hi-
this is the first part of what I hope is a series of stories based
on some pictures/letters/stuff I found in a box, just like in the story.
this one isn't finished, as there is some more to tell about G. and
myself.
I hope you enjoy reading it.
thanks.
f_s65




While unpacking from our recent move, I came across a wooden box that I had stored a lot of pictures, letters, and assorted other memerobilia in. In it, I found a faded picture of myself from the summer after I graduated from high school; I was leaning against the front of my little red Porsche 914, wearing a red Nike half-shirt, ripped-to-shreds 501's and high tops. Everything about the picture screams "1983!" My hair was bleached nearly white from the sun, and my Vaurnet sunglasses hid my reversed racoon face tan. I hadn't seen the picture in a years, and it brought back memories of something that I hadn't thought about in a very long time. The crooked smile that I have in the picture is still the same now, but 22 years ago there weren't any wrinkles at the corners of my mouth; much less worries then. Funny how some things seem so crystal clear from years ago.

I pulled up in front of the house barely before the sun was coming up. The house looked sort of forelorn with the drapes missing out of my sister's room and the newspapers on the porch. My mom and sister had moved out at the beginning of summer last year...a whole 15 months our family had been broken up. I had spent the better part of my post-high school summer driving around in my car, going to the beach, dating a few girls, which is where I was returning home from that morning, and just generally being adrift before college started. I leaned back in my seat and stared up at the slowly lightening early morning sky, turned the stereo down, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Someone was shaking me gently on the shoulder. I groggily opened my eyes and looked over at our neighbor from across the street, Mrs. K. "Wake up sleepy head." she said in a gentle voice. "What time is it?" I asked. "About six thirty." "Oh, I must've been more tired than I thought." I had slept for about an hour and a half. Mrs.K. had been out jogging, like I had seen her do on many mornings. She was in black running shorts and a yellow running tank top. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and her olive skin had a slight sheen of persperation on it. "Have you had breakfast yet?" she asked. "No. I actually only got home a little while ago." I mumbled. "Would you like to come over for breakfast? I'm sure I can cook something up." "Thankyou very much, but I wouldn't want to impose." "Oh, that's o.k., Carrie and Alex are at the grandparent's house for the weekend. It'll be no problem at all. How do omlettes sound?" My stomach rumbled at the thought of breakfast. "Sure. That'd be nice." I replied. "Why don't you give me a few minutes to shower and get changed, then come over and we'll eat. How's that sound?" "Thankyou for the invitation. I'll be over in a little bit." "Don't be late," she said in mock scorn, "or your omlette will be cold!" I watched her as she walked across the street, across the lawn and in her front door. Mrs.K. was certainly an attractive woman, but I hadn't ever noticed her in a "I'd really like to have that." sort of way.

I got out of the car and walked up to my doorstep. I unlocked the door and went in. The house already had that empty house smell. With only me and my dad living in it, it just didn't get used that much. My dad, spent most nights at his girlfriend's place, trying to distance himself from the divorce. I only tried to spend the night there during the week; on weekends, I stayed away. Walking around, I remember how echoey the house was with no furniture. My room was the only one still furnished. My mom had taken all the furniture from the rest of the house. I went out into the backyard to kill a little time, and walked into the side yard that used to be the family garden. Dessicated plants co-mingled with weeds that were growing to gargantuan size. I went back inside, brushed my teeth and walked across the street to Mrs.K.'s for breakfast.

After knocking on the door, I waited for a minute, then checked the door; it was open. I let myself in and closed the door behind me. I walked into the kitchen where all the ingredients for omlettes were already out on the counter. I could hear the water running for the shower in the back of the house. Curiosity, and my 18 year-old libido got the best of me and I quietly walked back to the master bedroom. I could hear the water splashing in the shower as I crept into the bedroom. I looked around and saw that the bathroom door was open, but I couldn't see the shower. I walked over to where I could look around the corner into the shower. The shower door was stesamed up, but I could see the outline of Mrs.K.'s body through the fog on the door. I could make out her tan lines on her back and ass; slowly I snuck back into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, I began breaking eggs into a bowl to make omlettes; my mom had taught me adnd my sister how to cook when we were younger. By the time I heard Mrs.K. turn the water off in the shower, I had already gotten the eggs ready to be cooked. I went and sat down at the dining table and waited for my hostess. Mrs.K. came out to the kitchen wrapped in a white terrycloth robe and her hair up in towel. She saw me at the table, but didn't seem surprised. "Have you been waiting long?" she asked. "No, only a couple of minutes." I lied, none-too-convincingly I thought. "Thankyou for preparing the eggs already. That'll save us a little time. I hope you're hungry." "Yes I am. Thankyou again, Mrs.K., for inviting me over for breakfast. I appreciate it." "You can call me G. instead of Mrs.K, is that o.k.?" "Sure." I stammered. I was raised to address people as "mister" or missus" by my parents. Being on a first name basis with someone I thought of as an adult was sort of nerve wracking at first. "Would you like something to drink, orange juice, milk?" G. offered. "Yes, orange juice would be fine, thanks." I replied. After pouring my o.j., G. turned around from the counter and brought the glass to me. Her robe had opened just a little bit at the top and I could see a hint of cleavage and a constellation of freckles that dotted her upper chest and neck. When she leaned over to hand the orange juice to me, I caught just a glimpse of the wonderful curve of both of her breasts. "No bra." my brain quickly registered. "Thankyou." I quickly replied as she handed me the glass. I gulped the orange juice down. G. returned to making our breakfast. "So, do you see your mom much?" She asked. "Yeah, about once a week." "How are you doing with your parents being divorced?" "I'm o.k. I guess. It's kind of weird to live at home still, with no one there. But things are o.k." "Do you see your dad during the week?" "I see him a few nights a week for dinner. We generally go out to dinner with his girlfriend." "Are you alright with him dating already?" "Sure. He's an adult, he can do what he wants." "It sounds like you have things pretty straight." "Yeah." We talked about college and what my plans were for a few more minutes, then she served breakfast. With plates in both hands G.asked, "Would you like to eat outside on the back patio?" "Yeah, that'd be nice." I replied.

