Sometimes watching is enough to be turned on – 01

“Jason? Come here,” she said firmly, though I don’t recall there being an edge of anger in her tone of voice. Surprise, maybe even a little embarrassment perhaps, but she certainly wasn’t angry with me. To my own surprise, I crossed a few steps, now entering the protection of the awning, though I still stood several feet away, unsure of what to do next, let alone expect. “Closer,”

I remember her saying, and then indicating for me to stand right in front of her chair. I did as she asked until I was actually standing there no more than a foot or so away from her, looking at her, unable not to, as the internal struggle of having to face her in the eye, was actually worse than keeping my eyes lowered, though I was looking at this totally nude woman while doing that. And it was at that very moment that I realized…she hadn’t removed her hand from between her legs!

And as I realized that, I also realized, she was still finger-fucking herself, slowly perhaps, and maybe trying to be a bit imperceptible while doing so? But the reality was, she was doing that…still teasing herself as I only then looked up into her eyes again, now tilting the other way in my confusion as to knowing just exactly where in hell I should be looking at this point. Once again, our eyes locked, but this time I also saw her mouth move. I heard no words, for if she spoke any, they were far too quiet for me to have done so. But the shape of her words as she spoke them, were beyond question.

“Watch me.”

The way I saw it, I didn’t really have any other choice. Sure…I could have turned and ran, left anyway. But I also figured that I’d be fucked for the rest of the summer as far as the job went. And besides, it wasn’t her fault that I had come back and found her masturbating in the privacy of her own backyard, that one was definitely on me. And the only thing she had said was that. Nothing else. Nothing about me doing anything, or doing anything to her. Just, “Watch me,” so the way I saw it…I had nothing to lose, and everything in the world to gain.

And so I stood, watching her. Saying nothing, doing nothing. Just watching. And I was more turned on than I had ever been in my entire life. When Mrs. Ann realized I was actually going to stay, she smiled. It was one of the very rare times I had ever seen her do so.

And then after that, she proceeded to pleasure herself quite openly, quite uninhibitedly sitting there right in front of me as I watched her. And though times perhaps have changed since then as styles and preferences seem to do, I recall that she didn’t really have a thick hairy bush. In fact, what I recall and even now see just as clearly as then, was this very fine layer of pubic hair, that was actually more straight than curly perhaps. It was also a light brown, and looked almost as though it had been combed that way, both sides meeting towards the middle, where her finger lay.

Still pressing against herself, occasionally dipping inside before reemerging again. I also remember the color of her inner lips, for they appeared almost red inside as opposed to the outer, more pinkish flesh of her labia. And though actually watching her finger-fucking herself was erotic enough, I was then (and have always been) a bonafide card-carrying breast man. All shapes, all sizes…mattered not. So here I was being treated to another stimulating pleasure as well. With one hand still between her legs, the other she used to caress and tease her own breast and nipple with.

Mrs. Ann had what I can only say were fairly heavy looking, somewhat pendulous breasts. I mean they weren’t exactly saggy or anything, just heavy and fell a bit more down her chest perhaps. I honestly thought they were beautiful, and provided me many evenings of pleasure after that just thinking about them. But I digress here. I remember too that her nipples were fairly large, some call them “pancake” nipples for lack of a better description.

They were a light tan, not quite pink, and colored enough to clearly define the area as they sat on the tip of her breasts. She had amazing nipples too as I remember. Fairly thick, and I actually remember comparing them in size to “Dots” though even bigger than that, and certainly longer too. Mrs. Ann could scissor her nipple between two fingers, and you’d still see a good portion of it poking up and through whenever she did that.

So, watching her doing both, playing with her breasts, caressing them, tugging and eventually pulling hard on her nipples…more so when she actually came, in conjunction with the sound of her fingers now sliding in and out of her very wet cunt, not to mention the vision of her while doing so, was almost more than I could emotionally stand. And I still did. Like a statue with a hard-on.

When it was over, she asked me to sit at the patio table, which I did. She stood up, now slipping on a bathrobe, which she’d been sitting nearby, and simply informed me she was going inside to get us something to drink while we talked.

She’d made it clear, and very obvious I wasn’t going anywhere until we had. Though I also had no intention of going anywhere either, especially not after what had just happened. Maybe I was more curious now than anything else, (though I was still horny as hell too) but I remained sitting there until she came out again.

She placed a poured Coke in front of me, as well as one for herself. And though I knew she smoked, I’d never seen her actually doing so. In addition to our drinks, she had also brought her smokes along with an ashtray outside. She lit one, drawing the smoke in, looking at me, and then blowing it out as she actually spoke.

“Obviously, it was NOT my intent for you to see me doing that. However, you did. And we will discuss that at greater length momentarily, but I want you to listen to what else I have to tell you before doing that.” She drew in another lung full of smoke, and I took a large sip of my Coke, still waiting on her.

She confirmed then the story I’d already heard from my parents about the loss of her husband, and her reasoning for never getting married again. It was a time when some women, for whatever reason, just never did so if someone they truly loved, actually died. And according to what Mrs. Ann told me, that was the main reason, and also why she’d never had any children either. Since her husband’s death, she had in fact not had sex, or rather intercourse, with any other man.

She went on to explain to me that it didn’t make her some sort of a Spinster or anything even close to that. (I actually had to look that one up back then to see what she meant by that). But she went on to explain that almost the reverse was true. Maybe she wasn’t physically having sexual relations with anyone, but it hadn’t kept her from thinking about it, nor from masturbating, which she actually shared with me, she did very often. Needless to say, I had walked in on her while doing so. And the reason behind that had been, because thunder and lightning storms always aroused her, for some odd reason.

To this day…every time I hear the peel of thunder or see lightning, I think of her name.

And that was when she told me to call her Helen. Though she also told me a few other things as well. For one, she said that if I ever said anything to anyone about what I had seen her doing, then I would of course be out of a job for starters…permanently. And secondly, if I had any desire to see her do so again, then I’d also have to promise not to say anything to anyone about her doing that either.

She also informed me, there would be no expectations about anything else. (Though as I would later learn, that was sort of open to interpretation as it turned out.) She soon after sent me home again to think about it, and returned the following day with an answer as to what my decision was. Though not before putting the trimmer back in the work-shed again before I left. Which I did.