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

 

(c) Ann Douglas 2017             

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