The Terror of Option

It all started with the annual trip to Manchester to audit our biggest client, but the events described here would never have happened if my bosses hadn't been such disgusting skinflints. So thanks, guys, you did me a favour!

I'm Robin, a twenty-three-year-old accountant working for a medium-sized practice in Bristol in the south-west of England. It's not a bad firm to work for; the office is pretty vibrant with plenty of staff around my age and a good smattering of attractive ladies in their twenties and thirties. And there's the annual beano to Manchester.

Our outfit mainly services small companies and singleton practitioners but we've got one client who's a Public Limited Company, so it's a big deal for us and we put a big team onto their annual audit, which takes place in the first two or three weeks in January.

Last year I made the team for the first time. I'm not chartered yet, that's a couple of years away, but I'm qualified to do audit work and besides, the company always sends a couple of partners to oversee the junior staff.

Because it's a hundred and seventy odd miles from Bristol to Manchester, the audit team are accommodated in hotels during the week, with the option of driving home at weekends. Partners get a swanky boutique hotel and the rest of us get a room in a decent chain hotel like a Hilton or Marriott. This year, it turned out, the company secretary had found out that if the junior staff were accommodated in Bed and Breakfast lodging houses, the company could save quite a lot of money.

Well that was all very well, we're all accountants and appreciate a good cost saving when we see one, but part of the fun of going away was the camaraderie in the hotel bar in the evenings. Many a good drinking session took place last January and to cap it all, I spent a night with Lucy, our corporation-tax advisor.

This year we were scattered about the city wherever there was a free room. I was allocated a room at the Hollyhocks Guest House, a three-bedroomed terraced house in Old Trafford run by a Mrs Penelope Gregson. It looked dire when I looked on Google; there were certainly no hollyhocks to be seen. The only crumb of comfort was that it was only half a mile from Manchester United's ground, so I might get to see a mid-week game.

I arrived there about six o'clock in the evening of the first day of our audit. It was dark and I'd missed my way a couple of times even with sat nav, so I was tired and irritable and not looking forward to spending the first of far too many nights in a crappy B&B. At least dinner had been thrown in (if that's the right expression) so I wouldn't have to go out again.

I locked my car, walked up the short path to the front door and rang the bell. After about thirty seconds the hall light came on and the door was opened by a lady I assumed was Mrs Gregson, although it was difficult to see anything of her as the porch was in darkness and she was back-lit by the hall light.

'You must be Mr Barber,' she said in a voice that was rich and soft and low-pitched.

'Yes,' I agreed, surprised at her accent, which didn't sound anything like inner-city Manchester, in fact I wondered whether English was her first language.

'Come in,' she told me and I followed her in with my wheelie case.

She turned to face me and I got my first good look at Penelope.

How can I describe her? So much has passed between us now that it's difficult for me to be objective but I'll do my best.

My first impression was that she was tall and dark-eyed and self-composed. A lady of almost my height (five-feet-nine) with naturally dark hair, dyed a uniform black, presumably to hide the grey. It fell to her shoulders in a mass of curls and framed a face that was still striking despite the depredations of time: full lips, an aquiline nose and sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes surmounted by thick, black eyebrows. Her complexion had a mediterranean hint and was supplemented by lipstick and heavy eye make-up which couldn't quite disguise the crows' feet at the corners of her eyes nor the lines on her cheeks and her upper lip.

She wore an oyster-coloured blouse in some shiny synthetic material, taut across her bust, and a nondescript skirt that fell to below her knees.

'How was your journey?' she asked in that soft voice of hers. 'Was it Bristol you came up from?'

'Yes. I drove up early this morning. The roads were pretty clear.'

'You've been at work all day?' she asked. 'You must be exhausted!' She handed me a wooden key tag with two keys on it. Take your case up and I'll get on with some dinner for you. Yours is the room at the front.' I hefted my case and turned to the stairs. 'I bet you'd like a cup of tea too, wouldn't you?'

'I could murder one,' I agreed, smiling at her.

'Come through when you're ready,' she said, disappearing down the hall and through a door at the end through which I glimpsed a brightly lit kitchen.

My bedroom was ok as B&B rooms go: a double bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a sink in the corner. There was also a chair and a tiny table next to the window that I could work at in the evenings, if there was nothing else in the way of entertainment.

I did a bit of unpacking then left the case on the bed and went down to the kitchen where my landlady, now wearing a calico apron, indicated a mug of steaming tea on the scrubbed pine table. 'Your tea's there and dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Is steak and kidney pie alright for you? Your company didn't mention any dietary requirements.'

'Lovely,' I replied.

'And I've made an apple pie as a bit of dessert.'

'Thank you... er...'

'Penelope. And you're Robin, if I recall.' Unexpectedly she held her hand out and we shook and I noted the veins on the back of her hand and her dark-red painted nails and felt her tapering fingers grip me briefly. 'Let me give you a quick tour while the potatoes are finishing off.'

I followed her out of the kitchen and down the hall into the sitting room at the front of the house where there was a sofa and a couple of easy chairs facing a television. There was also a coffee table and a bookcase stuffed with paperbacks.

Then she showed me upstairs which was really just the bathroom and three bedrooms. 'If you want a bath,' she told me, 'let me know and I'll put the water heater on. But I'd rather you just had a shower, it's ever so expensive to heat the tank.'

'Have you got a full house at the moment?' I asked as we went back out onto the landing and I looked at the closed bedroom doors.

She gave me a small smile. 'No, it's just you. I had got someone coming for the whole of January but they cancelled just before Christmas.' She sighed. 'January in Manchester isn't the best time for Bed and Breakfast businesses.'

We trooped downstairs and back to the kitchen, passing a door on the left that had a sign saying "Private". 'That's my space,' she told me, answering my unasked question. 'If you need anything, just knock. I'm generally around if I'm not shopping,' she added a bit sadly.

In the kitchen she walked over to the back door and I joined her, looking through the window into the darkness of the garden. 'There's a table and chairs out there if you feel the need to sit in the garden in January.' She looked at me with those heavy-lidded eyes and then her face broke into a smile and I laughed and she laughed and, just for a second, a little thrill of excitement ran through me as I looked at my landlady.

