Play Ball
by Ann
Douglas
With a sigh of relief, Collin Braxton
watched the last car pull out of the parking
lot, ending a very long day. A
glance behind him at the pile of baseball
equipment still to be packed up reminded the
junior high school teacher that his day
still wasn't over, but the blonde haired
twenty-six year old would settle for the
last of his after-school charges being out
of his care.
It wasn't that he didn't enjoy
spending time with the kids; the fact was
that he loved it. After
all, if he didn't, why would he ever have
chosen teaching as a profession? No,
it was the extra duties that had been piled
on him as low man on the seniority pole that
sometimes drained his enthusiasm.
Aside from his normal teaching duties
this year, Collin also pulled cafeteria duty
twice a week and study group an additional
two days – giving him little time during the
school day to work on lesson plans or grade
work. More
often than he liked, he wound up doing both
at home on his own time. Still,
he knew the drawbacks when he applied for
the job, and that eventually he would scale
the seniority ladder and the benefits that
would bring.
Until then, he could handle anything
they tossed at him – or so he thought.
That belief had been sorely tested
over the last six weeks, ever since
Principal Warren had added acting coach for
the school's junior varsity baseball team to
his duties.
Normally, Coach Garcia worked with
both the junior and senior teams, but with
the latter having their best season in
years, one in which they might very well
make it to the county championships, the
principal decided he should focus all his
attention on them.
With that decision being made five
weeks into the new term, there was
understandably no rush of volunteers to take
over the junior team. Unfortunately
for Collin, it was brought to Principal
Warren's attention that not only had the
third year educator gone to college on a
baseball scholarship, he had also led his
own high school team to a state championship
– either of which, in the principal's eyes,
more than qualified him to take over the
junior team.
What wasn't commonly known, however,
was that despite a proven aptitude in the
area, Collin really had no great love of
sports – at least not team competitions. To
him, they'd always been just a means to an
end, one that he thought he'd put behind him
when he'd finished college.
It took another quarter hour to
finish putting away the equipment, and as
Collin locked the door of the practice
field's storage shed, he noticed a red shape
leaning against the fence in front of the
dugout.
Closer examination revealed it to be
a student's knapsack, and a check of the
attached identification tag showed that it
belonged to one of his players.
'Now what am I going to do with
this?'
Collin asked himself, thinking that
he couldn't just take it home and give it
back to its owner come Monday because the
kid might need it over the weekend.
He was fairly certain that once the
boy's parents discovered the knapsack had
been left behind, they would come back to
look for it. So the simplest solution was to
just leave it where he found it. Then
a glance at a few dark clouds on the horizon
and the recollection that the weather report
had called for thunderstorms later in the
evening pretty much washed away that idea. He
knew from past experience that it didn't
take much rain to turn the practice field
into a flood zone – which would certainly
ruin everything in the bag.
'So what am I supposed to do, wait
for them?'
he asked himself, finding that an
unappealing prospect as he had no idea how
long it would take for them to realize the
bag had been forgotten.
He looked again at the address on the
shoulder strap, a street at the far end of
the district, a good twenty minutes away
from the school and twice that from his
apartment.
"Ah, fuck it," Collin
said under his breath as he swung the bag
over his shoulder and headed toward his
motorcycle, parked at the edge of the field.
As little as he wanted to go that far
out of his way, he couldn't in good
conscience just leave the bag here to get
ruined.
-=-=-=-
"Seventy-two … seventy-four…" Collin
silently read as he slowly cruised down
Concord
Street
,
coming to a stop in front of a tan, single
story frame house with seventy-eight on the
mailbox.
Even though he was only going to be
there a minute, Collin locked the bike out
of habit and, after pulling the knapsack out
of the rear storage container, replaced it
with his helmet, tripping the lock on the
case as well.
A few quick steps brought him up the
walk and two more carried him to the porch,
where he quickly located for the bell. Reaching
for it, his hand paused when he noticed the
name above the illuminated button didn't
match the one on the tag, a discrepancy that
made him double check the address.
Confirming he was in the right place,
Collin rang the bell and waited, ringing it
a second time when there was no response
after a minute. When
no one answered the second ring, he decided
no one was home. Possibly,
they were back at the field looking for the
knapsack.
'Guess I could just leave here on the
porch,'
he thought, glancing down its length
for the best place to leave it so it
wouldn't get wet if it rained before anyone
got home.
Spotting a bench under which it would
stay dry, Collin stepped toward it, thinking
he'd also leave a note on the door so it
would be found. He
was halfway there when the front door
suddenly opened, causing Collin to pause and
turn his head back in that direction.
"May I help you?" asked
a woman's voice from behind the screen door.
