I’d always pitied Helen.
Pitied and, when I was younger, desperately fancied.
She was my the daughter of my parents' best friends but older than me by some fifteen years. To me, she always seemed so much more grown up, sophisticated even. For years family friends had frequently been the subjects of my masturbation fantasies, filling me with guilt until I got around to doing it again.
Helen was different though. She hadn’t lost it. Whatever she had over me, it hadn’t gone. I still felt shy talking to her, even into my early twenties. I always saw her, as much as I tried not to, as incredibly sexy.
She was forty now with a husband and that’s why I pitied her. Because of her balding, perpetually angry husband.
A kid had never come along. Maybe they were satisfied without but from his temperament and the look of him, I perhaps judgementally guessed that the husband couldn’t deliver.
This made me feel sorry for her because she was gorgeous. She had always been the most frequent of my fantasies when younger because she was very obviously sexy. I was too young and didn’t know her well enough to know, but I guessed she had her pick of boys when she was younger. She certainly had the sexy self confidence to suggest it, although this had mellowed into a warm, knowing sunny disposition as she matured.
She still had very long, thick soft brown hair that flowed perfectly straight down her back and in front of her shoulders. She was the girl that made me fall in love with the thick ‘60s fringe which she’d had for as long as I could remember.
Ice blue eyes and a perfectly milky and smooth complexion combined with high cheekbones made her face quite striking but the delicate creases that had developed around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth in her middle age belied her warm, happy nature. She was quick to smile with her white, perfectly straight teeth and you couldn’t help but smile back.
This is why it was a pleasure to be around her at her dad’s house.
I was staying over with my parents as my dad had wanted to see his friend and, to our surprise, Helen was staying over too. She would never say as much but I guessed things were rocky at home and so she was staying at her dad’s.
The parents had wanted to go out during the day to something interminably boring to a twenty-two year old which had left me in the kitchen chatting to Helen.
She was, as ever, easy to talk to even though I hadn’t seen her in years. And I was sure as hell glad I was seeing her now.
She stood leaning against the kitchen counter top opposite me as we talked, dressed modestly in only slightly snug jeans and a purple fitted blouse, fastened up one or two buttons higher than I would have liked. With just a little less modesty her very large breasts, I guessed a 34E, would be spilling out the top of her bra and blouse. As it was, they pushed at the fabric, opening the space between the buttons just enough to glimpse a black bra.
Just like a couple of years ago, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She was quite tall for a woman at about 5’ 10” and had always been quite curvy but now she was positively buxom. Her tummy wasn’t quite perfectly flat and her hips and ass were wide but she wore it well, complementing her impressive chest perfectly.
She looked relaxed and sipped a glass of wine as we talked her voice pleasant with a soft, familiar and very attractive Liverpool lilt. She must have noticed me looking her up and down every so often, my eyes falling to her chest, hips, and thighs, in particular. I was starting to get the impression she was flattered at the attention from what, if I may admit, was a tall, fit, strong young man. It seemed to excite her that I was very obviously interested in her curves, and it excited me to be getting on so well with not only a beautiful woman but a beautiful woman who, to be blunt, I had fantasized about banging.
“You were so shy when I saw you last!” She reminisced, smiling widely.
“Yeah well,” I braced myself in my head and smiled a little nervously, “I obviously fancied you didn't I?”
She hesitated but laughed modestly.
“Go on then, me or Claire?” She teased. Claire was her younger, lovely, but less attractive sister.
“You,” I answered too quickly and seriously and said it straight into her eyes. “Always you...”
This time she looked genuinely shy and looked downwards, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“Well you grow out of these things...” she said wistfully, glancing anywhere but at my eyes, which I still couldn’t tear away from her.
After a few seconds she looked up straight into my gaze and I couldn’t think straight staring into those pale blue eyes. Should I say that I hadn’t grown out of it? No, that was stupid. But whether I’d intended it or not I think she got the message that I couldn’t decide whether to convey. She looked down my body.