I ate at the kitchen table while Penelope washed up the cooking utensils. When I'd finished the steak and kidney pie she produced a golden-brown apple pie from the oven and cut me a generous slice, putting it down in front of me with a jug of double cream.

'Wow,' I said appreciatively. 'I'm going to have to increase my exercise regime while I'm here,' I smiled.

'There's nothing on you,' Penelope smiled back. 'Not like me,' she added, rubbing her stomach with one hand, though she looked alright to me. A bit of padding on her hips and bum maybe but that's age related and not always a bad thing, if you ask me. I prefer a bit of meat on the bone.

After dinner I bade her goodnight saying I was going to work in my bedroom and have an early night.

'What time would you like breakfast?' she asked.

'Would seven be too early?'

'No, that would be fine. I've got fresh fruit and cereals or I can do you a cooked breakfast?'

'Fruit and cereals sounds fine,' I told her. I'm not a big fan of sausage and bacon at seven in the morning. Then I went up to my room and finished unpacking. It was nearly eight by then so I got my laptop out and typed up all the notes I'd made during the day and answered a load of dull emails and then I used the bathroom and went to bed where I fell heavily asleep.

It was cold and bright the next morning as I sat in the kitchen eating my breakfast and my landlady fussed around me and asked if I'd like to take some sandwiches for lunch. I said, 'yes please' and watched her as she stood at the counter and buttered bread and sliced cheese.

She looked rather nice from the back, I couldn't help noticing. Her hips were wide but nicely curved and her bum was shapely and not enormous. Probably a bit saggy under that skirt I grinned to myself.

I finished my cereal and she made us both a cup of tea and came and sat down at the table opposite me.

'What's on your agenda today, Robin?' she asked in her soft voice, looking at me with her dark eyes with their sleepy lids.

'We're auditing United Metals over in Salford,' I told her. 'There's a team of twelve of us.'

'Is it interesting?' she asked.

'Auditing? No, not especially. Though it's nice to be away from the office for a couple of weeks.'

'I'm surprised your company don't put you up in hotels.'

'They used to,' I admitted. 'Then they found out they could save some money.'

Penelope smiled. 'I should be grateful they did. If it wasn't for you I'd be empty till March.'

'What do you do when there are no guests?' I asked, curious.

'I read a lot and watch a lot of television and go walking in the park if the weather's nice.'

'Is it just you here?' I asked, gently.

Penelope sighed and put her hands palm down on the table, her red nails stark against the pale wood. 'Yes, just me.' She told me that her husband had died ten years ago and she had no children. She spoke quietly, without self-pity, telling me that the B&B business was what kept her going both financially and emotionally.

'It must be hard work?' I sympathised.

'Oh, I don't mind hard work. Though some of the guests can be difficult. If not downright rude,' she added. 'I've learned not to let it get to me.'

I felt a wave of sadness for her at her lonely and difficult existence. Surely she had friends around to support her. I came to a snap decision.

'Do you drink wine?' I asked and she stared at me.

'Yes, sometimes. Why?'

'Well I'm going to be here for a couple of weeks and I thought I could bring a bottle of wine back this evening and we could have a good old chat and... well...' I tailed off.

'That's a lovely idea, Robin. But are you sure you want to spend time chatting to an old biddy? Won't your colleagues be going out on the town or whatever it is you do?'

I left the house soon after that and fifteen minutes later I was pulling into United Metal's car park.

The day passed in a blur of work. I caught up with some of the team at lunchtime in the canteen and they described their lodgings and landladies or landlords to me and I realised that I'd rather fallen on my feet at Hollyhocks Guest House. It was as I had suspected, we were scattered about the city and no plans were made to meet up in the evening so I didn't feel that I was missing anything by stopping in and talking to my landlady.

I stopped at a corner shop near the lodging house on the way home and realised when I went inside that I hadn't asked Penelope if she drank red or white, so I picked up a bottle of both.

I let myself in, left my laptop bag in the hall and went through to the kitchen where my landlady was sitting at the table preparing vegetables. She was wearing a floral dress today, a little tight across the bust, I thought. In fact it looked a tiny bit too small all over and I guessed that Penelope's wardrobe probably wasn't very extensive.

'White or red,' I asked, holding out the bottles.

As it turned out, we drank the white with the fish pie we had for dinner and afterwards we sat at the kitchen table and sipped our way through about half of the bottle of red while we talked on into the evening.

I look back on that evening as the beginning of my relationship with Penelope, although I didn't so much as kiss her goodnight. She asked me about myself and I told her about my childhood in Bristol and my family and friends. She listened quietly and asked me lots of questions and laughed at some of my stories. Then it was her turn, telling me about her Greek parents and coming to England when she was ten - she could remember her life on the Greek island of Skiathos - and having to learn English. Of course, she still spoke Greek fluently and we laughed as she tried to teach me a few stumbling basics. She told me about her marriage and her life in Manchester, which had been happy until her husband's premature death.

And as she talked I looked at her and saw an attractive, mature lady. A lady with a pleasant, matronly figure and a sexy voice with a hint of foreign syntax in her speech. A lady with heavy-lidded eyes and full lips that I increasingly wanted to kiss. A lady who listened and smiled and looked at me with her dark eyes.

I didn't try to kiss her that evening. We talked until nearly eleven and then I said goodnight and went up to my room and brushed my teeth in the sink. I got undressed and slipped under the duvet and reached for my cock which was almost fully erect and had been leaking fluid into my underpants all evening as I sat at the table with Penelope.

I stroked my shaft and told myself not to be so foolish. Penelope and I had swapped ages - she was sixty-five and I was twenty-three. What on earth did I think was going to happen between us for goodness sake! She was old enough to be my grandmother. Although strangely that wasn't such a negative thought. And yes, I did find her attractive, despite her age. And sexy, too, with those sultry eyes and kissable lips.

I imagined kissing her and squeezing her full breasts. I tried to visualise what she would look like naked. Would she have a thick, black bush between her legs as I imagined Greek ladies would have? Would it be shot through with grey? Would she shave? I hoped not.

I gripped my cock harder and rubbed faster, sliding my foreskin over my glans on a sticky film of seminal fluid.

