Lust for an Older Woman

Mrs. Stanton was the picture of practical elegance, could look utterly superior and in control when on top of a horse, or anywhere for that matter. She was the wife of a high ranking naval officer and his time at sea left her alone with their small farm and her horses. She ran boarding stables and gave some select students some training, less for the income than because it was “the done thing” for someone of her standing in the horsey set. She had two children, both at top notch boarding schools. She was always on the go, doing some good work for somebody or helping to organise one of numerous social and horse events.

I was 18, pretty naive and shy and utterly inexperienced with the opposite sex. I was performing pretty well at school and physically very strong for my age due to a lot of hard farm work. When her neighbour retired from farming and sold up, She wanted someone to do the farm work and my name got passed to her. My interview with her was more of an inspection as she had already learned a lot about me from my previous boss.

The first few weeks there were uneventful, it was an easy job. I spent every Saturday morning there and worked for an hour or two after school a couple of days a week. All the equipment was new or close to it and the fences were in good order. I kept the weeds down and made sure there was always fresh hay and grain in the feed barn and Mrs. Stanton was happy. We had a brief chat every day I was there and she was friendly but very much the boss. She always took an interest in me though and I really enjoyed working for her. Everybody did, she had an old gardener and a housekeeper and a couple of girls who helped in the stables and it was a happy place to work as long as you didn’t cross her.

I met her husband, Capt. Stanton only a couple of times when he was on shore leave. He gave me a cursory inspection then quizzed me about how I was caring for the machinery and the few sheep they had. He was significantly taller than me and had all the bearing and rigidity of a naval officer. I felt very deferential towards him and that was obviously what he expected of me. He seemed pleased with me at least.

Over the Easter holiday I worked some extra hours as the grass started to grow and met her gorgeous but very stuck up daughter and her pompous son. They were arrogant in the way that only those born with a silver spoon in their mouths can be. I tried to give them a wide birth but when he was sent over to help me stack hay and did nothing but complain and make work harder for me by his ineptitude, it was all I could do to refrain from knocking him on his pompous backside. He cursed at me for making him re-stack the ramshackle heap of bales he had built and stormed off telling me that I should be doing it because it was what I was paid the peanuts for. His mother must have been close by because I saw her give him a piece of her mind just out of my earshot as I made good his work. As he slouched off she rode over to me and put her hand on my shoulder: “Ignore Percy.” she told me. “He has spent too much time at that ridiculous school and too little time learning about life. But I do think it is time I gave you a pay raise.” As she lifted her hand from my shoulder she stroked my cheek and smiled, I didn’t know if it was accidental or not but it got me thinking about her a lot more.

Mrs. Stanton had a wonderful fit body. She was curvy and looked great in her riding clothes. A week or two later, George, the old gardener, caught me taking a second look at her across the yard as she swung up onto a horse. “Just you wait ’til summer, she don’t wear so much then! I caught her lyin’ topless by the pool last year!” He said with a grin: “Got a great pair of knockers, she has!”

Summer came and with it hay making, I worked long hours mowing and raking and baling and stacking bales. I loved it, lots of time on a tractor and lots of time hurling bales around. A couple of times I noticed her stop on her ride out, watching as I worked. I pretended not to notice and kept on throwing bales, mainly to impress my boss but with a little hint of a hope she would be impressed with more than just my work.

As I unloaded the last trailer into the barn she came in and shouted up to me “You’ve been working really hard on this hay for days, come round to the house when you are done and I’ll get you some lunch.” I got finished in double time and washed off in the tack room on my way round to the house half an hour later. I was nervous when I rang the bell on the wall outside the side porch of her big stone house. I had never been inside, never mind invited to eat there.

“Come on round to the patio.” I heard her call from the South side of the house.

I opened the tall wooden gate and walked through the manicured garden to the patio beside the pool. Mrs. Stanton was just setting down a tray of food and drinks fit for a garden party, but my eyes were on her. She was wearing a tiny orange floral bikini, more suited to a Mediterranean beach than an English country garden, and she filled it beautifully. She wore a little mesh beach skirt over the bottoms but it was entirely see through and every curve and swell of her was visible. I was entranced.