Collin quickly retraced his steps
until he was back in front of the
entranceway.
The woman on the other side of the
screen stood a good half foot shorter than
Collin, with short grey hair cut tight round
a pleasant face. She
had just enough age lines to give her face
character, looking to be in her early to mid
fifties.
Also from her appearance, he guessed
that his unexpected arrival had caught the
woman in either the bath or shower and that
she had rushed out of it to answer the door. Her
hair
was still a bit wet and the normally
shapeless blue housecoat she had on was damp
in enough spots to show there was nothing
beneath it but skin.
"I asked if I could help you," the
woman repeated, looking at him through the
screen with clear intensity.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Richard
Drake,"
Collin said, hoping that the woman
hadn't noticed that he had been staring at
her not unimpressive breasts, or more
accurately, the pert nipples clearly visible
through her thin dress.
"And what would you be wanting Richie
for?" she
asked, suspicion in her tone as she crossed
her arms, making her bounty even more
pronounced.
"I have his knapsack." Collin
replied, holding it up for her to see.
"Do you now?" she
further asked, her suspicion deepening as
she took a second long look at him.
A glance down at himself suggested to
Collin that he couldn't blame the woman for
being guarded.
After all, his appearance, dressed as
he was with a simple blue and white
windbreaker over a skintight black t-shirt
and well worn jeans, hardly said responsible
member of the community.
"I guess I should explain," Collin
said, trying to assure the woman of his
propriety with his best smile. "My
name
is Collin Braxton, I'm a teacher over at
Lincoln
Middle School
,
and also Rick's baseball coach. He
forgot his bag at practice and I figured I'd
drop it off on my way home."
The woman's gaze moved from Collin's
face to the bag, then past him to the curb
where he had parked his bike, the noise of
which she had heard when he'd pulled up. By
the time her attention had moved back to
him, her expression and demeanor changed
almost a hundred and eighty degrees.
"Yes, I do remember hearing Richie
mention your name," she
said, her tone becoming more pleasant,
although Collin could almost swear there was
also a bit of disappointment in it as well. "Won't
you please come in?"
Collin glanced back over his shoulder
for a brief second, then remembered he had
locked his bike. It
would be rude to decline the invitation,
even if he could only stay a few minutes.
"I'm Mrs. Connelly," the
woman said as he stepped inside, "Richie's
grandmother."
Collin was glad she clarified that,
because he had learned the hard way not to
make assumptions based on age. Back
when he was still a teacher in training, he
had insulted a student's mother by assuming,
based on her appearance, that she was the
fourteen year old girl's grandmother. It
never occurred to him that the prematurely
white haired woman hadn't become a mother
until she was nearly forty.
As he stepped inside, Collin took a
quick look at the large living room
just beyond the phone booth sized foyer. It
was clear that the room was the house's
central space, with doorways leading to what
he guessed to be a kitchen, bedroom and
bath. It
was tastefully decorated in a dated but
functional style, but not one he would've
associated with a household that had a
teenager – actually two, he corrected, as he
remembered that Richie had an older sister
who sometimes picked him up after practice. A
college freshman, she was just legal enough
for him not to feel guilty about the
thoughts her appearance produced. Well,
at least not too guilty,
"Can I get you something to drink,
Mr. Braxton?"
Mrs. Connelly said as, having locked
the door, she led him past the foyer.
"No thank you, I'm fine," he
replied, thinking that it was hot enough
that he could use something cold, but better
to keep this as short as possible.
"Are you sure?" she
repeated, adding a remark that echoed his
thought about the heat.
"Yes,"
he said with a broad smile. "Is
Richie
home yet?"
"Oh, Richie doesn't live…" Mrs.
Connelly started to say, then suddenly
paused, a look of concern on her face. "Oh
dear,
I really shouldn't have said that, not with
you being from the school and all."
Collin was confused by her comment
for a moment, then it came to him. Richie's
family would hardly be the first to use a
relative's address to attend a school
outside their own district –
Lincoln
being a desired location since it was
usually rated second or third among the
county's six middle schools.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Connelly, I'm not
here to check up on that," Collin
said with a reassuring smile.
The look of relief on her face said
that she was glad to hear her mistake hadn't
caused a problem.
"Just out of curiosity, though, what
school is Richie zoned for?" Collin
asked, thinking that if it was on his way
home, he might still drop off the bag.
"
Jackson
,"
she
said.
Jackson
Middle School
consistently ranked sixth every year that
Collin had been teaching. He
couldn't blame Richie's family for using a
bit of deception to keep him out of there. As
far as a second trip to drop off the bag, it
was also even further out of the way than
Mrs. Connelly's house had been.
