibly lucky shorts. By this time, I was sure she was just putting on a show for my benefit, but I sure wasn't complaining. Finally, she straightened, pulling out two cans of beer. I wasn't about to tell her I wasn't old enough yet, or that I didn't really like the taste of the stuff. If she was offering, I was accepting.

She turned and handed me a can, then took her own can and started rolling it across her upper chest, her head thrown back, as if in sexual ecstasy. "God, that feels good. I didn't realize how hot I'd gotten out there." I wanted to tell her she'd been hot before she'd even stepped outside, but wondered where this was going. My cock hadn't softened one bit since she'd drenched herself, and this display was quite obviously for me, as well.

I put my can down on the counter and took a step closer. I reached for the can she held at the base of her throat and placed it next to mine. When my fingers touched hers, Mrs. Hanson brought her head up and looked me in the eyes. A smoldering lust burned in her gaze, something I'd never seen for myself before. My other hand slipped around her hip and pulled her in to me.

Our bare skin touched. My cooling sweat and hers mingled. My one hand settled at the hollow at the base of her spine, resting on the waistband of her cutoffs, the other snaked around and into her hair, sweeping off her straw hat and blindly letting it land wherever it landed. Her hands wrapped around my back.

She looked up at me, I looked down at her. My face lowered to hers and our lips made contact.

Never had I kissed a girl like I kissed this woman. There was an energy I couldn't ever recall having encountered. It could have been her experience, it could have been my long-held desire, I couldn't put my finger on it, but I didn't care.

Sometimes anticipating something is better than having it, primarily because you spend so much time fantasizing what it's going to be like, that the real thing can never live up to the fantasy you've developed. This, for me, was far beyond anything I could have dreamt.

I felt one of Mrs. Hanson's hands move from my back, then felt the strings behind her neck pull taut. They went slack again, and after another short time, I felt the thin material of her bikini top move. Stepping away a touch, it pulled free, and her bare breasts pressed into my chest. She then stepped back into me, mashing her soft tits against my body.

Her nipples bored into my skin, and while I longed to see, I couldn't bear the thought of stopping what I was doing.

Finally, Mrs. Hanson backed away and took my hand. "Come on," she whispered huskily. While I wanted desperately to kiss her some more, the glimpse I got of her naked tits led me on like the Pied Piper's flute. At that point, she could have hauled me out naked in the middle of the local shopping mall and I wouldn't have noticed or cared.

Along the way, I gathered my wits enough to say, "Maybe I should grab a quick shower. I probably stink from sweating so much."

Mrs. Hanson replied, "Not on your life. That masculine scent drives me wild. How about me? You want me to clean up?"

Unless we could shower together, I wanted nothing to do with that. Besides, if she could take it, so could I. "No. I want you as you are."

She grinned. "Good. Au natural it is."

She pulled me into a room. Turns out it was her bedroom. While the rest of the house was pretty neat, this was something of a disaster. Not that it was *dirty*, but clothes were scattered all around, as if she'd simply taken them off and tossed them. There were skirts and pants and tops, but what really caught my eye were the bras and panties laying here and there.

Pulling us next to the bed, Mrs. Hanson knelt at my feet. She looked fucking sexy there, gazing up at me with that dark look in her eyes. I could hardly believe it when she reached for the button at the top of my shorts and undid it, then grabbed the tab on my zipper and zipped it down. Gravity did its thing and my shorts dropped to the floor. My cock strained against my boxers, a huge wet spot strategically placed where the head of my cock rested.

Mrs. Hanson seemed mesmerized. Her gaze locked onto that dark spot, and her face slowly moved in toward it.

I found myself moaning in anticipation. Mrs. Hanson opened her mouth as she came closer, but instead of pulling down my boxers, she turned her head slightly and latched her mouth over the wet spot on my underwear and my cock head beneath it.

God, what a feeling! I'd never had another person do anything remotely sexual to me. I almost got a handjob from a girlfriend once, but she chickened out before my pants were ever off.

Mrs. Hanson sucked at the head of my cock at the same time sucking the pre-cum out of the fabric of my boxers. The longer she sucked, the more excited she seemed to get. She was getting *me* pretty damn worked up, too.

"Mrs. Hanson, I'm gonna cum in my shorts if you keep up like this," I panted desperately. I wanted to cum very badly, but I wasn't sure what she wanted me to do.

