25 comments/ 160801 views/ 72 favorites The Widow Parsons By: Charles Petersunn This story is about Christopher, one of the members of the Templeton chess club, and Betty Parsons, a woman who lives nearby. It is classified within the Mature, May-December section, for persons who may like this theme. The story is long, but it doesn't have to be read all at once. There are demarcated sections, allowing you to read just parts of it at any one time. And, please do note, all of the characters in this story are at least eighteen years old. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Betty Parsons' husband, Jack, had been deceased for a few years. They had been married for quite some time. The loss was naturally very difficult for her. The first few months were really terribly painful. Every room in the house brought back a different memory. They were lovely to remember, yet also so painful to recall. But, time does heal wounds, even ones as deep as these. And that's how it should be, how Jack would have wanted it. He would have wanted Betty to move on. He had even said so, in no uncertain terms in the last few months of his own struggle. The purpose of life is not simply to mourn and grieve. There really is so little time. Nobody knew that better than Jack. Betty's friends were in fact encouraging her to now reenter the world, to start a new life, with someone else. She had mourned. It was time to move on. She was only half way through her own life. She should find a new partner to share the many good years that are yet to come. Betty was still a very attractive woman, with much to offer a man. She was vivacious, engaging, bright, full of life, and very loving. But, she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Somehow it did not yet feel right, or appropriate. She wasn't ready for that type of commitment, at least not yet. Still, she did miss the company of a man. Betty was a very healthy and active woman, with a very healthy and active body. Of course, she was not adverse to a woman's helper. In fact, she was becoming quite skilled and adept with them. Until the last few months she had not realized how many different shapes, sizes, colors, and textures were available. She liked using little ones to imagine that she was doing it with a young, innocent man. Of course, a young man doesn't necessarily have a small penis, but it did help with the fantasy. She also at times used the little ones for her bottom. She was rather embarrassed to admit that. Her husband had never tried or even suggested doing anything with her bottom. She realized now that they probably should have experimented a bit more. She also had a really big black one for a fantasy that she wouldn't ever tell anyone. She didn't like very much the battery operated vibrators. The vibration was nice. In fact, real nice. But she found the noise way too distracting, interfering with her ability to become absorbed within her fantasy. The sound was frankly unpleasant, just short of a dentist drill. Whenever she did use one her pussy would have to be buried in a ton of blankets to try to muffle the grating noise. She would feel a bit embarrassed whenever she opened up her private box of helpers. Goodness, what if somebody stumbled upon them?! She kept the box well hidden within her closet, but what if she also suddenly died. She couldn't help but wonder what the reaction of her friends would be if they were to discover this shameful collection as they cleaned out her closet, or worse yet brought it out during one of these estate auctions in which the auctioneer roams through the house, selling each item as the crowd comes upon it within each room. Of course, why should she really care what their reaction would be, as she would be dead, unaware of and impervious to their shock. Still, one doesn't want to leave a legacy such as that. The likelihood that she would die soon was, of course, pretty remote but, of course, that was how her husband had felt about his own life. Then again, one can't live as if death was right around the corner. She was alive now and obtaining quite a bit of pleasure from her toys. She would get rid of them someday, when there was no real need for or interest in them. That day would come at some point. For now she relied on her little (and big) helpers. As she did so one hot summer afternoon. It was a nice day, in that it was sunny, but the temperature was a bit on the warm side. Well, actually, it was in fact rather hot. There was though a nice strong breeze. She loved growing flowers. They were all just so pretty, so gay, so pleasant. Flowers spoke of fresh young vibrant life, growth, and feminine beauty. That helped, at least a bit. Gardening could provide such a nice boost to her mood. However, the deeper into summer the more the work could become difficult and tedious, even exhausting. Today she was weeding. Pulling weeds in the hot sun can be rather draining, to say the least. One of the more difficult plants was the milkweeds. Milkweeds were very nice for attracting monarch butterflies. She in fact had a garden devoted specially to milkweeds. But, this plant was indeed a weed, and very difficult to control. It was always attempting to spread to her other gardens, and its root system was horrific once it got a foothold. It spread in part by new sprouts coming up from the deeply embedded roots, and unlike most weeds the roots were next to impossible to fully extract. They were so deep and bulbous, and would invariably snap in the process of extraction. She could use a weed killing spray. But, she hated poisons. It risked harming some of her flowers, and was generally poor for the environment. So, she had to dig, dig, and dig some more. It was really very difficult work out in a hot sun. Betty did not wear a brassiere when she gardened, particularly when she was in the backyard. Modesty while weeding was not really a priority. Comfort was her primary concern. Betty though did have good reason to be concerned about modesty. She had been blessed with relatively large bosoms, which have also held up well despite the fact that she was no longer in her twenties (she would not reveal her precise age), and they were not particularly well hidden in the t-shirt she was now wearing. On the contrary, the t-shirt might in fact be a bit small for her, as it clung to her breasts like it was almost painted on. Every wriggle and jiggle of her bountifully buxom boobs was readily evident, as well as quite frequent, given her struggles to remove deeply ensconced roots with a shovel and spade. Nor did it help that she was working up quite a bit of sweat. In fact, it eventually appeared that she might as well be entering a wet t-shirt contest, as the thin cotton became thoroughly soaked with perspiration to the point that one could even discern skin and nipple through the tightly clinging fabric. She was at first a bit self-conscious about it, as she should. Certainly no one in the neighborhood would approve of one of the mothers providing such a wanton display of essentially naked breast flesh right out in the open. But, with the exception of the Hansun home, whose backyard was separated from hers by a picket fence, she was well hidden from view. The backyards of her next door neighbors were hidden from view: on one side by a tall hedge and on the other by an equally large privacy fence. Betty continued her work, not wanting to take unnecessary time to go back into the house and change her t-shirt, only to have that one inevitably become soaked as well. But, she was soon given a reason to question her laxness. As she lifted up a wicker basket full of extracted milkweed she turned toward the Hansun house, and saw Christopher Hansun standing in the backyard, staring at her, or more accurately, her boobs, so clearly evident through her titty-tight t-shirt, her breasts even lusciously squeezed together by her arms holding onto the heavy basket. Betty quickly put the basket back down, her boobs bouncing and wiggling with the sudden movement, and now hanging down from her chest like giant water bags as she was bent over the basket. She was simply making matters worse. Her face flushed with embarrassment, wondering what she should do. Of course, it really wasn't anything so terribly bad. It was an honest wardrobe accident, and it's not like the boy hadn't seen a woman's breasts before. Well, of course, she didn't really know what he had or had not yet seen. But, she did know the young Mr. Hansun. She used to babysit for him. Those were nice days, pleasant days. As she sat with him, playing cards, perhaps some board game, or watching TV, she would at times imagine how nice it would be to have a child of her own. When he became older he delivered her newspaper. One summer he mowed the lawn for them, although Jack felt that he didn't do a very good job of that. He must be at least eighteen now. In fact, she understood that he was even attending college, Templeton no less, a local college with impeccable standards. She smiled as she thought about Christopher, as the young boy. He was always so considerate, rather shy and insecure perhaps, but also really very sweet and cute, truly a harmless young man. Her smile grew larger as she recalled how he used to try to peek up her dress when she was babysitting. He was too young to really appreciate what would be there. He was just so curious as to what he might find. The fact that she resisted him so adamantly just made him even more persistent. He must have figured that she had some candy hidden there. Betty squatted down, pretending to be studying some of the milkweeds within the basket, but in fact peeking up at him across the backyards. She could see that, as he was watering his mother's flower garden, he was also sneaking glances at her. Her face flushed again, realizing that he was clearly very interested in her exposed breasts. It was a little awkward, to say the least, to have him ogling them, as she did still think of him as the boy next door. But, she wasn't really offended by it. It wasn't like he was peeking through her window or anything, and it was clearly her fault for not going into the house to get out of the wet t-shirt and put on a brassiere. Plus, it was, well, frankly, more than a little flattering. It was nice to see that she could turn the head of a young man, even at her age. She looked down at her breasts and pulled back her shoulders, helping them to stand up a bit more proudly. Yes, they had aged well. She had always been so very proud of them. Her nipples were thrusting out nicely through the thin wet cotton fabric, stimulated by the coolness of the water's evaporation, as well as perhaps by the boy's eyes. They were clearly enjoying his admiration, trying to draw his attention, his interest. Betty smiled mischievously as she took hold of the basket once again and stood back up, facing him. Christopher quickly looked away. Betty smiled. He was apparently rather embarrassed by having been caught staring at her breasts. She called out to him, "Christopher, Christopher Hansun, well, goodness, hello! Looks like your mother has you working in her garden!" Chris looked up, keeping his eyes focused specifically on Mrs. Parsons' face, but his pupils were widening at the presence of those lusciously full swaying milk jugs in his lower field of view. "Oh, hi! Mrs. Parsons, I didn't know you were there!" Betty strode up to the small picket fence that bordered their yards, carrying the basket, her boobs jiggling like Jell-O with every step, her nipples stiffening as they were tickled by the bouncing and swaying of her breasts within her tight t-shirt. She rested the basket on the fence, and rested her breasts on the basket. "My goodness, Christopher," Betty said, "you are all grown up now, aren't you!" "Well, yeah, I guess," Chris modestly replied, trying to keep his eyes averted, but how could they really avoid such a gift. He could even discern the skin of her areola and the pointiness of her nipples through the sweat-soaked cotton. "You're quite the strapping, handsome young man now, I must say. Are you breaking lots of little girls' hearts?" "No, no," Chris replied, feeling a little self-conscious, as well as embarrassed by the fact that he hadn't managed to break even one girl's heart. He was not particularly popular with girls. Not too many girls liked chess club enthusiasts. "Well, I