Note. 1970’s Britain was a strange place in many ways, punctuated as it was by martial strife in Ireland, industrial strife in mainland UK .. .. and far less sexual activity by teenagers than the ‘swinging sixties’ would have led us to believe should have been the case! Of course, it was also the decade of proper ‘Swingers’, but that too only happened in certain areas of the country.

Also – this story is quite lengthy. That’s because I am apparently unable to use one word when ten will do! I like description, I revel in full details of people’s intimate parts, sensations, feelings, and get cranky if I don’t include that level of detail in my stories. If you want a quick stroke story – this is not for you. That said, I hope you enjoy the tale.

The Mouse

~

Do you remember your first time having sex? I believe most people say their first time was pretty bad for whatever reason/reasons; I know mine certainly was.

After months of chasing this girl, Jainey being her name (the spelling seemed cute then – not so much now; but I digress) I eventually managed to persuade her sneaking into her house while her parents were out to have sex would be, well, just THE most exciting thing ever.

Nope. Not even close. Oh, the lead up was great, don’t get me wrong. A real, proper unhurried look and feel of her small breasts, first ever sight of her well-furred pussy (well, it was 1970’s Britain, after all!) a couple of rather daring French kisses and “Bang!” we were at it. For all of about 10 seconds, for that’s the length of time it took for me to ejaculate all over her belly. I don’t think my cock even touched her pussy, never mind entered her and, while I did get to cum, I knew even then that Jainey hadn’t, despite her saying she’d enjoyed it.

I knew when she said it she wasn’t telling me the truth, and her dumping me the following week seemed to confirm it.

Next time was with another girl I’d taken a fancy to, Linda. I thought I had learned from my mistakes of the first try and figured some mutual play to “prepare ourselves” would be a good idea. For Linda, it worked out a bit better than for me; having seen some copies of pretty hard-core (for the time) magazines form Denmark, I knew to slip at least two fingers inside Linda’s slit, while she wrapped her fingers round my shaft and stroked.

What I hadn’t seen in the pics was any form of lubrication, which was very definitely needed for both of us but sadly lacking, in Linda especially, as I quickly found out. I could barely tease the tip of one finger between her nether lips and, when I did, her moan was of pain rather than lust. Likewise with me, Linda’s strokes on my shaft were “dry” and, although she was able to achieve a form of masturbation thanks to my foreskin, (circumcision in the UK being relatively uncommon even now, almost unheard of then) it was painful and not even as enjoyable as my first attempt at sex, even though I came again.

Once again I was dumped, though this time it was mutual, as we both felt rather embarrassed bout the whole thing.

So it was that I started the second year of my apprenticeship as an electrician at just turned 18 and, technically in my eyes, a virgin. I was not a happy bunny at all at that particular stage in my life.

~

Second year meant getting out on jobs more often, but I’d had to move employers, as the previous company had been taken over and the new owners letting everyone go and rehiring at lower rates of pay – for those who wanted to do so. Apprentices were deemed as ‘excess baggage’, so there was no place for me or the other 2 boys on my course, though we all found places fairly easily.

My new place was way on the other side of town though, and the bus didn’t serve there until after I was due to start. I thought I was going to have to give it up, but salvation came in the form of my mother’s friend Hazel.

Hazel was about the same age as my mum at 41 (as I later found out), and was a secretary in the company I was now working for. More to the point, she worked the same hours as the tradesmen, and hence apprentices, namely 8am to 4 in the afternoon, and my mum wasted no time asking if she would be prepared to give me a lift every day so I could finish my time. Hazel seemed quite happy to do so, saying to my mum (I was upstairs at the time, but could still hear them talking quite well)

“I’d be quite happy to Jean”, laughing, “it’s been a long time since I had a handsome lad like Sam in my car!”

Little did I know this was to be a momentous day for me, and had nothing to do with my future career!

