When I graduated from the eighth grade, I was just beginning to understand what makes girls different from boys. At that time in my life, my body was in the process of changing itself from a boy into a man, and I’d had the talk with my dad about what that meant.
He explained this thing called sex, and it was confusing as hell. I mean, why would I want to stick my cock into a girl where she pees? That sounded pretty sick to me. Dad said it felt good, but that I shouldn’t do it until I was married. He didn’t say why other than that if I did, I’d get the girl pregnant and ruin my life.
By the time I was a senior in high school, I’d changed my mind about sex. In fact, I thought about sex a lot. In fact, I thought about sex most of the time and especially in chorus. That was because of the chorus teacher.
Her name was Gena Bartis, though we had to call her Mrs. Bartis even though she wasn’t married. Well, she had been married, but her husband had passed away four years before. Mrs. Bartis was about thirty at that time, and just seeing her walk into the room would make my cock stand up.
Mrs. Bartis wasn’t like the other women teachers. They all wore dresses that came down below their knees and fit loose enough that unless they did this thing with their arms, you couldn’t tell how big their breasts were. Mrs. Bartis wore long dresses too, but they fit tight enough I didn’t have to imagine how big her breasts were. They were just there, big mounds that stretched out her blouses. Breasts were a big thing for me then. Still are.
She seemed to like dresses and skirts that fit pretty tight around her hips too, and her hips were something to watch. They weren’t much if she was walking toward me, but if she was walking away…well, it was like Frank said. He said she had a really hot ass that would make a good pushin’ cushion. I didn’t know about the pushin’ cushion part, but watching her walk away was pretty erotic. I suppose that was because none of the girls in my class had much in the way of hips.
What I figured out after watching Mrs. Bartis as well as the girls in my class was that I also had a thing for wide hips that swayed back and forth when the woman walked. I spent a lot of time fantasizing about how Mrs. Bartis would look naked with her wide hips and her big breasts.
Mrs. Bartis was also pretty much the talk of the small town where we lived. She’d married John Bartis when he was forty and she was nineteen. John Bartis had been the band teacher in our school system when I was still in sixth grade and he taught me how to play the trumpet. I thought Mr. Bartis was a nice guy and a good music teacher. I didn’t really think about the age difference because it’s hard to judge age when you’re eleven. Everybody seems old when you’re eleven.
Mom and most of the other women in town thought it was just scandalous that Mr. Bartis would marry a woman so young. Now, to be fair, I think at least some of them were jealous because Mrs. Bartis was really pretty and wasn’t even a little fat. They didn’t like her because she was a threat to their marriages. Most, though, just thought no man should marry a woman young enough to be his own daughter.
Most of the men in town had a different idea about Mr. and Mrs. Bartis. When Dad had his friends over to play cards, Mrs. Bartis would usually come up in the conversation, especially after a couple rounds of beer.
“Saw Gena Bartis at the hardware store yesterday. She was buying a new drain hose for her washin’ machine. Well, that’s what she told Ray, but I think she was buyin’ that hose for something else. I mean, she fucked old John to death an’ I figure she misses his cock. I’d like to give that killer pussy o’ hers my hose once just to see what she’s like. If it killed me, I’d die with a smile on my face.”
“Did you see Mrs. Bartis at the spring concert? Maddy had a conniption fit because she was showin’ her tits. Well, it really wasn’t her tits, just the line between ‘em, but Maddy said she’d never wear anything that showed her tits, not that she’s got much in the way of tits to show. I think she’s just jealous. I keep tellin’ her that more than a mouthful is a waste, but she never listens.
“She thinks Mrs. Bartis is the reason John had a heart attack too. She told me the other day that the way Gena swings her ass when she walks means she’s fishin’ for another man to fuck her. Maddy’d kill me if I fucked Gena, but I can dream, can’t I?”
I didn’t believe any of what they said. Mr. Bartis was a big guy who seemed to get winded just walking from his car to the music room at school. I knew dogs had sex because I’d seen George, our beagle breed the next door neighbors poodle. Neither of them died because of it. I couldn’t believe Mrs. Bartis had caused him to have a heart attack.
I finished high school without having sex or even feeling a breast, much less feeling Mrs. Bartis’ big breasts like I did in my fantasy. College came next.