"I guess I'll just leave the knapsack
with you, then, and trust you'll see that it
finds its way to Richie," Collin
said, holding it out to her. "And
as far as I'm concerned, I was never here,
so I couldn't know who lives here or who
doesn't."
"You're a good man, Mr. Braxton," Mrs.
Connelly said as she took the bag and placed
it on a nearby table.
"It was nice not meeting you," Collin
said with a grin as he started to turn back
towards the foyer.
He'd barely got to the front door,
with Mrs. Connelly in tow, when an echoing
thunderclap filled the air. It
was loud enough to cause both of them to
look up at the ceiling in response.
By the time, Mrs. Connelly opened the
door, a torrential downpour filled the
streets as far as the eye could see. Collin
had misjudged how much time he had to get
home, and now it was clear that he wasn't
going anywhere until it passed.
"Think I could interest you in that
cold drink now?" Mrs.
Connelly asked.
-=-=-=-
Leading Collin out into the kitchen,
Mrs. Connelly set him down at the small
Formica table and quickly produced a pitcher
of cold milk along with a plate of homemade
cookies.
After taking a bite of one, the
teacher thought there were far worse places
he could've been trapped by the
unanticipated storm.
Mrs. Connelly took a cookie for
herself, nibbling away at it in between a
few questions about Collin's career. She
seemed genuinely interested and the young
man answered as honestly as he could.
"My, you do have a lot on your
plate,"
she remarked after he explained the
scope of his extracurricular
responsibilities. "Where
do
you find the time for a personal life?"
"I guess I don't." Collin
admitted.
"No girlfriend?" Mrs.
Connelly asked, already having taken note of
the absence of a wedding band on his hand.
Collin didn't immediately respond,
embarrassed by the fact he couldn't remember
the last time he'd even gone on a date, much
less gotten laid. Certainly
it had been before the start of the school
year.
Mrs. Connelly, however, took the look
on his face to mean something else. She
couldn't believe that, even with the work
schedule he described, a good looking young
man like him was spending all his nights
alone.
"Boyfriend?" she
inquired, thinking that nowadays you could
never really tell.
"I like girls," Collin
said, the question causing him to flash back
for a moment to his college years and a few
offers he'd had to explore the other side of
the bed – offers he'd politely declined.
In a small way, the answer
disappointed Mrs. Connelly as, prior to
asking it, she had already exhausted her
mental list of nice girls she could
introduce him to, having branched out to
include a few not so nice ones as well. Unfortunate,
every girl that came to mind was already
involved with someone. If
Collin has been so inclined, she could've
introduced him to that nice young man across
the street, the one who was always kind
enough to clear both their walks whenever it
snowed.
So with nothing helpful to say, she
changed the subject, asking how her grandson
was doing on Collin's team.
"Well, he tries hard," came
a too quick answer.
"I'm sure they all try hard," Mrs.
Connelly said,
"but the question I asked was, how is
he doing?"
"Well…"
Collin said, the hesitation in his
voice clear.
"The truth is never the wrong answer,
Mr. Braxton,"
Mrs. Connelly said.
"Well, like I said, Richie tries
hard, but I'm afraid that he isn't all that
good – at least not as compared to the other
players on the team," Collin
said reluctantly. "In
all honesty, I really don't understand why
Coach Garcia even had him on the team in the
first place.
In fact, I've even thought about
replacing him."
"Oh no, you can't do that," Mrs.
Connelly said, her voice unexpectedly loud
and filled with apprehension.
Taken back by the expression on Mrs.
Connelly's face, Collin wasn't sure what to
say. Honesty,
he thought, wasn't always the best policy.
"Let me show you something, it might
help you understand," the
older woman said, rising up from the table
and disappearing into the living room.
When she returned less than a minute
later, it was with a framed 8x10 photograph
that she set down on the table before
returning to her seat next to him.
"That's Richie's grandfather, my
husband, Roy,"
she said as the substitute coach
looked down at the image. "He
passed away about three years ago."
The photograph, that of a handsome
young man in a baseball uniform, had
obviously been taken a long time ago,
possibly as much as forty years back based
on the design of the outfit. Collin
didn't recognize the name of the team
emblazoned across it, or the logo on the
bright red cap.
"Back in the day,
Roy
was a third baseman for the Lexington
Eagles, that was a triple A minor league
team,"
Mrs. Connelly explained. "He
played for over ten years, and while he
never made it to the majors, that never
stopped him from always giving his all. After
he retired from baseball, he was the coach
at
Lincoln
before Terry Garcia."
'Well, that certainly explains how
Richie got on the team,' Collin
thought, thinking that Coach Garcia was
hardly going to say no to the grandson of
the man he replaced. 'Still,
I wish he'd mentioned it to me.'
"Richie idolized my husband," Mrs.