Now, both the girls I’d had my failed attempts at sex with had been slim blondes, but Hazel was the complete opposite. Even for her, to me quite advanced, age, Hazel was quite a large woman; wide hips, big thighs and large breasts she kept fairly well covered, but were easily evident if you looked – which of course I did, age and size notwithstanding – plus her tops and blouses did tend casino siteleri to gape a bit when she bent forward, showing off a very impressive cleavage! She was also a brunette, with her nearly-black, dark brown hair falling well past her shoulders in soft, shiny waves, smelling lightly of whatever shampoo she used.

I was quite amazed, at my young and judgemental age, to find her very attractive; for such a large woman, Hazel’s face was not encumbered by more than the average amount of jowl – certainly not the two or more chins sported by most of the larger ladies I had seen around – and when I looked properly at her over the ensuing weeks, I was able to see she was actually a very pretty woman indeed.

As time went by and the more time I spent in Hazel’s car and her me. Looking back, I did much more talking than she did; for example, within the first week of being taken to work by her, I had told her all about Jainey and Linda and my failed attempts at sex with them. It had occurred to me while I was relating those stories that she would laugh at me, especially for cumming before even entering Jainey that first time, but instead she murmured apologies on behalf of both girls while simultaneously managing to reassure me that somehow, everything would eventually sort itself out.

We talked about all kinds of things on these journeys, Hazel regaling me with tales of her own youth which, for the time, seemed pretty raunchy to me, as well as voicing her disappointment (and, was that a hint of shame?) that she and her husband couldn’t have children. Over the weeks I eventually noticed that Hazel’s attire had become skimpier, which I originally attributed to the hot weather we had been experiencing that summer, and consisted of skirts worn above the knee with lower-opening blouses and (something I definitely couldn’t have known at the time) more uplifting brassieres.

About two months into our routine, Hazel told me that the following week she and her husband were going away on holiday. She hadn’t really mentioned him much, though in my 19-year old selfishness I hadn’t really given that any thought. She told me that they had booked a caravan near a place called Whitby, in Yorkshire, and they would be travelling there this coming Saturday. I was a bit annoyed at this news if I’m honest, as it meant I too would have to try and get the week off as I couldn’t get to the factory without Hazel giving me a lift every day, which I must have let her know by my sighs and negative body language.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. This is where Hazel turned round and told me what a brat I was, or maybe told me how much she wanted to “jump my bones”, as the saying was in those days. No. Instead, she merely looked straight into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity, her expression one of great sadness. For the rest of that week she still picked me up and dropped me off, but our conversation was virtually non-existent which, surprisingly to me, quite disappointed me. On the Friday however, Hazel began our journey by talking in friendly & conversational tones almost as she normally would, telling me of the plans she and her husband had made for trips and activities while they were away.

Some of these seemed quite exciting to me, especially the fishing trip on a proper trawler – this was, naturally enough, mainly for her husband’s benefit, as he was a keen angler. On the way home, we talked a little about how I had managed to wangle the week off, and what I might do with myself during it. Hazel listened to me for a few minutes, wittering on about playing football with a couple of mates, and maybe doing some fishing myself down by our local river. When she asked me what I planned to do at night, I was a bit surprised; that was an area we had never really spoken about before, other than for me to mope about my lack of success in attracting another girlfriend since breaking up with Linda.

I was even more surprised when she turned off our usual road home, and drove for a few minutes down a little lane I’d never been along before, stopping in a secluded lay-by under some trees. She turned to face me, sideways on, and it was then I realised just how short the skirt she was wearing that day actually was; glancing down, I could see her skirt had ridden up the length of her plump, yet soft-looking, thigh, and just where the material ended I could see .. .. was that her panties? It was, lacy and pink, protruding from underneath the beige cotton of her skirt! I looked up towards her face to see her fingers unsnapping a button on her blouse, the flowery silkiness parting to reveal more pink lace, this time barely containing a pair of mammoth-sized breasts, quivering softly to her rapid breathing.

I was totally stunned! While I had become aware of just how pretty Hazel really was and that she had a very voluptuous figure, I wasn’t aware of just how smooth and fine her legs looked, or how deep her cleavage actually was. Hazel stared straight into my eyes canlı casino and leaned towards me, her eyes closing as her soft lips met mine in a delicate, soft kiss.