She backed away from what she was doing long enough to look into my eyes, give me a knowing grin and say, "Well, we can't have that now, can we?" She then tugged my boxers to the floor and took my cock completely down her throat.

I gasped at the sensation. My god, nothing I'd ever imagined could have felt this good! Mrs. Hanson stroked up and back on my cock, and I watched helplessly as it appeared then disappeared into her warm body. She may have been the one on her knees, but Mrs. Hanson was undoubtedly the one in charge here.

After a short while, she backed away long enough to ask, "I hope you're not holding back? Give me everything you've got."

Well, I sure didn't need to be told twice. I relaxed and let my orgasm wash over me.

This cum was unlike any other I'd ever had. All the others had been by my own hand. This was almost too much to handle. Is it possible for something to feel *too* good? That was what this was like. An almost unbearable pleasure streaked up my spine, then back down again, concentrating in my lower body.

It felt so good, I was nearly crying from the intensity of it. I shot stronger than I'd ever shot before, all the while moaning and weeping tearlessly. It felt like all my energy was blasting out the tip of my cock and into Mrs. Hanson's mouth.

When I stopped cumming, Mrs. Hanson stood up and pressed her lips against mine once more. I kissed her just as eagerly as the first time. This time, though, I could taste what I had to assume were the remnants of my cum in her mouth. I didn't much care for the flavor, but if it meant the difference between kissing her and not kissing her, I could stand it.

God, I felt like I could kiss this woman forever. If nothing else beyond what we'd already done happened, I'd go through life a happy guy.

Mrs. Hanson obviously had more on her agenda, though, because she stepped back, our lips regretfully separating, and her eyes twinkled as she watched me. I saw her hands slide down her body and converge at the top of her tight shorts. A little deft work had the fly of them open, and she spread it wide. I could see smooth skin all the way from her belly button down to the base of the V her open shorts made. I was hypnotized by that intersection and could hardly wait to see what lay hidden below it.

Instead of pushing her shorts down, Mrs. Hanson's hand reached out and lifted my chin so I was looking into her eyes.

I'd seen looks of passion in people's eyes in movies, but those were just put-on, compared to the smolder I saw in the woman before me. I damn near came again when I heard and watched her lips say, "Your turn."

It was necessary to hold myself back. I was desperate to see Mrs. Hanson naked, but realized I needed to take my time. I wanted this to be as good for her as she'd already made it for me, and to do that, I wanted it to last as long as possible.

Kneeling before her, I almost felt like I should start praying. However, when the hot, musky smell came at me from the open fly of her shorts, I knew I had to see this most secret part of the woman of my dreams.

My hands shaking, I reached up to the sides of her shorts and started tugging them toward the floor. Mrs. Hanson had a glorious butt, and when I pulled on the sides of her shorts, they hung up on the curve of her wonderful ass. I slid my hands a little more toward the back and pulled again. This time, the tight denim peeled away and descended.

I didn't see the shorts hit the floor. I was instantly mesmerized by the sight before me. Sure, I'd seen pussies before, but those were in magazines and in videos and such. Also, I'd been gaping at *those* with buddies, so taking the time to really enjoy the sight was out of the question. Besides, the pictures couldn't hold a candle to what met my eyes at that moment.

To say that I found Mrs. Hanson's pussy beautiful would be a gross understatement. I couldn't take my eyes off it. And the odor that wafted from it, a mixture of good, honest sweat and an aroma I'd never smelled before -- I assumed it was the natural odor her pussy gave off when aroused -- had me drooling to get in closer.

I'd heard of women shaving down there, primarily for wearing bikinis, which -- as I've told you -- Mrs. Hanson did often. Many of the women in those pictures and videos I'd seen had been trimmed, or shaved completely, but I loved seeing it first-hand. There was a neatly trimmed tuft of hair at the top of the seam that disappeared between her legs, but from what I could see, the rest was bare.

Well, I wanted to stay down there and admire longer, but once again, Mrs. Hanson took charge. She stepped away from me and held out her hand. "Time for that later," she said, "now that we're both more comfortable, let's get comfortable on the bed."

I let her help me to my feet, then watched her crawl onto the bed, her ass in the air, her swollen pussy lips exposed to my eager gaze. My mouth literally watered. I found myself just wanting to stand there and watch her naked body move, but when she laid back on the bed, I couldn't deny that silent siren call.