I became a junkie for the perfumed aroma of her clothes, the soft texture of her nylon stockings against my leg, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she held me close, her whispered words. I began to make excuses to visit her, prolonging the outward appearance of agony long after the memory of why I was hurting in the first place had faded. I offered to do yard work for her, to clean her house, to iron her clothes. Anything to be close to the older woman who beguiled me so. I never stopped to think how wrong it was, how inappropriate. I never stopped to think what my mom would say or the chuntering chorus of the town's moral choir. I just had to be there.And then, one day, everything changed.She was in her study. It was a gloriously brilliant August afternoon, I remember that much. I found her there, at her desk, typing on the laptop computer as she did most days. I'd never asked her what she wrote before, it hadn't seemed relevant. But now the detail seemed curiously important. .....she placed a finger on her pink lips, "Hmm... Is it true what your friends say? While having a little conversation with one of them, and he mentioned you thought I'm the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? That you'd absolutely love a chance with my body! Do you want that chance now?"............... I'm in shock, stuttering and chocking but manage to mumble a few words, "You are the most beautiful girl, nothing compares to you! I've always wanted you, though you deserve more; I..." She interrupted..............."Strangers can fall in love! Just please promise to be gentle and I'll let you do anything; whatever your heart desires. It's obvious you like me, we have talked before you know? I'm not a stranger, I'm asking you to pleasure me; I've ignored you long enough."She placed her hand amongst my chest, pressing against me until my back was firmly against the ground; leaning down she pressed her lips against mine; inevitably capturing cries of pleasure between my lips.Her.
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