Hot water poured down from the shower head, creating a thick, hazy blanket of rain and steam. The seductive fifty-two-year-old Estelle passed through the mist and embraced eighteen-year-old Jon. At first overwhelmed by her allure, his desire for her now raged. Although nervous and unsure of exactly what to do, the inexperienced teen pulled her closer. Estelle had initiated a dance poised to climax in a night of exhilarating, passionate lovemaking.
Having lived most of their lives an ocean apart, the lovers barely knew each other. Estelle grew up with Jon's mom, Helene, in their native Marseille. The two ladies continued their friendship after Helene emigrated to the States. Twenty years after Helene’s departure, Estelle, her husband, Henri, and their three children left their home for opportunity across the Atlantic. Upon arriving in the US, Henri purchased a small dairy farm in Vermont. He and Estelle opened a cheese shop on the property. The family business was a smashing success.
Sadly, Henri passed away unexpectedly shortly before the family celebrated their fourth year in business. The widowed Estelle was heartbroken. Her profound sense of loneliness was compounded several months later when her son moved back to France, and her twins left for college.
It had been over a year since Henri died. Estelle was anxious to return some sort of normalcy to her life. Not knowing where to begin, she phoned Helene to discuss ideas for a grand reopening. While counseling her confused friend, the manipulative Helene saw an opportunity to create distance between Jon and his girlfriend Anna. Helene offered her son's assistance over his two-week spring break. To Helene’s surprise, Jon readily agreed to help the widow. Anna had recently requested a break from their relationship to explore feelings for one another. Jon needed time away to collect his thoughts, not realizing that this trip would alter his life in strange and wonderful ways.
Jon completed the drive from Boston to Vermont in record time. He pulled down the dirt road leading to the farm, parked, and walked to the cheese shop where Estelle was working. During their few, previous meetings, Jon saw Estelle as another of his mom’s colorless friends. Estelle’s diminutive stature (slightly over five feet), long, cornichon-shaped nose, perfectly manicured salt and pepper hair, and librarian-style glasses gave her the appearance of a humorless secretary.
But now he was struck by her natural beauty. Her pale blue eyes brilliantly reflected the rays of the late winter Sun. Her warm smile emanated kindness. Her delicate frame cried out to be caressed. He suddenly developed an instant attraction to a woman who was old enough to be his mother. Conversing in both English and French, the two swapped superficial pleasantries before Jon set out to complete his first assignment, carting equipment from the barn to the shop.
After a few hours of labor, he stopped to observe Estelle. Although most of the cows were being milked by machines, she was in the barn, sitting on a milking stool, and gently brushing the underbelly of a cow. Sensing an admirer watching her, she called over to Jon: "Would you help me?" As Jon watched Estelle fondle the cow's udders, his mind drifted to imagine what it would be like to feel Estelle's large, supple breasts. The horny teenager's daydreaming was interrupted by Estelle saying, "Now you try." Jon jumped at the opportunity to perform this pseudo-sexual task with his new crush.
Estelle guided his hand over the cow's nipple. With her guidance, he squeezed the cow’s teat. Milk poured into the bucket as the beast gently cried out. "Your hands are touching her so gently. Her mooing means she's feeling pleasurable relief, like an orgasm, yes?" asked an impish Estelle. Distracted by the suggestive remark, Jon lost his grip. Estelle laughed as she was sprayed with milk. She was now covered in the white liquid. Jon sought a retreat before risking ejaculating in his pants. He arose from his milking stool before realizing something embarrassing; his jeans didn't hide his erection. Worse for the awkward teen, Estelle was staring directly at his hard cock. He excused himself and hurried back to the barn. Estelle chuckled silently.
Around lunchtime, Estelle brought lemonade and sandwiches to the shop. Although March in Vermont can be quite cold, the two were sweating profusely from the hard labor, and the snack was much needed. Estelle began chatting before abruptly asking: "So tell me, do you have a girl?"
"I did. We just broke up."
Estelle continued the inquiry. She asked many questions - what did Anna look like, when did she arrive in the US, who did she live with?
"Were you, oh, what's the word? Serious?"
"I think so," Jon responded. The conversation then somehow turned to a mutual love of history and philosophy. Anxious to complete the day's task, Jon ended the enjoyable discussion. A few hours later, Jon finished moving the equipment. But Estelle was nowhere to be found. The Sun was setting, and it was becoming quite cold. Estelle opened the farmhouse door and invited Jon inside where he was greeted with the alluring aroma of beef bourguignon. "Come, eat," welcomed Estelle. Although he would've preferred to shower first, he did as ask and sat down to a hearty bowl of a favorite dish.
Dinner provided an opportunity to discover more about each other. With her unique humor, Estelle spoke of her life in France, Henri, her children, and her farm and shop. Jon laughed throughout her stories as even the emotional ones were laced with jokes. After the meal was consumed, Estelle abruptly asked, "Do you love Anna?" Stunned, Jon thought for a moment. "I do, I mean did. But I guess it was one-sided." Estelle elicited more: "Were you two intimate?" Jon's face turned beet red, "Despite my best efforts, no." "What a shame. You're such a handsome young man, Surely, you've been with other girls, no?" Now even more embarrassed, he lost his ability to provide a clever response, "Anna is the only girl I've ever dated."
