It was raining heavily by the time Greg Somerfield parked outside Mrs Hemsley’s house. He looked at the distance to the house and cursed himself for not having brought an umbrella or a raincoat. He would have to choose between getting thoroughly wet and making an undignified dash to her front door.

Grabbing his briefcase, he decided to hell with dignity. He quickly got out of the car, went to lock the door but fumbled and dropped the keys on the road. They bounced and landed underneath the car. He had to kneel and scrabble for them, getting the knees of his trousers wet while the rain pelted down on his back. Finally, painfully aware of what a bedraggled figure he had turned into, he locked the door, put his briefcase over his head, and ran.

His path and Mrs Hemsley’s had first crossed some ten days previously, at a public meeting. Greg worked in the city council’s Parks and Recreation department, and the purpose of the meeting had been to present to residents in the suburb where she lived a concept plan for improvements to a local park.

She had been an annoyingly frequent questioner, bobbing up from her seat every time she spoke, a brown overcoat and pink scarf obscuring whatever figure she had, her face framed by fading blonde hair. Unlike the rambling-minded do-gooders who so often came to the fore at meetings like this, her questioning of the plan was succinct, pointed, and showed that she knew what she was talking about. She could not be fobbed off.

Greg summed her up as one of those sometimes formidable middle-aged and middle-class women, usually divorced or widowed, with more time and energy than they knew what to do with, who busy themselves with local causes. In short, to the bureaucratic mind, a pain in the butt.

Eventually she subsided, after he'd suggested that she put her points in writing to his department. And, in consequence, some days later, his boss Phil Maitland summoned Greg to his office.

“Greg, d’you remember Mrs Hemsley from that meeting the other day?”

Greg felt a sudden foreboding. “Er…yes.”

“Well, she’s been causing a bit of a stir. She’s chair of her local residents’ association, friendly with several councillors, and she’s been phoning them and emailing them - and me - about our plan for that park. Says she and her group have alternative ideas that she wants to discuss with us. Pain in the arse, but she’s got clout, and both her ward councillors are on the case. And we know who one of them is, don’t we?”

Greg nodded. Councillor Ellen Levitt, the feisty Chair of the council’s Parks and Recreation Committee.

“So we’re going to have to listen to Mrs H and humour her. You get the picture?”

“Sure, Phil, but where do I come in?”

Greg’s boss leaned back, steepling his fingers and grinning. “Well, she’s issued an invitation for someone to go round to her place, have a friendly chat over a nice cup of coffee, maybe go on a site visit with her to the park, you know the sort of thing. And the ‘someone’ she’s asked for is you, matey.”

“But shouldn’t someone more senior be going?”

“On the contrary. For starters, since she’s asked for you, it wouldn’t be good manners to send someone else, would it? And, on top of that, sending someone with more authority could be seen as an implied commitment to take her mob’s ideas seriously. The point of you going is that she can’t expect to be able to lure you into giving assurances or making promises, because that’s above your pay grade. She’ll know that all you can do is listen and report back.”

Phil’s grin morphed into a look of wicked glee. “And, besides, I’m sure an old girl like her will feel quite touched and flattered by us sending along a nice-looking young guy like you.”

“Eh?”

“Well, I don’t mean you’re expected to charm the knickers off her; just make her feel satisfied that her group’s ideas have been listened to. That’s all. I’ve emailed you her contact details, so go to it.”

On the phone she had been brisk but not brusque, warm and friendly in tone but, nonetheless, businesslike. They arranged for him to visit her at home on the following Friday afternoon.

Friday morning, the forecast was for heavy rain in the afternoon. He phoned her to suggest that an on-site visit to the park might not be feasible and that perhaps they should reschedule. But she insisted they stick to their appointment. “I’ve got plenty of site photos on my laptop, so we wouldn’t really need to go there.”

It wasn’t raining when he left the office and went to the Council building’s underground car park. The downpour started very suddenly. 

* * *

By the time he rang her doorbell, his shoes and his trousers below the knees, were sodden and mud-spattered, and his jacket and shirt were clinging soggily. With dread, he heard footsteps inside the house and braced himself for her response to his scarecrow-like appearance.

It was a very different Mrs Hemsley who opened the door. This time there was no disguising her figure. She wore jeans that hugged her thighs and hips as if sprayed on, and a sweater whose loose fit and scooped neckline did nothing to conceal the generous swell of her breasts. From the strands of grey in her blonde hair, Greg guessed her to be a few more than twice his own twenty-five years, but her face had a fresh and almost ageless look, except for smile lines around her eyes and mouth.

