Reaching An Understanding
by Ann Douglas
Mark Kelly moved as quietly as he
could down the first floor hallway, hoping
to make it to the stairs without running
into any of the other tenants or, more
importantly, Mrs. McGill, the owner of the
three story rooming house. The
odds of running into the former were slim,
seeing that four of his fellow students
had scored tickets to the third game of
the newly instituted National League
Divisional Playoffs down in
New York
City
. The
upstart New York Mets, who had finished
the ’68 season in next to last place, were
leading the Atlanta Braves two games to
none in the best of five series and could
earn a World Series slot if they won this
afternoon.
No, there was little chance of
running into that group, seeing as they
had caught the early train into the city.
Passing Mrs. McGill’s apartment,
the crew cut nineteen year old literally
held his breath, not daring to exhale
until he was well clear of it.
He was
already two weeks behind in his rent, and
even though the sixty-two year old widow
was said to be pretty understanding about
the occasional financial problems of 'her
boys', as she liked to call them, he
wasn’t anxious to put that assumption to
the test.
It had only been three months since
he’d moved in and it wasn’t that he was
just going to be late with the payment, he
couldn’t even see it being on the horizon.
Looking back now, Mark had to admit
that it had been a mistake to bet the rent
money on the full house he’d drawn at
Delta Gamma Phi’s end of the month poker
game.
What were the odds, he had told
himself at the time, that someone would
have a better hand? As
it turned out, they hadn’t been as long as
he’d believed, since one of the fraternity
brothers had been holding four of a kind
and won the pot.
Reaching the base of the stairs,
Mark had just placed a foot on the bottom
step when the sound of his name from
behind caused him to jump, almost losing
his balance in the process. After
regaining his footing, the sophomore
turned and found Jimmy Banks, a senior,
coming out of his room at the back of the
hall.
Jimmy had been invited to go to the
game with the others, but declined, saying
it wasn’t worth cutting class for. He
was a lifelong Yankees fan and didn’t buy
into all the ‘Miracle Mets’ hoopla.
"Hey Mark," he
said in a voice much too loud, from the
younger man’s perspective, "how’s
it
going?"
"Keep it down, will you!" Mark
said in an urgent but hushed tone.
"What’s with you?" Jimmy
asked, a perplexed expression on his face.
In the same low tone, Mark
explained that he was late with the rent
money and he was trying to avoid Mrs.
McGill.
The older student listened
intently, nodding his head as he did.
"Mrs. McG is usually pretty cool
about things like that," Jimmy,
who had lived there for three years, said. "Just
talk to her – I'm sure she’ll give you
time to get it together. She’s
really
quite understanding."
The story that had been around for
longer than any of the tenants had lived
there was that Marion McGill’s late
husband, who had passed away nearly twenty
years before, had left her well off
financially, and that she only rented out
rooms because she liked to surround
herself with good looking young men. No
one
really knew if that was true, but what was
undeniable was that McGill’s Rooming House
was the best off-campus housing around.
Only a block away from the campus
bus stop, or a half hour walk in nice
weather from the campus itself, the three
story walk up housed a half dozen students
at a cost that wasn’t to be believed. While
most landlords in the area charged
whatever the market could bear, Mrs.
McGill was content with whatever the
University charged for a room in the dorm. Hence
the assertion that she really didn’t need
the money.
So it was hardly surprising that
every term there was a waiting list of
hopefuls in case one of the rooms became
available.
"I’m not just a little late," Mark
clarified,
"I don’t have it at all. I
lost it playing poker at Delta Gamma the
other night."
"That’s not good," Jimmy
said, his tone reflecting Mark’s earlier
concern that there were limits to their
landlady’s generosity, "but
you realize that you’re going to have to
talk to her sooner or later."
"Better later than sooner," Mark
replied, ever hopeful that something
unexpected would turn up to solve his
problem.
Jimmy slowly shook his head, but
wished Mark good luck nevertheless. Then
he
headed for the front door and his ten
o’clock class as Mark resumed his journey
up the stairs.
-=-=-=-
Reaching the top floor, Mark let
out an audible sigh of relief as his room,
situated at the far end of the landing,
came into view. That
feeling of relief, however, quickly faded,
first to frustration, then visible panic
as his
key failed to open the lock. It
was only on his third try that he noticed
that the lock cylinder had been changed,
the one now in place shiny and new.
It was clear that there were indeed
limits to Mrs. McGill's patience and he
had indeed exceeded them.
