The trouble was, I didn't have a chance to be alone with her for at least a month. Our parents always seemed to be in the house at the wrong time and this just about drove me crazy. It wasn't until the woman moved into the house down the street that I began to forget – for the time being – about Elly and what she could do for me. I first learned about the woman living on the corner of Third and State streets by accident. I was walking past her house one day, trying to think up something groovy to do, when I heard her call out.
"Boy. You there. Come here a moment." I stopped in my tracks and glanced up at the dark-haired woman on the porch. She was about thirty, I figured, and built like crazy. That was the first thing I noticed. Next I noticed that she was smiling at me and she had a real great smile. Her teeth were white and even and her tits were big.
"Yes, Ma'am," I said politely. "Were you talking to me?"
"Yes, boy. Come up on the porch, would you please?"
"Sure."
I went up the steps and stopped on the top one.
"You look like a nice strong boy. Would you like a little job?"
"Sure," I said. "What do you want me to do, Ma'am?"
"It's not much. Just carry out my garbage."
"Okay," I said, wondering why a big strong woman like her couldn't carry out a bit of garbage.
"I'll pay you fifty cents for it. Will that be sufficient?"
"Yeah. I mean, yes. That'll be fine, Ma'am."
"Good. Come inside, please."
I followed her into the house and she took hold of my arm in the nicest way imaginable. I almost got the hots just from her touching me. She took me to the kitchen and pointed at one dinky little sack on the floor. "That's the garbage. Carry it to the curb, boy."
"Is that all you have?" I blurted. "That's not much garbage." I glanced into a corner of the room and saw what looked to be a movie camera. I wondered if she made a lot of home movies. But the camera didn't look like a home movies type. It was much larger.
She smiled nicely. "I just moved in yesterday. Haven't had time to collect a lot of it. Take it to the curb and then come back and I'll give you your fifty cents, boy."
"All right," I said. I carried the dinky sack out of the house, placed it down near the curb on Third Street and returned to the rear door. I stood there peering though the screen of the door. "It's all done," I said, trying to see her.
"Just a minute," she said. "Be right with you, boy."
I remained standing there and a couple of minutes passed by before she thrust open the screen door and, smiling nicely again, beckoned me to enter. I stepped inside and saw immediately that she was wearing only a bra and very tiny shorts now. I drew in my breath at the sight of her tummy, all bare and tanned and nice. Her belly-button fascinated me and I could hardly tear my eyes from it, but I managed to do so and looked up at her titties. There were even bigger than I had thought, really enormous, and stood straight out. I tell you, they were enough to drive a young guy half nuts. She caught me looking at them, but she only smiled.
"That wasn't too difficult a job, was it, boy?"
"Beg your pardon, Ma'am?" I said. I think I flushed a bit.
"I mean about the garbage, boy. Come in the other room and I'll see if I can find fifty cents."
"You don't have to pay me nothing, Ma'am," I blurted. "That's okay."
"Oh, but I insist," she said, smiling again. "Fifty cents isn't very much these days."
I noted that she was wearing no shoes and there was something wild about seeing this grownup woman dressed as she was and barefoot, too. I had never seen this much of a grown woman's body before, at least not this close up.
She turned and walked into the front room and I followed her and waited while she fumbled around in her purse. Finally she found two quarters and handed them to me. I stuck them in my pocket and looked at her tittles again. I guess I must have appeared nervous because she pressed my arm gently and smiled again.
"Is something wrong, boy?" she asked softly, silkily.
"No, Ma'am. Thanks for the fifty cents."
"You're welcome, I'm sure. Tell me, boy." Here she looked me over carefully. "Do you live nearby?"
"I live up on the other corner, Ma'am."
"I see," she said, bobbing her head up and down prettily. "Do you live with your… parents?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
I wasn't sure about it, but I thought she sighed. "How old are you, boy?"
"Fifteen. I'm a sophomore this coming fall."
"That's nice," she said. "I'm Mrs. Devine."
She certainly was, all right. Divine, that is. "Glad to know you, Mrs. Devine." I looked at those mammoth titties again. "Any time you want something… done around the house… I'll be glad to…"
"Why, thank you." She looked me over again, one eye partly closed. "By the way, what is your name, boy?"
"Tommy Gates."
"What is your father's name?"
