Grace was an old friend of my mother. I did not think of her as elderly, but she was older than my mom and probably old enough to have been my grandmother. I have to say that I hadn't really thought about it much, if at all.

Grace had been a friend of my mother for as long as I could remember. She may have babysat me when I was younger, but I do not remember that, if she did. I knew very little about Grace. I did not know if she was married, divorced, separated, widowed, or just always single. I did not think that I was interested, she was just Mom's friend.

Up until the events below, I had only ever seen Grace when she would visit Mom at home, just for a coffee and a chat. I called her Grace because Mom called her Grace. I only knew her as Grace and did not know her surname. I had no reason to know anything more about her and, generally, I was not interested in knowing more. I had always thought of her as a 'serious' type of person and, at my age, that was not the sort to interest me.

Although I knew nothing more about Grace, I found out that she lived alone, not far away from our house. I discovered this when Mom asked me if I could go over and cut down an overhanging branch in her back garden. It seemed that Mom had offered my services to her friend, possibly because of similar jobs that I had done elsewhere.

So it was that one morning I turned up at Grace's front door with a woodsaw and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

Grace opened the door wearing a light blue housecoat. I had not thought about Grace in any particular way before and this was really the first time that we had been alone together. I was a typically horny young man, so I started to notice her as a woman. A young man may not notice much, but he does notice things like that.

I couldn't just stare at her, of course, but she offered me a glass of water which I accepted because it was a warm day and we made some polite conversation, which was a novelty because I don't think we had exchanged anything more than a couple of sentences before. I noticed her red hair cropped close to the head with ringlets, a nicely curved bow of an upper lip above a lower lip of pleasing fullness. She must have been in her late fifties but she looked good for her age, some wrinkles about the face and neck but nothing unbecoming. I would describe her as gracefully mature.

No obvious make-up, which probably means not excessive. If make-up is not plastered on, I hardly ever notice it. Ever.

The housecoat came down to her mid-thigh. Although I could not see through it, the way that her body filled it out told me that she probably had a slim figure with a pair of modestly average sized breasts. Larger would have been intimidating and distracting, while small would have been disappointing, so tits in the Goldilocks zone.

I had also not seen her before standing beside me. My usual encounters with Grace had been her sitting down with Mom, usually drinking coffee. She was not as tall as I had imagined, standing at about five foot five, a few inches shorter than myself.

I finished the water and she led me into the back garden, which gave me further opportunity to watch her move and deduce more about the body under the housecoat. She moved lithely, the housecoat only tightening across her breasts and fitting loosely until what appeared to be the swell of a nicely rounded bottom lower down. She clearly did not have much surplus weight and I did not think there was much under the housecoat, probably just a bra and panties, her legs were bare. I like a nice round bottom.

I could see why the branch had become a problem. there was too much weight there anyway and it was only a matter of time before it broke off and came down itself, possibly damaging a nearby fence in the process. I tried to cut it into four equal sections, but I then had to trim off the smaller branches to bring them all to a manageable size for disposal.

It must have taken a bit over an hour, I suppose, then I made my way back to the house and the kitchen where Grace was standing at the sink.

"All done, Grace," I said. "I've stacked the wood at the base of the tree. I didn' know what you wanted to do with it."

"Thank you, Gabe. I don't know what I want to do with it either. I'll have to think about it.

"Oh, Gabe, you're covered in sawdust. "

I looked down. Indeed, I was.

"I'm sorry, Grace, I just didn't notice."

"Never mind, I'm sure it will just brush off," and then she started brushing the sawdust from the front of my trousers with her hand.

Oh, my God. I let her do it, although I knew what was likely to happen, I did not know how to easily stop her. I think she just started brushing the sawdust away without thinking and I just let it happen because I was unprepared to do anything else. Perhaps I didn't want to stop her.

Of course, the inevitable happened and Grace suddenly realised while she was brushing the sawdust away from the front of my jeans, she was also stroking my cock through the material. Needless to say, my cock realised that before even I did and started to rise to the occasion.

"Oh," she said lamely, stopping suddenly and pulling her hand away. "Maybe you had best finish doing that."

If I had been a bit younger, or maybe not as turned-on as I was, I think I would just have left it at that but I now thought that I had gained what I considered to be some insight into older women and what were sometimes quite complex patterns of desire.