"I’m fucked!" he
exclaimed under his breath as he realized
that later was suddenly now.
Mark stood silently before the door
to his now inaccessible room for a very
long minute, recalling the various efforts
he’d made to secure the rent. Hoping
that
in his review he’d find an option he’d
overlooked.
The first solution that came to
mind was also the simplest, calling home
and asking for an advance on next month’s
funds.
That had been quickly rejected once
he realized that would mean explaining to
his father what he’d done with this
month’s check. It
had only arrived the morning of the game
and he had cashed it that afternoon –
which was why he had so much cash in his
wallet at the time. Before
rejecting the idea, he’d briefly
considered simply saying he’d lost his
wallet, but knew full well that lying to
his father would be worse than having lost
it in the game.
Over the last week, he’d also made
the rounds of his friends in the hope that
one or two could afford to loan him the
money.
Unfortunately, few had any cash to
spare and the rare ones that did had
learned from previous experience that when
it came to paying people back, Mark had a
well earned reputation for not always
being prompt.
Finally, in desperation, he’d
approached his boss at Mario’s Pizza,
where he worked part time on weekends,
asking him for a salary advance. He
might
as well have asked a brick wall, because
Mario’s response was to ask aloud why he
paid Mark at all, considering how little
work he believed the teenager actually
did.
So no solution there.
His mental review hadn’t offered
anything new, it simply confirmed that he
had nowhere else to turn. With
that realization came the prospect that he
might very well find himself back in the
dorms by next week. After
living there during his freshman year,
Mark couldn’t think of anything more
depressing.
-=-=-=-
Feeling like he imagined General
Lee felt when he set off to
see General Grant, the
American history major resigned himself to
his fate and headed back down the stairs
to face the music. Standing
once more in front of the door to Mrs.
McGill’s apartment, he allowed himself one
last shrug of resignation and reached for
the brass knocker on the wooden door.
Long seconds passed, stretching to
nearly a minute, and no response came. He
tried the knocker a second time, then
finally heard the sound of footsteps from
within.
Then they abruptly stopped, long
enough for him to take another deep
breath, before the door swung open to
reveal the silver and grey haired
landlady.
A few inches shorter than his own
five seven, the slightly plump woman in
the pink and white flowered housedress
always reminded Mark of an actress in a
popular sitcom he’d grown up watching, the
one about the residents of a small North
Carolina town. In
both look and mannerisms, Marion McGill
highly resembled the aunt of the town’s sheriff.
"Ah, Mr. Kelly," she
said with a friendly smile, "I
thought I’d be seeing you today."
‘As if I had a choice,’ Mark
thought but didn’t say, replying instead
with a silent smile.
.
"Won’t you come in," she
continued, "we have a bit of business to
discuss, do we not?"
Mark did so, stepping into the old
fashioned living room as the older woman
closed the door behind him. This
was only the second time he’d ever
actually been in her apartment, as tenants
usually just slid the rent envelopes
through a small mail slot in the door.
"Would you like a little snack, or
something to drink?"
Marion
asked in a thoughtful tone.
"No thank you," Mark
replied.
"Well then, now that we’ve observed
the amenities, shall we sit down and
discuss the matter at hand?" she
said, gesturing to the empty couch in the
center of the room.
Sitting down on the left side, Mark
was followed by Mrs. McGill a moment
later.
She took a few additional moments
to make herself comfortable, then began to
speak.
"It pained me to take such drastic
measures,"
Marion
said, referring to the new lock on Mark’s
door,
"but you seemed quite reluctant to
sit down and discuss why I didn’t find a
rent envelope with your name on it these
past two weeks."
Mark took his own pause as he
considered his words carefully. On
his way down the stairs, the college
student had considered several stories to
explain why he didn’t have the rent money,
hoping to come up with one that might
elicit sympathy, but had come up with
nothing.
So he took a radical chance – he
told the truth.
"I lost the money playing cards," he
said, then elaborating on the details of
how.
The period between that statement
and Mrs. McGill’s reply seemed like at
least a minute to Mark, even if in reality
it was barely a third of that.
"A full house, huh?"
Marion
finally said, a small bit of a smile
appearing at the corner of her mouth.
Mark nodded that was correct,
unsure what she thought of his admission.
"That sounds like the sort of thing
my late mister would’ve done," she
added, the smile becoming full blown as
she visualized her husband and recalled
how much he liked to play cards.
It was a smile that Mark found
encouraging.