Connelly continued, "and
he took his death hard. That
was why he went out for the team in the
first place – to make his grandfather
proud."
"I didn't know," Collin
said, thinking that was an understatement. In
all honesty, he knew little more about most
of the players on his team other than their
names and the positions they played. At
least those who didn't have hot older
sisters.
"Well, there's no reason you
should've,"
Mrs. Connelly replied, "but
now at least you understand why being on the
team is so important to him – and to me as
well."
"I guess I could try and give him a
few pointers,"
Collin said, wondering even as he did
so where he was going to find the time.
"If you could, that would be
wonderful,"
Mrs. Connelly said excitedly, then
adding a moment later in a calmer tone.
"That is, if it wouldn't be too much of an
imposition."
"No, not at all," Collin
lied, but actually feeling good about doing
so.
"Richie's father has tried working
with him, but he's, I guess you could call
him athletically challenged," Mrs.
Connelly smiled. "I've
often wondered what my daughter sees in him,
but as they say, love is blind."
Collin barely suppressed a smile,
having seen the large family portrait on the
wall in the living room. Carrying
at least twenty pounds more than he needed
to, Mr. Drake was indeed physically
unimpressive, and that was putting it
kindly.
Mrs. Drake, on the other hand, was an
absolute knockout, ever hotter than her
daughter.
You had to wonder what brought two
such opposite people together, at least
physically.
Unfortunately for Collin, his
visualization of Richie's mother,
specifically his thought of what she might
look like without the conservative dress she
wore in the photograph, had produced an
involuntary, and highly inappropriate
reaction in his body. One
he was thankful to have hidden from view by
the table.
The embarrassed look on his face,
however, wasn't hidden, nor did it go
unnoticed.
While Mrs. Connelly had no way of
knowing for sure what had prompted his
reaction, she couldn't help but have been
aware how often his eyes had focused on her
breasts as they talked. Curiosity
led her lean back just enough that her own
gaze found the cause of his discomfort – a
discovery that brought a smile to her face. And
with it, a rather shocking idea, at least
one that should've been considered shocking.
-=-=-=-
"You know, Collin – you don't mind if
I call you Collin, do you?" she
said, leaning closer to him as she asked, "I
was just thinking that there might be
something that I could do for you,
compensation you might say, for any help you
gave Richie."
"Mrs. Connelly, I couldn't take any
money from you," Collin
said, assuming that was what she meant.
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of money," she
said, a mischievous gleam sparkling in her
eyes.
Collin's eyes, in turn, reflected an
'I don't understand' look.
"What if … what if you were
compensated another way?" she
asked, her smile growing broader.
"I don't understand," Collin
said.
"Well, a healthy young man like
yourself has needs, doesn't he?" Mrs.
Connelly further asked. "Needs
that, from what you said before, obviously
aren't being met."
It took a few seconds for her words
to fully register in Collin's head.
'Omigod, she can't mean what I think
she does?'
he thought as comprehension replaced
confusion.
"What if I could take care of those
needs?"
Mrs. Connelly asked, leaving no doubt
of her meaning as she reached across under
the table and placed her hand on his still
hard cock.
Collin froze at her touch, a silence
filling the air so strong that you could've
heard the proverbial pin drop.
"Now, obviously I'm a bit older than
you," Mrs.
Connelly said a long breath later,
her hand moving lightly along his length as
she dispelled the silence, "but
you
shouldn't think of that as a negative. In
fact, older can be, well, I don't want to
necessarily say better, but certainly
interesting."
"Mrs. Connelly, I…" he
started to say, finally finding his voice,
only to be cut off as she raised her other
hand.
"I know that many young people think
sexual desire is something that fades as you
grow older,"
she continued, rubbing her hand back
and forth along his manhood, "but
trust me, that is hardly the case. Older
people
have sexual needs too, and if we can be
mutually beneficial to each other, so much
the better."
She continued to stroke him for a
long minute, lifting her hand away just as
Collin began to worry about having a mess in
his pants to clean. He
still didn't know what to say, however.
Contrary to what Mrs. Connelly had
insinuated,
Collin had never subscribed to the
notion that older people had no interest in
sex. That
was something that had long ago been loudly
dispelled by his grandparents during their
last visit before he'd gone away to college
– much to the chagrin of his parents and the
amusement of their children.
"While I haven't exactly been the
lonely widow since my husband passed," Mrs.
Connelly continued, "neither
have I been recklessly promiscuous. Like
I said, we all have needs, and from time to
time I've attended to those needs. In
doing so, I've also discovered a preference
for sharing my bed with younger men."
In spite of what had been occurring
the last few minutes, the admission
surprised Collin.