can't imagine that. How old are you now anyway?" "Eighteen," he answered. "Eighteen!? Really?! Time does fly but, then again, I would have guessed you were in fact 24 or 25." Chris smiled at that. Betty continued, "You just look so handsome and manly." She was laying it on pretty thick, but she could see that he liked it. He actually looked to her younger than 18. He still had a boyish face and build. Chris did indeed like the flattery, very much so. He was in fact getting rather excited, his eyes occasionally drifting down to Mrs. Parsons' breasts. He had always admired them, as any young man would. In fact, over the past few years he had been trying to get a peek at them. Well, not trying real hard, but he couldn't help but notice her at times through her bedroom and bathroom windows. Mrs. Parsons had a one-story ranch house, with her bedroom apparently facing the backyard. He never really saw much, but his eyes would at times linger, his mind drifting into the fantasy that perhaps he might see something, his dick slowly swelling within his pants as he contemplated the possibility, which was now more real than ever before. Mrs. Parsons was absentmindedly scratching one of her breasts as she spoke to him, the movement of her hand naturally drawing the young man's eyes. Betty smiled. Didn't boys realize how obvious it was when they were looking at your boobs? That had always amazed her in high school. Of course, given her early and considerably development, she got quite a few looks. She asked, "Christopher, I wonder if you would be willing to do a little work for me." With her eyes remaining focused on his she shifted her fingers along her breast to scratch a nipple, causing it to distend even further. Chris' eyes widened in shock. Mrs. Parsons was actually scratching her nipple?! Right in front of him?! He tore his eyes away, knowing that he really shouldn't be staring at it. "What? Yeah, sure, sure Mrs. Parsons. I'd be happy to." Looking her in the eyes though did not diminish her appeal. Mrs. Parsons did have very pretty large brown eyes. They always looked so gay and cheerful, with long fluttering lashes, a thin perky nose, rosy red cheeks, and long flowing brown hair that draped casually along her shoulders. He wondered if some day he might marry a woman as beautiful, and sexy, as Mrs. Parsons. But, of course, there was little likelihood of that. Betty continued to rub and pinch her nipple, as if it was simply an itch from some bug bite. "Well, that would be so helpful, Christopher. It's been difficult, of course, with Jack having passed away." "Oh yeah, I heard. I'm really sorry about that, Mrs. Parsons," feeling now a bit guilty about noticing her playing with her nipple. "Oh, that's alright, Christopher. It's been a good deal of time now. My friends even suggest I should start dating again, but I think I'm a little too old for that." She finally let go of her nipple, its taut stiffness pointing directly at Christopher. Chris' own stiffness was pointing in return at Mrs. Parsons. He sorely hoped that she had not noticed it. "Oh, you're not that old, Mrs. Parsons, really." Betty though had most definitely noticed it, and found it rather flattering. "Now, don't you try to flatter me, Christopher. I'm old enough to be your mother." "Well, you don't look it, Mrs. Parsons, really." It was the obvious thing to say in response to her self-deprecating remark. "Goodness, Christopher, are you flirting with me?" "What?! No! Golly, no." His face reddened and he nervously glanced around, feeling terribly self-conscious. Mrs. Parsons smiled. He was such a cute boy. "Well, in any case, I need someone to put a fresh coat of stain on the railing of my deck. I wonder if you could help with that, tomorrow perhaps?" "Well, yeah, sure, Mrs. Parsons, I'd be happy to." "That's very sweet of you, Christopher. I'll get the supplies today and, well, let's make it a date, say, at 2:00 PM, tomorrow?" That was sort of an odd way to put it, but he didn't think too much of it. "Uh, yeah, sure, sure." "Well then, excellent! See you tomorrow then!" She lifted up the basket and turned away, albeit looking back over her shoulder to say, "You be a good boy now." Chris smiled, feeling rather undeserving of that suggestion, given that he had been ogling her boobs. "Yeah, sure, Mrs. Parsons, of course." Betty smiled as she made her way back across her yard, providing an extra swing to her hips, figuring that the boy was following her every move, and finding it rather flattering to be so watched and admired. She was indeed much older than him, but it kind of made her feel as if she was just eighteen again herself, albeit this time with considerable experience, and substantially more self-confidence. When she reached her garden she stopped, and bent over to put the basket down, bending in a way that was much more suggestive than necessary, thrusting her bottom back at the boy. It was difficult to say what was in fact her best feature. Her boobs did always draw the most attention, but her bottom was pretty darned firm and perky. She gave Christopher a very nice opportunity to obtain his own evaluation as she bent over and thrust it back out. She maintained her provocative pose as she pretended to be rummaging around in the wicker basket, purportedly looking for something, perhaps a missing trowel, her rear turning left and right. The trowel was actually resting right on the top of the weeds. She eventually picked it up and turned her head back to look at Christopher, who was indeed still looking at her. She even caught him with a hand on his crotch. She smiled and waved at him, the trowel in her hand. "Found it!" Chris quickly looked away but then looked back and returned her wave. It was a very feeble effort at pretending that he had not been staring at her butt. Well, at least she didn't look angry or upset. Betty was in fact now feeling more than a little randy. She would at times feel that way anyway after a long stretch in the garden. For some reason all that manual labor would get her a bit excited. Jack knew that a good time to approach her was right after she finished exercising. One might think that she would be tired, perhaps even exhausted, but it was all that blood flowing through her, just got her so pumped and excited. Betty decided that it was time to get a bit more exercise. She left her gardening tools behind and made her way into the house. She did stop to get a glass of ice water, but she knew she needed more than that to cool off. She proceeded to her bedroom, her heart racing with excitement. Sometimes it's so nice to be alive, when there is nothing on one's mind other than providing oneself with joyful pleasure. She smiled as she entered her bedroom, putting the ice water on her bedside table. She looked at her bed. She normally would do this lying on the bed, but she was feeling a bit sweaty and dirty. Plus, she had something else in mind. She strode over to her large bedroom window, currently hidden by fully drawn pleated window shades. She peeked through a couple of the slats. Christopher was still in the backyard. Her eyes fixed on him as she undid and opened her jeans and then reached down into her panties. She took a deep breath upon making contact with her swelling clit. Her eyes half-closed as she continued to focus on the boy working in the back yard as she worked on her clit. The Widow Parsons He was really so very cute, and so all grown up. It didn't seem that long ago when he used to come over to her house to ask if he could swing on the branches of her willow tree, and now he is a strapping young man. She held her breath as he reached down to grasp his crotch. Chris was still thinking about Mrs. Parsons. It had been such an amazingly stunning sight. His balls churned and his dick swelled as he recalled those voluminous boobs jiggling around within her wet, clinging t-shirt, how she absentmindedly pinched and twisted her nipple as she spoke to him, and how she seemed to have purposely posed with her butt sticking out at him. He reached down to give his dick a squeeze. He knew what he would be thinking about that evening, beneath the covers. Betty increased the pace at which she was diddling her clit, her breaths becoming rushed, her hips subtly grinding, her teeth clenching, watching the boy playing with himself, thinking about her, about how hot and sexy she was. She suddenly stopped, but not out of guilt. She needed to do more. She reached over for the shades' cord and pulled the blinds up in front on the far left side of her bedroom, not all the way up, just to her shoulder and then, making as much noise as possible, pulled up the lower half of the window, ostensibly to allow some air into the room. Her bedroom could indeed be very warm, albeit the air conditioner was taking good care of that. Christopher, however, would not know that. He would imagine that she was just opening up the window to let the fresh air into her room. Once the window was up, she stood in front of it and pulled and tugged on the front of her t-shirt, as if she was trying to cool herself off with the fresh air cooling the sweat on her body, her face hidden from view. And then she simply grasped hold of each of her breasts and squeezed them within her hands, using her thumbs to play a bit with her nipples as she continued to grasp and fondle her breasts soft full lusciousness. She was definitely very randy indeed. She stepped away from the opened window and moved all the way down to the window on the far right side of her bedroom. She carefully peeked through the slats. She had indeed caught Chris' attention. He was staring at her opened window, the fingers of his right hand subtly caressing his erection. Betty smiled, and felt a further rush of warm excitement course through her loins. Well, maybe now he would get that peek he wanted, so many years go. Something told her that he was going to appreciate it much more, now that he was all grown up. She quickly stripped off her t-shirt, kicked off her shoes, and ripped down her pants and panties, making herself entirely naked, with the lone exception of her socks. She again peeked through the slats. Christopher was returning to his work, but he did occasionally glance at her opened but now empty window. Betty wasn't sure if she should really do this. She wasn't even entirely sure what she was going to do, but she knew it would be naughty, although equally exciting. She again reached down with the fingers of her right hand and caressed the wet lips of her womanly cunt, providing herself with the moral support and encouragement she needed for her anticipated act of daring. She even slipped a couple of fingers inside, sloshing them around within the hot, wet, clinging flesh of her cunt. She removed her fingers from her cunt, soaked with her fluid, some of it now dripping down her thigh. With her breaths rapid and shallow, her breasts heaving, she strode back across the bedroom to the opened window, and stopped there, right in front of it, facing sideways, her naked profile open to the world, open to Christopher, to view. She couldn't see if he was looking, but she imagined he must be. Her face flushed with excitement, and embarrassment, at her exhibitionistic display. This was just so terribly naughty! Jack had at one time suggested they make love in a hotel room with the curtains wide open, letting anybody within the office windows across from them to see them, to watch them. There would be no real harm, he suggested, as they would all be strangers, they would never know who they were. It would never get back to their friends, families, or associates. Much as Betty was excited by the idea, she just couldn't do it. It just seemed so risky, not to mention embarrassing. This, however, now seemed different, as Christopher was, in her mind, still a boy, or at best a young man, and clearly very innocent and shy. Exhibiting herself to him seemed comparably innocent. And, she was just being playful. Nothing she was doing would really cause him any harm or pain. She wasn't actually exploiting him in any way. Clearly he would enjoy it. Of course, some of her motivation did reflect a very intense arousal after quite a bit of time of denial and frustration. It was not though her best perspective, at least so she felt. She felt very good about her breasts, but given her age and their