I had decided I’d become a music teacher too, not because of Mr. or Mrs. Bartis but because I loved everything about music. I loved playing trumpet in the band and I loved singing in Mrs. Bartis’ choir. I’d taught myself to play guitar and my junior and senior years, five of us had formed a little band. We played mostly for ourselves, but we did get to play in a couple talent contests. Playing in front of a bunch of people was great, and that’s when I decided I wanted to be the guy in front of a band and leading them.
For the next four years, I was away from home except for the first summer. After that, I stayed at the college and earned some money working in the dorm cafeteria. The college hosted all sorts of special events like workshops for businesses and those people stayed in the dorms and ate in the cafeteria.
It was a good job for a couple reasons. One was I ate for free and the other was that the food the cafeteria served during the summer was a lot different than what the students got served. I ate steak about once a week, and Fridays were always shrimp or lobster.
As a result, I lost track of Mrs. Bartis. When I did come home for the fall holidays, I’d hear a little about her though.
She’d never remarried. Mom said she figured Mrs. Bartis had loved John so much that no man could ever take his place. Mom was a romantic like that even though she’d been critical of their age difference. Dad just chuckled and said that Gena hadn’t remarried because no man wanted to take a chance that he’d die when he was saddled up like John did.
By that time in my life, Mom could talk about sex in front of me. When Dad said that, she slapped him on the arm and frowned.
“You never seem to mind taking that chance with me.”
Dad just grinned and didn’t say anything.
Mrs. Bartis’ daughter, Penny, had grown up, gone to college, and was teaching music in a town about a hundred miles away. Mom said she looked like her dad in the face, but she had her mother’s figure. Gena was still teaching, but she’d moved to another school because the school board had decided they couldn’t afford both a band teacher and a chorus teacher.
I finished college and got my teaching degree in 1985, and I started teaching at Lakewood High School that fall. Lakewood was one of three high schools in the county but it was still a big high school. I had a hundred kids in my band and it wasn’t just a marching band. I had strings, two oboes, three bassoons, and a marimba. That meant we could play some really great music.
Like most county school systems, every fall the school system had a “teacher’s workshop”. The kids had a vacation day. The teachers spent the day listening to guest speakers on a range of topics that were designed to improve our teaching methods, from how to recognize students with learning disabilities and how to cope with them to ways to challenge gifted students. It was interesting, but most of the material wasn’t new to me because I’d just graduated.
We’d taken an afternoon break for coffee at two, and I was filling my coffee cup when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
“Ricky Warren, is it really you?”
I turned and saw Gena standing there smiling at me. She hadn’t changed much. She had maybe put on a couple of pounds, but she was still the woman I’d fantasized about in high school.
It’s funny how when you meet someone who used to be over you, you revert to being sixteen again.
“Mrs. Bartis, I didn’t know you taught in this school system. Mom said you’d changed schools, but she didn’t say where you went.”
Gena put her hand on my arm.
“I thought I recognized you earlier. Now, let’s not have any of this Mrs. Bartis stuff, not since you’re all grown up and are teaching now. You call me Gena.
“Yes, when the school board decided they couldn’t pay for both a band teacher and a chorus teacher, they decided to let me go because I didn’t know anything about band instruments. I didn’t mind really. It was time I moved anyway. Penny had gone to college so I was all alone in that big house. What have you been doing? Find a girl yet?”
I said I hadn’t really been looking for a girlfriend because between studying and student teaching, I’d been too busy. Then a question popped into my head that I wouldn’t have asked if I’d thought about it.
“How about you. Are you married to some lucky guy now?”
“Heavens, no. I’ve let myself get fat and I’m too old. In case you haven’t noticed, most men my age seem to want younger, skinnier girls. I’m happy being by myself for the most part. I do what I want, when I want, and I don’t have to explain what I do to anybody.”
By then, I’d about run out of conversation because Gena was affecting me just like she had before. No, my cock didn’t start to stand up, but I was still imagining her naked and in bed with me. If I’d kept thinking that way, I would have developed an embarrassing problem. I needed to change the subject.
“So, what do you do when you do whatever it is you want to do?”
“Well, not much really. I read a lot at night. I don’t care much for television these days. All the shows are about young people acting silly. I like eating out, but not when I’m by myself. When Penny comes for a visit, we go out to eat though.”
She sighed then.
“It’s been a while since Penny came home. She’s all tied up with her job. She teaches band too, did you know that? She takes after her dad that way.”
About that time, the workshop sponsor called everybody back to their seats.