"Frank Gates," I replied, giving her his complete name – like a nut.
"And you live up on the corner, that way?" She pointed.
"Yes, Ma'am. That's right."
"Hmmm."
"Beg your pardon, Ma'am."
"Oh…" she laughed lightly. "Nothing. I was just thinking."
"You're awful pretty, Ma'am," I blurted like a fool.
She laughed again and pinched my arm. "Why, thank you, Tommy. That was a sweet thing to say."
"It's the truth, Ma'am. You're the prettiest woman I ever saw."
"Why, Tommy, how very nice of you. But… what would your mother think of that statement?"
This confused me. "I – er – I guess I never thought about her."
"She's pretty, isn't she?"
"Y-Yeah. I mean, yes. But… well, a guy just doesn't think about his mom that way, you know."
She pinched my arm again and smiled once more. "No, Tommy. I don't know. What do you mean?"
"Well… gee. I'm not quite sure of what I mean, Ma'am."
She let go of my arm, but I wished she hadn't. "You're a big boy, Tommy. Just how tall are you?"
"I don't know. About five nine, I guess."
"That's my height," she said. "How very nice."
I couldn't figure that one, but I grinned at her to make her think I dug her okay.
"Tommy," she asked softly, "do you – er – have a girl?"
"Nope. Not a steady one."
"Oh… really. How nice."
"Beg your pardon, Ma'am."
"Please call me Mrs. Devine I'm not fond of that other word."
"Oh… Okay… Mrs. Devine." Boy, that name sure fit her. She was divine and more than divine. "That's a pretty nice name," I blurted.
"Thank you. My husband is… dead, Tommy."
"Gee, that's too bad," I said, not knowing how to field that one. I'd never had a grown woman talk so personally to me. Other than my mom, I mean. Boy, she talks personal often! Like, "Go take a bath, Tommy. I can't stand having you perspiring all over the place like this." My mom's a bug on perspiration; she watches all those TV commercials and I guess they get to her.
"I do think you and I will be very good friends, Tommy." She paused and bit her lips. "Of course, I'll meet your parents, too, Tommy. I'm sure I'll be good friends with them… too."
There was something about the way she said these words that caused my spine to tingle. There was also something about the way she was looking at me that made it tingle even more. I wondered – just for a brief moment; I wouldn't have dared make it last long because she would have suspected something was going on in my mind – I wondered what it would be like to run my hands over her body.
"Tommy," she said, "you look so, odd. Is something wrong?"
"No, Mrs. Devine, I'm fine." I swallowed hard and knew she knew what I had been thinking.
She turned around. "My back itches, Tommy. Could I impose on you to scratch it for me?"
I swallowed again, and since her back was turned, it gave me a great chance to inspect her butt and legs, which I did, all right. Man, those legs were terrific and her butt was out of this world. I was beginning to feel something happening to me.
"Where you want it scratched, Mrs. Devine?" I asked, my voice shaking ever so little.
"Oh, just all over, Tommy. I seem to be allergic to something about this house. Just scratch it gently, nice. You know, I'm sure."
I knew all right. She was giving me the opportunity to touch her, for she had read my mind. She bent over forward and this made her butt stick out in back like crazy. Something more happened to me and I knew I was going to have to be careful. Reaching out, I scratched her back with my fingernails.
"Oh, no, Tommy. Don't use your nails. Just sort of massage my back with your fingertips. That's much more – satisfying."
"All right," I said, and swallowed again. I rubbed her back with my fingertips and that's when I knew what she meant – it was more satisfying. In fact, it was so satisfying I nearly blew off.
She took that moment to move, and when she did so, her butt brushed against my hardened prick. I gasped, but she seemed not to mind at all. I waited for her to say something, to pull away, to do something that would show me I had gone too far, or whatever it is that adults call it when this sort of thing happens to a kid. She never moved, nor did she say anything about having brushed against my you-know-what.
"That's it, Tommy, only rub a bit lower, please. It feels very good. You're a very good rubber, Tommy."
I gingerly rubbed her back lower down about two inches above the top of her shorts, or briefs, or whatever it is women call them. "How's that, Mrs. Devine?" I asked, for something to say.
"The elastic of my panties," she surprised me by saying. "It seems to make me very itchy there. Could you put your finger under the elastic and scratch, Tommy?"