size, they did not stand out so perky as they had when she was herself a teenager. They kind of sloped downward a bit. She felt they would make a much better impression if she was facing the window, but she wasn't quite ready for that and, besides, what would be the reason for doing that? Facing the adjoining wall was a more likely position. For all Christopher knew, she could be looking at herself in a mirror, or standing in front of a dresser or an opened closet. Chris was dumbstruck! He was actually seeing Mrs. Parsons entirely fucking naked! He couldn't see a whole lot. It was just from her side and she was a good distance away, but he was being treated to a very nice view of her right breast, which was just so fucking big, white, and womanly. He glanced around, making sure that nobody was watching him, noticing him, and then gave his erect cock a more purposeful squeeze. He so wished he had a camera. But, then, she moved away. Betty stepped over to her closet. She needed one of her helpers, and she knew precisely which one she wanted. She extracted the box from its hiding place, rummaged around, and then pulled out the one she was seeking: a little white one. Her heart raced as she pulled it out. She made her way back over to the other side of the room, momentarily crossing the opened window as she did so. She paused there, feeling her heart beating loudly, her cunt warming, yearning. She reached up with her left hand and squeezed her breast, pinched her nipple, and then moved on. She walked over to where she had previously peeked through the slats. She hesitated before she switched on the vibrator, wondering if it would be so loud that Christopher would be able to hear it. That would be rather embarrassing. But, with her heart fluttering she thought why not let him hear it. This was just so bad! She turned it on, but then realized that it really wasn't that loud. It often seemed loud to her, but the humming would not make its way out of her bedroom and across the yards, particularly as she was standing so far from the open window. She considered changing location. But, even if she used it right in front of the opened window he still wouldn't be able to hear it. However, if she used it right in front of the opened window then he would most definitely be able to see her using it! That would clearly be going much too far. Using her left hand she peeked through the slats. He had moved over a bit himself, shifting over so that he would be facing her opened window more directly, pretending to be doing some tilling in another garden. She groaned with urgent lustful hunger as she applied the vibrator to her clit, rubbing it around, imagining that it was the erect, swollen knob of Christopher's young stiff cock massaging her equally stiff nub, her hips wriggling around in response. She shifted it lower to slide it deep up into her cunt. "Christopher," she gasped, "your cock feels so fucking good." She never spoke so obscenely when she had sex with Jack, or any man for that matter. Being by herself though allowed her to feel less inhibited, more open, and more honest. A larger one would have given her more stimulation, but this one made it easier for her to imagine it was actually Christopher's. Of course, it was quite possible that Christopher actually had a pretty darned big one. He was a smallish, thin young man, and so she felt he probably wasn't that big, but imagine if he was inordinately large! Such a thing would be quite the sight on his smallish frame. She smiled as she thought about that, imagining that, her eyes glazing over as they fixed on the young man, tending his mother's garden, his eyes though repeatedly coming back to her window, her little helper sliding in and out of her wet, clinging cunt. With a deep sigh she let it slip out, and made her way back over to the open window. She hesitated before she stepped in front of it, and then did so a few feet away, with her back turned. He face flushed red and her pussy quivered as she imagined Christopher now staring at her butt. She spread her legs apart and reached out with her hands so that her arms were parallel to the ground, her right hand still holding her now wet little helper. She doubted that he could discern what it was. She bent over from the waist, reaching way down to touch her left hand to her right foot, stood back up, and then reached down to touch her right hand to her left foot, and then continually repeated the toe-touching exercise. Her face flushed further, and not just because of the exercise. She knew she was presenting a pretty darned lewd sight, for as she was bent all the way over she was most definitely giving the young man a clear view of her glistening wet cunt. And Chris was very, very appreciative. He was actually stunned: Mrs. Parsons was exercising naked in front of her window?! Now, that is a next door neighbor boy's wet dream, but for Chris it was in fact a reality. His cock swelled to a full hard erection as he watched her butt stretch and swell, and then her womanly full cunt come into view peeking back at him through her spread-open thighs. He glanced around him again, just to be sure that nobody was noticing him. Nobody really could, as the sides of their yards were pretty well protected by shrubs, hedges, and trees, along with a fence. He shifted so that he was directly facing Mrs. Parsons, on his knees, as he openly clutched his stiff dick through his pants. He was sorely tempted to extract his cock from his pants and actually jerk off, but he knew that was far too risky. He checked again the windows of his own house, as his mother and sister would be the most likely persons to notice him, and perhaps even Mrs. Parsons, if any one of them happened to look out a window or, of course, step out of the house. Betty was sorely tempted to glance behind her, to see what reaction she was getting from Christopher. It would be particularly fun to do so when she was bent over, providing the most licentious point of her pose and then making eye contact with the young man, looking past her bent over bottom. But, she couldn't bring herself to do that. She most definitely didn't want him to realize that she was doing this on purpose. Her cunt felt so fucking inflamed. Chris wondered if he could find some excuse for getting up closer, perhaps even going into Mrs. Parsons' back yard. He was being treated with an awfully nice show, but given that she was a few feet into the room she wasn't that easy to see. She would be very easy to see if he in fact got right up to the window! But, of course, he would have no excuse for being in her backyard. Well, maybe he was just coming over to ask about the work she wanted him to do on her deck? That was a good reason to be in her yard. He could be checking out the deck, from various angles. His yearning, throbbing stiff dick was talking him into taking a chance. Nobody would really think he was trying to peek through her window, would they? Well, actually, they might. It wasn't that long ago that he almost got caught peeking into the window of Emma's bedroom, when she was having a slumber party with Terrie and a couple of other girls. He had run off, but his friends Ron and Bobby did get caught. Not surprisingly, they got into quite a bit of trouble with the girls (see "The boys are caught peeping"). Betty couldn't wait any longer and with her breathing accelerated for more reasons than one, she stopped touching her toes and turned around, wanting to let Christopher see a bit of her from the front as well. But, as soon as she did so she saw him, kneeling on the ground, his hand clearly clutching his cock. When she was standing right up against the window her head was hidden behind the blinds. However, being a few feet away from the window allowed her to see him, and him to see her face. As they made eye contact her eyes widened in shock and she quickly shifted away from the window, her boobs bobbling in agitation. Chris' eyes widened as well and he just as quickly let go of his cock and turned away, shifting his attention back to the gardening, wondering if she had noticed him watching her, fearing that perhaps she had. Would he get into trouble? Was it really his fault? Would she be mad? Surely she couldn't tell that he was clutching his erection. He didn't know what to think. Betty similarly wondered if Christopher had noticed her noticing him. He might not have. He might have just thought that she suddenly noticed how exposed she was, exercising in front of the window. She made her way over to her bed and lied down, wondering what might have happened, wondering what she should do about it, depending on what did actually happen. But, it wasn't before long that she took care of a more immediate problem, and became almost excited once again. Actually, even more excited because this time she let herself go to the end. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The next day, precisely at 2PM; well, actually, a few minutes early, Chris came over to Mrs. Parsons' house and knocked on the back door that adjoined her deck. He noticed that beside the railing was a fresh can of wood stain, a brush, and everything else he would need. Betty opened the door. "Christopher! Right on time! Please, if you would, open the screen door for me." She reached over to the table by the door to pick up a tray with a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade, a couple of glasses, and a romance novel. "Sure, Mrs. Parsons." Chris held the door open for her, his nostrils breathing in the scent of very sweet and enticing perfume. Chris also admired Mrs. Parsons' outfit. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was pretty nice. She was wearing an unbuttoned men's red plaid long-sleeve work shirt, beneath which was a very sheer silk lace camisole. It was quite sexy peeking out from between the curtains of the men's shirt, at least as much as Chris could see. Along with the shirt and camisole Betty was wearing a loose cotton summer skirt, gaily decorated with fresh ripe peaches, that came down to just above her knees. She brought out the tray and laid it on a small table next to a reclining, cushioned lawn chair, that was at the moment propped up so that she could comfortably read her novel. "I'll at least keep you company while you paint, Christopher, and you just help yourself to some lemonade whenever you're thirsty." She poured him a glass, and then one as well for herself. "Sure, thanks, Mrs. Parsons. You didn't have to do that. That's very nice of you." He took the glass, wondering if there might be a breeze strong enough to open up her shirt. "Oh pish-posh, it was not hard at all. It wasn't like it was home-made." She got into the reclining chair. "I just love reading outdoors. It's just so refreshing." "Yes, ma'am," he replied, setting the lemonade aside as he laid out a plastic tarp. "It's a romance novel," she explained as she settled into the comfortable chair, her back raised. She quietly shared, "It's really very wicked." "Yes, ma'am," Chris replied, not really listening much to what she was saying, his eyes steeling glances as her skirt rose up as she settled into the reclining chair. Mrs. Parsons did really have nice shapely legs, with a pretty good tan. Chris was not a leg man, but he could appreciate them when they were offered. "It's about this teacher," Betty further explained, "who becomes involved with one of her students." "What?" That drew his attention. "I know!" Betty agreed. "Scandalous." She turned her attention to her book, picking up where she had left off, about a third of the way through. As Chris was stirring the stain, she asked, "Have you ever had a crush on one of your teachers, Christopher?" "What?" He replied, not really wanting to discuss it, at least not truthfully. She lowered the book to look at him directly. "There's really nothing to be ashamed of. Every school boy develops a crush at one time or another. I once had a crush on a biology professor. He was such a handsome man." She took a deep breath as she recalled him, her breasts rising up beneath the soft plaid shirt. She pulled on it a bit to keep it closed. She could of course button it up but it was really too warm of a day for that. Chris' eyes though were on Mrs. Parsons' legs, or now more accurately a thigh, as she lifted up her knee, causing the skirt to slide up further. "Are any