"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.