From fvj@world.std.com Thu Mar 20 16:51:01 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: VOLUPTUOUS KAREN part 1
From: fvj@world.std.com (Septimus)
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 1997 21:51:01 GMT
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Sorry I goofed in my first attempt to post part 1 of this tale of
seduction by an older woman.
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VOLUPTUOUS KAREN -part 1
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------by Septimus (fvj@world.std.com)----
No woman in my life had such a fantastically voluptuous shape as Karen
Wray, my college landlady. My eternally ideal object of passion. That she
was also supremely refined in the art of seduction, you will agree if you
read on. This is a memoir of my first amour with a grown woman.
As long as I can remember I have been fascinated by women with voluptuous
figures, which necessarily implies very large breasts, and may imply a
general fleshiness outside the strictest esthetic boundaries. In other
words, I'm turned on as easily by women who are somewhat overweight as by
the Playboy centerfold type, who typically has slim, perfect legs, a taut
belly and a bosom which is never shown to droop even a centimeter. Well,
some men are turned on by the Mrs Onassis (Jackie O) type. There's no
accounting for taste. Anyway, let me quickly get on with my memoir. The
names have been changed to protect our privacy.
In the year 196x I was a shy but oversexed 19 year-old college sophomore,
a first-class bookworm on the border of what was later termed nerdiness.
Having spent my first year at the University of New Mexico in a dorm room
with noisy roommates, I decided to find off-campus housing this time. It
was early September when I got off the bus at the Albuquerque campus for
my second year of engineering studies. I walked the full distance to my
new digs carrying an old suitcase and a canvas duffle bag. It was nearly
a mile north, in a quiet residential neighborhood between the campus and
Albuquerque's airport. I'll call the street Anthracite Road. The house
was quite modest, but it had a fenced in patio in the back with a small
swimming pool, which later figures prominently in my story. The only thing
I knew about the living situation is that the landlady was Karen Wray and
that I was her only student-tenant.
When I arrived at her house on that unseasonably hot September day, no one
answered the doorbell for a few minutes. I was hot and sweaty and thirsty,
so I walked around the side of the house and was promply greeted by a
pleasant shock which literally took my breath away. Mrs Wray waved me over
to the modest-sized swimming pool, where she was sitting and reading a
novel. She was a pretty, short-haired brunette woman in her thirties,
wearing a short white terry-cloth robe which revealed that she was
phenomenally curvaceous. I could scarcely tear my gaze away from her high,
tan cleavage, slightly sweaty from the sun. She had nice, slender ankles,
too, although her thighs were a bit plump. Mrs Wray jumped right up and,
like a good hostess, offered an iced drink before showing me around my new
home. I tried very hard not to stare at her spectacular shape or to make
excessive eye contact, either. It was really tough, because Mrs Wray was
precisely the physical type I conjured up in my masturbatory fantasies: a
pretty, but not glamorous face, with understated makeup, and really
voluptuous form. I estimate she was about five-five or five-six tall and
maybe 145 pounds, distributed nicely all around. She gave me the
impression of a stroke magazine centerfold who had gotten pleasingly
plump. An over-ripe glamour model, to put it another way
As the first weeks of the semester passed, I got into a routine of
classes, labs, study in the library until about 9, then a brisk walk home.
I was too tired to think about dating and girls. I noticed, too, that my
landlady would also come home late from her office job, rush through a
salad-bar salad and quickly turn in, quite fatigued. I gathered from our
few conversations that she was an office manager at the Sandia
Laboratories, a defense oriented R&D outfit located at Kirtland Airforce
Base. Her office was chronically understaffed; hence the long hours, and
the lack of energy for a social life. I also learned that she had married
a much older man who left her a childless widow, with the Anthracite Road
house and not much else. In other words, she really needed the income from
my rented room to make ends meet.
As the weeks wore on, our respective workloads got slightly heavier, not
lighter, and we rarely ventured beyond the confines of her house. Although
our schedules did not allow us to take meals together, we started watching
the tv news together at the end of the day. Mrs Wray always wore
loose-fitting, modest clothing, but some times she sat close enough so
that our thighs touched with quite a bit of pressure, which alone was
enough to give me a semi-erection. At other times, without making any
suggestive remarks or looks, she leaned her head on my shoulders, as if
she were nodding off from fatigue. Sometimes I suspected she was not
really sleeping on such occasions, but was enjoying the closeness. From
time to time, I fantasized about her in the short terry-cloth robe, slowly
peeling it off her voluptuous form...