What would she smell like down there? What would she taste like? How would it feel to penetrate her, to push my cock into her cunt?

I gasped as my orgasm erupted through me, spurting jets of semen onto my chest and stomach and leaving me limp and messy.

'If it's ok with you,' I said the next morning at breakfast, 'I'll stay here over the weekend rather than do the drive down to Bristol. It'll save me a lot of time and I can do some work on my laptop,' I explained in justification.

'That's fine,' said Penelope. 'Your room's hired for seven nights a week anyway, and it'll be nice to have some company at the weekend,' she added with a smile.

'Yes,' I said, seeing my chance. 'Maybe we could go for a walk in the park if the weather stays fine. And perhaps we could go for a drink afterwards, or some lunch.'

'Well that sounds lovely,' she replied, 'if you're sure you want to spend a bit of time with an old crock like me.'

We didn't do any more drinking that week, but we did linger over dinner and usually chatted a bit afterwards and I got the feeling that Penelope was enjoying my company and was pleased that we seemed to be getting on well. Of course, there is a world of difference between chatting to your sixty-something landlady and making a move on her. I hadn't quite decided if I was really going to go through with it but I was now masturbating every evening and most mornings as I thought about Penelope.

Saturday was cloudless and bone-achingly cold. I asked Penelope if she was still up for a walk and she said she was so we wrapped ourselves up and left the house and walked a mile or so to Alexandra Park which is a large, Victorian municipal park with a big boating lake and a cafeteria.

We walked round the perimeter three times over the space of about two hours and then we retreated into the steamy interior of the cafeteria and I got us coffees. The walk had been very enjoyable. Penelope and I had talked about life in Manchester, life in Bristol, books, politics - you name it. And I had thoroughly enjoyed her company, which only added to the increasingly strong sexual attraction that I felt for her, even swaddled as she was in a quilted anorak, a headscarf and a bobble-hat on top of that.

'Not like Greece?' I said at one point as we stood by the lake and she shivered at the sight of the cold water.

'Not like Greece,' she agreed, quietly.

On the way home I suggested we stop for lunch in a pub and after a bit of persuasion she agreed. The place we found was quiet, in the saloon bar, although there was a football matched being screened in the public bar. We had soup and a ploughman's and I drank the local bitter and Penelope drank white wine. Stepping out of the pub in the early afternoon Penelope shivered again and I offered her my arm, which she gripped with her gloved hand. And so attached, we walked the half-mile to the lodging house, my brain whirling at the intimacy of our closeness.

Inside, we stripped off our coats and scarves and gloves and Penelope shivered again. 'Goodness it was cold out there!'

This seemed like the opening I had been waiting for. 'Let me warm you up,' I said, holding out my arms.

She stepped up to me hesitantly and I put my arms around her and drew her to me for a hug, her chin on my shoulder, her curly black hair tickling my cheek, her arms loosely around me. I held her in an embrace for a couple of minutes which doesn't sound long but it is if it's the first time you've hugged your landlady. Then I relaxed my hold and we looked at each other from about six inches away. I could feel the warmth of her body against me, feel the swell of her bosom and the faint smell of her perfume. Her eyes were on mine, the lids heavy and dark with eyeshadow, her lips slightly parted.

I leaned to her and kissed her, my eyes closed, feeling the softness of her lips against mine. My heart was thumping in my chest and the blood was rushing to my penis, swelling and stiffening it. It was just a little kiss, lips against lips, but I was intensely aroused.

I pressed my lips harder against hers and opened my mouth slightly and Penelope broke off and took half a pace away from me. We were both gasping as though we'd been running.

'I'm not sure we should be doing this, Robin,' she said quietly.

Which in my experience means "I don't want to do this". I should have been disappointed but as it was almost exactly the response I had been expecting I could hardly complain. But neither would I be giving up so easily.

'I'm sorry,' I said, contritely. 'I've had such a lovely time today I think I got a bit carried away.'

'That's alright, Robin,' she replied, giving me a kind smile. 'I've had a lovely time today too. Would you like a cup of tea?' The universal panacea - a nice cup of tea.

-x-X-x-

A bit later I went upstairs to my room, ostensibly to do some work, but actually to masturbate, my persistent and throbbing erection having become too uncomfortable. Afterwards, and before showering, I stood naked in front of the wardrobe mirror and asked myself what I was going to do next.

Downstairs in the kitchen my landlady was washing pans at the sink. I went up to her and put my arms around her and pulled her backwards against me, lowering my head and kissing her neck, nuzzling and nibbling the soft skin.

She stiffened. 'Whatever are you doing, Robin?' she asked, her voice puzzled.

I held her for a little longer, my hands feeling the slight bulge of her tummy, then I released her and stepped back and she turned to face me, wearing her apron and yellow rubber gloves, splashed with foam.

'I think I need to talk to you, Penelope,' I said, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down. She did the same, her dark eyes on me.

'I'm afraid that I've developed a rather strong crush on you,' I began, without preamble. 'It's not something I set out to do or even imagined, but it's happened and I can only apologise and offer to leave and find somewhere else.'

Penelope stared at me, her brow furrowed. 'I see,' she said.

'I know it sounds crazy, what with our age difference, but you are a very attractive lady, Penelope, and I've really enjoyed your company since I've been here.'

'Well that's kind of you to say so, Robin,' she said quietly. 'I've enjoyed your company too and you're a good-looking young man, but I'm sixty-five and you're twenty-three.' I don't really know what to say.'

'Would you rather I left?' I asked, feeling mean because it sounded like a threat.

A cloud passed over her face. 'No, I don't want you to leave.' She sat for a while staring at her hands then she got up and, stripping off her rubber gloves, she went to a cupboard in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of red wine and held it up to me.

'Thymiopoulos,' she said. 'Greek wine. My father always said that if you can't resolve an issue over a bottle of good Greek wine then it can't be resolved.'

She uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. 'Let's take these into my room and talk, the settee in there's much more comfortable than these kitchen chairs.' She smiled at me: 'I don't normally invite guests into my room, it's the only privacy I've got, but then my guests don't usually tell me they fancy me.'