Sadly, my reaction to that was to jerk backwards as if she’d scalded me! It was just so unexpected, not mention more than a little scary, even though my mind had registered hoe soft her lips were and how sweet their taste was. So rapidly had my head retreated, my head banged off the window frame of the car with a loud “thud”, Hazel’s lips transforming into a circle as she half-shouted

“Oh, Sam – are you alright?” even as my hand reached round to rub the lump already forming on my skull.

After a few seconds, Hazel assumed a more matter-of-fact tone and, grasping my shoulders, pulled my upper body over so my head was buried in between her legs. I could feel her fingers gently touching the bump which had now formed on my head, but there was another sensory experience overtaking any other giant that moment. I had suddenly become aware of the most intense, musky aroma assaulting my nostrils, followed about 2 seconds later by becoming intensely aware that my penis was painfully erect inside my work trousers.

The right side of my face was being pressed quite firmly into the top of Hazel’s left thigh, and when I opened my eyes fully I could hardly avoid noticing her shockingly see-through pink lacy panties were right in front of my face, and were also the source of that amazing odour. And, what was that dark shadow? I think my deep inhalation at that point alerted Hazel to the fact I was not at all bothered about the bump to my head, but rather than attempt to lift my shoulders again she merely moved her hands to the side of my head and pressed down, mashing my face into the soft flesh of her thigh and scratching my nose with the lace of her panties.

After a few more deep breaths, I formed my mouth into a kiss against Hazel’s skin, feeling a slight shiver run through her body. As I lifted myself upward I heard a soft moan from Hazel, her slightly-parted eyes gazing hungrily down at me. I felt simultaneously terrified and highly aroused and, on looking downwards, saw Hazel’s bosom was heaving up and down quite rapidly in time with her breathing, and that the front of her blouse now had two large bumps where before there had been smooth silk; her nipples, of course, making themselves known to us both and telegraphing her own arousal too. The deep cleft of lightly tanned flesh in front of me now was like a magnet to my mouth; without further thought I leaned over a couple of extra inches and buried my face between Hazel’s fantastic breasts, breathing in deeply to savour the light perfumed fragrance lingering on her skin.

I was in heaven, even as my bravado dissipated, my ‘right mind’ reasserted itself and I wondered just what the Hell I thought I was doing. It didn’t dawn on me right then that, if Hazel objected to any of what I was doing, she was more than capable of making me stop; instead, I lifted my face from her cleavage and leant back, away from her and averting my eyes in shame.

A few seconds later I felt Hazel’s hand against my jaw, easing my head gently round to face her.

“Open your eyes Sam,” she murmured, “see what I’ve got for you”.

Was it my imagination, or did she sound . . . nervous? It certainly sounded like it, in fact she sounded as nervous as I felt; which is to say, utterly terrified! Terror notwithstanding I decided to heed her request, and allowed my eyelids to flutter open, just a little. When I saw what she was doing, they opened as wide as they ever had before: Hazel had used her free right hand to pull down the cup of her bra on that side, revealing a large white breast topped by a thick, pink nipple like a strawberry sitting atop a large swirl of cream.

It was beautiful, her soft, pale skin quivering gently as she shook in her seat, the nervousness showing in her eyes as she stared into mine. I didn’t really see more than that though, my gaze riveted to the sight of her rounded flesh. I watched, almost detached, as my hand reached out to touch her, my fingertips sinking into her softness until her rack-hard nipple pressed into my palm.

At that point I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I slowly became aware my mouth was wide open in shock, even as my fingers gently squeezed and fondled the heavy orb so pleasingly filling them. I could vaguely feel my throbbing erection as it pulsated against my legs and the wetness of pre-cum soaking my leg and jeans; something which notably hadn’t happened during the abortive attempt at a hand-job with Linda!

I trembled in my seat as I continued to knead Hazel’s massive breast, watching as her hand moved from pulling down the material of her bra, down the side of her blouse and down to the bottom of her raised-up skirt. She slid her hand up the inside of her thigh, moving the skirt up until pink lace of her panties became visible. My cock stiffened even more at that sight, but kaçak casino Hazel was far from finished yet; with barely a pause, her first two fingers dipped right into the centre of the front panel, creating a shallow valley which she began to rub up and down, the dark shadow between her legs even more pronounced than ever.