"After all, why settle for hamburger
when prime beef is available?" Mrs.
Connelly said with a grin.
Collin was only able to partially
suppress the smile that added remark
produced, thinking that many older men
sought out the company of younger women, so
why shouldn't the inverse also be true?
"I have to say that when you showed
up on my porch – well, at least once I got a
good look at you – my first reaction was how
much I'd love to take you upstairs for a
test drive,"
Mrs. Connelly offered. "And
under different circumstances – say you were
selling magazine subscriptions – I might
very well have made the offer. But
then you had to go and ruin it by being one
of Richie's teachers, and that definitely
wouldn't be proper, would it?"
She paused a beat, than answered her
own question.
"Still, I did catch you staring at my
boobs – twice in fact," she
smiled,
"so it's fair to say that you might
have similar thoughts. Thoughts
that would truly be a shame to let go to
waste."
Funny at it might seem, given the
circumstances, Collin actually felt a bit
embarrassed that Mrs. Connelly had caught
him staring at her breasts. He'd
have felt doubly so if she'd had any idea
that his erection had been the result of his
visualization of her daughter naked. Yet,
at the same time, he admitted that, even
though she was old enough to be his mother,
and then some, he found her attractive, in a
mature woman sort of way. So
much so that he now wondered how much mother
might resemble daughter, even if he only had
a fantasy image of the latter to go on.
Then, as it often had an inconvenient
habit of doing, reality intervened,
reminding him once again that he was a
teacher at her grandson's school and such
thoughts were inappropriate. Weren't
they?
"Now, I can imagine this has been a
bit much to take in all at once," Mrs.
Connelly said, her voice soft and calm as if
they had still been discussing nothing more
that the weather, "so
I don't expect an answer right now. Think
about it a few days. I
can wait, and I think you'd be worth waiting
for."
Collin opened his mouth to say
something, but words didn't come.
"Oh,
and by the way," Mrs.
Connelly added in the same casual tone, "in
case you haven't noticed, the rain stopped a
few minutes ago."
Reflexively, Collin glanced upward at
the ceiling as if he could see the sky
above.
Sure enough, the patter of the rain
against the roofing tiles had indeed ceased.
"If you take the door right behind
you," Mrs.
Connelly said as she rose from the table,
motioning to the entryway at the back of the
kitchen,
"you'll find a concrete path that
runs alongside the house and back out onto
the street.
Just let yourself out when you finish
your cookies."
Sliding her chair back under the
table, Mrs. Connelly stood there next to
Collin for a moment, then unexpectedly
leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. It
was a soft kiss, carrying with it just a
touch of wicked as he felt her tongue slip
into his mouth for a heartbeat, caressing
the length of his own before quickly sliding
back out.
"I hope this isn't the last time we
see each other," she
said before turning and quickly exiting the
room.
-=-=-=-
Collin sat at the empty table, his
snack sitting untouched, for what seemed to
him a very long time. The
clock on the wall, however, recorded less
than ten minutes since Mrs. Connelly had
left. Still
a bit stunned, he found himself asking if
this had really just happened.
The answer of course was, yes it had,
and there was little chance he was going to
abruptly wake up in his bed to find that the
day's events had been but a wishful dream. The
real
question, he knew, was what did he do next?
It wasn't like Mrs. Connelly had been
the first older woman to try and entice him
into bed.
Back in college, there had been a bar
near campus that specialized in 'Cougar
Hunts' and he'd gone there a few times out
of curiosity – twice satisfying it. There
had also been that woman in his father's
office who had given him a special
graduation gift the summer he'd worked there
between high school and college. The
difference between then and now seemed to be
that, back then, older had meant ten to
fifteen years, not twice his lifetime.
Still, just the fact that he was
still sitting here thinking about it made
clear that the gulf wasn't as large as he
might once have thought it was. His
initial arousal might have come from the
thought of Mrs. Connelly's daughter, but it
certainly hadn't diminished when it was the
older woman's hand on him. A
favorite Benjamin Franklin quote of his
American history professor suddenly came
back to him – "It is impossible of two women
to know an old from a young one as in the
dark all cats are grey."
And it wasn't like Richie was even in
any of his classes, Collin said to himself,
realizing as he did that he was looking for
rationalizations of any possible decision. A
second one came to him in the memory that
his first year at Lincoln there had been a
teacher had been dating the divorced father
of one of her students, eventually marrying
him. But
he
wouldn't be dating Mrs. Connelly, he
reminded himself, just fucking her brains
out – or perhaps the reverse might be more
accurate, given their respective levels of
experience.
In those seemingly never ending
minutes, Collin must've changed his mind a
half dozen times, finding reasons pro and
con and then just as quickly dismissing
them. In
the end, the only thing he was totally sure
of was that he could go home and spend the
entire weekend pondering the question and
still not find certainty. This
was one of those decision you had to just
make a choice and live with the results –
good or bad.
