When I was in my early twenties I rented a room in my friend's townhouse for about two years. In the townhouse, directly across from my friend's unit, lived a woman named Angie. Somehow we had gotten to talk as neighbours will do and she began to invite me over for cold lemonade in her kitchen on hot afternoons.
Angie was maybe in her early 40s, with a very sweet face and open expression. She carried maybe a few extra pounds, but her cleavage was very generous and she still had an attractive shape. She was so much older than me and (or so I told myself) probably not interested in that sort of thing any more, or at least not with a horny young guy like myself. Sometimes I had read about older women who really went for younger men, but I also knew better than to believe everything I read. Age was not a factor and I found older women, such as Angie, extremely attractive.
It was a hot day in August, and maybe the third or fourth time she had invited me over. From the start of our friendship there had been an undercurrent of sexual tension. Though that perhaps could have been my overactive and overeager imagination. We talked about all sorts of things, but our conversation had never gotten around to anything close to sex. Though I really liked her a lot, I was too shy to tell her how much I was attracted to her. Today, however, I thought things might be a little different, as she answered the door wearing shorts and a low-cut blouse, which much to my delight showed a lot of cleavage. I wasn't sure if she was wearing a bra or not. But I was still surprised when, out of a clear blue sky, she said, 'So, do you masturbate a lot?'
I was rather taken aback by this direct question. I blushed, but felt a thrill run through my body at the same time. This was just the opening I had dreamed of.
'Yeah, I guess so,' I said.
She smiled and asked, 'How often?'
I blushed again and admitted, 'Usually every day. Then sometimes I don't do it for a couple of days, but then like for a week straight, I'll do it.'
'Hmmmm,' she said. 'That's interesting.'
'What about you?' I asked.
'Yeah, I guess so. Fairly often.' She replied.
I was aware as we spoke that this was not the most interesting or even creative dialogue ever spoken between two people, but nevertheless, it was stimulating to be talking so openly about sex.
I remarked, 'I didn't know girls did that sort of thing.'
'Oh, yes, girls like it a lot. At least I do,' she said with a warm smile.
There was a long silence while she waited for my response. I was very much at a loss, and really didn't know what to do next. She continued to smile at me, and I blushed even deeper.
'You're shy, aren't you?' she said at last. I nodded.
'That's so sweet,' she said. She paused, considering and then asked, 'Would you do something for me?'
She took a deep breath and said, 'Would you show me your, um, cock?'
She blushed as she said the last word, as if she had never used it before, which she probably hadn't. Her voice had taken on a breathless quality now, revealing her excitement.
I nodded in agreement, heart beating wildly. The Venetian blinds in the kitchen were already closed against the hot morning sun, so we had privacy. I stood, unzipped my jeans and pulled down my shorts. My cock, which was well on its way to being erect, sprang up happily after being released from confinement. There was a lot of clear fluid on the tip, which sort of embarrassed me for a moment. Usually I don't get that much pre-cum when I'm alone, but the anticipation of doing it in front of Angie had me really excited. So I stood there, embarrassed, my cock in my hand, unsure of how to continue.
But Angie didn't seem to notice my embarrassment. In a soft, breathless voice, she said, 'Oh, that's nice. That's very nice.'
That was all the encouragement I needed. I sort of jiggled my cock in a movement somewhere in between a stroke and a shake, a movement that feels wonderful when I first become erect. The pleasure was intense. I couldn't believe my luck! It seemed unbelievable that she was letting me, no encouraging me to do something, which my upbringing had forbidden. I spread my legs a big wider, leaned back a little, tilted my head back, half-closed my eyes, and enjoyed the sensation of standing there, stroking my cock in full view of an attractive woman. This was the first time I had ever done this, but it felt so natural and so right. I was in heaven just giving into my instincts.
I heard her say, 'Oh, that's nice. That's so nice.'
Now, my cock is just a normal size and in the past I had worried if it was big enough, but her reaction told me that it was just perfect. Now I wondered if I wasn't getting some extra length out it, just because it felt so hard and engorged that it was almost painful.
'Oh, my, that's very nice. Yes, that's nice,' Angie repeated over and over again, softly, breathlessly.
She kept repeating the same words over and over again in a way that made me more excited than if she had talked dirty. I realized that having a young man (or any guy, for that matter) masturbating in her kitchen was probably as forbidden to her as it was to me, perhaps even more so. Angie told me later that the kitchen seemed an especially forbidden place, because it was the room where when she was a young girl growing up, her straight-laced mother had spent the most time. Sex was shocking enough in the bedroom, but in the kitchen it would have been downright indecent!
I brought myself to the edge of climax and let go of my cock for a moment. I stood there, panting, enjoying the feeling of not having to try to breathe. Growing up, I would try to breathe very quietly when I masturbated in my bed at night, so no-one would hear me, but now I had no worry of that.
Angie looked as me enquiringly.
'I'm not...done yet,' I assured her between breaths. 'Just...don't want...to finish...too soon.'
'Oh, ok,' she replied breathlessly, as I paused briefly just short of climax.
As I resumed, she again began her mantra, 'Oh, that's nice, that's nice.' And then, just for variety, she added, 'Come on, baby. Come on.'
I continued edging, with every series of strokes coming closer to orgasm. The feeling of near-orgasm was so incredible, I forgot about everything except for the fact that Angie was watching me with undisguised fascination, nearly as excited as I was. Her face, neck, and exposed cleavage were flushed, and sweat dampened her hair at the hairline, despite the air-conditioning.
Deep inside me I could feel my climax building. I could feel there would be a lot of cum, which I also knew because I hadn't masturbated in a couple of days. I knew I would make a big mess on her kitchen floor. but I no longer felt embarrassed about it.
'Ummh, ummh,' I began to groan.
'Come on, baby. That's it,' murmured Angie, alternately focusing her attention on my face or my cock. I wanted to watch her expression as I came, but so intense was the pleasure that it was difficult to keep my eyes from squeezing shut.
'That's it, that's nice.' I heard her say.
I continued to edge until I was at a point where the feeling was almost unbearable. I paused, waiting for just the right moment, knowing that just a touch would make me cum. Then stroking myself once, twice, I came. The world seemed to go dark for a moment as all the muscles in my body seemed to contract and then release for the sole purpose of squirting hot juices.
'Oh my god!' exclaimed Angie, as my first shot landed on her blouse, narrowly missing her bare skin. She was seated a couple feet in front of me, but I was so excited that this distance was no barrier at all. She squealed again as I squirted her a second and then a third time, by which time she was laughing with surprise and delight and only a little bit of disgust. Truth be told, I had positioned myself squarely in front of her so I would be sure to squirt her, and even took a step forward right before I came so I wouldn't miss. I had missed her cleavage but was gratified that I had finally hit bare skin when my third shot landed on her knee.
'Oh, my god! You're so powerful!' Angie exclaimed again, as I continued to squirt. I didn't count the total number of times I ejaculated, but it felt like more than my usual five or six, though maybe it just felt so good.
Still laughing, she got up to get a tissue and then wiped off her knee and dabbed ineffectually at her shorts and blouse. I could have told her from experience that it was no use trying to get cum off fabric without using a washing machine.
'Oh, it's no use,' she finally said with a laugh and tossed the tissue in the garbage can.
'I'll be right back,' she said, and dashed off down the hallway to her bedroom.
Angie returned a few minutes later, showered and in fresh clothes. We talked for a while longer before I finally returned home.
'Thank you,' she said, kissing me full on the mouth, and then hugging me. 'I really needed that. Let's do it again.'
And we did do it again, but that's another story!