Penelope's room was the biggest in the house, stretching from the sitting room to the garden. But much of the space was taken up with her bed and most of the rest by a big settee and a flat-screen television. We sat on the settee, a couple of feet apart.

'I can't believe I'm the first of your guests to... to say something to you,' I said as we sipped the fruity wine.

'You're not,' she confirmed. 'I've had rather a lot of offers over the past ten years. Mainly from middle-aged businessmen with paunches and bad breath.'

'Did you...' I began.

'Certainly not,' she replied tartly. She put her glass down and turned to me. 'I'd rather you didn't leave, Robin. It's been fun this week and I've not had very much fun recently.'

My heart swelled for this lonely, lovely lady and I suddenly regretted my sordid attempts to get her into bed.

'I'm sorry, Penelope,' I began, 'I was very stupid to try and kiss you. I don't want to leave either. I'm sure I can control myself for the next couple of weeks; if I do start to have feelings I'll just think about the audit, that'll do the trick.'

We laughed and I held out my hand and, after a tiny pause, Penelope took my hand and we sat staring at the silent TV until my landlady got up and said that she needed to start dinner.

'Stay here if you want,' she said, handing me the remote control. 'I'll bring you another glass of wine.'

After dinner we watched television in her room for a couple of hours and then I went up to my room, brushed my teeth and got into bed. I lay for a while thinking about the events of the day. Had I really thought Penelope would fall into my arms? Oh, callow youth! And what would I have done with her if she had? A mature and presumably experienced lady like Penelope was way out of my experience. Would have been fun finding out, though, I grinned to myself and turned over to sleep.

The tap at my bedroom door brought me to instant wakefulness.

'Yes?' I called out, trying to orientate myself.

The door opened and Penelope came into the room. 'It's me,' she whispered. The curtains were thin and quite a lot of light from the sodium streetlamps came into the room and I could see she was wearing a light-coloured nylon dressing gown. She stood looking at me.

'Have you got a girlfriend, Robin?' she asked. 'I won't be a party to cheating.'

I raised myself on my elbows, my head against the padded headboard. 'No girlfriend,' I said. 'No wife.'

She hesitated then undid the cord of her dressing gown and let it slip off her shoulders onto the floor. Then she climbed into my bed and I held out my arms and she came into my embrace. A glorious, warm, soft embrace, her naked breasts squashed against my stomach, her head on my chest. I stroked her hair and ran my hand down her back to the flare of her buttocks.

'Are you sure?' I whispered, my cock rigid and pressed to her loins.

She stroked my chest and traced a fingernail gently down my sternum, making me shiver with desire. 'I had a long think, after you'd gone to bed. I started out by thinking how crazy it would be for us to have a relationship, with me being old enough to be your grandmother. But the more I thought about it the less that seemed to matter. If you really do want me then... well, here I am❤.'

I rolled her gently onto her back and kissed her, my lips just brushing hers, savouring the moment, smelling her perfume, stroking her breasts, round and heavy and grapefruit-sized, her nipples big and hard. She moaned softly and I pressed my lips harder, working them slowly against her, opening my mouth, feeling hers open, sliding my tongue into her in that most intimate of acts.

We kissed for long minutes, exploring each other's mouths with our tongues, tasting saliva, sucking on lips. I'd never kissed a lady with such soft, full lips. And she kissed me back, biting gently on my lower lip, darting her tongue into my mouth, drinking my fluids.

I cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples gently and she groaned into my mouth and ran her fingernails lightly down my back, making me shudder with arousal.

Then my hand was going lower, exploring, sliding over her soft tummy, feeling the contours of her pelvis, feeling the thick bush of her pubic hair, silky and curly between my fingers. I cupped her vulva and she opened her legs and I found her labia with a probing fingertip, tracing the folds of flesh, up and down, pressing lightly to part them, sliding my long middle finger inside her.

I had worried that she would be dry but Penelope was moist enough for my finger to slide in easily and as I slowly fucked her with my digit she grew very wet and I added my index finger and slid them deep inside her vagina until she broke our kiss and gasped out loud, 'Oh, goodness❤, Robin!'

'Is that nice?' I murmured into her ear as I curled my fingers, seeking her special spot.

'It's wonderful❤,' she breathed.

So I kissed her again and kept on kissing her while my fingers slid slowly in and out of her sopping pussy and I felt the heat of her and the silkiness of her secretions. My cock was an iron bar, pressing against my landlady's thigh, and I knew I would penetrate her soon, the thought making my heart race. But I was in no hurry, content to let the anticipation build and most of all I wanted to bring pleasure to this kind, gentle, lonely lady who had come to my bed.

A little later I started using the ball of my thumb on Penelope's clitoris, stroking the little button as I worked my fingers in and out of her cunt. She made a little 'aah~❤' noise and flexed her hips, putting her hands behind my head and pressing my mouth to hers, sucking my tongue inside her.

I rubbed her clit harder, sensing she was close to an orgasm, and she shuddered as the bubble of pleasure welled up through her body and she started bucking her hips and digging her fingers into my neck, gasping into my mouth.

I fingered her cunt and clit faster and harder as her climax peaked, feeling the muscles of her vagina spasm around my digits. Then she was coming down and I was slowing and stopping and she was relaxing, going limp, her breathing slowing.

I kissed her gently as she lay beneath me, stroking her face and her hair. But my needs were now aching to be satisfied. Giving her time to demur, I manoeuvred myself between her thighs and, gripping my cock shaft, lowered myself to her, seeking her slit with my glans, finding her thick bush and soft labia, parting as I pressed my head into her. Then I was in, sliding into the hot, liquid depths of my landlady's sopping cunt, inch after inch until my balls slapped against her perineum.

She moaned softly as I penetrated her, now resting on my elbows, my face inches from hers. God she felt fantastic! Slick and tight, the eroticism of the act somehow magnified because she was forty-two years older than me. A perfect example of delicious feminine maturity.