-=-=-=-
Rising from the table, he turned
toward the back door and paused for what
again seemed like a very long time. He
took a deep breath, then pivoted and instead
followed the path Mrs. Connelly had taken
into the living room.
"Mrs. Connelly?" he
called out when he didn't see her anywhere
in the room.
"Collin?" he
heard her say to his left, causing him to
turn in that direction a few seconds before
she emerged from the bathroom, her hands
carrying the small towel she had been using
to dry them.
"I thought that you had already left. Did
you
forget something?"
"Not exactly," he
replied as he stepped further into the room. "I
just wanted to tell you that there's no need
for me to go home and think about it; I
already know my answer."
"Oh?" she said, surprise as well as a
touch of apprehension in her tone. In
her experience, quick decisions were more
likely than not to be negative ones.
"I think…" Collin
started to say, then corrected himself, "I
know…that I would very much like to come
back and see you again."
"Just see me?" she
asked, wanting to be perfectly clear on his
intentions.
"No, not just see you," Collin
replied, understanding now that she wanted
to hear him actually say the words. "I
would very much like to share your bed."
"You want to fuck me, is that what
you're saying?" she
asked in turn, not needing the clarification
but wanting to hear it nevertheless.
"Yes, I want to fuck you," Collin
finally said.
"Well then, my dear boy," Mrs.
Connelly said as, dropping the hand towel on
a nearby table, she took a few broad steps
toward him,
"why put off for tomorrow what you
can do today?"
"Mrs. Connelly, I…" he
started to say, only to be cut off by the
press of two outstretched fingers against
his lips.
"Bridget," she said,
correcting him, "my
name is Bridget. Considering that we're
about to know each other quite intimately, I
don't think jumping ahead to a first name
basis would be inappropriate. Don't
you agree?"
In the brief moment before Collin
closed his arms around her and sought out
her mouth with his own, it occurred to him
that she had a good point.
-=-=-=-
The kiss they shared was, in Collin's
opinion, as passionate as any with a woman
his age.
As they broke their embrace, Bridget
took him by the hand and led him to the
couch, for no other reason than it was
closer than the bedroom, her urgency fueled
by a desire that wouldn't be denied, not
even for the few extra moments it would've
taken to reach the latter.
One kiss followed another, each
deeper than the last, fueled by a rising
passion as their difference in years faded
with each successive breath. It quickly
became clear to Collin that, if there was an
aggressor here, it was clearly Bridget who,
in a quick, unexpected motion, broke their
embrace and, lifting her body across his,
straddled him, a bended knee coming to rest
on the outside of each of his legs.
With her ass cheeks pressed hard
against his cock, Bridget slid back and
forth, even as her hands moved to the bottom
of his t-shirt and began to pull it upward,
continuing until it was totally off. She
ran her hands vigorously across his naked
chest, tweaking his nipples between her
fingers before bringing her mouth down over
each, sparking them to life with her tongue. Then
one hand dropped to the bulge between his
legs, taking hold of the hardness and
massaging it to its full length.
"Oh God!" Collin
silently mouthed in surprise as a wave of
excitement raced across his body.
Moving without pause, Bridget again
shifted her body to the right of his,
bringing her hands down to work the buckle
and zipper of Collin's jeans. Collin
reached up and cupped her breasts through
the light dress, feeling the plump softness
beneath it.
Before he could enjoy them more,
however, Bridget's mouth was again on his,
her tongue reaching far within.
Bridget continued down along his
neck, then across his chest leaving a trail
of soft kisses and wet licks. She
paused at each of his nipples, giving each
careful attention with both her tongue and
lips. A
hand slid down into his now open pants,
closing around his cock and, with a quick
motion, pulled it free.
Once freed of its restraint, Collin's
firm maleness popped to attention, standing
erect like a missile awaiting launch. She
took a long moment to admire the sight,
finding it not porn star quality by any
means but certainly impressive.
"Very nice," Bridget
said approvingly as she wrapped her left
hand around the base of his cock, slowly
sliding it up and down its length a few
times.
"Very nice indeed."
Lowering her head, she brought her
mouth to the crown of his cock, kissing the
tip before sliding her tongue along the
underside.
The soft wetness of her touch brought
a loud sigh of delight from Collin. She
continued
down the length of his shaft, the tip of her
tongue leaving a wet trail until she reached
his balls, taking them into her mouth one at
a time.
"Oh yeah," Collin
said softly, content to lean back against
the couch and just go with the flow.