Having expected to spend the rest of the afternoon with a boring and dowdily nondescript middle-aged housewife, Greg was suddenly aware that he was in the presence of a surprisingly sexy woman, transformed like a chrysalis into a butterfly.

Her warmly welcoming smile turned instantly into a look of concern. “Oh, you poor dear man. Come in and let’s get you dry.”

She led him into her bedroom and opened a wardrobe, from which she took a thick, masculine-looking dressing gown. “This was my husband’s,” she said. "Get those wet clothes off and put this on, and I’ll put your clothes in my clothes drier. Oh, and how do you like your tea? Or is it coffee for you?”

“Coffee, please. Black and two sugars.”

“I’ll have it ready for you when you bring your clothes out.” She left, shutting the bedroom door behind her, and presently he heard the buzz of an electric coffee grinder.

She was so straightforward and practical, so friendly and so adept at making him feel at ease with the situation, that by the time they were sitting down together at her dining room table, sipping at her delicious coffee and nibbling her home-made shortbread, he felt completely untroubled by being naked underneath the dressing gown. By that time too they were on first-name terms; hers was Andrea.

Greg was immediately impressed by how well she had prepared for this meeting. He thought she must have been a teacher, or a lawyer, or at any rate must have been in a line of work that required thorough mastery of detail and the ability to speak with comprehensive precision, using words incisively, with economy and a certain elegance. He could see why her residents’ association had elected her as Chair.

Spread out on the table was a colour-photocopy of an A3-size sketch plan showing her group’s alternative plan for the park. Around the edge were strategically placed artist’s impressions, connected by arrows to points on the plan itself, illustrating what the result of the proposals might look like. Inside the periphery of the plan were photographs likewise arrowed to the corresponding locations.

As she talked him through it, she pointed animatedly at the plan with one hand,. With the other she navigated through a slideshow of additional photographs on her laptop. Her hands moved deftly and gracefully, he noticed, and he was struck by the delicate tapering of her fingers with their carefully manicured and discreetly varnished nails.

“This sketch plan is a work of art, Andrea,” he said. “Did you make it?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not that artistic. One of our members did it. A girlfriend of mine. Lives quite nearby. She’s a landscape architect, very brainy and creative. Lovely woman in every way. Pity she couldn’t be here now. You must meet her.”

“I’d like to,” Greg replied automatically, wresting his mind away from what was becoming an increasingly magnetic distraction. Sitting at right angles to each other as they were, every time she leaned forward to point to something, a view of deliciously bra-less cleavage presented itself to his eyes. He hoped she wouldn't notice him surreptitiously looking.

“Hmmm.” Suddenly there was a reflective tone in her voice. “Well, young man, I hope that for the moment you can be satisfied with me.”

“Eh?” He looked into her face and saw amusement twinkling in her eyes. Damn, she’d caught him. 

“You’ve been looking at my tits, haven’t you?” There was nothing accusing in her tone of voice. Quite the contrary. As she spoke, a hand descended firmly on his thigh.

He blushed. “I guess I, um, have to plead guilty,” he mumbled.

She giggled softly. “No need to be shamefaced. I take it as a compliment. Have you enjoyed the view?”

“Actually, um, yes. Um, very nice… Lovely really…from what I can see.”

“Not bad for an old biddy like me, eh?" 

‘Oh, Andrea, you shouldn’t call yourself that.”

“Call me Andy, darling. And, for saying such nice things, you deserve a better look.”

In a sinuously swift movement, she reached with both hands to the hem of her sweater, pulled it off over her head and cast it aside on the floor. She sat before him naked to the waist, her breasts gently swaying as a consequence of her disrobing.

Greg felt his pulse quicken and his cock begin to harden at the breathtaking sight, and he heard a horny hoarseness in his voice as an involuntary, “God, they’re lovely,” burst from his lips.

He had never seen such breasts: such abundant fullness, such ever-so-slightly pendulous voluptuousness. Nor such nipples, each a luscious-looking mouthful.

She leaned back in her chair, slightly opening her thighs and lifting her breasts with both hands, teasing her nipples with her thumbs. “I think perhaps I might be what they call a milf,” she said. “What do you think?’

“Umm.” He nodded dumbly, mesmerized by the sight of her nipples rising proud and tall amid their wide areolas.

“Do you know what ‘milf’ means?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Tell me, Greg. Do please tell me.”

“I think it means ‘mother I’d like to fuck.'”

“Yes. Mmmm… would you like to fuck me?” There was a husky, vibrantly beckoning edge to her voice.

Her sudden directness took Greg by surprise. Bereft of speech, he could only nod.

“Well, then…” She rose to her feet, holding out a hand.