of your teachers at Templeton attractive?" "What? Well...um, everyone says Miss Harding is fairly pretty." He would have to at least admit to that (see "Miss Harding teaches the boys a lesson"). "Oh...that's nice," Betty quietly replied. She hadn't actually expected him to tell her of one. She wasn't so sure she liked hearing that. She lowered her knee, effectively lowering the curtain on her upper thighs. Betty recalled that when Christopher was young he collected comic books. He enjoyed reading his latest acquisitions to her, as if she would enjoy them as well. "Do you still collect comics?" "What?" Betty smiled at how he seemed to first answer every question with 'What?' It probably reflected his sense of insecurity, unsure of what to say. Chris was taken aback by that question. The fact was that he did still collect comics. Not as feverishly as he had when he was young, but he did now have a better appreciation for their true value, aesthetically and economically. He wasn't ashamed of it. Well, maybe he was a little embarrassed. It did sound a bit childish for a young man to be still reading comics. "No, well, a little." "Well, aren't we the couple. I just have to have my romance novels and you have to have your comics." "I guess so," he replied. He did feel that his comic book collection had to be worth a lot more than any collection of romance novels. You don't see any stores devoted to selling classic romance novels. His thoughts went to Wonder Woman, one of his favorite characters, as his eyes fixed on Mrs. Parsons' breasts. He had so enjoyed Debra Winger as Wonder Woman, and Lynda Carter of course as well. Their breasts were just so fucking big. Any super woman really should have big boobs. Betty turned her attention to the novel for awhile, though occasionally stealing glances of Christopher, which he did in turn as well. He probably glanced more often at her than she did at him. Of course, it wasn't like she was discouraging him. She would occasionally, seemingly absentmindedly, raise a knee, letting the skirt briefly slip up her thighs. She might even swing her knee softly back and forth, giving him better peeks up inside, even allowing him to see, at least briefly, the soft round gusset of her tight pink lacy panties. She would hold the book close to her face as she did so, pretending that she was deep into the text, unaware of what she was doing, what she was revealing. Her eyes though would be sparkling with mischievous delight. The Widow Parsons A couple of times she even let a breeze brush open her shirt. That was particularly daring as the soft white flesh of her breast, the dark pink of her areola, and the pointed erectness of her nipple, would be very clearly evident through the entirely sheer camisole. Quickly though she would lower her knee, pull down her skirt, and cover her breast with her shirt, correcting the fleeting inadvertent display, keeping herself decent and appropriate when in the company of the young man, the boy next door. She did though eventually suggest, "Christopher, why don't you take your shirt off. It's a pretty warm day and I don't think your mother will appreciate getting any of the stain on such a very nice shirt." The shirt was not actually so nice. It was in fact a rather old work shirt. It wasn't particularly frayed or tattered, but it was hardly new. His mother wouldn't care one way or the other, particularly as he was being so neighborly by helping out the widow Parsons (she had asked him to offer to do some chores for her). Plus, he found the idea of taking off the shirt to be rather disagreeable. He wasn't really out of shape or anything like that, but he was in no way athletic or muscular. Plus, he didn't have much of a tan. In fact, his skin was rather pale, reflecting the fact that he spent much of his time indoors, playing chess, searching the web, reading comics. "Oh, I'm fine, Mrs. Parsons. The lemonade is pretty refreshing." "Now, Christopher," she said, sounding a bit authoritative, "you mind your elders." She was far from elderly but she was old enough to be his mother, if his mother gave birth when she was herself a young woman. "I play bridge with your mother, and I certainly don't want to have to explain to her why I let you ruin your clothes. Now, please, I insist." "Yes, ma'am," he replied reluctantly and laid down the brush to take off the shirt. Betty watched him, peeking around her text, a little smile creasing her lips. He wasn't taking off much but it was rather cute to watch the young man undress before her, particularly as it was under her orders. She never thought about using her authority as an adult to make a young man disrobe for her. It was kind of nice, and fun. When Chris got the last button undone he turned his back to her to remove his arms from the sleeves. He looked around for where to put it. "You can lay it down here, Christopher, beside my feet. That way it won't blow away." "Yes, ma'am," he replied, and turned to face her. Betty admired his young trim chest. He was indeed rather lean, albeit it wasn't like he was terribly scrawny or spindly. His smallness just made him look cute and sweet. She noticed how pale was his skin, but that just made his exposure to her all the more personal and revealing. He clearly did not take his clothes off very often. He laid down his shirt across the foot of the chair, feeling the woman's eyes studying his chest. He clenched his muscles, trying to give them more definition. "Christopher," Betty suggested, "Perhaps you should remove your pants as well." "What?!" His eyes turned to hers, in shocked surprise. Did he hear her correctly?! "Your mother wouldn't want you to get any of the stain on your pants. You might as well take them off as well." "Mrs. Parsons," his objection very evident in his tone. "Oh Christopher, don't be silly. It will be no different than if you were wearing a bathing suit, and nobody can see you back here." She was largely right about that. The neighbors on either side were totally blocked from view. The only persons who would be able to see would be his parents, and they were actually not home right now. But, of course, Mrs. Parsons would be able to see him, very clearly, in his underwear, in his tight white briefs. His dick swelled at the thought, which made him even more resistant. "Oh, I don't know..." She said with a mischievous, flirtatious smile, "C'mon, Christopher, show Mrs. Parsons your undies." He finally admitted, "Honestly, Mrs. Parsons, I think that would be a little embarrassing." Betty smiled, "Oh Christopher, you don't think I was serious, do you? My goodness, having you work on my deck in your underwear? Now, that would clearly be very inappropriate, don't you think?" "Well, yes, ma'am," not really understanding why or how he was now on the defensive, as if it had actually been his suggestion rather than clearly hers. "Such a silly boy," she said. "Imagine that, parading around on my deck wearing only your undies," which she was precisely doing at the moment, imagining it. "I don't think your mother would approve of that, my gracious." She returned her attention to her book. She had though been partially serious, and she continued to envisage how much fun it would have been if he had actually just done it, submitting to her authority and removing his pants. It would have been so cute to have him working in front of her, dressed only in his underwear, shoes, and socks. Heck, she might then eventually have him take his underwear off as well! And, what if all that exposure got him excited! The warmth was stirring so deeply between her thighs. She tried to concentrate on the novel, but now glanced at him just about as often as he glanced at her. They occasionally glanced at the same time, and both quickly returned their eyes to their tasks at hand, not wanting to acknowledge their mutual interest. Betty eventually stopped reading, stretched her arms out in an exaggerated yawn, causing the shirt to slip off her breasts. She pulled it though back in place, but not before providing Chris with a very nice peek of her full womanly white breasts. She said, sounding really very sleepy, "My goodness I'm tired, Christopher. I'm going to take a little nap. If you would, wake me up when you finish." "Sure, ma'am." "And, you'll have to shake me real hard. Don't be shy. I can sleep through just about anything. Once I fall asleep there is hardly anything that can wake me up. Seriously, I have to use two alarms to pull me from my deep slumber." "Yeah, sure, of course," but he hoped he wouldn't have to do that. Having to shake her real hard would most likely cause her shirt to fall open, and then her breasts would be shaking and wriggling right in front of him. Actually, why was he worried about that? He turned away and smiled, hoping that he would indeed have to wake her up. Betty got up to lower the head of the lawn chair down so that it would be fully reclining. She then laid down on her back. Lying fully reclined wasn't particularly helpful in providing the best presentation of her breasts, as they would tend to fall back to her sides a bit. So, she pretended to sleep with her arms crossed, effectively framing and supporting them. She lay there for some time. It wasn't very long though before half of her shirt was blown off by a breeze, the cool air wafting across her nipple, causing it to stir and stiffen, although showing off for Christopher had already made it rise up rather proudly. It was difficult for Betty not to smile, knowing that she must be providing quite the show for the young man. And, he was again very, very appreciative. He stopped applying the stain to simply stare at Mrs. Parsons' exposed breast. It wasn't really hidden at all beneath the sheer garment, and it looked so fucking nice: so big, so full, so white, soft, and luscious. The nipple was poking through the camisole like it was yearning to be kissed, to be licked, to be suckled. His dick quickly swelled to full erection and he reached down to adjust it. He glanced around though as he was doing so, checking to see if Mrs. Parsons was right, that they were in fact very well concealed. She was indeed correct, as far as he could see. That would make good sense. Persons do like to have privacy on their outdoor backyard decks. He therefore let himself simply ogle her exposed boob for a while, while fondling and squeezing his erection through his pants, his thoughts imagining him actually having taken his pants off for her, her watching him work in his underwear, complimenting him on the size of his erection within his briefs. Mrs. Parsons' breathing accelerated. She had no idea if he was actually looking at her. She imagined he must be, but she didn't really know. She considered carefully opening up one eye, just enough to check, but she knew she dared not. If he noticed her doing so then the whole game would be as exposed as her breast. Chris noticed her breast rising and falling more rapidly. She must be now actually asleep. Could she fall asleep so quickly? He recalled her comment that nothing could wake her up. Mrs. Parsons pretended to shift a bit within a deep sleep, causing the other half of her shirt to fall away from her chest, exposing now both breasts. Chris' eyes opened as wide as they would go. Her breasts were just so fucking big and gorgeous, and she even seemed to be pressing them together for full effect, and for his pleasure. He couldn't just ignore them. He couldn't just resume his work as if nothing was going on, as if they weren't really there. He set down his brush and softly, quietly, made his way up to her. He had to at least get a closer look. And, the closer he got the better they looked, and the more he wanted. He stood right beside her, staring down at them. It was like the best possible desert a boy could want, and they were just sitting there, ripe for his taking, with absolutely no witnesses and no real chance of getting caught. What self-respecting boy would do nothing? Betty had heard him stepping up to her. She felt shivery and tingly with anticipation. It was so, so hard not to give away that she was in fact fully awake. She wrapped her arms around them a bit more, providing them with even more prominence and display. Chris again glanced around, particularly back at his own house. There was definitely nobody in eye sight. There seemed to be very, very little