Week by week I was getting hornier and hornier, and I suspected that she
also was getting aroused by having me in close proximity. Although we
spoke freely on any number of subjects, I naturally hesitated to ask her
about her love life after widowhood.
Finally, around mid-October, things began to heat up.
"Oh, Brad, would be a dear and help me so I don't fall off the
step stool?" She was rearranging some crockery on a high shelf in the
kitchen. Her cotton skirt was very short, and her loose-fitting top didn't
quite reach to the waist of the skirt, so I could see a nice expanse of
soft creamy flesh around her middle. It seemed logical to support her at
the waist, so I got to touch her bare skin, which thrilled me intensely.
"A little tighter, Brad, I'd hate to have a fall."
"Gladly, Mrs Wray" I said, as I gave her waist a gentle squeeze.
Since she didn't seem to be in any hurry to complete her chore, I held her
bare waist and leisurely admired her full, curved thighs.
Not long after that episode, out of the blue, she remarked, "I've been
noticing that you look at me...a bit...longingly, Brad. Is that possible,
or is it my imagination?"
I knew enough even then not to refer to my own loneliness and extreme
horniness, so I replied: "It's just that you're a hell of an attractive
woman, Mrs Wray." "I hope I'm not sounding too forward."
"Brad, a little forward may be okay. Umm, why don't we put aside the
formality and have you call me Karen." She smiled a demure smile, at which
I blushed furiously. But I held her gaze, and sensed that there was a
definite erotic potential in our living together in that little house.
From then on she would favor me with glimpses of her lush curves, but they
were glimpses only, which inflamed my interest in her to an obsession.
to be continued
From fvj@world.std.com Thu Mar 20 16:01:49 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: VOLUPTUOUS KAREN part2
From: fvj@world.std.com (Septimus)
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 1997 21:01:49 GMT
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VOLUPTUOUS KAREN -part 2
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------by Septimus (fvj@world.std.com)----
As I said, I was very shy around women, and felt quite uneasy at
expressing my admiration for them. Especially women who particularly
appealed to me. Finally, Karen broke the ice, and in response to one of my
longing looks, put a hand on my shoulder, and asked, "You do find me
attractive, don't you?...as a woman...really, now, Brad."
"Mrs-um-Karen, if only you knew how much you affect me, there
wouldn't be any doubt in your mind at all."
"How do I affect you, Brad," she asked, her hand still on my
shoulder.
"I know it isn't what's supposed to happen, but being close to you
arouses me powerfully...there, I've said it. It had to be said." At this,
I covered her hand with my own and dared to give it a little squeeze. My
heart was racing.
"We musn't touch-ever," said Karen, as she withdrew her hand from
mine. The University would consider it a scandal-which I can't afford.
But, Lord help me, I need to feel attractive again....you'd really like to
see my naked body wouldn't you Brad?
"Yes I really, really would, Karen." Suddenly my mouth was so dry, I
scarcely got the words out.
"Well, I wouldn't feel so guilty if I did something to encourage you
in your studies...let me think...If you're a good boy, Brad, and show me
an "A" exam paper, I might just let you have a look, but only under
certain conditions."
"Any conditions you say!" My surging hormones overcame my shyness
and I held her gaze with my own for many heartbeats.
Needless to say I buckled down even harder on my courses. In those days,
in competitive colleges, the profs didn't hand out A's just for showing
up for all the classes. And in the engineering courses I took that year, a
B-plus was considered a really desirable grade.
When I got a solid "A"in a tough American History mid-term, I was
thrilled beyond belief, for more reasons than one! On the way home, I
spent the last of my weekly cash on half a dozen roses for my sexy
landlady, to underline my devotion and affection. I tidied up the kitchen
extra well, and left the precious "A" exam booklet on the corner of the
table, with the flowers. I was half aroused for what seemed like hours.
The prolonged congestion in my private parts made me ache, a vaguely
pleasurable sensation .
"Oh you're a dear, Brad, I love roses" said Karen effusively. "It's
been too long since...since I received flowers...from a nice-looking young
man." Her face glowed ruddy through her olive-tan complexion, and I could
see for the first time how downright pretty she must have been before she
grew the double chin and the crinkled eyes. She made no mention of her
promise to me, and I was naturally hesitant to push her. I simply couldn't
bear the disappointment of her having changed her mind!
She made no further mention of the exam grade, sat well apart from me
while watching the tv news. I was crushed and highly strung out with
sexual tension. When she headed for her room I gathered up all my courage
and somehow mentioned that I had had a "special reason" to show her the
"A" paper.
"Oh, Brad, dear, can you ever forgive me, I'm just so tired tonight,
I just can't do justice to your History "A" and those lovely roses! But
tomorrow, I promise to make it up to you. Will you think about me tonight
and tomorrow?"