Well, by now I knew she was doing this on purpose. This old gal – and she was an old gal to me, being only fifteen – really wanted me to run my hands over her body. At least, I was fairly sure she did. I shouldn't have said I knew she was doing it on purpose when the truth is I only thought she was. Put it this way – it appeared to me at the time that she was doing it on purpose. There, get that out of the way.
I inserted my fingers down under the elastic and rubbed her lower back just a few inches up from her butt crease. Sweat was running off my nose and I brushed it away with my other hand. My old joint was throbbing now and I figured it wouldn't be long before I had the joy mess in my pants, as some of the guys called it.
"Oh, Tommy! That feels so good! Rub a bit lower, dear."
That "dear" bit just about flipped me, but I pushed my hand down under her pants until I could actually feel one of the cheeks of her butt.
"Rub it, Tommy," she said softly. She bent forward again and this made her butt seem twice as large and three times as nice to feel of. Man, I was really getting worked up and I didn't know how long it would be before…
"Tommy," she complained gently, "you stopped rubbing me. Are you tired?"
"No, Ma'am," I blurted. "I was just…"
"Rub, Tommy. Don't think so much."
There she was, reading my mind again. "All right, Mrs. Devine. I'll just rub you off." I flushed like crazy, realizing I had blurted out what I was thinking. I stopped rubbing her and waited for her to say something angry, but she didn't. She paid no attention to my boo-boo, but merely stood there, leaning forward and breathing kind of fast.
"Tommy," she said after a moment, "I thank you. I think that will be enough rubbing. My back feels very good now."
I reluctantly pulled my hand out of her pants and watched her as she turned around slowly. Her dark eyes were slitted and her face was flushed even as mine must have been – it felt hot enough. I noticed that one of her tits had slipped out from beneath the bra and quickly I averted my eyes, though I certainly didn't want to.
"What's the matter, Tommy?" she asked silkily. "Haven't you ever seen a woman's breast before?"
"I – er – I…"
She smiled and tucked the titty away and I could have kicked something, I was so griped at myself for stumbling all over the place with my mouth.
"Tommy," she said, pinching my arm, "I do hope you're the kind of nice boy who can keep a secret. Are you?"
"Yes, Mrs. Devine. You can tell me anything and I won't say a word to nobody."
"Now nice, Tommy. You and I are going to be very, very good friends. I can tell we are."
"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, swallowing again.
"Please call me Mrs. Devine, Tommy."
"All right. I keep forgetting, I guess."
"Tommy," she said, eyeing me oddly. "That girl I saw up around the corner. She sort of resembles you. Would she be – Do you have a sister?"
I flushed like mad then. I had been doing this for a month. Every time anyone asked me about Elly I would get real red. I guess I was feeling pretty guilty about what I had done to her. "Yes, Mrs. Devine, that was probably my sister Elly. She's thirteen."
"Very pretty little girl, Tommy. I suppose you love her very much."
I flushed again. "Y-Yes – She's okay," I stammered, and looked away from her penetrating gaze. She had the darnedest eyes you ever saw. They were black, I guess – well, sometimes they were black, sometimes kind of a greenish black; I hadn't yet figured out what color they really were. Anyway, when she looked at you, well, man, it was like being looked at by a…
"Tommy," she said, "I asked you a question."
"Oh, guess I was thinking," I stammered. Man, this woman had me so flustered I hardly knew what I was doing. "What did you ask?"
"I asked if your sister was nice to you, Tommy?"
"Huh?"
"Is she nice to you, Tommy, or do you fight all the time?"
"Elly and me don't hardly ever fight. Sometimes we do, though." What did she want to know this for?
"And I suppose," she said slowly, "that you are very nice to her?"
"I guess so," I said, and flushed again.
She moved away from me and lighted a cigarette and stood smoking it, blowing the smoke out through her nose real fast. "When I was thirteen, Tommy, I had an older brother who was always real nice to me." She sighed. "My, how I loved my brother. He was so good to me, gave me – everything I wanted."
"Everything you wanted, Mrs. Devine?" I stammered.
She took another drag, let the smoke flow out through her nose and smiled. "Everything, Tommy. Everything."
"You mean like, well, did he buy you a lot of stuff?"