I opened the sliding glass door to the backyard and we walked out to the table on the patio. G. sat the plates down next to each other on the table, then went back inside for more juice. I waited until she returned, then pulled her chair out for her. Then sat down in the chair next to her. "Dig in." she said. Trying not to wolf down my food, I dug into breakfast with what could only be descibed as "wolfing". As we ate, G. continued to query me about my summer. "Do you have a girlfriend? It seems like summer is the perfect time to have one." "Well, not really. I mean, I don't really have a girlfriend. I'm seeing a couple of girls, but I wouldn't call either one of them my girlfriend." "You're a very handome guy, I don't expect that you would have any trouble getting a date." she stated in a very matter-of-fact tone. Blushing, I looked down at G.'s fingers wrapped around her glass of orange juice; her fingernails had a French manicure. I didn't know what it was called then, but ever since then, I've thought French manicures look sexy. "I know my daughter, Carrie, thinks you're very cute. I always hear her on the phone talking to her friends about you; how tan you are, how nice your arms are, how blonde your hair is." Now I was really blushing. "How cute your rear end is in your 501's!" she giggled. "Ummm. Thanks. I think Carrie is very cute too." Carrie was very cute. "I think you're cute too." G. nearly whispered. I was starting to get nervous, but in a good way. "Thankyou G." my voice cracked. We stared at each other for a few moments. I looked into G.'s beautiful grey eyes, looking for a hint of what was happening. She stood up from the table and gently picked up our empty plates. As she bent over to get the plates, I was rewarded with another view of her cleavage. Her breasts weren't big, but they were large. I tried not to be caught staring. Too late. "Do you like what you see?" she asked me. "I'm really sorry!" I blurted. "I, I..." "It's alright. I'm flattered that you are looking at my boobs." I'd never heard a woman refer to her breasts as "boobs" before. I could feel my cock straining against my Levi's. G. stood at the table watching me as I got up out of my chair. "I like what I see too. C'mon, let's go inside." she said. Trying desperately not to appear overly anxious, I opened the door for G. and she slowly brushed past me going into the kitchen. As I closed the door, G. had set down the plates and had removed the towel from her head, letting her still damp hair fall past her shoulders. She reached out to grab my hand and led me back to her bedroom. We walked into the the bedroom, where G. turned around around to face me and undid her robe's belt. She let the robe fall from her shoulders revealing her beautiful body. I was speechless. The lacy white panties she was wearing were a stark contrast to her olive skin. G.'s breasts were bigger than I had thought and her nipples were perfect; somewhere between a quarter and a half-dollar. She stepped out of her panties and sat on the edge of the bed, where she motioned me over to her. "Take off your shirt." she half-whispered. Nervously, I pulled my shirt over my head, I was slightly embarassed at my cock sticking up past the waistband of my pants. G. tugged at my pants and the button fly released with a "pop". She stood, and pushed my pants down to my knees, allowing my cock to spring free of it's confines. "Oh my. You are built nicely!" G. said as she began to stroke the length of my cock. Her hands felt so warm and smooth on me, with none of the hesitation or nervousness of my girlfriends. She knew what she was doing, and how good she was making me feel. Dropping to her knees, G. started to gently run her tongue around the head of my cock. She did this for a few moments, then began to take me in her mouth. I watched as she took me a little at a time, until almost my entire length was in her mouth. I knew I couldn't keep from coming, I was too excited already. "I'm going to come." I moaned. She continued to suck me, and began to gently massage my balls. I tried to keep from cumming, but I was far past the point being in control. I looked down again as my cock slid into G.'s mouth. I came. My back arched as I pumped my cum into her mouth. I came, and came and came. I saw stars for a brief moment as I looked up at the ceiling. I thought my knees were going to buckle. Finally, I stopped cumming. G. didn't stop her attentions to me until my cock had finally began to soften. She looked up at me with a gorgeous smile; "I certainly hope there's more where that came from." I smiled back. She stood up and sat back on the edge of the bed. "Get undressed and come lie down with me. I'm not done with you yet."