I have to say those insights occasionally led me into unwise and unfortunate courses of action, but not on this occasion.

"That felt nice," I said.

"I expect that it did, Gabriel, but I don't think we need to discuss it."

I noticed how the informal "Gabe" had changed to "Gabriel", a more formal address. I was unsure what that meant, although I guessed that there was an implied message that we should be dealing with this situation like responsible adults. However, I saw it as an acknowledgement that she had felt my stiffening cock through the material of my jeans and, more importantly, that she knew she had made it happen. And that made it feel even stiffer. I knew that she knew that I knew that she had been stroking my cock, and she didn't want to talk about it.

She felt uncomfortable and embarrassed and she didn't want to talk about it.

I didn't feel uncomfortable, at all, talking about it. One of the things I thought that I had learned was that talking through a situation often felt better and worked out better than shying away from it. I could be embarrassed by an inconvenient erection but, equally, on occasion, I could be emboldened by the proud stiffness of my young body. I wanted Grace to look at my big stiff young cock, although I felt a little guilty at wanting her to.

I did, however, feel that it wasn't my fault and it was hers, so I felt emboldened by that.

"I'm sorry, Grace, but it did feel nice and, although I do feel embarrassed having you see me like this, it still feels good.

"I'm sorry," I said again, although I did not feel apologetic.

"No, Gabe, you haven't done anything wrong, so you shouldn't feel that way. I should have known better, but I didn't realise that a young boy like you would have physical feelings like that with me.

"It's kind of nice and flattering, Gabriel, but we both know this is wrong."

I noted her reference to the 'young boy' meaning me. She was trying to assert authority, emphasizing the age difference and telling me that I was just 'a young boy'. I felt that I had the confidence to tackle that and, anyway, I was nineteen.

"I'm sorry, Grace, but I don't think of you as being old and unattractive. You might be an old friend of Mom's, but I've never thought of you as an old woman. It's just so easy for me to get turned on, whether accidentally or otherwise. "

"Otherwise, Gabe? You surely wouldn't think I would do this on purpose?"

"No, Grace, of course not, but I'm afraid that I am just a horny teenage boy and my brain and my body go at different speeds and often in different directions. It's not easy. I'm sorry, Grace."

I mentally slapped myself. "Don't keep being so apologetic! You don't need to be apologetic," I told myself.

"Actually, Grace, I'm sorry that we seem to have reached an uncomfortable situation, but I can't be sorry that my body wants to show that it likes you, even though that is embarrassing and a bit uncomfortable for both of us. My body can be a bit too honest for me sometimes."

I could see that surprised her. She didn't expect me to be assertive like that. She did not expect me to be candid, like that.

She relaxed. She had not expected to be reprimanded and she was now closer to accepting what I was saying and respecting it. Our roles were reversing a little.

"Yes, Gabe, you're right. I think your body is a bit too honest for me, too. I understand, and there's no reason why you should feel uncomfortable about it, either, it's just natural."

I noticed that I was 'Gabe' again. I saw that as a good sign.

"Actually, Grace, I didn't mean socially uncomfortable, my 'honesty' is literally physically uncomfortable at the moment and I'm not too sure what to do about it."

"Oh, I see, Gabe. Well, would you like to go to the bathroom?"

"To be honest, Grace, I would feel awkward going to the bathroom right now, because I know that you would know that I was going to the bathroom to masturbate. I would kind of feel that to be a bit shameful and disrespectful to you, especially since I think we have reached a certain level of honesty with each other, now."

Grace didn't say anything, but just looked thoughtful. Talking things through seemed to be opening up possibilities, maybe because my conversation was taking both of us into uncharted territory. It felt exciting but I think, dear reader, that you will have guessed which part of me was getting most excited?

"Actually, Grace, just talking about it now with you only seems to be making me more excited, but I don't think that I feel uncomfortable in the same way as you do."

Still saying nothing, she moved her hand back to the bulge in the front of my jeans, feeling my stiffness through the fabric. It was becoming more uncomfortable. I covered her hand with mine, holding it there upon my constrained erection, which I imagined struggling for freedom.

I noticed that, although her hand was back feeling my cock with only the denim stopping direct contact, she had done nothing more than she had already done.