* * *

In the bedroom she knelt in front of him, untied the belt of the dressing gown,opened it, and pushed him down so that he lay across the bed with his hips level with the edge. At the same time, she pushed his legs apart.

“What a lovely cock,” she purred, “Can I play with it?”

Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward between his thighs and engulfed it in her mouth, gripping the base with the forefinger and thumb of one hand and softly cradling his balls with the outspread fingers of the other.

Slowly she slid her lips up and down his shaft, her tongue swirling round and round it, sending delicious tremors coursing through his body and causing a rapid hardening.

Greg had had blowjobs before but nothing like this; nothing like the wet, slurping, gobbling noises and the moans and grunts with which Andrea expressed her obvious pleasure. His last girlfriend Liz had been quite adept, but she'd always conveyed the unspoken message that it was something she was doing for his enjoyment rather than hers.

Andrea’s zest and gusto amazed him. Where was the rather staid lady who had bobbed up and down in her seat so annoyingly at that public meeting? Could she really have morphed into the wonderfully voracious creature who was now feasting hungrily on his manhood?

There was no doubt about it: she had.

Instinctively he thrust his hips towards her, matching her eager rhythm, but she was quick to press down on him, taking control of their combined movements. “Shit, Andy,” he gasped, “I’m close to cumming already.”

She lifted her head and looked up at him, her eyes dancing with erotic mischief. “Not yet you aren’t, baby,” she muttered. She jiggled her breasts playfully. “You like these, don’t you?”

He nodded. “God, yes.”

To his surprise, she drooled saliva between her breasts and rubbed them together in a movement that was infinitely lascivious. Then, still kneeling between his thighs, she leaned forward and enfolded his cock between those soft, luxuriant mounds. Playing with her nipples at the same time, she pushed her breasts together, squeezing his cock, and rubbed them up and down the length of his shaft.

She started slowly at first but gradually increased the tempo. Occasionally she paused to drip more saliva onto his bulging cock-head, or to lick his belly, repeatedly letting his arousal subside a little before resuming. Each time she edged him closer to climax.

This was a first for Greg, and the feeling was something he had never imagined. It wasn’t just the sensations that were radiating from his cock; the feel of her breasts brushing against his ball-sack and thighs was almost unbearably exciting.

Soon his excitement mounted strongly towards a climax. She, too, was more aroused, her movements stronger and more rapid, as she furiously rubbed and pinched her nipples. Her breath came in guttural grunts. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wide open, glazed and staring, and her mouth open in a rigid, feral grimace.

“Come on, baby,” she growled, “I want your cum on my tits, all over my fucking tits… give me your cum, baby… gimme your cum, gimme, gimme… ahhhh, I want it… I want it on my tits, baby, on my tits, my fucking, fucking tits!”

A pulsing orgasmic tsunami of sensations ripped through Greg’s body as muscles convulsed rhythmically and jet after jet of semen spurted onto her breasts.

“Aaahhhhh! Yes, yes, baby, yessssss… oh fuck,yessssss… aaaaggghhhhhhhhh.” Andrea’s scream rose to a bellow.

Her hands feverishly massaged her breasts, spreading the glistening fluid and rubbing it onto her nipples. She lifted up each breast in turn, bending her head to lick up his semen and suck it from off each nipple. Then she bent to take his cock into her mouth and sucked greedily, as if to drain him of every last drop.

At last she rose a little unsteadily to her feet and removed her jeans and thong. Then she was onto him again, straddling one of his thighs and grinding her smoothly shaven mound onto it. He felt her wetness gushing out onto his thigh as she rubbed and pounded, her belly rubbing against his cock, her breasts against his torso.

Her pounding suddenly increased in intensity and speed, and her cries of “Oh fuck… oh fuck… aaaggghhh… fuck…fuck,” became louder and more high-pitched. Suddenly she uttered a rasping, long-drawn-out groan that seemed to well up from deep inside her and crescendoed to a shriek, and her body went into a shuddering spasm in his arms. Finally she collapsed on top of him, jolting and gasping with orgasmic aftershocks.

Greg held her close, stroking her hair and back, feeling the film of sweat that her exertions had produced on her skin. Gradually her tremors and laboured breathing subsided and she lay still, sighing contentedly. But not for long. She stirred and resumed humping his thigh again, her hips moving, backwards and forwards, her pussy sliding on its own wetness and the juicy slick it had already deposited on his skin.

She raised her upper body on her elbows and gazed into his eyes. “Play with my tits,” she commanded, in a vibrantly husky voice that sent shivers from the nape of his neck down to his balls. “Pinch my nipples… rub them… treat them a bit rough… they like that.”