‘But as much as I can empathize," she
continued, the smile abruptly fading, "I
would probably be more inclined to do so
if you’d come to me about it two weeks ago
instead of trying to avoid the problem."
Mark’s face filled with concern,
even more so with her next statement.
"That was quite discourteous, Mr.
Kelly,"
she continued, "quite
discourteous indeed. And
aside from being unfair to myself, it’s
also unfair to the fine young men in
search of lodging that I’m forced to turn
away each semester – most of whom likely
have a higher sense of financial
responsibility than you’ve exhibited."
Then she dropped the bomb that Mark
had feared.
"So, even if I must say this with
reluctance, I do have to say it. If
you
can’t produce at least a partial payment
by the end of the week, I’m afraid I’m
going to have to ask you to leave, so I
can give the room to someone who can."
‘Oh God, back to the dorm I go,’ Mark
thought, his face exhibiting his dejection
– an action that did seem to finally
elicit some sympathy from the older woman.
"Do you think that you might be
able to come up with any part of the rent
by then, Mr. Kelly?" she
asked, her willingness to accept even a
token sum offering him a new ray of hope.
Unfortunately, even that seemed
unlikely, an admission that he knew would
not help his case, so instead he tried
another approach. One
that, if he was lucky, might at least gain
him a stay of execution.
"I was thinking that maybe I could
do some work around here to cover some of
what I owe,"
he said as sincerely as he could,
ignoring the question that had been put to
him. "I’m
pretty
good with my hands."
That the building could use some
repairs was no secret, but few tenants
would complain about it given the great
deal they were getting.
Marion
’s
reaction to the idea was an expression
that Mark couldn’t quite read. He
took solace, however, in the fact that she
didn’t reject it out of hand. Instead
she got up off the couch and walked over
towards the fireplace mantle where a row
of photos sat on the top. She
seemed to look at one in particular and
became lost in thought. Mark
decided not to interrupt her, content to
simply wait until she finished whatever
she was thinking about.
"What kind of work can you do?" she
asked after turning back around.
"Just about anything," Mark
quickly replied, elated that she seemed to
be interested in the idea. "My
uncle
is a general contractor and I used to
spend my summers working for him."
Mark was hoping she didn’t ask too
many questions about his job skills. It
was
true that he worked for his uncle every
summer, but his responsibilities fell more
in the line of running errands and
delivering supplies. All
he was really hoping for at the moment was
time to think of something else.
"Well, now that I think about it,
there is a job around here that needs
sorely needs attending to," she
finally said, "but
I have to wonder if you’d be able to
handle it."
"I can handle anything," Mark
replied without hesitation.
"Anything covers a great many
things, Mr. Kelly," she said, her tone
again unreadable.
"I mean it," Mark
replied, seeing his salvation at hand. "Whatever
you need done, I’m your man."
"Well, you do seem quite eager,"
Marion
said,
"and I would guess that has to
count for something. And
I would really hate to have to see you
move back into the dorms…."
‘This is great, she’s going to go
for it,’
Mark thought excitedly.
"…so tell me, Mr. Kelly," she
continued, her tone now changing in a way
Mark really couldn’t describe, "just
how
far are you really willing to go in order
to stay here?"
"I don’t understand," Mark
said, his sense of assurance abruptly
fading.
"No, I suppose you don’t," she
replied, a strange smile filling her face. "Ambiguity
has its place, but sometimes it’s better
to be direct."
Mark suddenly felt a chill in his
back, even if he didn’t know why.
"It’s a simple exchange really,"
Marion
stated matter of factly. "You
take care of my physical needs and I give
you a pass on this month’s rent."
"Physical needs?" Mark
repeated, certain that couldn’t mean what
he thought it did.
"Even an old lady needs to get laid
once in a while, Mr. Kelly," she
said with a broad grin, dispelling any
doubt as to what the quid pro quo
entailed,
"and, as I decided many years ago,
why settle for a worn out stag when I find
myself surrounded by so many young bucks? A
surprising number of whom have proven
receptive to the idea, given the right
circumstances."
‘Fuck me,’ Mark
thought in disbelief, ‘she’s
serious.’
Or more accurately, fuck her, he
corrected himself.
Up until a few moments ago, it
never occurred to Mark that a woman
Marion’s age might still have an interest
in sex.
He’d always assumed, erroneously as
it might have been, that people simply
lost interest in such things as they grew
older.
He’d never had anything to back up
the assumption, it had just been a
convenient belief. After
all, it was hard enough for him to imagine
that his parents still did it, much less
that his grandparents might still be
rocking the sheets.