"Oh, Gabe!" she said with a hint of sadness, which I took as an acknowledgement that my problem was real, because she could now feel the increased stiffness. There was a hint of reluctance, or confusion, there too.

"Can I take it out, please, Grace?"

She said nothing, although I thought she was breathing heavier, but I wasn't really waiting for a reply. Moving her hand to one side, I undid my trousers so that I could release my uncomfortable cock. It felt really good. I replaced her hand upon my now exposed and growing erection, so that she could properly handle it and feel it doing what came naturally. By putting her hand back there, I was giving her permission to be feeling me. I was not sure that she wanted to, though.

"I wouldn't want any misunderstandings," I said, and then wondered why I had said it. I probably just felt that I needed to say something.

"I don't think that there's any misunderstanding," she said, weighing my cock in her hand, "I don't think there's anything to misunderstand here.

"It's a size," she said.

I wasn't too sure what she meant, I don't think of being particularly big, but I assumed it was a compliment and an appreciation of its nearly full erectness. It is also possible that she hadn't felt one in her hand like this for a while - certainly not a horny teenager's. Maybe it had been a comment about how grown up I now was.

I didn't know. I was aware, though, that I probably appeared more confident than I really felt. I was excited that I had got my cock out of my trousers for Grace, but I was uncertain that I should have done

Her hand moved along the length to the tip and then back again to cup my balls. I'm really not sure how big it was, but it was beginning to feel as big and heavy as it had ever been. I like to think that it was seven inches - it might have been - but I was not in any position to measure it. I felt proud for it to be large like that in Grace's hand and for her to be looking at it.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"What you said about your body being too honest for you, I know what you mean, Gabe. I think my body is being a bit too honest for me too. We shouldn't be doing this."

I also knew that we shouldn't have been doing this, but it also did not feel to me that Grace was an unwilling party. I sensed some kind of excitement hiding just under the surface.

"No, we shouldn't, Grace," I say, knowing that wasn't going to stop this happening. I was interested in what she meant by her body being honest now. I unbutton her housecoat. Her hand moves along my erection again.

Slipping my hand inside her housecoat, I discover that, as I thought, she is wearing only a light bra and panties underneath. My fingers touch soft flesh at her waist and I move my hand upwards to the cup of her bra. It is easy to slip my hand inside, but I could already feel the hardness of the nipple as my hand moved over the material. Her breast gave a pleasing fullness in my exploring hand.

"Please don't, Gabriel," she says, but she does nothing to stop me and her fingers are still around my stiffness, so I ignore her.

"This feels much better than going to have a wank in private," I said, although she did nothing to acknowledge that I had said this in any way whatsoever, and probably did not wish to.

Her hand was still slowly stroking my cock up and down. She was saying nothing. It seemed to be down to me to make the next move. Although Grace seemed to be most willing, it didn't seem that she wanted to instigate anything herself. I reasoned that she was still feeling guilty about what we were doing and was expecting me to move everything forward.

I moved my hand back down to her waist and then slid it behind her. She didn't resist as I pulled her towards me, so I guessed I was probably doing the right thing, and I pressed my lips against hers and kissed her.

She did not pull away and I felt her body pressing itself against mine. Her hand was still on my dick, her thumb moving over the swollen cockhead now leaking precum fluid. her other hand was behind my head pulling our faces together. Her mouth opened to mine and our tongues met. We were tasting each other's lust.

We had crossed a threshold, we were now both complicit in something. My hand was back to her breast, the other hand holding her to me. Our mouths uncoupled.

"Nothing wrong, Grace," I said, "but I don't think Mom would understand."

"We really shouldn't be doing this, Gabe. I shouldn't be doing this."

Then, confusingly, she said, "I don't know what you want me to do."

It was seeming to me that she wanted me to take charge.

"I want you to suck it, Grace."

I must have sounded more confident than I felt.

"That's so nasty, Gabriel!"

The return to 'Gabriel' confused me and I wasn't sure how to interpret it. Maybe it was signalling some kind of resistance, but she hadn't said 'No'.

"Suck it, Grace."

She looked at me with what I thought was an angry expression but when I just looked back into her eyes, she dropped to her knees in front of me, took it into her mouth and proceeded to take it in as far as it would go, then she pulled back till only the swollen head was in her mouth and sucked on that. I knew she had the taste of my semen in her mouth, although it would only have been my precum.