She moaned with pleasure as he enthusiastically obeyed her until she dropped down on top of him, rubbing her breasts against his chest as her hips accelerated their movement. “Grab my arse,” she muttered. "Hold on to me… tight… this is going to be a big one. I can feel it building inside me already.”

As he grasped her heaving buttocks, he felt the muscles working to drive her thrusting pussy harder, faster.

“Oh yes… oh yes… oh yes… oh fuck, baby, it’s gonna be so big, so strong. Oh yes… oh god, I’m close, my cunt’s dripping, darling. Can you feel it? “

He could.

“I’m prob’ly gonna squirt… agghh… all over you. Are you okay with that?”

Greg had never experienced female ejaculation, but one of his mates at work had a girlfriend who sometimes did it when she came. Dave had told him about the first time it had happened, still full of amazement, and Greg remembered feeling curiously envious. Now he nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Within minutes Andrea worked herself into a bucking, bawling frenzy. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling rhythmically, adding to the traction of her body against his, the friction between their bodies making him increasingly hard, Then, still thrusting her pussy back and forth, she levered herself so that she was sitting upright astride his thigh, and a cataract erupted from her: pulsing jets of fluid over his body, onto his face, on the bed. He instinctively closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide to catch some of its sweetness.

“God, that was fantastic,” he groaned. “You taste wonderful.”

“Let me taste, too.” She pulled herself up and brought her mouth down on his in a deep, voracious kiss, her tongue thrusting between his lips. It seemed to go on for ever, until she began to lick her cum off his face.

Then he saw her eyes light up as she became aware of his hardness. “Mmmm, we need to do something about that, don’t we?” She repositioned herself astride him and rocked her slick pussy slowly back and forth along the length of his cock, from root to tip. He moaned and shuddered with delight.

The energy and appetite of the woman was just incredible. Although he was familiar with “milfs” in the porn world, in the world of everyday reality Greg had never considered women of this age as active sexual beings. For him, they had always occupied the same mental pigeonhole as his mother.

Just at the point where the delight was about to become unbearable, she stood. “Let’s get on the bed properly, not half on, half off ,” she commanded. “Lie on your back in the middle.”

He happily obeyed.

She straddled his thighs again, taking his cock in both hands and moving her fingertips, lubricated with her own juices, teasingly up and down its length, making little swooning noises as it grew under her caresses. Then she sat back on her haunches and pulled her pussy lips apart, exposing the roseate wetness within, teasing her clitoris so that it emerged from its hood and stood erect like a little cock.

“Look, Greg, look at her,” she directed him, in a breathy voice that was half moan, half low-pitched growl, “don’t you think she’s lovely?”

He nodded.

She inched forward, taking hold of his cock with one hand, and positioned herself so that its head was resting snugly enclosed between her inner lips. “Ah, yes,” she moaned softly. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, she wants you, she wants you inside her. Can you feel her hugging you?”

As she spoke, she eased her hips forward and he felt the walls of her vagina contract deliciously around his cock. He nodded again, and tried to push forward, to penetrate her more deeply, but she pressed down on him with her thighs and hands, checking his movement. “In her own time, Greg,” she purred. “She’s going to take you in as deep as deep can be, but let her decide when.”

She moved her hips gently forward and back, forward and back, so that his cock penetrated her up to half its length and then almost withdrew. At the same time, she continued rhythmically clenching and unclenching the walls of her vagina, gripping his cock with a tightness that delighted as much as it amazed him. He had never imagined that a woman of her age would have such a tight cunt.

She leaned forward and her breasts swung towards his face. “Play with my tits, “ she purred. “Lick my nipples. Suck them, bite them… yes, like that… ahhhh… yes, yes, oh god...”

As he joyfully did her bidding, Andy thrust her hips forward so that he was balls deep inside her, and she ground her clit against his pubic bone. She drew her hips back, then again thrust forward, again grinding her clit against him. Then back again, then another forward thrust, this time accompanied by a guttural grunt of exertion and pleasure. Again and again she thrust, harder and faster.

Greg looked up at her face and, for a moment, was shocked by what he saw. Her eyes were wide, staring fixedly down at him, her mouth wide open, her tongue protruding, licking her lips in a flickering, lashing motion like a thirsty animal lapping at water. Saliva flew on each grunting breath. The sight of her naked savage desire sent an electric pulse darting down his spine and into his crotch, and instinct triggered an upward thrust of his hips. Then he was lost in the frenzy that engulfed them both.

Somehow he was able to hold back during her first two orgasms. But, as she came for a third time, a magma-like wave of sensation rushed through his body and he uttered a long rending cry as his semen jetted deep within her, the head of his cock thrust hard against her cervix.