Even more unsettling to Mark than
the shattering of his long accepted
preconception was the fact that what
would’ve seemed preposterous only
yesterday didn’t seem half as much so
today.
He actually found himself
considering Mrs. McGill’s offer. In
doing so, he found himself viewing her in
a much different light. Not
as an old woman, but simply a woman – one
that still had needs and was willing to
take advantage of the situation to see
them met.
Short and stocky, Marion McGill had
a build that was barely discernible in the
shapeless smock she usually wore. Not
that he ever
considered them before, but Mark
noted that her features, while ordinary,
were pleasant in a grandmotherly sort of
way.
Remembering that some people change
a great deal as they got older, Mark
wondered what
Marion
might have looked like at his age.
"I’m waiting for an answer, Mr.
Kelly."
Marion
said, a touch of impatience in her tone.
It was an answer that Mark was
waiting for as well.
Since losing his virginity the
summer before his senior year in high
school, Mark had only been intimate with
three other women. Two
had been girls he was dating, while the
other fell into what, for lack of any
other classification, could be called a
one night stand.
It had been the night of his older
brother’s bachelor party, held in the back
room of a local bar, and, as the best man,
he had been the recipient of a rather
gratifying encounter with a
thirty-something year old stripper that
had been hired for the occasion. At
first, Mark had been somewhat hesitant
about going into the bathroom with a woman
twice his age, despite the urging of his
brother and his friends. It
hadn’t taken the admittedly skilled woman
long to dispel any reluctance.
"I guess I don’t have many
options,"
Mark finally replied.
"Of course you do,"
Marion
said.
"You could simply say no thank you. No
one is forcing you into my bed."
That was true, Mark
admitted to himself, but saying no would
also mean going back to the dorms for
sure.
Not a prospect he cared to
entertain.
"I guess my answer is yes," Mark
finally said, deciding it was indeed the
lesser of two evils – a ten minute quickie
with the landlady and his financial
problem would be gone. How
could he lose?
If might have served him well to
remember the last time he had expressed
that sentiment.
"Excellent,"
Marion
smiled, quite pleased with his decision.
"So when would we …." Mark
started to ask, only to be interrupted.
"Well, there’s no time like the
present,"
Marion
said, leading Mark to wonder if perhaps
she didn’t want to give him the chance to
change his mind.
Then again, Mark thought further,
with everyone else out for the day, what
better time could there be?
-=-=-=-
Mrs. McGill’s bedroom, into which
she now led him, was decorated in the same
manner as the living room, with furniture
that dated from before Mark had been born. The
centerpiece of the room was a large, king
sized bed with thick oak posts and an
overhead canopy. At
the moment, it was fully made up, with a
heavy bedspread that complemented the
wallpaper.
"Turn down the bed, would you?"
Marion
said.
"And then make yourself
comfortable."
There was little doubt as to what
she meant by comfortable as
Marion
had already begun undoing the buttons of
her loose fitting dress. As
he pulled down the bedspread and the
blanket beneath it, Mark caught himself
staring at Mrs. McGill as she disrobed. She
hardly had the sort of body one found in
Penthouse or Playboy, but there was an
unexpected fascination in seeing a woman
her age do so.
Once she was out of her dress, Mark
saw a set of undergarments bearing little
resemblance to anything he had ever seen
before.
The thick heavy brassiere that
Marion
wore over her large breasts appeared
designed more for support than enticement,
with little afterthought for comfort. The
same could be said for the old fashioned
girdle, the first he had seen outside of a
photograph.
Completing the image was a set of
bloomers, something he hadn’t ever
imagined anyone still wore.
The girdle came off first, with, he
saw, a bit of difficulty. The
old style bra didn’t seem to be much
better as far as simplicity in its
undoing.
But once it did, Mark found himself
looking at a set of breasts bigger than
any he’d ever seen in the flesh, with
large nipples and a pink halo the size of
a soda can bottom.
Marion
took each in hand and rubbed them
vigorously, restoring the feeling that had
been cut off by the tight restraint.
Wrapped up in watching
Marion
, Mark
hadn’t so much as even taken off his shirt
yet.
A look of impatience on her face
caused him to correct the oversight,
pulling off his polo shirt to reveal a
lightly haired chest and an average build. His
shoes and socks came next, then it was on
to his belt and the jeans they held up. They
went just as quickly and he was soon down
to his simple white briefs.
"Very nice," he
heard
Marion
say, her satisfied grin causing him to
follow her line of sign and look downward,
discovering to his surprise that his cock
was hard enough to be seen through his
shorts.