"Karen, you know I won't think of anything else!"
The next night was Saturday night. True to my parting word to Karen, I
could think of nothing all day but her promise. And her bod. To keep a
semblance of sanity, I walked for two hours along the bland streets of
residential Albuquerque.
Saturday, night, bedtime. Karen wearing her usual loose printed dress for
the late news. Her hair freshly brushed, a new perfume, a bit deeper
lipstick shade than usual. In accordance with her explicit instructions, I
stood in the passageway, five feet from her bedroom door, which on this
special night was wide open. With the electric lights out, she set a
lighted candle down on her bedside table and stood facing me so the
candlelight shone from her left side. I was not to utter a sound, nor
touch myself 'down there'. She slowly unbuttoned her dress from top to
bottom, and let it drop to the floor with a sgrug of her shoulders.
Tonight she had omitted wearing a bra, so I could see everything not
covered by her low-cut satiny white briefs. Karen's thighs glistened full,
smooth and beautifully curved. Her belly, partly encased by the panties,
was also somewhat full, but completely smooth, with a deep navel. Her
Earth-Mother bosom covered almost all of the front of her ribcage. The
deep shadows cast by the lone candle accentuated her incredibly lush
curves, exciting me beyond endurance. Still, it was too dark to discern
many details, so even afterwards, her body retained an aura of mystery.
After standing still as a statue for a minute or so, she gracefully turned
to face directly away from me, toward a mirror over the dresser. And as
she brushed her hair, her bent, raised arms allowed me to see the side
curves of both breasts at the same time, an astonishing sight. Then she
turned to the side and blew out the candle. I could hear the faint rustle
as she slipped under the covers.
I felt as if steam from my superheated blood would blow out of my ears
from the excitement, from the two or three minutes of forbidden intimacy.
No way I could have fallen asleep after that, except by masturbating to
the candle-lit images I had just witnessed.
Sunday morning, I awakened with a hard-on which would not go away. I
forced myself out of bed, shaved and then walked almost two miles to get
Karen's favorite newspaper. She made me leave the paper outside her
bedroom door, now closed. We shared breakfast, but she seemed slightly
distant and made no mention of the incredible events of the night
before...
---to be continued
If you enjoy this story of Brad's seduction by Karen, please send comments
to fvj@world.std.com
From fvj@world.std.com Thu Mar 20 16:05:58 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: VOLUPTUOUS KAREN pt3 (teenM olderF, breast fetish)
From: fvj@world.std.com (Septimus)
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 1997 21:05:58 GMT
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VOLUPTUOUS KAREN -part 3
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------by Septimus (fvj@world.std.com)----
Imagine this if you will. The living room is in nearly total darkness, the
house is silent in the wee hours. My landlady had rushed to the tv set
fresh from her bath around eleven and helped me to finish a half-bottle of
Italian red; we fell asleep on the living room sofa. She is sleeping-I
think- nearly upright, the bottom two-thirds of her robe completely open!
My face is buried against her shoulder, somehow my bare arm is resting on
her lap, hand curled around her soft flank, the middle of my forearm in
contact with-could it be actually-her pubic bush! I dare not even breath
aloud for fear of startling her out of her sleep. I know that if she
awakes, she will break off this forbidden contact. The thought of touching
the gateway to her intimate parts excites me to the very core and I start
to shake with tension. Although it is too dark to see, I try to imagine
her in my minds eye totally naked from the waist down, as she is in fact.
My erection threatens to burst the fabric of my pyjamas.
I cannot tear myself away although nothing can come of this, tonight at
any rate. Her regular breathing tells me she is truly asleep, her falling
asleep with the robe open an accident. After what seems like two hours I
gradually draw away from contact, close her robe and cover her with a
blanket from her bedroom. My balls ache from the prolonged arousal, it's
almost impossible to sleep without stroking my member but somehow I muster
the self-discipline to hold off, in anticipation of a breakthrough in the
next few days.
That was on the Saturday night of a three-day weekend. What happened the
very next night was ten times as exciting.
"Brad, dear, I think it's time we had a little talk; could you get
us a couple of beers from the fridge?"
"Sure, Karen." We settled down on the living room sofa. After downing
half the can, she took my hand and placed it firmly on her mid-thigh,
holding it there for emphasis. Were things going to get steamy at last?
"Look, Brad, it's time for a little honesty and openness around here.
I'll just bet you've been wondering about my love life-or lack of it."
Here I nodded assent.