Returning to the top of his cock,
Bridget opened her mouth wide and took its
entirety deep within, demonstrating a skill
few women who'd been there before possessed. A
skill born of decades of practice, even if
most of it had only been with one person.
As Bridget continued to deep throat
him, Collin ran his left hand down along her
back, sliding his fingers across her ass,
pressing tightly against her cheeks. Moving
onward,
he found the soft mound between her legs,
the wetness apparent even through the cloth
of the house dress. A
soft moan slipped past the sides of
Bridget's mouth, mirroring the one from his
own. She
continued to suck him for a few more
minutes, matching her motions with that of
his hand, the waves of delight produced by
each falling into a steady, pleasing rhythm.
She took his full length inside her
mouth one last time, then lifted her head
high enough that it slipped out entirely. Sliding
back off the couch, Bridget rose to her feet
and, standing barely a foot away, reached
behind her neck for the clasp of the dress
she had hastily put on earlier. Once
undone, the loose gown dropped down her body
to the floor, revealing that she had indeed
been naked beneath it.
The first thing that caught Collin's
eye were the dark areola capping large and
surprisingly firm breasts. While
he had been exploring Bridget's body through
the loose dress, it had been difficult to
accurately define the physique beneath. Freed
of that encumbrance, he now could fully see,
and appreciate, the older woman's form. Far
from perfect, at least when compared to
younger women, it nevertheless held an
attraction that, while he really couldn't
put it into words, was quite real.
The second thing that drew his
attention was the thick and disheveled bush
of hair between Bridget's legs. A
mixture of grey and white, it was the first
'natural beaver', as he'd overheard his Dad
and Uncles grinningly call it, that he had
ever seen outside some old skin magazines. Like
the rest of Bridget's body, he found it
fascinating.
Lost in that fascination, he didn't
realize at first that Bridget seemed to be
waiting for something. He
quickly realized what and, in not much more
time than it took for her to slip out of her
soft shoes, Collin had rid himself of his
pants and footwear, leaving them both now
equally naked.
Bridget slid back onto the empty
space on the couch and bringing her hands to
his face, again pulled him to her. Collin's
right hand moved just as quickly between her
legs, his fingers rubbing against her hairy
mound, the tips brushing against her
clitoris.
One, then two fingers slipped inside
her, bringing forth even louder moans of
excitement.
Collin spread Bridget's legs even
further apart and, leaning downward,
replaced the caress of his fingers with that
of his tongue, his other hand holding apart
the folds of her sex to allow him easy
access.
Now it was the older woman's turn to
just lay back and enjoy the attention, her
eyes closed as tiny ripples of delight
spread across her body.
Collin continued to bring Bridget
joy, savoring her unique flavor and
delighting in the response of her body. Many
of his peers, he knew, only reluctantly went
down on a woman, a few even remarking how
gross it seemed. Collin
had never understood their reasoning. As
long as a partner practiced good hygiene,
there was no part of their body he
considered taboo.
Eventually, however reluctantly,
Bridget reached down and pulled Collin's
head upward, rewarding him with a deep kiss,
using her tongue to wash away the residue of
her joy.
Then she climbed back on top of him,
pulling his face against her breasts,
slipping a hard nipple between his lips.
Collin accepted the offering eagerly,
pulling it deep into his mouth, teasing it
with his tongue. He
kissed his way to its counterpart,
demonstrating the same loving attention on
it. At
the same time, his hands cupped each breast
from underneath, massaging the soft flesh
with equal devotion.
"Fuck me," Bridget
whispered into his ear, "I
want to feel your hard cock inside me."
With that, Bridget again slipped off
him and down onto her back, stretching out
across the reminder of the couch. Collin
followed her down, giving her pussy a few
last licks before lifting her legs up and
apart, moving into the void to place the
head of his cock up against her sexual core.
Bringing his right hand back, he took
hold of his cock and, pressing his body
forward, entering her with a slow, but
determined thrust. His
earlier efforts had paved the way and it
took little effort to fill her with his
entire length.
"Oh God, yes!" Bridget
called out, feeling his fullness as her body
wrapped around it. "Now
fuck me, fuck me hard!"
Despite her demand, Collin started
slowly at first, gently sliding his cock
half way out of her and then all the way
back in.
The second time he increased that by
a third, and then almost all the way out. By
then, however, he had more than doubled the
speed of his thrust as his hands closed
tight around her hips. Once
he was sure of his hold, he finally began to
fuck the older woman in earnest. Bridget's
body bounced back and forth, breasts heaving
to and fro, drawing him deeper inside of
her. Leaning forward, Collin reached down to
massage her breasts, tweaking her nipples
with his fingers.
A dozen or so thrusts later, Collin
was surprised as Bridget shifted her body
and started to roll toward the back of the
couch.