A touch embarrassed, but knowing
that she was waiting for him to unveil it
fully, Mark took hold of the elastic band
and slid his briefs all the way down to
his ankles, stepping out of them as he
stood back up.
"Very nice indeed,"
Marion
repeated with amplification.
After years of sharing gym showers
in school, Mark knew he had nothing to be
ashamed about in the manhood department. His
cock was slim, but long, nearly seven and
a half inches when fully erect – a
condition that had almost been attained.
Marion
spent another few moments admiring his
erection, then turned her attention to her
own underwear. Pulling
loose the string that held them tight, the
loose fitting bloomers fell to the floor
of their own accord. Now
that they were out of the way, Mark was
presented with the thickest bush he had
ever seem, the hair a mixture of grey and
white.
A bush she ran her hand across
slowly, her fingers pressing hard against
the pearl at the periphery as she let out
a loud sigh.
It occurred to Mark that the woman
across from him had to be at least twice
the age of the stripper at the bar,
leading him to further wonder what it was
going to feel like inside her. Dynasty,
at least that was the stage name she used,
had been a satisfying fuck, but hardly as
tight as the high school girls he’d been
used to.
From the way
Marion
was going, it was a question he would soon
have an answer to.
"Shall we?"
Marion
asked as she moved over to the other side
of the large bed.
‘Ten minutes,’ Mark
reminded himself as he did the same to the
side closer to him and then climbed in.
He'd barely settled onto the
mattress when Marion, who had climbed into
the empty space on the other side, leaned
over and brushed her hand against the side
of his face.
"The day I first saw you I thought
you had a beautiful smile," she
said as she ran her fingers down his
cheek, "I'm glad to see that the rest of
you is just as lovely."
There wasn’t time for Mark to react
to the compliment as Marion closed the
small distance between them and brought
her mouth to his, kissing him in a manner
that could in no way be described as
motherly.
Her tongue
hungrily caressed his lips until they
opened to admit it. Much
to his surprise, the caress of her tongue
against his excited Mark and he quickly
began to respond.
A second kiss followed, in which he
became a more active participant,
exploring the recesses of her mouth even
as
Marion
demonstrating skills unimagined. Simultaneously,
he felt her hand close around his cock,
the press of her fingers rubbing against
his sensitive flesh as it quickly
completing its transformation to full
hardness.
She played with his manhood for
long minutes, running her fingers from the
base of his balls up to the crown and then
back again, causing Mark to let out an
appreciative moan. It
was clear that Mrs. McGill was in no rush
and planned to enjoy every moment of their
encounter.
It was not going to be the ‘wham,
bam, thank you ma’am’ that Mark initially
envisioned.
Taking Mark’s hand in hers,
Marion
guided it down between her legs, placing
it against her mound. She
began to rub the already wet bush with his
fingers, spreading the dampness over them
before releasing her hold and letting him
continue on his own.
Well practiced with at least this
part of intimacy, Mark
ran the tips of his fingers up and down
the length of her pussy, sliding two past
the folds to caress the more sensitive
skin within.
As she had done before,
Marion
vocalized her appreciation, even as she
took his other hand and guided it to her
breasts, showing him how to caress the
large nipples in the way she liked.
It didn’t take much effort to bring
both to hardness, and once he had, Marion
shifted her body in such a way as to bring
a breast in line with his mouth, careful
at the same time not to cause either of
their hands to lose contact with their
respective sex.
Mark eagerly closed his lips around
the extended nipple, drawing it deep into
his mouth.
He had been impressed by the
softness of her bounty when he’d felt them
in his hand, and even more so by their
sweetness once between his lips. So
much was happening all at once, but the
combined excitement was worth the effort.
"Mmmm, you do that well," Marion
purred as Mark suckled at her breast like
a new born babe, which was gratifying to
hear even if he wasn’t sure if she was
referring to his mouth at her breast or
his fingers in her pussy.
He decided it was the former, for a
few moments later she urged him to
increase the thrusts of his hand. A
request he readily acceded to, going
harder and faster than before.
The sound of Marion’s breathing
grew louder as her body heaved back and
forth, pulling him deeper inside herself. Almost
without warning, he suddenly felt her
pussy contract against his hand and her
body shiver against his. He
almost didn’t realize at first that she’d
had a small but very real orgasm.
The climax was short lived and once
done,
Marion
rolled onto her back, releasing her hold
on him and his on her. She
laid there for a few moments with her eyes
closed, not saying a word. Mark
actually
felt a bit disappointed that it was
already over.