After bringing her to an orgasm, then penetrating her, I was on a knife edge. So I took her slowly that first time, knowing there would be others when I could slam my cock into her cunt and fuck her hard and fast. This first time I took her with long, languorous strokes, taking my cock to the mouth of her pussy and sliding back in slowly and deeply. And while I fucked her I kissed her lips, lightly and tenderly, with no tongue. And she responded, working her lips gently against mine, hooking her calves over mine and rolling her hips to meet my thrusts.

But slowly as I went, I couldn't stop the build-up of my own orgasm. I felt it in my balls and the base of my cock, I felt it creep like a cloud of gas up my spine and burst into my brain and I choked out a cry and gasped as my cock pulsed and squirted my come into Penelope's cunt.

Nothing was said afterwards. I rolled off her and she came into my arms and we must have fallen asleep in that post-coital embrace because the next thing I knew it was starting to get light in the room and I could hear the shower going in the bathroom across the landing. A bit later the bathroom door opened and I heard Penelope going downstairs.

I had a leisurely Sunday morning shave and shower and went down to the kitchen where the morning sun was blazing through the window and Penelope was putting out the breakfast things.

'Good morning,' I said, a little awkwardly.

'Good morning, Robin,' she replied and I sensed that same awkwardness in her as in me.

'Come here,' I said and she came to me and we hugged, tightly. 'Are you alright this morning?' I asked her.

'Yes, I am alright.' She paused. 'Better than alright. Oh Robin, you were so wonderful last night and you made me feel so good!❤ It just feels a bit odd this morning, as though last night was just a dream and didn't really happen at all. It did, didn't it?' she added with a smile.

'So far as I remember it did,' I smiled back. 'Look, it's a great morning out there, why don't we go for another walk? A proper one this time. I've always wanted to do Kinder Scout.'

(And for those readers who have never heard of Kinder Scout, it's an upland plateau in the UK's Peak District, close to the outskirts of Greater Manchester).

'Oh that would be lovely,' squealed Penelope, hugging me tighter. 'I haven't been there for years and it was one of my favourite places. One of the problems of not having a car,' she said, ruefully.

I felt suddenly guilty. I hadn't realised she hadn't got a car. 'Right then,' I said, 'that's settled. Shall we take some sandwiches?'

An hour later we'd parked in the village of Hayfield and were climbing to the Kinder plateau, warm in our walking clothes, despite the temperature being close to zero. And as we walked we talked and Penelope told me more about her upbringing in Greece and coming to England and how difficult the first few years had been at school. And she told me about her husband and how happy they had been and how devastated she had been when he died. And I walked by her and I listened and I didn't interrupt or try to kiss her although she looked very desirable to me in her close-fitting red walking jacket and matching woollen hat.

'I'm sorry about asking so bluntly last night if you had a girlfriend,' she said at one point. 'I suppose I couldn't believe that you wouldn't have someone. You haven't have you?'

'You mean did I lie to you last night to get you into my bed?' I laughed. 'No, I didn't.' And then I did kiss her, pulling her to me and fastening my mouth onto hers and feeling her arms go round me and her lips respond to mine.

'It all seems a bit unreal, I suppose,' she said as we walked on, now holding hands. 'It's the age difference thing. I'm struggling to see what you see in me. Do you really find me attractive?'

'Yes I do,' I told her seriously, 'very much so. You're a good-looking lady and don't underestimate the effect of your maturity on a young, impressionable accountant!' We laughed and I went on. 'It's hard to describe because it's not a conscious thing that you can analyse, but I think you're really sexy and desirable.'

'Thank you,' she said, warmly. 'I'm not sure anyone's ever called me that before!'

'Not even your husband?'

She gave me a small smile. 'Especially not my husband. Oh, don't misunderstand me,' she said, seeing my expression, 'we loved each other very much, but the physical side of our marriage wasn't very...' she paused, looking for the right word. 'Adventurous, I suppose. Geoff wasn't a very physical person, not in that way, and I feel awful saying that about him but he wasn't.'

'But me on the other hand,' I grinned.

'Yes❤,' she smiled, 'you on the other hand are. I have never had such a powerful orgasm as the one you gave me with your fingers last night❤.' She stopped and turned to me and then we were kissing and I was cupping her buttocks and pressing her to my crotch and she was pushing her tongue into my mouth. 'I was rather hoping that you might give me another one when we get home this afternoon❤.'

We got home as the early winter dusk was descending. The central heating was on in the house and it was blissfully warm after the arctic air of the Peak District. We took our coats and hats and scarves off and went into the kitchen. Penelope went to the corner cupboard and pulled out a bottle of red wine.

'I know it's early, but I thought we could have a glass of wine and take it through to my room and... you know, see what happens.'

'Well,' I said, picking up the bottle and opening the drawer to look for the corkscrew, 'I'll open the wine while you go and get into something a bit more appropriate. What do you think?'

'Appropriate?' she echoed.

'Well that nice nightgown you had on last night, maybe. And perhaps some sexy underwear?'

'Ok,' she said, dubiously, 'I'll go and see what I've got. I might have some stockings, somewhere. I haven't worn them for years.'

I uncorked the supermarket red and poured us both a glass and I sat at the kitchen table and waited and stared out into the darkness of the garden. After about twenty minutes Penelope appeared at the kitchen door in her nylon dressing gown. 'Ok,' she said, 'I'm ready.'

I took up the wineglasses and followed her down the passage and into her room, where she had switched on one of her bedside lamps, casting a limited but intimate light into the room. I put the wine down on a small table and we stood by the settee, facing each other. 'I hope you won't be disappointed,' she said quietly, undoing the sash of her dressing gown. She let it slip from her shoulders to the floor and I stood and looked at her in awe.

My sixty-five-year-old landlady was wearing a silky black negligee which looked to be a little on the small side. Deliciously so. It was tight across her breasts, showing plenty of cleavage, and fell to mid-thigh, beneath which she was wearing black stockings. In the dim light of the room she looked beyond enchanting.

'God, you look gorgeous,' I gasped, taken by surprise. I hadn't really expected anything like this.

'Thank you,' she said. 'It took me ages to find it all. I'm afraid the stockings don't quite match,' she said apologetically. 'And this thing's a bit tight on me❤,' she added, pulling at the lace hem of her nightie.