It felt very good and I rested a hand on the top of her head as it bobbed up and down on my knob.

I was unsure of what I should be doing, but was well aware that the situation was now in uncharted territory, certainly for me and, I guessed, for Grace. Having gone this far, it seemed to me that I could easily push it forward, if I dared to.

My hand on her head grasped her more firmly and I thrust my pelvis forward ramming the head of my cock into the back of her throat. That felt very wrong of me, but I liked the nastiness of it and the feeling that I was breaking taboo.

Grace did not resist and seemed to accept me thrusting my cock into her mouth. She kept her mouth closed around my cock and I continued sliding it in and out between her lips and she carried on taking it in that way. She had one hand on my thigh, steadying herself; the other hand, I believe, she had between her legs. The very impropriety of what we were doing seemed to be turning her on in the same way as it excited me.

It was rough and nasty and as I felt my cum rise and spurt out of my cock down her throat, I released the grip on her head. She did not pull away immediately but continued sucking on my stiff, swollen penis, swallowing all the spunk that I had given her down her throat.

Then she pulled back, releasing the fat head of my cock from her mouth, a line of sticky semen initially still connecting her lips to my glistening, leaking dick until the gooey chain broke and dropped between us.

"I can't believe that I let you do that," she said, looking at my persisting erection.

"I can't believe that you would do that to me," she said. "Whatever would your mother say?"

"I don't think either of us will be telling Mom about this," I said, "and I don't think she'd be saying anything good to either of us."

"We shouldn't have done that, Gabriel!"

"I didn't tell you to suck my cock," I said defensively and then remembered that was exactly what I had done.

"So nasty, Gabriel. It was shocking but I quite liked it too. I shouldn't have done it and I shouldn't have told you that I liked it, either."

She paused, looking at my cock, still stiff, wet, and shiny in front of her. My cock could stay stiff like that for ages back then.

"I didn't like it, Gabriel, that shouldn't have happened."

She paused again.

"What nasty thing are you going to do to me now, Gabriel?"

I was not believing the conversation that we were having, but I did believe that she was enjoying it and the act that she was unable to stop it. We both knew that she could, but she didn't.

"Do you want to be my slut, Grace?"

"Don't call me that, Gabriel," she said, but I sensed that she liked it.

"I'll call you whatever I like," I said, "but I think you should start calling me 'Sir' now, slut."

She looked up at me and my eyes met hers. She looked angry but then looked away and then down at the floor between us.

"Oh, Gabriel!"

There seemed to be a mixture of sadness and submission in her voice, but not resistance. I turned her face up to meet mine and looked sternly into her eyes.

"Yes, Sir," she said.

"You're going to get fucked, Grace."

She said nothing, and did nothing when I pushed my right hand inside her housecoat again and down the front of her knickers.

She gasped, but did not immediately speak, as my fingers slowly explored between her legs.

"What a bad boy you are, Gabriel, what a very, very bad boy!"

"I can feel your warm, wet cunt, Grace." She moaned quietly as my fingers opened her.

"You nasty bad boy, Gabriel, how can you talk to me like that?"

"I can tell that you like it, Grace. You might be ashamed that I know how wet your cunt is for me, but you like it too. Slut!"

"You bad boy, Gabriel," she said again, "if you are going to do it, you should do it before I decide that I should be stopping you."

"You old slut," I say, emboldened by her implicit willingness.

"Do you want to feel my cock inside your cunt, Grace?"

"No, Gabriel, no!" My middle finger slipped into her warm, wet folds. "Oh, yes, Sir!"

We were still in the kitchen but, with my finger hooked into her hot, wet cunt, I guided her back into the lounge towards the large sofa there.

"I'm going to fill your cunt with my spunk, Grace!"

"No, Gabe! Please don't."

"You can see how horny I an, Grace. You can see how hard my cock is for your tight, wet cunt. Do you want it?"

"Yes, Gabe, I want your big stiff cock," she paused, and then added, "in my cunt. In my fucking cunt!"

"Slut!"

"Oh, Gabriel, what have you done to me? I've never used that nasty word before, and you should never have used it to me. What will your mother say when I tell her?"