"Oh, we’re not done, Mr. Kelly," Marion
said once she opened her eyes and saw the
expression on his face, "not
by a long shot. That
was just to get the engine running, a bit
of a warm-up. We
still
have a bit of a way to go before we settle
your debt."
It probably shouldn't have, Mark
knew, but the statement actually pleased
him.
Marion lifted herself up and
climbed down to the bottom of the bed,
moving into a space she created by taking
hold of Mark’s legs and pushing them
apart.
Her objective was obvious, the hard
cock standing nearly vertical of its own
accord.
She wrapped the fingers of one hand
around its base, then brought her mouth to
the crown on top, running her tongue
across it.
The touch of it against his skin
was electrifying.
Mark had had blow jobs before. In
fact, Rhonda Samuels, his second
girlfriend, had been quite good at them. But
her experience could only be measured in a
short years whereas Marion’s stretched
over decades – there was no comparison.
With a skill that Rhonda surely
would’ve envied, Marion closed her lips
around his hardness and with impressive
dexterity swallowed his full length – a
feat the teenage girl had never mastered. At
the same time, the older woman moved her
hand from the base of his cock down under
his balls, massaging them softly. Her
mouth, meanwhile, worked its way up and
down his length, her tongue caressing the
responsive flesh.
"Jesus H. Christ!" Mark
cried out in a manner his family minister
back home would’ve found sacrilegious.
But then again, he doubted the good
Reverend Phillips had ever been on the
receiving end of anything like this. In
fact, he was pretty sure that had been a
certainty.
Prior to their wedding, his
sister-in-law, Carol, had
been
required to attend what was described as a
bride's sex education class, given by
Doris Phillips, the reverend's wife of
many years.
The general tone of the class was
that marital relations was something that
a young bride must endure, and it was all
Carol could do not to laugh in the other
woman's face.
It was a pity that the class hadn’t
been given by someone like Mrs. McGill,
Mark thought, because it was obvious she
loved what she was doing – and more so,
that she was quite good at it. He
never imagined his cock could ever get
this hard, or that it could feel so good.
The pressure in his balls was
becoming near unbearable, reaching the
point where he felt he had to reach
release or bust. But
it seemed like it would be the latter as
Marion brought her hand back to his base
where, gripping it tightly, she seemed to
hold back the expected explosion.
She managed that feat for a few
more minutes, then suddenly again shifted
position where she could grab both her
breasts and wrap them around his cock,
rubbing her flesh against it while still
managing to guide the crown into her mouth
each time it emerged between her mounds.
"Holy sh…." Mark
gasped as his cock again disappeared
between her lips and the last barrier
between him and fulfillment collapsed in a
surge of delight.
Too late he realized he was
climaxing in her mouth, the fruits of his
eruption spilling down her throat. That
was something not even Rhonda had ever let
him do and for a moment he feared that
Marion would be as angry as she had been
the one time it had almost happened. To
his surprise, not only did she not seem
upset in the slightest, it didn’t even
give her pause as she continued to suck
his cock until, totally drained, it grew
limp and slipped from her mouth.
"Not bad for an old lady, huh?" Marion
laughed as she pulled herself back up the
bed and kissed his deeply.
Mark was shocked for a moment as he
felt the taste of his orgasm on her
tongue, but then realized that he was in
no position to complain. It
was a small price to pay for what she had
given him.
"Now it’s your turn," Marion
said, rolling back onto her side of the
bed and spreading her legs.
The invitation was obvious, she now
wanted him to go down on her – something
the teenager had never done. In
fact, he didn’t even known anyone who ever
said they had.
After a few moments' hesitation, Mark
moved down between Marion’s legs, assuming
a position much like the one she had just
abandoned.
It was also the first time he had
ever seen a pussy this close up. In
his
limited experience, it hadn't come up
before.
Marion seemed to sense that as she
patiently waited as he reached out with
his fingers and carefully exposed her
hidden flower.
Tentatively, Mark brought his face
closer, closing the distance so that he
could reach her mound with his tongue. This
close, the scent of her arousal, brought
forth by his earlier effort, was nearly
overpowering. Remembering
a few of the cruder jokes and comments
he'd heard about how women smelled and
tasted, he felt a momentary hesitation. Then,
he pushed that aside and dove right in.
"A little easier," Marion
said a few moments later as he pressed his
tongue back and forth with abandon, "take
your time."