I grabbed her then and pulled her to me and kissed her with a passion and intensity that I had rarely known, even with sexy Lucy. I ran my hands over her negligee, feeling the rich curves of her body, cupping her silk-clad buttocks and squeezing them, feeling suspender straps beneath. 'You're wearing a suspender belt,' I said.

'Is that alright?' she whispered.

By way of reply I pulled her down onto the settee and kissed her and squeezed her breasts and ran my hand down her stocking-clad leg and underneath her negligee, feeling the tops of her stockings and the suspender clips, feeling the softness of her inner thighs and the silky gusset of her panties, damp to my touch. Great heavens! How could any women so perfectly click the switches of my libido? And apparently without even really trying!

I stroked the gusset of her panties with one finger, tracing the outline of her labia and she sighed and opened her legs to give me better access. I slid my finger under her elastic and found the warmth and silky hair and wetness and I shuddered and my cock strained at the leash in my trousers.

'Do you mind if I get a bit more comfortable?' I asked, standing up. Penelope watched me with her dark eyes from the settee as I stripped to my underpants before pulling them down over my rigid cock, letting it spring up wave about.

'You're lovely,' she said with a tinge of sadness in her voice.

'So are you,' I replied, sitting down. 'Now it's your turn. Take your knickers off for me and come and sit on my cock.' Suddenly, playing the dominant male seemed the right thing to do.

Penelope stood up and lifted her negligee, reaching for the waistband of her panties, working them down over her hips and bum, parting them from her sticky pussy, rolling them down her stockinged legs and discarding them on the floor. She straddled me, lifting her negligee again and I gripped the shaft of my cock as she lowered herself to me, brushing against my cock head, lining herself up for my penetration.

She pressed down on me and I felt her labia part and I was in and she was sinking slowly down my shaft, taking my full length, her hands now on my shoulders, clutching me with her red-tipped fingers.

We sat motionless, looking at each other, my landlady's weight pressing into my lap with exquisite pressure, my hands on her hips, feeling the smooth fabric of her nightie and the swell of her flesh underneath.

'Am I too heavy?' she asked softly.

'It feels wonderful,' I said, looking up at her and she smiled and started gently moving her hips backwards and forwards, putting a tiny pressure on her clitoris. She tilted her head back, her dark hair splashing over her back.

'Ohhh~❤, God, Robin, that feels so good~❤.'

I reached up and pulled her head down and we kissed as she rode me, mouths gently working against each other, tasting her saliva, feeling her tongue in my mouth, stroking her long, dark curls and running my hands over her back, tracing the ridges of her spine.

I raised the hem of her negligee and put my hands on the bare flesh of her hips, revelling in her mature curves, sliding my hands further round to cup her buttocks, massaging the fleshy orbs, tracing her intimate crevice with an exploratory finger, finding the knot of her anus and pressing my fingertip lightly against it. I felt as if I was pushing my luck but I was being carried away on a tidal wave of lust and arousal.

-x-X-x-

'What are you doing?' she whispered as the tip of my finger pushed harder.

'Do you want me to stop?' I asked.

'No,' she replied, after a pause. 'It's nice❤.' Then she fastened her mouth back on mine and rocked her hips and I fingered her anus as we kissed for long minutes.

'Get on the bed,' I said to her eventually. 'I want to taste you.'

She climbed off me, leaving my cock cold after the liquid heat of her pussy, and walked down the room to her bed by the window, climbing on and rolling onto her back, her legs spread wide and her hands gripping the brass rails of the bedstead. I stood for a few seconds looking down on her, her black hair stark against the while pillows, her stockinged legs open in invitation, her negligee up around her hips, exposing her naked cunt to me.

I scrambled onto the bed and knelt between her thighs. Then I gripped her legs behind the knee and lifted them up and over, hoping she was supple enough. And there was her pussy, the first time I'd seen it properly. A mass of curly black hair framing loose, caramel-brown labia inside which I could see the wet, pink skin of her vaginal entrance. Below that was the skin of her perineum and the dark pucker of her anus, ringed with silky-black curls.

I knelt down reverently, still holding her legs down, dabbing my tongue inside her, feeling the heat of her and smelling her most intimate scent; rich and strong and musky. Penelope moaned softly as I started licking her cunt with long strokes that delved into her opening and slid up to flick over the rigid nub of her clitoris.

I licked harder, pushing my tongue as far into her as I could get it and she moaned louder and gripped the bedstead until her knuckles were white. 'Jesus, Robin, what are you doing to me?'

I licked and lapped and tasted her and smelt her and she gasped and tried to move but I held her legs down firmly. Then I was on her clitoris, licking and sucking, two fingers in her cunt, sliding in and out in a sea of her juices.

'Oh❤, God,' she mewled and I sensed she was approaching a climax. I withdrew my slimy digits from her and sought her anus with my long middle finger, pushing against her pucker until it opened and I slid in remorselessly, right up to the knuckle, my mouth fastened on her clit.

Penelope screamed and writhed as her orgasm hit her like the wind from a passing train. I held onto her as the waves of pleasure crashed through her sixty-five-year-old body and left her limp and quiet, releasing the bedstead and crawling into my arms as I lay down beside her.

'That was... amazing❤,' she said after a few minutes silence in which I'd held her tightly and stroked her hair and shoulders. 'I've never felt anything like that before! What do you do to me, Robin?'

I tilted her face to me and kissed her lips. 'It's a two-way thing, Penelope. I couldn't do that to you unless you were having a similar effect on me.'

'Do I really turn you on so much,' she asked, tears in her eyes.

'You'd better believe it,' I smiled. 'Did you mind me putting my finger up your bum at the end,' I asked, keen to get into a discussion that might lead to something. Again she surprised me.

'It's the first time anyone's done that to me❤,' she smiled. 'It felt very naughty and very nice❤,' she went on, 'and I think it made my orgasm much stronger❤.'

'Maybe you'd like to try something a bit bigger up there one day,' I grinned.

'Well that would be another first❤,' she smiled.

'Did you like sitting in my lap?' I asked.

'Oh Robin, you know I did!❤ It was wonderful❤. I think I could probably have an orgasm in that position❤, especially if you... you know... touched my bottom❤.'