She was not finished with him. She leaned forward, kissing his mouth hungrily, rubbing her breasts against him, all the time keeping his cock held inside her, the walls of her vagina gripping him, clenching rhythmically, teasing him into another erection. Then a gentle back-and-forth movement of her hips gradually grew in strength and speed, riding him to another shared shuddering climax and covering his belly and chest with another cascade of her own hot cum.

At last, all energy spent, she collapsed on top of him with a long-drawn-out sigh of contentment, her body still convulsing with post-orgasmic tremors. Presently she sat up, still astride him, her face transformed in blissful fulfilment. “That,” she pronounced, “was a fabulous fuck. Truly the best I’ve had for years. You can definitely come again.”

“Not right now I can’t,” he replied.

She giggled, teasing his cock with a couple of playful vaginal squeezes. “Mmmm, are you sure?”

“Well, maybe after a bit of a break. You’re a real knockout, Andy. I had no idea…”

“Am I your first milf, then?”

He nodded.

“”That makes it a first time for both of us,” she murmured, bending to kiss and nuzzle his neck. “You’re my first younger man. This has been my debut as what I believe is called a cougar. As first times go, I don’t think I could have wished for better.”

“Let’s shower together,” she suggested. "And let’s see if you can cum again. I’m sure I can.”

This time, though, the sex was gentle, relaxed, languorously tender, bodies sliding sensually and soapily against each other under the hot water. Afterwards, still naked, she went to the drier and fetched his now dry clothes. Aas he dressed, she put on the dressing gown he had worn and went to the kitchen. “Coffee time,” she announced. “Black and two sugars for you, isn’t it?”

And then it was back to business. Seated at the dining room table, they resumed their previous discussion of her residents’ group’s park plan, and somehow it seemed to Greg perfectly natural to be having this conversation with a woman with whom he had just had the most amazing sex of his life and who was wearing a dressing gown that hung open, leaving her magnificent breasts totally unconcealed.

And the sex seemed, in turn, to have fostered a meeting of minds. He'd brought with him a copy of the city council plan and, by comparing the two, they found themselves agreeing that with some adjustments a compromise could be devised that would combine the best features of both.

“You report back to your department, and I’ll consult with my landscape architect girlfriend,” Andrea said, “and then perhaps we could meet with Ellen’s Parks and Recreation Committee. I know Ellen fairly well, actually.”

Small world, Greg reflected.

“And perhaps,” Andrea went on, “perhaps before that you and I could have a get-together with Sarah.”

“Your landscape architect girlfriend?”

“Mmmm.” She nodded, her eyes twinkling. "And when I say ‘girlfriend’, I mean… well, yes, exactly that. I’m bi. Does that shock you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think anything about you would shock me now.”

“Ooh, you never know.” She wagged a forefinger at him playfully. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“Fine by me,” Greg said. “I haven’t anything on then.”

“Hmmm…” Those eyes twinkled again mischievously. “If I know Sarah, you probably won’t have anything on before long. She’s bi too, and a bit cougarish with it, from what I’ve heard.”

* * *

It had stopped raining when Greg left Andrea’s house and returned to his car, with a copy of the plan she had given him tucked into his briefcase, together with a CD of the additional photographs, He drove home in a daze, thankful that the traffic was by now fairly light. He ached in places where he had not experienced such sensations before; at the same time he was filled with a feeling of wellbeing that made his skin tingle all over.

What was it Phil had said?

“I’m sure an old girl like her will feel quite touched and flattered by us sending along a nice-looking young guy like you. I don’t mean you’re expected to charm the knickers off her…”

Pity I won’t be able to tell him what actually happened, he thought.

He remembered, as he let himself into his apartment, that he had arranged to meet up that night with some of his mates at their usual pub and, from there, on to a club where it was reputedly never hard to pick up a girl for the night. They were a tight-knit bunch and he recalled the last time they had got together: Ian Slater had regaled them with tales of the time he'd had with an experienced older woman.

Time was when Greg would have been keen to top Ian’s story with his own but now he found he had no inclination to do so. He texted Ian to say that he wouldn’t be going. What had happened so unexpectedly with Andrea was too special, too precious, to be used as the cheap coinage of a bragging contest.

The way she had dominated and possessed him, and the sensations she'd awakened in him, were something he'd not known with any other woman, and he felt a strong need to spend time alone to relive the experience in tranquillity and savour the memory.

Somehow, he realized, the impact of this woman had changed him, but he didn’t yet know how. Perhaps he would discover more tomorrow.

(to be continued)