She smiled, revealing her white teeth. "No, he didn't do that, Tommy. That wasn't what I meant. I meant he was always nice to be like a brother ought to be. I was just wondering – if you were that nice to your kid sister?"
"I don't guess I know what you mean exactly," I sputtered, but I did, all right. Oh boy, did I ever know what she meant.
"Well, never mind Tommy. Perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up." She gave me one of her dark, strange looks again. "I do hope that what you said before holds true."
"What was that?"
"I mean about you being the kind of boy who can keep things to himself."
I took a deep breath. "Oh, that. Sure. You can trust me, Mrs. Devine."
"Can I now, Tommy? How very nice." She picked up the pack of cigarettes as if she were going to offer me one, but she must have changed her mind, for she dropped it after a moment. "Tommy," she said, her back to me, "you're a very nice boy."
"Thank you, Mrs. Devine."
"I think perhaps you'd better go now. Will you do me a very great favor?"
"Sure, Mrs. Devine," I said, gulping. "Anything – anything at all."
"Please don't tell your parents, your sister, or anyone that I hired you to carry out my garbage."
This puzzled me like mad. "Okay, if you don't want me to tell, I won't."
She smiled and came to me and taking my face in her hands, kissed me wetly on the mouth, almost causing me to do you-know-what in my pants. "You're so sweet, Tommy. You know, I like you very much. Tell me, how late does your mother allow you to be out at night?"
"In the summer, till about twelve. During school I gotta be in earlier."
"And this is summer, isn't it?" she mused.
"Yes, Mrs. Devine."
She snubbed out her cigarette, seemingly taking a long time to do it, a lot longer than necessary. "Tommy, if I ask you to come back after dark, do you suppose you could – and do you think you could keep quiet about it, not tell anyone?"
My lips were awful dry now. "Yes," I said, my voice cracking a bit. "Yes, I'll come whenever you say so, Mrs. Devine."
"Very well, Tommy. Right after dark. Be sure it is good and dark. Come to the rear door. Be sure to do that. I may not have any – lights on in the house – but you just walk right in – will you do that, Tommy?"
I had to moisten my lips several times before I could talk. "Yes," I said, my voice cracking again. Damned voice. I could have kicked it out of me if there was any way of doing it. There's nothing that bothers a guy like his voice cracking all over the place. Makes him feel like a fool.
"I didn't quite hear you, Tommy," she said, smiling.
"I said, yes, Mrs. Devine."
"Will you be sure to wait – till it is good and dark, Tommy?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Not 'Ma'am'. Mrs. Devine, Tommy."
"I'll be sure to wait till it's real dark, Mrs. Devine."
"Good, Tommy. Now, I wonder if you'd do one more thing for me before you go now?"
"Sure, Mrs. Devine. Like I said, anything at all."
She turned her back to me. "I have trouble unhooking this bra at times. Would you do it for me, I must change my clothes again, I'm afraid."
"What for?" I blurted. "You look great in those."
"I have to take care of some business matters, Tommy. Can't go downtown dressed like this."
I looked at her big tits and saw how most of them were revealed. "No, I guess you couldn't," I said, my dick getting hard all over again.
"Is there something wrong, Tommy? You have that strange look in your eyes again."
I shook my head. "Nothing wrong, Mrs. Devine. Did you say you want me to take your bra off?"
She smiled at me over her shoulder. "Well now, Tommy, do you really think I'd let you take my bra off? All I asked of you was to unhook it."
I went over close to her, my whole body shaking now. "Guess I didn't mean to say it that way, Mrs. Devine. I'm sorry."
She laughed lightly. "Don't be sorry, Tommy. Tonight, if you're a good boy and don't tell anyone, I'll let you do a good deal more than that."
I swallowed hard as I unfastened her bra in the rear. She held it up so I didn't get to see her titties, but she smiled over her shoulder again and I could see the hots in her eyes now – for sure.
"Did you hear what I just said, Tommy?"
"Yes," I said, my heart thumping. "Yes, I did, Mrs. Devine."
"Then go home now – and be sure to keep quiet about being here and don't tell anyone what I just said. Will you promise me that, Tommy?"
"Yes, Mrs. Devine."
"Come after dark, Tommy. Don't forget now. I'll be waiting in the darkness for you."
I gulped and ran from the house.