It seemed to me that the nipple under my palm stiffened even more then, and her upper chest definitely darkened in a sexy rosy blush. We continued with our respective acts for a couple more minutes until Hazel clamped her thighs tightly round her hand and shuddered in her seat. I didn’t realise at that moment, but she had orgasmed in her car seat, with my hand squeezing her tit and her own fingers mashing her clitoris.

Of course, I didn’t know any of that then; Hell, I didn’t even know what a clitoris was! Hazel was about to remedy that state of affairs, even though she didn’t actually identify it or name it right then – that came later, much much later. What she did do was spectacular enough to me however. Hazel’s fingers straightened out briefly, the tips sliding under the seam of her panties and pulling back, dragging the material away from her pussy mound and revealing a thick mat of glossy, crinkly black hair. It was an astounding sight, more so as up til now I had only seen blonde pussies, only two of them, and only for a few seconds.

Hazel shifted her position so her pussy seemed to open even wider, her thick, shiny labia easily visible through the mat of hair, a pale button peeking through the fur at the very top of her slit – at least, until she slipped two, then three fingers deep inside herself and began to thrust them rapidly in and out.

I could barely process all that was happening now, though I was still fondling and squeezing the fulsome breast in my hand. My other hand was still loose, doing nothing, but my main focus was on Hazel’s right hand as she finger-fucked herself to another orgasm right under my nose. And, ooh, that smell, was even stronger and more delicious now, becoming almost pungent as Hazel quickly reached her climax once again; this time she moaned loudly as she jammed her fingers inside herself, her right hand stationary, her other hand suddenly clamping over mine and pressing it hard against her breast as she came.

Probably because this was my first ever experience of female sexual activity, my cock decided it had had enough and erupted inside my briefs; my hand unconsciously clenched around Hazel’s tit-flesh, the nipple slipping between two of my fingers and drawing another low moan from her mouth, perfect counterpoint to my own. My open mouth was then suddenly filled with Hazel’s fingers, the vey same ones that had very recently been buried deep in her pussy.

The taste was amazing – a sort of tangy musk, an intoxicating mix of sweetness and sharpness I couldn’t get enough of. I sucked her fingers until I could taste no more of her juices, trying my best to twist my free, right hand so I could reach her gaping cunt with my fingers. Sadly, it was not to be; I simply could not turn my arm round enough to reach, and so simply groaned in frustration. Hazel’s hand edged downwards again, and I hoped she was going to slip them inside herself again and let me taste her some more. Instead, she replaced her panties across her pussy and lifted my other hand form her chest, somehow tucking her wonderful breast back inside the bra, and inside her blouse.

“Sam,” she coughed, unable to talk coherently for a minute. “I suppose I’d better get you home, your mum will be wondering where you are”.

I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I could feel the cooling, slimy pool of spunk against my leg, the taste of Hazel’s juices on my tongue and just wanted to lie in her arms and to be on my own and to talk to someone; ah fuck, I didn’t know WHAT I wanted!

Hazel started the car and we got back on the road, but continued the way we had been going. This way would take quite a while to get us back to my house, which gave Hazel time to talk to me, her intent from the recommencing of our journey.

At first she spoke in soft, disjointed sentences, telling me what we had done was wrong but also that she enjoyed it immensely. She told me she had been fantasising about making love to me for weeks now, that her husband barely touched her since the had found out they couldn’t have kids and her desires had lain dormant until my mother had asked her to take me to work every day and we had spent all those hours talking about all kinds of things – including my (lack of) love life.

My own stammering replies were sporadic at first, but I managed eventually to let her know just how sexy I found her, how much I had savoured my touches of her body and, most of all, the exquisite taste of her most intimate part. I told her that I wanted more than anything to do it again, all of it and more, that I lusted after her more than I had ever done before, to anyone.

I was even able to articulate that it was not only because of what had happened today, that I had been noticing her curves more and more over the weeks, plus of course, enjoying our conversations, and dreaming of her at night to the point of ejaculation on many occasions.