Never too late

Okay, I'll admit it: Sex was never a priority to me. I had a few back seat sessions as a teenager that were kind of fun but mostly about keeping the boy from either raping me or ejaculating onto my good clothes. I married at 25 and during the first 10 or 12 years I had maybe 15 or 20 orgasms. They were fine, don't get me wrong, but they still didn't amount to anything fabulous. Then my married sex life pretty much faded away. I didn't really miss it that much.

At about 40 or 41, I think, I had an affair with a man from my church. He was just so dear and so sweet and had lost his wife to cancer that I wanted to comfort him in any way I could. Our sex usually consisted of kissing for 10 or 15 minutes while he handled my breasts, then he's touch my vagina with his finger for a while until I was more or less lubricated, then he'd put his penis inside me, it was maybe 6 inches long, and he'd stroke for about 4 or 5 minutes until he ejaculated. Then came the part I liked best, he'd snuggle up close to me and we'd lie there and hold each other. I think my husband knew about it but he didn't seem to care.

So life went along pleasantly until I was 53. My daughter was away at college, my son was away in the military, and my husband was away in a world of his own most of the time. I have to admit that I looked like exactly what I was: A middle-aged housewife. I'm 5'8" and always fighting the battle of the bulge. My legs are fairly long but a little thick, my butt widens every year and my tummy is slightly loose and soft. I do have huge breasts but they've always been more of a hindrance than anything else. The straps of my bras always leave deep marks on my shoulders from holding those mummeries up. Still, they're like big, soft pillows and my nipples are pretty sensitive.

I got a vibrator as a gag gift at a birthday party once and used it on myself a few times and it was nice when I buzzed my nipples with it and I could make myself cum but it didn't seem worth the bother. I guess I just wasn't that responsive. I've always been called 'cute', never beautiful or anything but cute works, I guess. I'm a natural brunette but there's more salt than pepper and I've been coloring my hair for years now. All in all, nothing very sexual about my looks.

So one day last summer we had a thunderstorm that made a mess out of my back yard. My husband was too busy at work to deal with it so I asked my neighbor if she knew a handyman or someone who could cut up and remove the fallen tree limbs, repair the gutter where it had been knocked loose, replace a broken window in the garage, a few things like that. She said her sister's neighbor had a son who was home from college for the summer and earning pocket money doing just this sort of work. I got a number and called him. His name was Frank and we arranged for him to come over the next day.

Well, it was so hot that day, I couldn't believe it. I wanted to get the work done in one day so I went out and started before Frank got there. I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and sandals and a T shirt and a white bra and it didn't take long before I was soaked with sweat and that bra was chafing me something fierce. I just couldn't stand it. I pulled my T shirt up, unhooked the bra and let my breasts swing free. Glorious, I tossed the bra into the house and went back to work, thinking to finish what I was doing and shower and change before Frank showed up.

"I'm sorry," said a strange voice from behind me as I raked leaves, "I can't work for you."

I turned to see Frank standing there. He was older than your average college guy, maybe high 20s, and seemed very mature. I found out later that he'd been in the Army for 4 years before coming home to go back to school and finish his degree. He was about 6 feet tall; lean, not handsome in a flashy way but attractive. His hair was very short and his blue eyes sparkled. He was wearing a T shirt and jeans and work boots.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He'd declared that he couldn't take the job even before we'd introduced ourselves. I looked into his eyes and almost peed myself. I'd never seen such intensity, never had a man look right through me and into my soul that way, corny as that sounds.

"I'd rather not say," he stammered, "but I wouldn't be comfortable being here and I'd probably offend you so I'll just say goodbye and ask around among my friends to see if I can find anybody else to do this work."

I had no idea what was going on but I was determined to find out. I coaxed and cajoled and demanded an explanation.

"Well," he finally said, "you're the exact mirror image of my Aunt Loretta. She was the light of my life for several years until she died in a car crash." Oh, goodness, another man who'd lost someone.

"Gosh," I said, "I'm sorry to hear that but that shouldn't cause any problems between us, should it?"

I noticed that his eyes were locked onto my giant breasts as they hung there under nothing but a wet layer of cloth. Thin cloth too.

"You don't understand," he went on, his face burning red. "We... how can I say this... We were lovers. If she hadn't been my mom's sister, I'd have married her."

Oh my God, I thought. This is freaky. At the same time, I felt a little twitch between my legs, something I'd never felt before. I asked him to go on, tell me more. He was reluctant but I persuaded him.

"I could never keep my eyes off her breasts," he finally said. "They were huge, just like yours. We became lovers when I was 18. We did everything together."

"How did it start?" I asked.

"We were standing around chatting one day," he said, "and I just couldn't resist, I took her into my arms and kissed her. Like this."

I nearly dropped dead. He took my into his arms, me all sweaty and dusty from the yard work, looked deeply into my eyes and kissed me full on the mouth. I'd never been kissed that way. His lips pressed mine apart and his tongue tip stroked into my mouth. I whimpered from the searing heat of it and kissed him back.

"You kiss like she did, too," he said as his hands slid under my shirt to stroke my back.

"What happened next?" I asked between breath taking kisses.

"She unzipped me," he said, "and touched me... down there."

Did I have the nerve to do this? Did I want to? Could I? YES, YES, YES.

Part 2 to follow