"You're not going to tell her but the thought of what she would think, what she might say is turning you on, Grace, getting you wet. I can feel it. It's turning me on too, Grace, and it only makes it more certain that you will be fucked."

With my fingers partly inside her wet and squidgy cunt, partly lifting and guiding her backwards across the lounge to the large sofa there, I roughly grabbed her right breast with my left hand and pushed her back onto the sofa as my right hand pulled her cunt upwards towards me. The short fall surprised her and I took advantage of the moment to drag her knickers off. She didn't resist but I am sure that she wanted to fuck as much as I did.

I rubbed my swollen cockhead along her slippery open gash, teasing her.

"Where do you want my stiff, nasty cock, Grace?"

"In my cunt, Gabe, in my hot, wet, nasty cunny, Gabe. Fuck my cunt like you want to Gabe, do it hard!

"Oh, I'm so ashamed that I'm feeling that way. I shouldn't be liking this."

I could tell the words were exciting her. I found that fact exciting for me too. I teased her hot, wet, open, hungry cunt a little more with my thick, swollen, glistening cockhead.

"Gabriel, you horny bastard! You like fucking old ladies' cunts, you little pervert?"

"You old slut, Grace, you like having young horny boys ramming their cocks up inside your nasty wrinkled old stinky cunt, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, Gabe. In my cunt, Gabe, in my nasty hot wet cunt!"

I entered her, just enough for her to feel the swollen head.

"Oh, Gabriel!"

I thrust hard, fast and deep. It went it as if my cock was entering melting butter and felt very similar, I think, not that I have ever stuck my stiff cock into melted butter. It went in quickly until I felt my balls warm and wet with the juices leaking from her fuckhole, and then I felt her cunt muscles tighten around my shaft, and her legs around mine and her hand, on my lower back, trying to pull me deeper inside her. Then I realised that she was moaning with sexual satisfaction.

"You filthy old slut, Grace!"

She carried on moaning and I carried on thrusting into her, in and out, with some quick short thrusts and some longer, deeper ones, pulling my thick cock almost from her cuntlips before ramming it back inside her to full depth, feeling her cunt and the rest of her body sucking me inside.

She said nothing while I was fucking her, though she was noisy enough otherwise. I said a lot of very nasty things to her, which I would be ashamed to repeat, but which seemed to increase her excitement. I don't know how many times I came inside her, but a teenage boy has a lot of stamina and spunk to use up. It was probably the most intense and longest fuck session that I ever had and I know now that I will never be able to have another like that in the future. My balls ached for the rest of the day and the following morning.

When I had pumped her cunt full of as much spunk as I could deliver into her fuckhole, realising that I could do no more in that department, I settled down to a more leisurely teasing and sucking on her swollen nipples. Grace had relaxed and was lying quite still now that I had stopped pumping in and out of her

"I can't believe we did that, Gabriel."

"You old slut!"

"I think you can stop calling me that, now, Gabriel. I feel embarrassed and ashamed that I let you do that, but I feel happy too."

"I'm sorry, Grace."

"No, you're not, Gabe, and I don't want you to be. I'm not going to forget your enthusiastic fucking for a very long time," her voice became quieter, almost to a whisper, and added, "My cunt won't be forgetting that either. It was very exciting."

"Yes, Grace, it was, and you are a very enjoyable fuck."

"So nasty, Gabe. You are a very nice and likable boy, but I like you so much more when you are a naughty, horny little fucker.

"I loved you using my cunt like that. Such a nasty, rude word, but I'm enjoying using it right now because you know what it feels like inside my cunt, and knowing that is very exciting for me me to think about.. I don't know if you understand that.

"Do you like my cunt, Gabriel?"

"Yes, Grace, I like your old, wet, wicked, wrinkly cunt."

"I'm so pleased, Gabriel. I'm going to lie here for a while and then I think I'll have to get these cushions washed.

"You can let yourself out, Gabriel, and please tell your mother that I was very happy with your services."

"I will tell her that, Grace, but I don't think that I will be telling her much more than that."

She giggled, a very girlish giggle considering her age.

"And if you accidentally forget to take the wood saw away with you, you can call by and pick it up in a couple of days - when I have recovered enough."

"I'll be seeing to you, then," I said.

"I hope so!"