"I had two brief flings about four-five months after Mr Wray passed
on, with guys who sell stuff to our lab, but frankly they treated me like
dirt. And for me that's worse than being lonely-or horny. I'm just not
about to go looking around for a man now or probably any time soon...but I
have needs...I was thinking you and I...oh, hell! Get me another beer,
will you?"
"Anything for my favorite landlady!" was my attempt to be
lighthearted, but I was getting all of a sudden very tense as I sensed the
direction we were headed for.
"Brad, I remember every flattering thing you ever said about me, and
all those looks you've been giving me...and I don't think you'd ever treat
me like dirt."
"Of course not, Karen." I placed my hand back on her thigh, but
higher up. She responded by covering my hand with her own.
"A nice-looking broad-shouldered young fella like you, not going out
with girls, I couldn't help wondering...hoping, you know...that had
something to do with your feelings about me." At this I almost was tempted
to answer by taking her in my arms and kissing her, but I was still a
little shy. Instead I meekly nodded, avoiding eye contact.
"The time is ripe for us to see how we respond to each other, as
equal adults, Brad. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Brad."
"Oh God, yes, YES!"
"It has to done just right, making sure that neither one of us is
disappointed, and that it's what we both truly are ready for."
"Uh, what are you driving at, Karen?"
"I mean, Brad, that I'm sure you masturbate, if you're like all other
young men, and that it's got to stop right now, so you can give ME your
all. And I'll stop, too, as of this moment."
I tried not to look shocked, but this was back in the 1960s, when we
didn't talk much about masturbation and boys were totally ignorant on the
subject of female masturbation.
The air was unseasonably warm for November in the high New Mexico desert.
A thin crescent moon hung in the night sky. As instructed by Karen, I
heated up her small pool and hung a bunch of towels on a lattice-work
fence to secure our privacy from the eyes of neighbors. I got into the
pool and faced away from the house. Karen liked to give surprises, and she
liked to be in charge. After a few agonizingly slow minutes, I heard her
slip into the water behind me. With pent-up passion she hugged me from the
back, rubbing and then pinching my nipples. No high-school girlfriend had
ever done anything like that! She nuzzled my neck and shoulder, and then
squeezed my nipples 'til they hurt. As previously instructed I stood still
and straight.
"Now, Brad, turn around and look at me." She was wearing a one-piece
swimsuit which concealed only the lower 60% of her full bosom. I gasped
at her awesome cleavage; somehow the effect was all the greater as I had
to strain my eyesight to the utmost in the scanty moonlight.
"Now let's move to the deeper part of the pool, I want to show you
something." I willingly obeyed.
"How long can you hold your breath under water, Brad?"
"Don't know, Karen."
"You'd like me to drop the top of my swimsuit, wouldn't you, you
sweet boy?" I nodded vigorously. "Well, you can see my breasts as long as
you can hold your breath under water...starting...now!"
I took two or three deep breaths and dropped under the surface. There, not
two feet away was a sight to behold. No doubt Karen was a natural
DD-cupper, and although her boobs probably sagged quite a bit under their
weight in air, under water they seemed to float and sway, weightless yet
undeniably massive in their shadowed roundness. She placed her hands on
her hips, arched her back and twisted back and forth to accentuate the
wonderful jiggling motions. I tried to memorize the sight of those great
round masses of tit-flesh until my eyes stung fiercely from the pool
chemicals. I passionately wanted to hold her breasts and suck on them, and
would have died happily for one minute of such unimagined pleasure. What
did happen is that, my lungs bursting, I surfaced, and mumbled, between
gasps of air: "Incredible, Karen...you are just so sexy and beautiful...I
just...have never seen anything like that...anywhere(what I meant was, in
stroke magazines).
"Oh you dear, lovely boy, give us a kiss," she said, as she bent
forward, tilted her head toward me and kissed me deeply, so our teeth
ground together for an instant.
"Now I'm sure, dear Brad, of my feelings, but tonight is not the
right night...don't ask...turn around right now, Brad."
As ever I obeyed her instantly, shaking with passion and disappointment at
the same time. I heard her climb out of the pool and disappear behind me
into the house.
I lay down on the poolside lounger in confusion until the air turned
colder and caused a shivering fit. Back in the house, Karen's bedroom door
was closed. The house was silent. I felt almost sure she was as drawn to
me as I to her, and that we would soon consummate our passion, but maybe
she enjoyed teasing me...maybe it would never happen. With the greatest
difficulty, I remembered my promise to refrain from masturbation. I read
myself to sleep with a materials science textbook.
--to be continued
If you enjoy this story of Brad's seduction by Karen, please send comments
to fvj@world.std.com