Once he slowed down, she gave him
even more detailed instructions, directing
his efforts to where they would do the
most good.
Marion had little expectation that
he would bring her to orgasm in this
manner, but it was a good first step in an
education he would value later. For
now, she was content to just relax and
enjoy the soft caresses.
The longer he went on, the more
confident Mark became and soon, guided by
the way Marion's body reacted, he was able
to recognize on his own where he should
concentrate his attention. And
as far as both the taste and smell went,
well, he quickly found that the guys who
had made those jokes didn't know what they
were talking about. Both,
he discovered, were rather enjoyable.
In addition to adding to his
experience, Marion was also marking time
until the resilience of youth could come
into play.
For a man of her generation, the
blow job she had given Mark would’ve left
him soft for hours, if not the rest of the
day.
For someone of the younger man’s
years, he was already near to being ready
to go again.
"I need your cock inside me," Marion
said with a mix of urgency and
anticipation, the flame that Mark’s
efforts had stroked to life now calling
for more gratification that his tongue
could provide.
-=-=-=-
Regardless of the circumstances,
those words sent a surge of excitement
through as Mark he quickly shifted his
position on the bed to better accommodate
her request.
Marion began to move as well, only
to stop in mid-motion, her head abruptly
jerking upward as something distracted
her.
"Now who would that be?" Mark
heard her say as she unexpectedly slid off
the bed and walked away.
It wasn’t until Marion had stepped
over to a nearby chair, where she picked
up a thick robe to wrap around her naked
form, that Mark finally heard the sound of
the door knocker from the outer room. The
question also echoed in his head as well,
seeing that he was the only tenant home
this morning.
"Don’t you go away," Marion
said with a broad grin, just before
exiting the room, tightening the wrap
around her breasts as she did.
Suddenly feeling a bit awkward in
his own nakedness, Mark absentmindedly
pulled the loose sheet over the worst of
it. He
heard the apartment door open, but try as
he would, he couldn’t quite make out the
voice of whoever was there, other than to
identify it as male. Mrs.
McGill’s
half of the conversation was also too
muted to hear clearly.
A long minute passed, seeming far
longer to Mark, as his curiosity caused
him to abandon the bed and cautiously move
to the doorway. From
there, he could see the back of Mrs.
McGill standing at the front entrance, but
frustratingly the open door still blocked
the identity of whoever was on the other
side of it, thwarting his attempt. Moving
within hearing, however, proved fortunate,
since it allowed him to hear the end of
the exchange.
"I’m afraid now would not be a good
time, Mr. Banks, not
a good time at all," Marion
said, her voice now clear enough to
understand.
The even clearer response did
indeed identify her caller as Jimmy Banks,
spiking Mark’s curiosity even more.
The sound of the front door closing
and locking sent Mark scurrying back to
the bed, giving him barely enough time to
compose himself before Marion reappeared
at the entranceway.
"Was that Jimmy?" he
blurted out without thinking.
The expression on Marion’s face
reflected surprise at the question – but
only for a moment. She
took a few breaths to cross back to the
side chair, disrobing as she did so before
answering.
"Actually, yes it was," she
said matter of factly. "Evidently,
one of the more strident anti-war groups
on campus decided to stage an impromptu
protest this morning, one disruptive
enough to cause a cancellation of this
morning’s classes."
Mark thought that all well and good
as an explanation of why Jimmy was back
home, but not why he felt the need to stop
off and share that with Mrs. McGill. She
seemed to anticipate that, because she
then gave him a reason.
"Since he now had the morning off,
he just thought he’d stop by and see if I
needed anything," she
continued.
"He’s always been such a thoughtful
boy. I’m
going to quite miss him when he graduates
at the end of the semester."
That tail end of the conversation
that Mark heard didn’t really seem to
match that offering, not at all. From
Mark’s perspective, Jimmy appeared to be
looking for something from Mrs. McGill,
not the other way around.
Then it hit him like a lead brick. Earlier,
Mrs. McGill had alluded to having had
previous encounters in students in the
past.
A statement that Mark had assumed
to mean distant past, although he didn’t
have anything to base that on. It
could just as well have applied to more
recent events. The
way she mentioned missing Jimmy once he
left school in a few months might also be
significant.
Was he supposed to be the senior’s
replacement?
All of those thoughts took place in
the time it took Marion to again cross the
room and reach the other side edge of the
large bed.
Lifting the sheet away as she
climbed back in, she pushed the
interruption, and the questions it
entailed, from Mark’s mind – bringing him
back to the matter at hand.