She laughed suddenly. 'Just listen to me! A couple of days ago I was the woman who'd only ever slept with one man and only tried two positions!'

'What was the other one?' I smiled.

'From behind, if you must know,' she replied.

'Do you like it that way?' I asked, 'because it occurs to me that only one of us has had an orgasm this afternoon.'

'Mmm❤, I'm sure I will with you❤.' Penelope rolled over and got on to her knees, facing the top of the bed and I got between her stockinged legs and, with a hand flat on her buttocks, gripped my cock and probed the crevice of her buttocks, finding the entrance to her pussy and pushing in easily and smoothly.

She gasped as I penetrated her and started fucking her with short, hard thrusts, my balls slapping against her thighs. She gripped the bedstead and pushed herself back at me and I rammed into her, gripping her wide hips and pulling her back into me with each thrust.

My arousal was reaching new heights, my orgasm not far away; I couldn't get enough of the sight of my landlady in stockings, suspenders and a negligee, kneeling for me as I fucked her. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen! Then there was her sexual awakening, her realisation that there was a world of pleasure out there waiting to be explored. And her willingness to explore it. Had she really only ever fucked in two positions? And would she really allow me in her arse?

At this last thought I felt my climax start to tingle through my cock and balls and I thrust harder and Penelope gasped and grunted and held on to the bedstead with red-tipped fingers, her knuckles white.

'I'm coming,' I gasped out as Penelope reached between her legs and started rubbing her pussy with one hand. My vision clouded as waves of pleasure crashed down on me and my cock pulsed and spurted sperm into my landlady's cunt.

I slowed down and stopped, breathing heavily and holding on to her hips. Penelope was still rubbing herself and I could hear the squelching noises of her fingers. I stroked her bum cheeks and let a stray finger explore her crack, touching her anus, pushing the tip gently in. Penelope grunted louder and then gave four or five ragged gasps as her orgasm racked her middle-aged body.

'Was that good?' I asked her as she lay in my arms.

'You know it was. You're just fishing for compliments.'

I laughed and kissed the top of her head. 'Masturbating while I took you from behind was very sexy,' I told her. 'I'd like you to do that again.'

She looked up at me and smiled shyly. 'It's the only way I can orgasm during intercourse,' she admitted.

The next few days were some of the most pleasant of my life. Ok, I had to go to work during the day, but most evenings when I came home Penelope and I would go to her bed and make gentle love. Later, after dinner and a couple of hours of television, we would go to bed again. It was glorious. Penelope was deliciously submissive, unaware of the sexual aura that surrounded her, in my eyes. Whatever I ordered her to do, she would do it, meekly and without argument. She masturbated for me one evening while I kissed her and stroked her breasts. Another evening she showed me the dildo she used on herself and I ordered her to demonstrate for me. She was very shy about that but eventually she parted her legs and pushed the latex phallus into herself, fingering her clit with her fingertip until she reached a writhing, groaning climax, her back arched, her leg muscles taut.

On Friday morning she told me that she'd been shopping the previous day and had bought some new stockings.

'Make sure you're wearing them when I get back this afternoon,' I told her. 'It's Friday, so I'll be back by four. Oh, and you'd better see if you've got some Vaseline,' I added as a parting shot as I kissed her goodbye in the kitchen. She didn't say anything but her mouth opened in a silent 'O'. I had decided that I was going to take her anal cherry that afternoon, with no further discussion. Of course I would be gentle; I couldn't imagine hurting my lovely landlady.

The day dragged but it was a mercifully short one and I was away from United Metals by three-thirty and opening the door of the Hollyhocks Guest House before four o'clock. It was quiet inside. I went upstairs and threw my laptop on the bed, then I went downstairs and into the kitchen, which was empty. I walked into the passage and tapped at Penelope's door.

'Hello?'

'Come in, Robin,' I heard her say.

Inside it was warm and gloomy, she'd drawn the thick curtains against the fading afternoon light of the January afternoon and the only light was from a reading lamp. Penelope was sitting on the sofa, reading a magazine. She stood as I came in and I saw that she was dressed in her cream-coloured nylon dressing gown. As I looked at her she loosened the cord and slipped the robe from her shoulders. Underneath she was wearing only a black suspender belt and black stockings. I goggled.

'Is this what you wanted?' she whispered.

'Oh God,' was all I could say and then I was reaching for her, pulling her into my arms, kissing her passionately, mouths open, my tongue exploring her mouth, my hands all over her back and her bare buttocks. Then I was pulling her to the bed. 'Find me some old stockings or tights,' I ordered, 'I'm going to tie you to the bed.'

She looked at me for a moment, her mouth half open, and I thought she was going to refuse. In fact, she admitted later, it was the most erotic thing that anyone had ever said to her. So she went to a chest of drawers and started rummaging through her underwear drawer, coming up with two pairs of flesh-coloured tights.

'Now get on the bed,' I told her. 'And stretch your arms out.'

She obeyed and I tied her wrists to the metal bars of the bedstead, taking care not to bind her too tightly. As I secured her, she watched me silently with her dark eyes in their heavy lids.

I stripped off, throwing my clothes to the floor, my cock an aching pole. Christ, I wanted this woman so much, and here she was, in stocking and suspenders, tied to the bed, wriggling with anticipation, her thick, black bush stark against the paleness of her skin and the white cotton duvet cover.

I lay down next to her and kissed her, pushing my tongue into her mouth, my hand massaging a breast, pinching the big nipple into stiffness as I worked my mouth against hers. I kissed her cheeks and her neck, her shoulders and her breasts. I sucked her nipples and bit them and she squealed and pulled against her restraints as I worked my way down her body, over her little bulge of a tummy, down to her loins, where I could feel the heat of her pussy and smell the scent of her arousal.

I parted her labia with my thumbs and sank my face to her cunt, pushing my tongue deep inside her, tasting her juices, smelling her musk, lapping up her silky fluid, her hair tickling my nose. I lifted her stockinged legs over onto her chest, holding them down as I feasted on her cunt, licking and sucking her labia, nibbling at the folds of skin, flicking the tip of my tongue over her clit in its little hood, hearing her moan and pull at her bindings.