chance of getting caught. He reached out with his right hand and gently touched the tip of Mrs. Parsons' erect right nipple. Betty flinched just a bit as soon as his finger made contact. She instantly regretted doing so, but it was just such a natural reaction to an unexpected touch. Well, she kind of actually had hoped that he might in fact do something like that, but she really wasn't expecting it. Chris instantly pulled his hand away and his eyes went to her face, trying to detect if he had woken her up. If he had then she most definitely had been wrong that it was real hard to wake her up, although perhaps any form of sexual contact, no matter how mild or timid, sends a big shock through the brain. But, there didn't seem to be any further reaction. Her breathing remained steady, her eyes remained close, although he could see that her eyes were moving around beneath the closed lids. That was weird, but he had learned in psychology that while dreaming the eyes at times do move around, if the person is dreaming. His eyes went back to her breasts. He enjoyed how they rose and fell with her breathing. He reached out again, and laid the tip of a finger lightly on a nipple. This time she didn't move at all. She remained perfectly still, although a flood of warmth surged through her loins. Chris began to slowly circle his finger around and around, feeling, caressing, and playing with Mrs. Parsons' thick stiff nip. It was so strange how it felt so erotic, so exciting to touch, yet there was really not much to it at all. It was just this pointy little nub. But, of course, it was exciting because it was the nipple of a breast, and one that he should not be touching at all. Plus, it was just so cool how pointy it was. He eventually played with both of them at once, flicking them, rubbing them, even pinching them between his finger and thumb, but not at all hard, just enough to provide a little squeeze. He was tempted to pull on them, but figured that would be too risky. Betty couldn't help but smile just a little bit. A discerning eye would have noticed a touch of pleasantness in her expression, but even if Christopher did notice he wouldn't necessarily realize that she was awake. His innocent, playful toying with her nipples was rather fun, and perhaps especially for her. It was like she was his big life-size female doll, being able to witness what a boy would do with such a doll if given a chance. Chris couldn't stop with just the nipples. What boy could when given a chance like this. He again glanced around, checking once more that they were indeed hidden from view. Frankly, even if his mother suddenly appeared on the back porch, which was itself unlikely, Mrs. Parsons' body was partly hidden by the wooden rails along the front of the deck. He opened up his fingers wide, poised them just above both big round boobs, and then softly clasped each of them within his hands. Betty released a soft gasp at the feel of the boy's hands clutching her breasts. She instinctively thrust them up a bit, pressing them more tightly within his fingers and palms. Chris noticed the movement and froze in place, his eyes fixed on the eyes of Mrs. Parsons, his hands glued to her boobs. Her eyes did not open. She was still asleep. It was apparently just a reflexive reaction, like a flinch in response to a tickle. His eyes returned to her breasts, and he gazed with wonder at the sight of his hands softly grasping them. They were just so fucking big, much too big for either hand to fully embrace. He truly did feel like a boy clutching big womanly teats. He began to explore them, to feel their fullness beneath the slick smooth silk, their roundness, their softness, although often returning to the nipples, noticing the stark contrast of the stiff hard nubs poking out from the squishy soft pillows. His equally stiff cock was yearning for release, for someone to grasp and squeeze it as well. He wondered if he could in fact jerk himself off while he fondled a boob. But, that would really be much, much too risky. It was conceivable that if she woke up now he could remove his hands quickly enough that she wouldn't notice where they had been. She would likely be in a half-awake, sleepy state of mind, not yet fully aware of her surroundings. She would notice him standing right next to her, but he could just say he was getting the pitcher of lemonade. There would not, however, be a very good explanation for his erect cock sticking out of his pants. Betty's breasts began to heave with increasing excitement. No man had felt, had caressed, her breasts for quite some time. She now realized how much she missed the feel of a man's hands on them, how nice it felt to be caressed, to be appreciated. Plus, the fact that it was the boy next door, now of course a young man, but a man she knew as a boy for quite some time, made the experience all the more pleasing, daring, and titillating. "Oh, honey, that's so nice," she softly gasped. Chris immediately removed his hands, his eyes wide with shock and worry. He stared at her face. She didn't seem to be awake, but she had spoken, hadn't she? He wasn't entirely sure what she had said. It wasn't anything in anger or shock. On the contrary, she seemed to be calling him "honey." A little smile of relief and wonder creased his lips. She was talking in her sleep! She was having a dream, and it must in fact be a sex dream! He was making her have a sex dream. How cool is that! He gently returned his hands to her breasts, which were now rapidly rising and falling with excited lust. "Yes, Jack, that's so nice," she again softly sighed as the young man's hands returned to her breasts. It was perhaps taking a chance to actually say something, but as long as she kept her eyes closed and remained still there was no way he would be able to figure out that she was in fact awake. She did though want to provide him with a bit of encouragement, as well become more active herself in their little innocent play. Chris smiled. She was apparently having a dream about her husband. He cautiously escalated his playing, taking the breasts in his hands to gently squeeze them together, admiring the deep cleavage she provided, how the boobs swelled when pressed together, how responsive and pliant they were to his clutching and groping. Betty spread apart her thighs and lifted up her pelvis, just a bit, just enough to draw the young man's attention. A gentle breeze kissed her thighs as her skirt rose up. Chris stopped, his eyes shifting to another very interesting part of Mrs. Parsons' body. He knew he couldn't really touch her there. Now, that most definitely would be going too far. But, he could at least just take a little peek. There was no harm in doing that. He recalled how as a boy he kept trying to do that one evening, look up her skirt. He didn't know what he was really looking for, not for anything in particular. He just noticed how much it flustered her, so he kept trying. Well, he knew what he would be looking for now... With no small reluctance he released his hands from Mrs. Parsons' bulbous boobs. He hesitated, his hands still just inches away, poised to return. They so much wanted to return. What was better: feeling big, soft, squishy boobs or peeking under a skirt? Feeling was clearly much more tangible and satisfying than just seeing. But, peeking under a skirt was new, and what would be there would be even more enticing than her breasts, albeit that was really hard to believe as her boobs were just so fucking sweet. He shifted down the lawn chair, adjusting and squeezing his stiff dick as he did so. Mrs. Parsons' thighs did appear to be quite receptive to the idea, as they were slightly parted, as if spreading open to invite inspection. Chris leaned forward, carefully took hold of the hem of Mrs. Parsons' skirt, lifted it up, and gently laid it on her abdomen, opening up her panties to the light of the summer day, and his eager eyes. Her lacy pink bikini panties were a delight to his eyes. They were just so intimate, feminine, and spicy. He wouldn't have expected a woman to routinely wear such sexy lingerie for no apparent reason. Chris was impressed, and so fucking turned on. He again squeezed his dick through his pants. He smiled at the thought of just leaving her like this while he resumed working on the railing. She had jokingly suggested he work in his underwear. The shoe was now clearly on the other foot, and even if she woke up she couldn't really blame him. A sudden breeze, the movement of her legs, would be the likely culprit. He leaned down even further, to get a real close look. He bit his lower lip as he detected her thick womanly lips through the lace. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, absorbing her rich womanly scent. He couldn't just leave it at this. His eyes shifted away to study her face as he gently laid his fingers on her soft feminine mound. "Mmmmmmm," Betty quietly moaned, her thighs spreading apart a bit more, her cunt pressing back against the young man's fingers. Chris began to explore and caress the woman's pussy through her panties, feeling around and about the little hairy hill through her lacy undergarment. "Oh yes, honey," Betty softly breathed, as if speaking to someone within her dream, encouraging him to go further, to do more, letting him know how much he was pleasing her, how much she wanted him. Chris pressed harder with his fingers, sliding them up and down her fleshy slit, feeling warmth emanating though her panties from deep inside her, even detecting a bit of moisture seeping through the lace. It took all of his self-control, his sound judgment, not to rip his stiff cock from his pants. It took all of Mrs. Parsons' self-control not to respond more openly. She had never been passive during sex. She would normally squirm, thrust, squeeze, and squeal. But now she tried to be as passive as possible as she subtly pressed and rubbed her pussy against the young man's fingers. The Widow Parsons Chris could feel Mrs. Parsons' cunt squirming against his fingers, and he smiled with both satisfaction and delight. A young man naturally takes considerable pride in making an older, experienced woman aroused. Plus, the fact that he was doing so without her even being aware provided an extra special bonus. He was encouraged by her evident reaction to even slip his fingers beneath her panties, to place his fingers directly on her warm, wet, feminine lips. Betty gasped as she felt the young man's fingers make contact beneath her panties. No man's fingers had been there for quite some time. The touch was truly electrifying. She felt a rush of heat surge into her cunt and her breasts rose high above her chest. The urge to squeeze her breasts within her hands, or to grasp hold of the young man's cock, was so fucking intense. Chris resumed his exploration of the woman's pussy. It was a bit difficult maneuvering his fingers beneath her tight panties, but he eventually forced the lacy fabric aside, providing not only his fingers with more room but his eyes with an unfettered view. He licked his lips as he gazed upon the woman's full fleshy wet lips. It did not take long for him to find the entrance to her cunt. Chris was not particularly experienced in such matters but the woman was so aroused, so wet, that his fingers readily found their proper home. He slipped his middle finger up inside as he brought the fingers of his left hand down to press and rub her stiffened clit. Betty's fingers instinctively clenched, her breathing further accelerated, the muscles of her cunt clasped onto the young man's fingers, embracing him as tightly as they could. Chris couldn't believe how sloppy wet Mrs. Parsons was getting. If she woke up now she would most definitely notice how excited she had become, but she would likely just attribute it to a wet dream, which she did seem to be having, given her breathless lustful gasps. But, what would she think when she discovered her panties pushed aside, her pussy fully open to view? Could that have happened while she was asleep? She would certainly be mortified, knowing that she had been so exposed in front of her young neighbor. Would she suspect that he had actually pulled her panties aside? Chris did wonder if she might in fact wake up. He certainly would if he was this excited. He hadn't woken up when he was a kid, when he first started having his own wet