It took him a moment to realize what
she was doing, but once he did, he used both
hands to help her roll over, pulling out of
her in the process. No
sooner was she on her stomach when she
lifted her backside up on bended knees,
inviting him to return to her warmth. A
call he was quick to respond to, slipping
his full length inside of her with even less
effort than before.
Gripping the armrest by her head,
Bridget slammed her body back against
Collin's, meeting his forward motion with
equal intensity. They
soon matched their movements, picking up
where they left off as they increased the
satisfying pleasures building inside both of
them. They
continued in that manner until the desire to
try something else again took hold.
Bridget lifted herself back upward,
pressing her body against Collin's as he
again took hold of her breasts, squeezing
them tightly.
She arched her head back over her
shoulder, inviting his mouth to meet hers. They
again began trading kisses, even as he
continued to play with her breasts with one
hand while the other glided back between her
legs.
Slipping out of his grasp, Bridget
pressed Collin back
against the rear cushion, bending over him
as she did so that she could again slide his
cock into her mouth. The
fingers of her left hand closed around his
balls, stroking them as her tongue and lips
rolled along the length of his manhood. Moving
her hand up to the base of his shaft,
Bridget pumped it in and out of her mouth,
sucking it deeply with each motion.
"Oh yes!" Collin
moaned loudly, thinking that this had to be
the best blow job he had ever gotten in his
life. Who'd
have ever imagined that a woman twice a
grandmother could be this good?
What he didn't realize, but was about
to find out, that was hardly the only thing
she was uncommonly good at.
After feasting on his cock for a few
more minutes, bringing the young man to the
brink of ecstasy twice but refusing to let
him reach the summit, Bridget finally let
him slip out of her mouth, running her
tongue down along his length one last time,
continuing to the underside of his balls to
give them a final touch as well.
Bridget rose to her feet and, with
her back to Collin, moved between his spread
legs. Dropping
back,
she reached down and grabbed hold of his
cock, guiding it to the folds of her pussy. Continuing
without pause, Bridget took him deep inside
her, wrapping her sugar walls tight around
his hardness.
Bracing herself with one hand laid
flat against each of his thighs, she began
to slide up and down on his cock, the pace
of her motion increasing with each
repetition.
If, as recently as yesterday, anyone
had asked Collin if sex with a woman as old
as the one now fucking him – and there was
no mistaking that at this moment that she
was the one in charge – would feel
different, he would've said yes without
hesitation.
If only for the fact that you would
be traveling a road well traveled. Asked
tomorrow, his answer would probably still be
yes, but for a very different reason.
With an ease that no woman, not even
one half her age, had ever demonstrated,
Bridget stroked the fires within him, again
bringing him to the edge of the precipice. And
as she had done before, she used years of
experience to keep him there – on the edge.
Like a well practiced musician,
Bridget played Collin with consummate skill,
timing her movements to the reactions of his
body, both those experience had taught her
to visibly recognize and those she could
feel within her. Collin
returned the favor as best he could, again
with one hand on her breasts and the other
rubbing her clit. Then,
in what she knew would be the last time,
Bridget again changed position, turning her
body to bring them face to face as she
remounted him.
Their arms now wrapped around each
other, their bodies rocking to the beat of a
single desire, they raced to a summit now
unimpeded.
Sweat ran down both their backs and
heaving chests. Collin
knew he was now fighting a losing battle as
he tried to hold back the rising tide, but
it was a battle his competitive nature
didn't mind losing. As
long as he made sure she made it to home
plate with him.
As it turned out, it was Bridget who
scored first, her body quaking with orgasmic
fury as the fragile dam holding back the
deluge crumbled under Collin's efforts. An
explosion that grabbed the younger man and
dragged him right behind her with the
winning run.
Sheer bliss filled the grey haired
woman as she felt Collin fill her with a
pleasing warmth, a delightful sensation long
absent.
Leaning closer, she kissed him on the
lips, a soft kiss but as equally passionate
as those that had preceded it.
"That, was what my Roy liked to call
a home run,"
Bridget said with exhausted
enthusiasm as moving back, she dropped her
head to rest it against his shoulder.
Not thinking of anything he could add
to the compliment, Collin just agreed with a
smile as, drained as well, he let his head
come to rest against hers.
"Next time," Bridget
said without opening her eyes, "we
go for what he called a grand slam."
By the time summer rolled around and
with it the end of the season, Collin had
racked up a scoring record that, had it been
played on the field, would've earned him the
trophy for MVP. As
it was, both he and Bridget were happy
enough with the one that Richie won as most
improved.
Her grandson was even more proud that
Bridget had insisted that he display his
award on the mantle in her living room,
where she could see it every day.
END