When Shelly, a divorced mother of two moved in two doors down from Brent, he was quick to make an acquaintance with the young blonde.
His first impression of her was that she was, despite her recent, messy divorce, bubbly and a pleasant person. She was also quite keen on revealing facts about herself that would normally not be so easy to get. Like the fact that that her frame tipped the scale at 140 pounds not long before.
Shelly was mid-thirties; short, about 5’3’ and seemingly in good physical shape. As he looked at her that first day, he regarded her as quite athletic, and in his mind, he could imagine having her as a possible running or gym partner. Brent was always keen on feasting his hungry eyes on her compact body.
Brent himself was just past fifty. He exercised regularly and still had a thing about him that warranted a second look. Though his wife saw him as an impossible flirt, Brent was a people’s person. He liked to chat, liked to have people around him and getting acquainted with Shelly was just that… Or well, sort of.
Brent secretly appreciated the shape of Shelly’s body and she did feature in one of his late-night masturbation sessions. To say he lusted after her was not really the point; no, it was rather a matter of him entertaining the thought that if something would happen, then, well, he would not hesitate one moment
Over the space of a year, frequent visits flowed into a hug here and a hug there. He always listened to what she had to say; her gripes about her ex, her plans for her newly acquired house, work and the kids’ school activities.
Shelly appreciated this. For her, it was an opportunity to clean her slate of frustrations and vent her anger. Brent would always offer advice, share wisdom and a lot of times, just listen. Shelly loved this; she needed someone to listen, even if it was just for those few minutes when he would pop in at irregular times.
When Brent left, after a small shoulder hug, he sometimes wondered what she would do if he would kiss her. "She would probably tell me I am married and slap me," he thought more than once. But when he considered her lips, he was prepared to take the chance. When he visited her, and she would talk non-stop like she always would, he would look at her in the eyes; make good eye contact which was a sign to her that he was actually listening.
But he was also sure she could see his eyes sometimes dipping to her lips as she talked.
Once, just two weeks before the event in this story, he lost track of what she was talking about and was fantasising about her while she talked. He had realised that moment that he was obviously not following her story. If she realised he was on a much more intimate space, she never mentioned it.
He had imagined her calling him to help her with something in the house and would direct him to come upstairs where she was. He would find her on her bed with just her underwear and one thing would lead to another.
But would it actually happen? It would probably remain a fantasy for him as it was difficult for him to pinpoint her sexuality.
One morning, when he walked in, she was deep in thought and he caught her by surprise. Her voice was slightly raised as she scolded him for scaring her. It must have been an adrenaline effect, but Brent noticed as he walked in that there was something different about her.
“Oh my, you caught me completely unawares,” she said as she got up to greet him with a sideways hug.
“How are you, sweetie?” he smiled back, using his usual term of endearment for her. Brent noticed that she initiated the hug as it was not really customary for them to greet with a hug. But he let it slide.
Shelly remained standing close by him as she folded her arms across her breasts, looking up at him, smiling as she let go of her latest frustrations. Her main issue, as usual, was her ex. She ranted and raved about everything and suddenly stopped mid-sentence, “Coffee?”
“That would be great, thanks.”
“Strong, black, one sugar?” she enquired over her shoulder as she loaded the mugs.
“Please?” was his short answer, not to interrupt her latest gripe about her ex, Peter. All her gripes were sometimes getting to Brent and once he almost dubbed Peter ‘such a cunt’ but stopped himself in time.
“Then he ranted about be not looking after myself… and picking up weight… and I always dress like a slob… and what would everybody think of the mother of his kids…”
Brent let his eyes slide over her frame surreptitiously and could not really find any fault with the slip dress and sandals Shelly was wearing. Her hair was once again perfect, brushed out and her face bright and showing vigour.
“But what is his story? He was the one who decided to divorce you? It just does not make sense that he would criticise you from the furniture all the way to your pedicure? It was his choice to move on.”
“I don’t know, Brent. He irritates the hell out of me and it seems this is life after Peter, and it will just never stop,” she sighed.
Brent stepped closer, two mere steps and folded his strong arms around her shoulders. “Come, let me hold you for a few moments?”
Shelly willingly stepped into his embrace, exhaling deeply as she felt the comfort of his closeness.
Brent could not help but moan softly into the top of her head. They had but shared only two embraces such as the one they are currently in, and on both occasions he could not help but relish the warmth of her closeness. He had so often yearned for contact like this that it was threatening.
He could feel her warm breath being exhaled into his chest, her closeness, the warmth of her penetrating the coarse shirt he wore; the hint of perfume and the soft fragrance of lilies in her hair.
Shelly noticed a slump in his normal proud demeanour. He was different, and she picked up on the slight moan into her hair. She tilted her head back slightly, asking, “You okay?”
Brent took the time to slip his right arm from around her shoulders to beneath her one arm, settling his big hand on the small of her back. Shelly remained motionless, awaiting a reply and he took his cue to do the same with his left. Shelly also noticed the features in his face to have softened considerably and deduced her own answer.
She realised that at that moment, she was giving Brent what he needed so much and understood all the things he hinted at about where he was in his own life. She realised with a start that she was getting wet and knew instinctively that whatever move Brent would make next, she wouldnn’t be able to resist.
Finally, Brent spoke.
“It feels so good to hold you like this,” he smiled down at her.
She considered the message behind his green eyes for a moment and with a sadness within, she realised the magic of the moment was lost. Yet, she was still wet.
Without missing a beat, she laughed up at him, “I guess it does feel good with my extensive curves fitting closely into your body.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“This stuff around my middle. I have this extra spare tube around my middle,” she laughed at him.
Standing back a fraction, Brent looked down. Perhaps she was right, but he wasn’t going to echo her sentiments. She was still beautiful standing there, closer to him than what would be regarded as appropriate for him; a married man and her, a divorcee still feeling the anger of her ex.