dreams, much to his mother's annoyance. She eventually suggested he take a cold shower right before he went to bed, much to Chris' annoyance, and embarrassment. After repeatedly having to wash the sheets she then proposed, rather awkwardly, that he "take care of business" before he went to sleep, even offering him some used rags. Chris had been mortified, but he did as she instructed, leaving the soiled rags by his bedroom door. They were at least real soft. He did appreciate that. He squeezed in a second finger. He contemplated replacing his fingers with his cock, but that would most definitely being going much too far. He could perhaps claim that he thought she was awake, that in her sleep, in her dream, she had called out for him,, spreading her legs, evening pulling her panties apart. Persons do sleep walk. Spreading one's legs is considerably less active than sleep walking. He could claim that he thought she was awake. The risk though was too great. If she didn't buy that explanation he would be in so much trouble. It wasn't worth taking the chance. He would have to confine his pleasure to just fingering her. He did though take his fingers from her clit to press, squeeze, and grind them against the bulge in his pants. Betty wondered if somehow she could get him to actually fuck her with his cock. That would just be so, so good. She openly squirmed her hips, thrusting her cunt up against the young man's fingers, fucking them like she was in fact fucking his cock. "Oh Jack," she sighed, "fuck me, please, fuck me." Chris obliged, as best he could with his fingers, thrusting them in and out of the woman's clenching, gripping, squirming cunt, his thumb all the while working her clit, his other hand desperately, violently, massaging his dick. "Yes, yes," Betty whimpered, her fingers clenching tightly the padding of the lawn chair, her cunt squeezing hard on the boy's fingers, her breasts heaving madly with lust. She suddenly thrust her hips up high. "Fuck," she gasped, as her body suddenly twitched and convulsed with her orgasm, her cunt quivering with eruptive spasms. Chris responded with his own climax, his mind and body swept over by a blissful state of climactic relief as his dick twitched within his pants and a large glob of cum squirted from his knob, followed by further gushes and spurts, quickly filling his briefs with warm, wet, sloppy cum, just as he had done so many times as a boy while in bed, lost within a wondrous dream. "Fill me, fill me," Betty gasped, as if still lost in her own dream, her body awash with the wondrous waves of her orgasm, coursing through her in sweeping tides of pure bliss, her breasts rising and falling with deep, hurried breaths. Chris bent over, struck by how nice it felt to cum in his pants, the warm, wet gism soaking his underwear. Wetting oneself was never so much fun, so fundamentally pleasurable and fulfilling. Parts of Betty's body twitched spasmodically, instinctively, involuntarily, her mind awash with recurring waves of orgasmic bliss. It was so difficult not to be more openly responsive to her climax, to remain as passive as possible, and perhaps that was in part why it felt so fucking intense, as she was so aware of every single spasm, every coursing rush of carnal, corporeal joy. When her convulsions were finally ebbing her hips settled back down, her fingers relaxing their grip on the cushion, her face turning to her right to fall back into a more restive, peaceful sleep, the heaving of her breasts replaced with a more normal rise and fall, her cunt releasing its tight grip on the young man's fingers. Chris slowly slipped his fingers from the woman's cunt, drawing forth quite a bit of messy feminine sap that dripped down into the cushion, providing a very evident wet spot. He carefully shifted her panties back over her cunt, pulled her skirt back down, and quietly made his way back to the railing, resuming his work, feeling though rather exhausted, rather spent, yet still quite excited. Mrs. Parsons could hear the young man resuming his work. She opened her eyes just a little, just enough to peek out at him, and then smiled when she saw that he wasn't looking, but quickly closed her eyes again when she noticed him beginning to turn toward her. Chris looked down at his pants. There was a pretty clear wet spot there, and he felt a much deeper and thick wetness inside his briefs. He wondered if perhaps he should go home to change, although he did in fact find it a little cool to have his briefs full of cum, right under the nose of Mrs. Parsons. Betty stretched her arms out wide and loudly yawned, as if she was now just waking up. "Oh my," she exclaimed, "I must have dozed off." Chris turned to look at her, his eyes trying to avoid her openly displayed breasts, the skirt barely hiding her panties. "Yes, yes, you did," he acknowledged. "I tried to be quiet, so as to not wake you." "Well, that was very sweet of you, Christopher, but short of spraying water on me I don't know how you could." She was tempted to point out that he apparently hadn't got that much work done while she had been asleep. "Mmmmm," she sighed. "It was a very nice sleep. I just feel so refreshed, so alive. My goodness, I haven't had such a refreshing sleep in some time." Chris smiled. "That's good, ma'am," he innocently replied. "But," she added, "I did though have the most strangest dream." She reached down to straighten her skirt. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling the wetness. "Really, ma'am?" Chris inquired. "What was it? My psychology professor says dreams can be pretty interesting." "Oh, well, it was nothing really. I didn't say anything in my sleep, did I? Jack said that I do some times talk in my sleep." Chris turned to face her. "No, no ma'am. I don't think so." "Christopher!" Mrs. Parsons suddenly exclaimed, pointing at his crotch. "Oh my, that's not stain on your pants, is it?" Chris looked down. "What? Oh, um..." "Your mother will be very upset with me." She smiled mischievously as she added, "Perhaps I should have had you take them off." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The rest of the afternoon had been largely innocent, although Betty at times made rather suggestive and perhaps even flirtatious remarks, and she did provide a few brief peeks of her breasts, enjoying the fact that the front of the boy's pants were soaked with his cum. She had offered to clean them for him, but he adamantly rejected the offer, claiming that it was just some lemonade he had spilled. That evening Betty kept her bedroom curtains open, hoping that Chris might be curious. She even opened the closet door so it could be seen through the window, and then draped a brassiere over it, like a flag, or perhaps more accurately the bait of a snare. She went to the den on the other side of the house, and watched for Christopher from the darkened room through a crack in the curtain. She grinned, feeling like a spider waiting to trap a fly. Her pussy tingled with anticipation. She slipped a hand down into her panties to play with herself as she waited. Even if he never arrived she could imagine what might happen, and it was most definitely a nice fantasy. But, she didn't have to fantasize. Chris told his parents that he was going to go out for a walk, the summer evening being so pleasant. His parents were a little surprised at that. Christopher never went for walks, and it was rather late. If he wasn't in fact eighteen they might tell him that it was too late and he should be getting ready for bed. But, he was at the age when he could make his own decisions and was in fact trying out all sorts of new and different things. Going for a walk did at least sound normal and healthy. Upon exiting the front door though Chris immediately made his way around to the back of the house, and into Mrs. Parsons' back yard. He had noticed the brassiere through the open window and he didn't want to miss out on an evening show, if there was in fact going to be one. Plus, given that it was now in the dark of night, he could get up pretty close to her window. Betty saw from her den the boy sneaking into her backyard. She slipped her fingers from her moistened cunt and quickly made her way to the bedroom, her heart racing with excitement. As she entered the bedroom she made her way quickly to the open window, stopping right in front of it to consider the brassiere hanging on the door. She began to unbutton her blouse. She was not wearing the same clothes she had on earlier in the day, having showered and changed. But, the outfit did have one thing in common with her earlier attire, once she removed her blouse there was little hiding her breasts. In fact, there was nothing at all. She had not put on a brassiere. She smiled and stretched her arms, imagining that Christopher must be enjoying the show. She had such lusciously full womanly breasts, and it was so nice to have them once again admired. She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She was now standing in only her panties: tight wild strawberry bikini panties with three little butterflies gaily flying over her cunt, apparently attracted by the scent of her feminine nectar. She was uncertain how far to take this. She had done much more the first time she displayed herself in the window, but now she felt it was considerably more risky. She could not see outdoors and at any moment Christopher's parents could look out one of their own windows, or open the back door to let their dog out. They would most likely see her as well. Of course, they wouldn't think that she was doing this on purpose, but if they saw Christopher out there he would most definitely get into trouble, and would thereafter be unable to play with her any further. Nevertheless, she pulled her panties down, her bottom facing the window, gradually bending over as she slid her panties equally slowly off her bottom and down her thighs, even pausing for awhile to be sure that he got a real good look. She knew her lips were glistening with moisture. Chris was indeed enjoying the show very, very much. He had positioned himself close to the window, and with a large butterfly bush behind him, so that if his parents happened to look out they were unlikely to see him. The light from her bedroom spilled into her backyard, but he was also not so close that it reached him. She was unlikely to see him if she happened to look outside, and she most definitely wasn't going to see him with her round womanly butt poking out at him. Only her moist feminine lips were peeking back at him, not her eyes. He unzipped his pants and took out his stiffening dick. It was a little odd to be stroking oneself outdoors. That was probably something that was against the law. But, he was reasonably safe from getting caught and, in fact, it felt kind of neat to be jerking off outdoors, in the cool summer air, right in Mrs. Parsons' backyard. He wondered how many times he had missed this opportunity before. Did she always leave her bedroom window open? He cursed himself for having never previously noticed and he vowed to always check every night in the future. Betty reached into her closet and pulled out a bathrobe, wrapping it around her body. Chris was extremely disappointed. Well, that didn't last long! Was she going to take a shower now? No, that seemed unlikely. Perhaps she was just going to the kitchen to get a cool drink. Betty though didn't leave. She turned to face the window, opened up the front of her robe, and squeezed her soft squishy breasts. 