A man eighteen years her junior, but still very much a man, had just tacitly admitted that he “fancied” her, if you could use such a juvenile word for it and indeed I think it might have made her feel youthful.
I’m sure she spent her teenage years living to be fancied and call it nostalgia or desire but unspoken feelings passed between us.
I slipped down from the counter top to stand inches from her, not yet kissing her but brushing my cheek against hers and smelling her hair, she leaned her head on my shoulder.
This wasn’t the urgent and raging desire that might grip a pair who had suddenly realised they needed to fuck and could use each other, but bizarrely tender. The culmination of a lifelong sexual desire fuelled by her maturity throughout my life, and from the other direction, a yearning for a time before her positively middle aged husband when she could have picked any young man she wanted.
I instantly breathed heavily and pressed my mouth against her neck. She leaned back slightly, her hands on the counter, not resisting but not responding until I head a definite sigh escape her full lips.
I placed my large warm hands on her broad hips, squeezing slightly to feel that she didn’t have the firm, almost hard flesh of a fit young girl, but the beautifully soft almost sumptuous curves of a woman past her 30s.
She sighed again nervously as I pressed my lips softly to the smooth skin of her neck and pulled her hips against mine. She was still leaning back and I felt her soft full breasts push lightly against my chest, making me begin to harden instantly.
The moment I felt my stirring, growing cock push against her body I knew that whatever I wanted to do to her, she wouldn’t resist. She just wanted to be taken by a fit younger man who was dying to please her. Something she must have hungered for for years.
Knowing this I slid my hands around, over her large round ass and pulled her into me a little more. I began to kiss her neck more passionately as she tilted her head back and let out a low moan, my thick cock swelling by the second and pushing up against her.
I moved my warm lips and hot breath to her collar bone, inhaling her perfume and kissing her soft skin. My tongue darted out to lick her with the tip every so often, my hands sliding up the curves of her body to cup and lightly squeeze her heaving tits.
The first moan parted her lips and she wetted them with her tongue, gasping with anticipation as she realised my intentions. My hands wandered back down to her hips then the buttons of her jeans, my knees slowly bending as I unfastened them.
By the time I was kneeling in front of her the front of her jeans were open. This revealed a triangle of elegant black lace below her soft tummy and I firmly squeezed and ran my hands up and down her long thighs, causing her to shift a little and relax with her ass leaning against the kitchen countertop.
She looked down at me and I up at her, seeing her beautiful face over the swell of her ample chest which now featured two raised bumps revealing stiff nipples beneath her blouse and bra
She smiled an almost patronising, no, grateful, smile down at me and ran her hands through my hair as I tugged at the waist of her jeans, loving the sound of the material skimming down her thighs. Thighs which would have looked incredible on a twenty year old, let alone Helen.
Her smile turned shy as I growled a little in appreciation of the elegant black French knickers riding her hips, framing the tops of her long perfect legs, and concealing her now warm mound.
I kissed teasingly along the top of them, where the lace met the bottom of her tummy. She let out a long appreciative purr followed by a sharp gasp as I nuzzled at the front of her knickers, dying for her to open those amazing legs.
My hands still wandered up and down her surprisingly firm but smooth thighs, straying over her hips and ass, and up under her blouse over her tummy. Eventually, I hooked my fingers in the sides of her knickers.
“Yes, oh please.” Came the dreamy and breathless voice as her hands ran through my hair again and her hips responded, pushing her mound onto my mouth.
As I tugged, an involuntary but incredibly sexy wiggle of her hips helped her knickers come down, revealing a groomed landing strip of soft hair. As the crotch caught between her thighs she parted them slightly and shared the sight of her beautiful pussy with me.
I couldn’t believe that ten minutes of flirting had resulted in my appreciating my rather mature childhood crush's pussy but I have no other word for it than perfect.