“Nothing wrong with how you look, sweetie,” he said softly and pulled her back against him.
Shelly relished the closeness being back and thought, "The magic is still here… somewhere." She was comforted physically by his closeness as well as by his words of encouragement.
Brent held her for a few moments, slowly and softly stroking his hands over her back, careful not to slip them down to her buttocks.
He removed his hands, and standing back slightly, cupped her face in both hands. "Oh shit," she thought, "here comes the kiss."
But he spoke gently into her eyes. “Tell you what, let me give you a body assessment.”
Shelly felt her comfort flipping over to apprehension. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, still looking at him.
Brent turned away, taking her hand and leading her to the lounge. He moved the coffee table aside and took a seat in a wingback chair.
Shelly was still perplexed as to what he was implying. She was frozen on the spot and flabbergasted that the comfort of the embrace could so rapidly vanish and become a loose, unattached moment.
“Ok, you… in the centre of the lounge,” was his firm instruction.
Brent was not sure where his plan would take them but was determined to, if at least, give Shelly an indication of how he saw her.
She had no idea where this was going, but with a shy look at him she stepped into the centre of the deep red rug. As he indicated for her to twirl, she did so but with very slight confidence. She felt as if she was on display, like a racehorse or a painting. Yet she did as he indicated.
As she turned back at him, he shook his head in a positive manner.
“Now, face the other way and take off your dress.” He said sternly.
“But….,” she started but he nodded his head, indicating she should do as she was instructed.
Brent was feeling the effects of the moment; the risk, the excitement, the power. What he saw was more than he expected. If she said she was fat or that she was unkept (as Peter stated), it was definitely not the case. Yes, she could do with firming up. But she would always have the stockiness of her build and therefore the risk of seeming overweight.
He regarded her underwear; thin, flesh coloured, full panties, bra from the same shelf.
Shelly sensed, rather than hear him get up and move behind her. She was insecure about herself, how he would see her, what his comments would be. She felt his hands on the outside of her arms.
He spoke gently from very close behind her, “Your skin is soft, pliable and you smell soft and womanly.”
Shelly smiled and blushed slightly, “Yes?”
Brent remained behind her as he continued to comment on all the areas he softly touched and caressed. She could feel herself feeling better about herself as he pointed out areas she needed to work on.
His hands caressed her belly, but she felt good. She needed to work on her abs.
Her hips met similar approval and guidance. His touch was not just an assessment. She sensed he was more appreciating her soft curves and the woman within the skin. "If any," she thought to herself, "he’s getting a bloody kick out of this. Here he’s touching and feeling me for, I am sure, his own delight," she smiled to herself.
She also realised that she had not been touched like that in a while and it was busy causing a huge predicament. His touch was no more an assessment but rather a seduction into which she was the willing subject.
Suddenly, he was gone. Peering over her shoulder, she saw him taking his seat again. She suddenly realised that while he might have been touching her for his own pleasure, he did not overstep boundaries.
As he took his seat, she wondered what would be next. She was feeling self-conscious about the wetness she was sure was seeping right through the gusset of her panties, but she also felt all shyness seeping from her and a new powerful feeling taking hold of her being.
What she did not realise was the amount of self-control Brent had to exert not to grab her and simply fuck her. He was struggling with his own discomfort as he had no idea how to surreptitiously move his hard cock into a more comfortable position.
His next move gave him some leeway, but he knew he had to move fast else Shelly would notice how turned on he was himself. “Look straight ahead now, settle your left foot slightly behind your right.”
She moved slightly, “Like this?” she asked, peering over her shoulder again.
“Yes. Now take your hair in a bundle behind your head and lift unto your toes.”
As she moved on his instruction, Brent felt his cock twitch and as he spoke, quickly shifted his cock to the side. “That’s it. You have excellent definition in your calves, you just need to get fit. Now turn sideways and lift your leg level with the floor.”
“Like this?’ she giggled, and he could see why she giggled. She almost toppled over sideways and would have landed at his feet. Brent joined her in the funniness of the moment by beckoning her closer.
"Oops," she thought, but moved toward him nevertheless.
Brent moved to the edge of the seat and pulled her closer the last step or two. As she stopped in front of him he noticed the big wet spot but said nothing about it.
“Stand on your toes again.”
She did so and his hand slid over the defined muscles. She was well built, he noticed. "She needed to get fit and she would be a hottie," he thought to himself.
As she stood close to him she felt it yet again. More moisture was seeping from her pussy. "Surely he would notice now with me so close to him?"
She looked down at his hands sliding over her torso, noticing his appreciation rather than assessment. Her breathing started getting heavier and he looked up to her. She could do nothing but look at him and she felt his hand sliding over her buttocks. She also noticed his breathing to be deepening.
"My god, he’s sweating."
He moved his eyes down and a lone finger traced the lines of her panties.
“You are wet?” he said with a heavy whisper.
“Well, no man has touched me like this in more than two years, so I am likely to be turned on… slightly.”
“Slightly?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
As his finger rested at the seam of her panties, he briefly looked up and she nodded slightly. She felt his finger slip underneath her panties and closed her eyes. He slowly rubbed over her pubis, toying with her sparse little triangle. She moaned without being able to stop herself.
His finger had not even progressed as far as her slit when he felt… wetness! He moved down, the back of his index finger becoming slick with her juices. He sensed her starting to tremble and as his finger grazed her erect clit, her legs gave way under her and a sharp cry left her chest.
As her orgasm hit, she fell into his strong arms in a heap of pathetic flesh. In the process of having to catch her his finger was dislocated from her panties, and a few moments later she came to, seated on his leg, his arms around her shoulders.