Estelle responded to this revelation with a tisk and a look of pity. After a few seconds, she proclaimed: "Poor Jon. To not partake in the act of lovemaking. Oh. But any woman you give yourself to will be so very fortunate." She grasped his hands. The two sat in silence before Estelle announced: "I'll clean up and you go shower before dessert."
Jon found his way to the bathroom. He undressed, turned on the shower, and stepped in. Warm water blanketed him in a seductive womb. The relaxing moment was shattered by the sound of the creaking bathroom door opening, followed by a melodic: "Oh Jo-on, I'm coming to join you." Estelle opened the shower curtain and stepped inside. Jon's reaction was immediate, a raging erection.
Although they hadn't had sex (at least not yet), the voluptuous Anna had gifted Jon several views of her naked body. At nineteen, the curvy Anna was like something out of a Rubens painting. Estelle's body was quite different. Small scars lined her body. Her stomach, which had carried three children, hung slightly over her waste. Her breasts seemed larger than her slight frame could hold. Jon desired to kiss and caress every inch of this mature, intelligent, strong woman.
The brazen Estelle stepped forward and hugged Jon. She nibbled on his ear before whispering, "I want to be your first. Will you give yourself to me?" Too overwhelmed to articulate a response, he embraced her. With each passionate kiss, the lonely widow and the broken-hearted teen breathed new life into each other. Jon pumped soap into his hands, clasped them together, and gently applied the jasmine-scented gel on Estelle's shoulders. He slowly massaged his way down to her nipples. To his surprise, Estelle's response to his gentle touching was like Anna’s, a loud cry of pleasure.
Jon continued to gently rub Estelle’s breasts. His hands slowly made their way to her hips, buttocks, and inner thighs. With each caress, the Frenchwoman moaned or cried out in pleasure. Not physically able to delay lovemaking any longer, Jon closed the water. He wrapped a towel around Estelle and gently dried her off. The two kissed as they walked down the hall to Estelle's bedroom. Once they reached the side of her bed, Estelle separated from Jon. She dropped her towel, pulled down the duvet, and motioned for Jon to join her on the bed and they both pulled up the duvet. Laying side-by-side, they continued to kiss and caress. Estelle guided Jon's hands to her breasts. He cupped her nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers before sucking on her nipples, causing her to cry out. Estelle proved a very patient teacher, showing Jon where to touch, and the right amount of pressure to apply.
Estelle gently guided Jon’s head to her vagina. Instinctively, he started licking her labia before working her clit with his tongue. While being orally stimulated, Estelle took a deep breath, exhaled, then cried out. Wetness squirted out of her vagina and onto Jon's tongue. She laughed before proclaiming, "Tres bien." Jon moved back onto the pillow and kissed her cheek, now the color of red wine. She pulled him closer. They passionately kissed. His body rolled on top of her. As if designed by fate, his cock slipped into her. Estelle's vagina felt much like the hug she'd given him in the shower: wet, warm, inviting, sensuous, and pleasurable. She grabbed his buttocks as he thrust deeper into her. He stopped to suck on her nipples. She cried out again, causing his animal instincts to take over.
"Harder!" She screamed. Jon did as commanded. Estelle screamed out " Oui, oui, Jo-on! I’m cumming again" He could hold back no longer. Screaming as he orgasmed, he exploded inside of her, before collapsing in her arms. Never had he felt anything like it. Sure, he’d masturbated hundreds of times, but ejaculating into Estelle gave him a moment of intense pleasure followed by a sense of peace and satisfaction. As the lovers cuddled, the beautiful Estelle quietly slipped into a deep sleep.
Several hours passed before Jon awoke in darkness. The shock of not immediately recognizing his surroundings faded as he remembered he was in Estelle's bed. Needing refreshment, he navigated down the dark, unfamiliar hallway to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of water from the tap. Without warning, his physical satisfaction transformed into guilt. His neurotic mind fired in a million directions: What if Estelle's feelings get hurt? He and Anna planned on losing their virginity together. Would she ever have him back? Was Anna having sex with her new love right now?
Although naked, he stepped outside for a breath of cold Vermont air. Jon discovered yet another reason to torture himself. The porch light shone on a small rock a few yards away whose plaque read: "To my beloved Henri." Had Jon inadvertently taken advantage of a woman in mourning? He looked up at the night sky and spotted a shooting star. Was it possibly some sort of sign that everything would be OK?
He made his way back to Estelle, who sat up, smiled, and joked, "Bonjour, my naughty darling. Don't you know it's impolite to leave a lady waiting?" He climbed back into the bed and began kissing her. She playfully grabbed his cock, and loudly proclaimed: "I've never before made a lover into a man, but I'm the first to have this inside me. Merci, Jon. Merci." He smiled, thanked her, and started using his newfound skills to pleasure her. The start of a beautiful relationship that would mature over many years was now in its infancy.