“Getting a good eyeful there?” She asked with a cocky grin on her face, breaking me from my trance.

I flushed red and stammered, “Sorry, Mrs. Stanton.”

“If I were ten years younger I could fool myself that you weren’t looking at the plate of food and be flattered.” She said kindly, helping me from my embarrassment, but a look in her eye told me she knew where my eyes were roaming.

We sat and ate, she was amazingly easy to talk to and for the most part she talked anyway, interesting tidbits of local happenings and gossip. It was hot in the mid-day sun trap and the beer she poured for me slipped down well. At some point she suggested I took my shirt and boots off and relaxed in the sun with her for a while and we moved to reclining chairs, talking all the time. Then at some point I watched her rolling the cool glass of her gin and tonic over her upper arm next to the swell of her breast and lost a bit of my focus, she was grinning as I met her eyes noticing that she had stopped talking.

“I’m getting hot. Time for a dip.” she announced, getting up, her incredibly sexy body above me as I looked into the sun.

“But, I…”

“..don’t have a swimming suit” she finished for me with a grin. “Well, now you have a dilemma don’t you! Skinny dip or make me go ALL the way into the house to find you a pair of trunks!”

Now, if I hadn’t been a shy 17 I would have stripped off my shorts and dived in and no doubt she would have been delighted. However, my shy embarrassment wouldn’t let me go that way so a couple of minutes later she was handing me a thin piece of spandex and showing me the bathroom door. Her form of revenge, I guess, her son’s swimming racing trunks stretched to the limit on my larger body, my cock barely encased and my pubic hair sticking out of the top. I tried my best to cover myself with a towel as I walked to the pool but her amused eyes were fixed on me as I dropped it on a chair before stepping to the edge.

“Just grab my glass for me, sweetie.” She called from the middle of the pool, unabashed in the way she looked me over.

I turned and headed back to where we had been sitting only to find her glass empty. “Fix me another, there’s a good boy. A couple of ice cubes, a nice big splash of gin and top it off with tonic and a slice of lemon. It’s all in the kitchen fridge.”

Off I went, her amused smile following me all the way. In the kitchen I fixed her the drink, took a big swallow of gin and headed back outside. “Perfect.” she said as I reached the side of the pool. “My own private Pool Boy! And the G and T looks pretty good too!” she drawled in a fake American accent.

I slipped into the pool, handed her the drink where she sat in a floating pool recliner and splashed around the pool doing a few laps and just enjoying the feel of the water. She laid back and watched me, encouraging my attempts at swimming the length of the pool in one breath and my dreadful attempts at butterfly. Eventually she got back out saying she could bare my splashing no longer. I watched her go, her toned legs and buttocks such a gripping sight. Surfacing a minute or two later, I realised she had removed her top and was rubbing suntan lotion into her marvelous naked lightly tanned breasts as she laid back on a lounger by the pool. They were firm and upright and the dark nipples stood out hard and proud. “You’re staring!” She called.

I was rock hard, even the cooling effect of the water could not keep down the heat of my response to the sight of her perfect body. I splashed back into the pool, the image of her hands cupping her soft smooth shiny lotion covered breasts and the jutting peaks of her nipples seared into my retina.

I swam and splashed in the pool, trying to calm my body down until it was painfully obvious I was hiding in there. “Come sit by me, pool boy.” She called playfully: “I need someone to talk to.”

I climbed out of the pool, my cheeks no doubt glowing red, the outline of my cock no longer fully erect but still swollen in the tiny white spandex trunks. She did not pretend, just looked me up and down, her gaze lingering below my waist as she patted the lounger next to her, a look in her eye I had not seen before. I laid down on my front, concealing my embarrassment and almost immediately felt her hands on my back and shoulders. She smoothed lotion into my back and neck and shoulders telling me what great muscle tone I had and what wonderful skin I had and how fortunate I was not to have a back covered with spots like so many other teenage boys. Her hands moved to the backs of my legs and went everywhere the spandex didn’t.

“I don’t want you burning any of these sensitive places under my care!” She purred into my ear as her hands caressed the skin at the top of my thighs, between my thighs, the base of my buttocks. I thought I had been hard before, but now I was fit to burst. The weight of my body crushing my rigid cock painfully into the cushions below me.