"Now, where were we?" Marion
asked as she settled onto the bed next to
Mark.
"Oh yes, we were about to try out
that lovely cock of yours."
-=-=-=-
‘My God, I still can’t believe how
tight she is!’ Mark
thought as he again pressed his cock deep
inside the woman beneath him, continuing
what he had started five minutes before.
He hadn’t been expecting anything
of the kind when Marion had laid back
against the pillows and spread her legs
wide, inviting his entry. Given
her age and, quite honestly, the wear and
tear on her body, Mark had assumed it
would be a well worn path. One
of his uncles had once jokingly claimed,
or so he had assumed at the time, that fat
girls were awesome fucks. He
really wouldn’t classify Marion McGill as
fat, but she was far from petite. Whatever
the reason, he was in seventh heaven.
"That’s it, baby," Marion
cried out as she wrapped her legs around
the cheeks of Mark’s ass. "Fuck
me,
fuck me hard!"
There was no style to it, no
artistry, just raw animal coupling. Unrefined
passion that filled Mark with the most
incredible of sensations. He
could only imagine what the older woman
was feeling, but if it was half as good as
what he felt it had to be wondrous indeed.
Back and forth they rocked, having
established a rhythm in which each blended
perfectly with the movements of the other. Sweat
rolled down their backs as their
heartbeats raced and breaths became
labored.
In less time than Mark would’ve
imagined possible, they teetered on the
edge of the abyss.
Her arms also wrapped around him,
Marion held Mark tightly against her
breasts, the warmth of her flesh engulfing
him.
He could feel the quaking of her
form, the tremors of delight that
continued to build with each passing
moment.
Both of them were on the periphery
of orgasm, it was just the question of
which would hurdle down the chasm first.
In the end it proved to be Marion
as, with a resounding cry, her body rocked
with the force of an explosive climax. Her
body crushed against his with such force
that Mark actually feared, if only for a moment,
that she might actually squeeze the life
out of him.
But that fear was indeed only
momentary, quickly replaced by the
anticipation of his own impending orgasm.
"Come on my tits," Marion
said once she regained her breath, the
last remnant of her climax slowly fading, "I
want to see you come!"
Before he even realized he was
doing it, Mark was already moving to obey
her order – which was exactly what it was,
there was no doubt of that. Pulling
out of her, he lifted himself up and,
kneeling over her midsection, furiously
pumped his cock, until it exploded in a
spray of whiteness that splattered all
over her large mounds.
And with it came a tsunami of
delight that ripped from one end of his
body to the other, draining every bit of
energy from him until he actually felt
lightheaded.
He couldn’t remember the last time
he had ever felt so good.
Finally, filled with fatigue, Mark
dropped down into the empty space next to
Marion, his head again coming to rest atop
her ample bosom. That
it was covered with the after-effects of
his orgasm hardly seemed to matter. She
reached over and stroked the side of his
face, kissing the top of his head as she
did so.
"That was really fun," she
said, the broadest of smiles on her face.
A smile that was reflected on
Mark’s face, as well as he couldn’t have
agreed more.
Mark barely heard Marion’s promise
that, if he so desired, her door, or more
accurately, her bed, would be open to him
in the future. It
would only be much later that those words
would truly sink in. For
now, he was content to just savor the
pleasing weariness that finally overtook
him.
-=-=-=-
A good hour later, after a
refreshing nap and an equally invigorating
hot shower, Mark found himself once more
walking down the lower hallway. This
time,
however, there was no sulking but rather a
proud satisfaction in his stride. In
his hand, the new key to his room.
He had just reached the bottom of
the staircase when, as before, the sound
of his name again caused him to pause. Turning
around, he again came face to face with
Jimmy Banks.
"I’m going to assume that you
worked things out with Mrs. McGill," Jimmy
said without preamble, a knowing smile on
his face.
"We came to an understanding," Mark
said, wondering as he did if what he had
been thinking about the twenty-one year
old student was true.
"I thought you might," Jimmy
said, neither his tone or expression
giving any clue whether it might have
been.
"Like I said earlier, she’s really
quite an understanding woman."
"Yeah, I have to say that she is
that,"
Mark agreed, keeping his own tone
and expression neutral as well.
A moment passed as the two students
just looked at each other, then Mark
remarked that he had better get going as
he had things to do.
As he turned and continued up the
stairs, his face finally exploded into an
unmistakable display of delight. It
was an image of satisfaction that would be
a long time fading.
END