'What the fuck?!' Christopher thought. He suddenly crouched down, his stiff cock still in his hand. She couldn't see him, could she? Of course, if she had seen him then clearly she wasn't upset. Betty slipped her hands beneath her voluminous boobs and bounced them awhile, like she was trying to juggle them. Chris stood back up and stroked his cock more furiously. He wondered if he came whether it would reach her window, splatting all over it. Not likely, but it was a nice thought. Betty turned away from the window and walked off, out of Christopher's sight. Chris held onto his cock, waiting for the woman to return, the sight of her bobbling her boobs frozen in his mind. It would be enough to get him off. He knew he wouldn't leave this backyard until he ejaculated, but he waited, perhaps there would be more. He kept himself hard, waiting for her to return, not stroking so hard as to make himself cum, but enough to keep him hungry, yearning for more. He briefly glanced behind him, checking to be sure that he could not be seen from his own backyard. His eyes returned to Mrs. Parsons' bedroom window. He was encouraged by the fact that the light stayed on. She most definitely did not appear to be going to bed. However, it was possible that she was doing something somewhere else in the room. It was frankly unrealistic to think that she would continue to show off her body right in front of an open window. His heart raced as he considered his options. He again glanced around, and then slowly made his way up closer to her window so that he could better check things out. He would just peek in a little bit, just to see if she was in fact still in her room. Of course, if she happened to be doing something rather interesting in another part of her room, he might decide to stick around. It would be risky to be standing right up against her window. His parents would then most definitely be able to see him if they happened to look out, and so would Mrs. Parsons if she happened to look toward her window. But, if she was lying on her bed, masturbating, perhaps with some sort of giant rubber dildo, her attention would be pretty well occupied. The only real danger would be his parents, and they were well absorbed by television. He stepped up to the window, and slowly, cautiously, leaned in closer and closer, until his nose was but an inch away. He could see a lot of the room, even the bed, but he couldn't see Mrs. Parsons. She must be in some other part of the house. He smiled as he noticed her strawberry panties on the floor, and his eyes widened further as he noticed a little dildo on her dresser. His heart raced as he considered making his way over to another window. This was perhaps getting a little out of hand, but with his stiff cock firmly in his hand he was not in his most cautious state of mind. "Christopher Hansun! What are you doing young man?!" "What?!" Chris immediately turned to his left, covered his erection with both hands, and was confronted by the sight of Mrs. Parsons, standing right next to him. He had been so absorbed in studying what was inside her bedroom that he had not noticed her coming around the other side of the house, quietly walking up to him. "You heard me young man. I want an explanation, and I want it right now!" "Oh! Um, well, I, uh..." What is the explanation for standing up against a woman's bedroom window, your erect cock sticking out of your pants? Chris struggled to find it. "You come with me young man." Betty firmly took hold of Christopher's left hand, wrenching it from his crotch, and led him over to her deck. Chris stumbled along behind her, still trying to hide his erection with his other hand, wondering what might happen now. He could see his life suddenly falling apart. He could be arrested for a sex crime! Could he? This was bad. This was real, real bad. What would his parents think? What would his friends think? How would he ever get a girlfriend now? Was he going to go to jail? Betty dragged the young man up the steps onto her deck and then all the way to her back door. "You are in big trouble young man, very big trouble indeed!" She didn't have to tell him twice. He most definitely knew that. He tried to get his dick back into his pants with just one hand. It wasn't the hardest thing to do, but her jerking him all around as she dragged him along was making it rather difficult. Maybe she hadn't noticed it! Peeping through a window wasn't really that bad. Having one's cock out probably took it to a much more harmful level. If he could just get it back inside then maybe he wouldn't be in that much trouble. Betty momentarily let go of Chris' hand as she opened the screen and back doors. However, as she was doing so she instructed him, "Keep your penis out of your pants, Christopher. I think it's important for you to see what it's like to have someone looking at you." "Yes, ma'am," Chris glumly replied, removing his hand. Betty led him into the house and then back to her bedroom, the scene of his crime. He did not step far into the room. He stopped just beyond the door. He had violated the privacy of her bedroom looking into it. He would wait for permission to actually enter it. However, clearly he was well passed any point of redemption, and he felt so terribly awkward, standing there with his penis sticking out of his pants, now losing some of its strength. His mother had once almost caught him jerking off. He had forgotten to lock the bedroom door, and she had forgotten to knock. She just burst right in. He had managed to hide it, so he felt, by sliding his chair tight against the desk. He was so petrified the whole time she was in the room, talking to him about something, as his mind was preoccupied with the fright at being so shamefully exposed. Well, that fear was now realized, and Mrs. Parsons was right that it was not any fun. The Widow Parsons Betty strode to her window and pulled the drapes so that nobody would be able to see inside. She turned back to Chris, still standing at the door to her boudoir. She stifled a smile. He looked so cute, so endearing, so adorable, standing there, his half-erect penis sticking out of his pants. He must be so scared. "Come here, Christopher." "Yes, ma'am." He timidly stepped into Mrs. Parsons' bedroom. He so wished his erection would fully dissipate. It was at least heading in that direction. "Well, aren't you the sight, young man. Are you proud of yourself?" "No, ma'am, no, not at all, definitely not." "I hope not." She looked at him very sternly. He noticed that the front of her bathrobe was open just a bit, just enough for him to see a bit of womanly cleavage. "What are you looking at, Christopher?!" She was again reminded of how boys so often don't realize how obvious it was when they were looking at your breasts. "What?!" His eyes immediately returned to hers. "Nothing! No, ma'am, I mean, yes, I want to say how really, really sorry I am. I mean it, Mrs. Parsons, really I do." "Oh yes, I can see that," she responded, pointing at his penis. Her tone was clearly sarcastic. "No, really I am. Honest, Mrs. Parsons, I swear." "Well, I'm afraid that I must have a word with your mother about this, Christopher." "Oh no, please, Mrs. Parsons, don't do that! Do you really have to?" "Yes, yes, I'm afraid I do. This was a very disrespectful and even criminal act, Christopher. I would think she would want to know, and in fact should know." "Oh, but it will really just upset her and, well, can't we just, you know, work something out? Like, I could do some more work on your deck, or you know, like anything else you need done. Honest." Mrs. Parsons appeared to ponder the offer, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, in the process lifting them and providing them with even more succulently scrumptious cleavage. "Have you been doing this often, Christopher, peeking through my bedroom window?" "Oh no, ma'am, honest! That was the first time, I swear!" He could at least have that in his defense. Yes, he had been looking into her window the previous day but that was from his own yard. That doesn't really count, does it? Betty scowled at him. "Somehow, Christopher, I'm not sure I believe you." "Oh but it's true, Mrs. Parsons." At least, sort of. "You were masturbating, weren't you, Christopher." Chris hesitated to answer. It was obvious that he had been. He really couldn't deny that. What else would be the reason for his exposed erection? But, confessing such a shameful truth was still very difficult. He lowered his eyes and quietly mumbled, "Yes, yes I was, ma'am." "Do you masturbate a lot, Christopher?" "What?!" His eyes returned to her, looking like a frightened deer caught in the headlights. "No, no, not at all!" "Not at all?" Her incredulity was clearly evident. "Well, I mean, not hardly at all." Betty paused a bit, shifted her shoulders, letting her breasts wiggle a bit in her robe. "Christopher, if am I to understand your side of the story. If I am to find any reason to consider not telling your mother, you need to be fully honest with me. Do you understand, young man?" Chris looked away, his face reddening, his penis now almost fully limp. "Yes, ma'am." "Now, I will ask you this question one more time. Do you masturbate often?" How much was often? He didn't really know. He didn't think he masturbated terribly often, although perhaps she might think almost every day was often. She was, after all, a woman much older than him. He bashfully admitted, "I guess so." Betty's tone became more empathic, more maternal. "Do you have a girlfriend, Christopher?" Chris took a deep breath and admitted, "No, ma'am." "Oh." She replied. Then asked, "Have you ever been with a girl?" Now, that was a tricky question. He had been with an older woman before, if you count the teacher, Miss Harding (see "The pillory," Chapter 14 of "The lessons"). But he really shouldn't tell Mrs. Parsons about her. And, he had masturbated into a girl's panties once before (see "A very spunky lady"), but that didn't really count. "Not really," he confessed. Betty bit her lower lip, wanting so much to smile. He was such an innocent boy. She said, "So, I guess you are just very curious about women, aren't you, Christopher." Well, that was most definitely true, as would any boy his age, albeit probably most boys his age had considerably more experience than him. "Yeah," he quietly admitted, "I guess I am." "Well," Betty said, "I suppose I can understand that in a young man. You do have your primal urges and needs, after all." Chris shuffled his feet. He asked, "Can I put my...my, um, you know..." "Your what, Christopher? Tell me what it is." Chris' faced again reddened as he said, "My penis, Mrs. Parsons. Can I put it back...in my pants?" Betty looked down at his penis, considering the request. It was certainly reasonable. She had no more right to see it than he had to peek at her through the window. This was clearly much worse for him than it had been for her (particularly if one recognizes that she had wanted him to watch her). Perhaps she should cut him some slack. Betty whispered, "Show me how you do it." "Excuse me?" Christopher didn't know what she meant, but he had a good idea, and he most definitely needed confirmation. Betty spoke up a bit more, but was still rather quiet. "Show me how you do it." He understood fully what she meant, but he still couldn't believe it. His penis shriveled even further. He responded even more quietly than her. "I don't, um, understand. What do you mean?" The tension in the room was palpable. What Mrs. Parsons was asking of the young man, or more accurately, suggesting, was very inappropriate. It was clearly a threshold that should not be crossed. "Show me what you were doing...outside my window." It was a surprising request, to say the least. "Mrs. Parsons," Chris objected, "I can't do that." "You got to see me, Christopher. It's only fair I get to see you." She was asking to see a lot more than he had seen of her. Well, actually, considerably less if you counted the episode on the deck. Heck, he had essentially assaulted her. But, she didn't know about that, so it didn't really count. Still, anything was better than having his parents find out. "You won't tell me parents about this?" What an odd question, Betty thought. She most definitely wouldn't want his parents to discover that she told him to play with himself, in front of her. "If you do everything I want, Christopher, then I won't tell anyone." Well, that did appear to him to be a very fair trade. He had meant it when he offered to do anything. He wasn't thinking that it would amount to this, but he wasn't complaining. Goodness, jerking off was considerably better than going to jail! But, still, it did seem a little weird. He reached down for his penis, which was now barely more than a peanut. That was rather embarrassing, to say the least. He would imagine that Mr. Parsons had been quite the stud. He certainly had been a very handsome and athletic man. He took hold of his penis with his thumb and two fingers, and began to pull and play with it. Betty did finally let herself smile. It was just so adorable, so endearing. She felt like she was young again, although she had never done anything like this when she was young. It