I licked her until she was close to a climax, her moans turning to grunts and gasps, getting louder and less restrained. Then I knelt up and entered her, slipping easily into her sodden pussy, going down on my elbows so that I could kiss her with my juice-soaked mouth as I slid my cock in and out of her with long, slow thrusts. She felt so good! She always felt so good. And now she was lit up with arousal. Pulling at the tights that bound her, hooking her legs over mine and rolling her hips to meet my thrusts.

I slowed right down then stopped, looking down on her. 'Did you find some Vaseline?' I asked.

She looked at the bedside table, saying nothing, and I saw the little plastic jar, next to her bedside clock. I slid my cock out of her and reached for the lubricant, her eyes following me. Widening slightly as I put the jar back down on the bedside table, a new and appallingly dirty idea having just occurred to my sex-ravaged brain.

Kneeling at her pussy again, I lifted her legs back on to her chest and lowered my head, licking her anus in its little nest of curls. It felt dirty and naughty and supremely erotic. I licked all around her pucker then teased the little rubbery opening with the tip of my tongue, relishing the feeling of taboo as I pushed my tongue into Penelope's rectum, feeling the tightness of her sphincter. I pushed deeper, feeling the strain on my tongue, feeling her muscle grip me, relishing the feeling of forbidden pleasure.

My landlady had been silent as I penetrated her arsehole with my tongue but as I probed and pushed she started making a gentle mewing sound and I pushed harder, fucking her anus with my tongue.

After a few minutes of this her arse was sopping with my saliva and my tongue was aching so I knelt up again and took up the jar of Vaseline.

'Are you ready for me?' I asked, taking off the lid and scooping out a dollop of the sticky jelly.

'Yes,' she whispered, barely audible.

I pushed the dollop of Vaseline into her with the tip of my finger, working it deep into her rectum, knowing she would need plenty of lube. I scooped out more and pushed it into her, sliding my finger deep, then two fingers, while Penelope watched me, her mouth slack, her eyelid heavy and sensuous. Then it was time.

I knelt and gripped my cock, guiding it to her anus, pressing the big plum against her sphincter, shining with lube. She winced as I made contact and I stopped. 'I'll be very gentle,' I told her. 'I won't hurt you.'

I pushed gently and she winced again and then, to my surprise, I felt her start to open and my big cockhead slid inside her, stretching her sphincter and making her gasp. God, that had been easy.

'Am I hurting you?' I asked.

'No,' she said, tightly, 'it's fine.'

I slid slowly and gently into my landlady's arse, feeling her muscle ring grip the shaft of my cock, feeling the walls of her rectum take me in a warm, light embrace. It wasn't the first time I'd had anal intercourse, but it felt better than it had with any of my previous partners. God, it felt glorious, and all the better because it was my sixty-five-year-old landlady beneath me, in stockings and suspenders, her hands tied to the bedstead. And she just lay there, still and quiet as I slid my whole cock into her bum.

'Is that alright?' I asked as she got my full seven inches.

Penelope smiled shyly up at me. 'It feels big and naughty❤, but it's nice❤.'

I kissed her and she responded, opening her mouth as I started to fuck her anus with slow strokes, feeling the suction of her rectum as I pulled out and the unbelievable feeling of arousal as I slid back in. I went slowly for a minute or two before speeding up, longer strokes, thrusting a bit harder. And as I did this, my landlady began to respond, pulling at her restraints, whimpering and moaning and I realised that my pubis was in just the right position to rub against her clitoris as I fucked her arse.

The thought that she was actually enjoying it was a revelation. I thrust harder, pressing myself to her at the end of each stroke, grinding my pubic bone into her cunt. She started making louder noises, little cries of pleasure, her hands tight on the bedstead. I fucked her harder, using her arse as though it was her cunt. And then Penelope was coming. A sudden wailing and crying out, tears running down her cheeks as the she came for the first time in her life by penetration only.

Her climax, with me deep inside her rectum, was one of the most erotic moments of my life. I felt her sphincter spasm around my cock and that triggered my orgasm which exploded in my head and I was gasping and pumping into her and then I was collapsing over her and kissing her.

I withdrew from her gently, then undid her restraints and she rubbed her wrists, the flesh red and angry-looking. She was openly weeping.

'Sorry,' I said. 'perhaps tights weren't the best choice.'

'It's not that,' she whimpered, tears running down her cheeks. 'It's how you make me feel❤, Robin.'

We lay together on her bed for a few more minutes, both a little shell-shocked at the boundaries we had crossed and the intensity of our passion. Then we got up and I went to shower while Penelope prepared our dinner, although I don't think either of us was particularly hungry. It had the feeling of going through the motions because our thoughts were elsewhere.

Afterwards we sat on her settee, Penelope snuggled under my arm, and talked quietly while a comedy-drama played out on the television.

'How are you feeling?' I asked her.

'A bit strange,' she admitted. 'Emotional and physical overload, I suppose.' I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. 'Nothing like that's ever happened to me before,' she continued. 'I suppose I've had fantasies, but I never imagined actually being tied to the bed while a young hunk of a man brought me to an orgasm by... by doing it in my bottom.'

'Is that really the first time you've come during intercourse?' I asked.

'Yes,' she replied. 'It was the combination of two sensations - you inside me and rubbing against me❤. It was very powerful.'

Much later we went to bed and I took my landlady in the missionary position, slowly and gently. She didn't come but afterwards I brought her to a climax with my fingers and then we slept, in exhaustion and in great contentment.

I left the Hollyhocks Guest House on Friday morning. It was the last day of the audit and the team would be travelling back to Bristol after lunch and the wash-up with United Metals. We had slept together every night that last week and made love more times than I could count. She had invited me to take her in her anus a couple of times and again, she had reached a powerful orgasm as I sodomised her.

Penelope was very tearful as I came downstairs into the hall for the last time with my case and hugged her and kissed her lips.

'I'll come up and see you,' I promised her, not knowing if I was being honest.

'Will you?' she asked through her tears, not sounding at all convinced.

I put my case in the car and got in and pulled away. The last view I had of Penelope was in my rear-view mirror; she was standing on the little garden path, waving forlornly.

-x-X-x-