was kind of nice being an adult, a person with authority, a person with power. Her smile grew larger as she realized that the young man was having difficulty getting himself back up. It was rather amusing to see a boy struggling to get an erection. If there is anything any boy can do very easily, it was to get a hard-on. "Having some difficulty, Christopher?" "No, ma'am, no, no, I'm fine," but he didn't feel fine. He felt fucking ridiculous. It was bad enough to have to jerk off in front of her. It was considerably worse to actually fail in the effort, but the more it bothered him the harder it became to get hard. Betty wondered if perhaps she was putting a bit too much pressure on the young man. Could a boy jerk himself off while falling to his death? If one was going to die, then perhaps one might as well do it. But, the distraction and emotion would make it terribly, terribly difficult, to say the least. Christopher was not actually falling from a plane, but he had been pretty scared, and perhaps still was. Betty strode up to him, positioning herself just to his right, and rested her left hand reassuringly on his left shoulder, pressing her womanly breast into his right arm. "Here, Christopher, let me help you with that." She reached down with her right hand, brushed aside his hand, and gently took hold of the young man's limp penis. Betty felt a charge of excitement surge through her body at the first touch of her fingers on his penis. It had been quite some time since she last touched a man's penis. It was like the contact flipped an instinctive switch; her pussy warmed and tingled. Chris felt a charge of excitement surge through his body at the first touch of Mrs. Parsons' fingers on his penis. The contrast between his own fingers, which usually felt pretty darned good, with the fingers of someone else, and in this case the very sexy Mrs. Parsons, was so very striking. His heart was still racing with tension but his dick began to quickly swell. "Now that's being a good boy," Betty softly observed, as her fingers deftly manipulated the young man's penis. It would appear that Chris was enjoying this more than her, but she might argue the point. It just felt so nice to have his erection developing within her fingers, feeling it grow and swell, lengthening, widening, stiffening. She once again felt like a woman, a sexy and desirable woman. It wasn't long before Chris' erection returned to essentially full strength, enough for Betty to abandon the tips of her thumb and fingers for a more full meaty grip with her fist, wrapping her fingers around the shaft to stroke him like a pump. Chris stared down at the woman's hand firmly jerking his hard dick. The sight was almost as good as the feel. His dick had never been happier, the knob glowing red with pride, and excitement. "Okay then," Betty announced, letting go, to suggest, "I think you can handle it now." She stepped away to admire its appearance. He looked like a very excited and happy young man, proudly displaying his own little toy club. With the release of her hand Chris immediately felt self-conscious again, standing in her bedroom, his stiff dick pointing out of his pants, Mrs. Parsons again wanting him to masturbate for her. He reached for it. Well, at least she had gotten him started. Betty could see the embarrassment in his face, and in his hesitant stroking. "Now, there is nothing to be ashamed of, Christopher, all boys masturbate." He imagined they did, but probably not too many do so in front of a neighbor lady. His eyes fixed on her breasts, looking for inspiration. Betty continued her lecture, "Masturbating is a very normal activity, Christopher. I'm sure your parents told you that." Actually, his parents had never said any such thing. On the contrary, they had made it quite clear that they considered it to be very irresponsible, immature, and perhaps even perverted. He never felt perverted while he was doing it, albeit sometimes he would afterward, particularly if he got carried away and did something that was, let's say, out of the ordinary, like cumming while standing on his head, so that he would spray all over his face. It somehow made it seem like he was cumming on a girl's face, or at least it helped him to imagine that was happening. He enjoyed it while it was happening, but felt silly, even gross, afterward, when he was washing his face and cleaning up. And, he certainly felt rather silly to be doing it in front of Mrs. Parsons. Mrs. Parsons though smiled. She had never had any children. But, right now, she was feeling rather motherly. She felt considerable affection for the young man, who was trying so hard to please her with his penis. She stepped back over to the bed and sat down on its edge. "You know, you do have a very nice penis, Christopher. It's really very handsome." 'What?" Chris was rather taken aback by that. Nobody had ever complimented it before, which was hardly surprising given his near zero level of experience. He looked down at it. He always did feel it looked pretty good, but he wasn't sure. He was, of course, rather personally invested in its appearance. To him it looked pretty impressive. But, by objective measurement (the precise length of which he refused to divulge), he knew it was hardly average, if that. Still, to have a woman as experienced, as mature, as attractive, as Mrs. Parsons, tell him that it was a good one, even a handsome one, was really very pleasing indeed. He smiled with growing pride. Betty knew she had done something very good, something a mother would do. It's always important to boost the morale of a young man, and there is hardly a better way to do that than to praise his masculinity, something a mother really couldn't do, in the manner that Christopher was currently being stroked, psychologically. She added, "You're going to make a young lady very happy someday, Christopher. I can promise you that." He let go of his cock, letting it stand on its own, and asked Mrs. Parsons, "You really think so?" He had always had his doubts. "Oh, I do, I do, very much so," she replied. Chris didn't know quite what to say. It did not cross his mind that she might just be flattering him. There would be no reason for her to do that. Heck, on the contrary, he would expect her to belittle him, providing even more punishment and shame for peeking at her through the window. His smile grew even larger. He really loved his cock. Betty again asked him, "How often really do you masturbate, Christopher?" "What?!" His face instantly reddened and he clasped both hands over his erection, as if by hiding it he was somehow freed of the embarrassment of the question. Betty smiled patiently, like a mother should. "Don't be embarrassed, Christopher. I'm in fact concerned that perhaps you don't do it often enough. A healthy boy should masturbate. He needs relief." She stepped back up to him, again pressing her breasts against his shoulder, lightly cupping his testicles in her hand. "Oh yes," she softly cooed into his ear. "These feel so full, so bloated. It must be very difficult for you, having such big balls so engorged with semen." "Yes, Mrs. Parsons," Chris quietly gasped. He did so often feel like he needed to masturbate. "If you don't masturbate on a regular basis, Christopher," she explained, "it could in fact back up and cause all sorts of problems." "Really?" He asked, looking into her large pretty brown eyes. "Oh yes, dear," she added, giving his balls a soft gentle squeeze, "and a boy without relief can be driven to do things he knows he shouldn't do. Don't you think?" "Yes, ma'am," he gasped. She left his balls to wrap her fingers gently but firmly around his shaft. "I mean, I don't imagine you would have been peeking in my bedroom if you had relieved yourself earlier." "No, no, ma'am, definitely not." Well, actually, he had cum earlier today. "I just think," she continued, now firmly stroking him, her womanly hand holding tightly onto his shaft as it slid up and down, up and down, "You need to be sure to take care of yourself." 'Oh yes, Mrs. Parsons, I do." He most definitely agreed with that. Betty let go of Christopher's erection and returned to sit on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped demurely in front of her, her robe opening up even more, revealing more of the soft white curves of her breasts. Chris' penis twitched as his eyes focused on that lusciously full white flesh. Boobs were just so fucking cool! He reached down and without any prompting from Mrs. Parsons, took over where she had left off, stroking his dick. "That's a very good boy, now, Christopher. You let your fist slide up and down..." She added, smiling sweetly at him, "for me. It's been so long since I've seen such a big hard penis." Chris' breathing accelerated, as did his stroking. "Oh my goodness, Christopher," Betty sighed, slipping her fingers into her cleavage, softly, absentmindedly, caressing the smooth white skin of her breast. She acknowledged, "I do like the sight of a big manly cock." Chris breathlessly gasped, "Really?" "Oh yes, yes, Christopher. You look so, so sexy. I don't know if, well, I just feel..." She didn't finish her thought. Chris was no longer the least bit self-conscious. In fact, he had never felt more like a man, like a sexy man making a woman excited, and simply by jerking off. Not too many guys can make that claim! He thrust out his chest, as well as his dick, his fist pumping it proudly. Betty whispered, her voice a bit hoarse, "Make it cum, Christopher, I want to see it shoot its stuff." Chris nodded, gripping his cock more tightly, squeezing and massaging as he stroked. "Should I get out of the way, Christopher? Will it explode this far?" "I, I, um..." Chris didn't really want to speak any further. He just wanted to cum. His knees bent, he leaned forward, albeit wondering if perhaps he could shoot it that far, sincerely hoping that he would, not wanting to disappoint Mrs. Parsons, or at least wanting to impress her with his virility. "Please, Christopher, cum for Mrs. Parsons! She wants to see a young man squirt his load, so, so bad." "Yes, ma'am," Christopher gasped, doing his best to please his neighbor. She was after all, a widow, and deserved whatever support and assistance he could provide. "Would you, I mean, well," Betty asked, "Would you let me take it on my face?" "Fuck," Chris gasped, feeling that irresistible surge sweeping through his body, unable to control himself long enough to fulfill that request, much as he would have liked to, and then suddenly exploding from his cock a long thick string of cum that shot through the air, across Mrs. Parsons' bedroom carpeting, to splash onto the front of her bathrobe. "Oh yes, Christopher!" Betty exclaimed, smiling gleefully, clapping her hands, applauding the successful climax of the young man's performance. "Such a good boy, such a big boy!" It felt a little weird to have Mrs. Parsons clapping as he was cumming, like his mother had once done when he, after many unsuccessful attempts, finally was able to juggle three balls at once. He had been very proud of that, but he was feeling much better now. He smiled with deep bliss and satisfaction as he repeatedly squirted and spurted his load along Mrs. Parsons' deep luscious carpeting. Mrs. Parsons didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, her smile was even larger than his, delighting in the sight of the young man's twitching, jerking big purple inflamed knob spitting its stuff all over her floor. She had missed it on the sun deck. She did not miss now a second of its shamelessly unbridled eruptions. It was like she was on her first date, and the young man apparently lost control at the sight of her as soon as he took his dick out, erupting in violent orgasmic spasms. Her cunt percolated with excitement, and lust. Perhaps this wasn't the right thing to do. Perhaps a woman should not take advantage of a young man this way. But, what harm was she really committing? Christopher certainly did seem to be enjoying himself. Indeed he was. Chris masturbated a good deal, and at times tried to have his orgasms be creative or unique, rather than just emptying into a paper towel or sock. But, it wasn't that easy being particularly inventive in the bedroom of his parents' house, when they were at home. This orgasm was, frankly, hands down, one of the best he would ever remember.