“Well, it’s been really nice meeting you. I wish we could have talked longer. Hey, since Penny hasn’t been home for a while, what would you think about having dinner together tonight? It’s Friday so we don’t have school tomorrow and we could talk for as long as we want. I want to know all about what you’ve been doing since you graduated. You think about it and we’ll talk after the workshop is over.”
Gena walked back to her seat then, and her ass swayed just as seductively as it had when I watched her in high school.
Well, I did think about it. I thought about it for the next three hours and my thoughts were pretty confusing. On the one hand, Gena and I were both adults and just having dinner and some conversation seemed innocent enough. I was pretty sure none of the other teachers knew her history, so nobody would think there was anything going on even if they saw us together.
On the other hand, I couldn’t get the vision of Gena naked out of my head. I kept wondering what she’d look like and how I’d react. It was a stupid, juvenile thing to think, but I couldn’t shake it. Like I said, sometimes you meet someone from your past and you go right back to being sixteen again.
When the workshop ended, I saw Gena walking toward me and knew I had to give her an answer. I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t because of her smile when she asked the question.
“Ricky, did you decide to have dinner with me tonight?”
I didn’t make myself smile. Gena did.
“I think it would be fun, but you have to let me pay. I owe you at least that much for making high school chorus so much fun.”
Dinner with Gena was really nice. When she led the chorus and I was a student, we’d never really talked. That night, I learned a lot about Gena.
I knew she could sing and that she knew how to teach kids to sing. I didn’t know that she was a pretty smart woman, but after that night I did. I also learned that she was well aware of what the people in my town thought of her. She didn’t like it that they thought that way, but she said the people just didn’t understand.
“Ricky, I know people talked about John and me because there was so much difference in our ages. What they didn’t understand was that when you’re in love with someone, age doesn’t matter all that much.
“We met the spring right after my freshman year in college. John was taking a summer class toward his master’s and I was repeating a class in music theory that I’d failed. We happened to be in the same line to register for the summer semester, and that line was long. We started talking and when he found out I’d had trouble with music theory, he said he could help me if I wanted.
“He tutored me all that summer, and what I found out was that he was a lot better teacher than the professor teaching my music theory class. John could put it in words I could understand. By the end of the summer, I’d passed the class with an A. I’d also fallen in love with John and he’d fallen in love with me.
“We weren’t sure what we should do about it. John had tenure so the school board couldn’t do anything to him. I still had three more years of school to go and I was ready to drop out but John didn’t want me to. We talked a lot over the next school year, and John finally said it didn’t matter to him if I finished school or not, but it did matter that we stayed together. We got married that summer and Penny was born a year later.
“It was four years later that he had the first heart attack. Scared me to death. It wasn’t a bad one though. His doctor put him on some medication and told him to start walking around the block after dinner to help strengthen his heart. The doctor also told him to stop eating fats and eat more vegetables. John tried to do all that and we thought he was getting better.
“You probably heard the story about how John died, you know, the story that he died in bed with me while we were…
“Well, we were in bed together, but the rest isn’t true. That night, he got up to go to the bathroom and just fell over right there beside the bed. He didn’t make a sound or stumble or anything. Just one second he stood up and the next he was lying on the floor.
“I heard him fall and got up to see what happened. When I saw that he wasn’t breathing, I called 911 and they told me the EMT’s were on the way and I should start giving him CPR. When the EMT’s got there, they tried CPR too, but it was no use. The doctor who did his autopsy said he had a massive heart attack and was probably dead before he hit the floor.
“I went back to school after John died and finished my degree. His life insurance paid for that and for Penny and I to live until I got my degree, and then I started teaching. It was hard to come home and be without him, but that made Penny and I closer.
“I knew what people said about me after he died, including you boys at school. A couple of the senior girls in the chorus told me. I don’t remember ever hearing that you said anything like the other boys though. I always liked that about you. You didn’t judge me by what I wore or the way I looked or by what other boys said.
“I know you looked at me. All the boys did, but when you looked at me, it was different somehow. The other boys, well, it wasn’t hard to figure out what they were thinking when they looked at me. They were thinking the same things their dads were thinking. They were thinking I’d be easy because I didn’t have John anymore.
“Just so you know, that wasn’t the case. I wasn’t out looking for sex or even a boyfriend. It takes a while to come to grips with losing your husband. Yes, I did miss the intimacy we had, but I wasn’t going crazy for lack of sex. Women don’t work that way, or didn’t you know that. Most of us like sex, but it has to be with someone we feel something for, not just any guy off the street, and he has to feel something for us too.
“That’s the main reason I never remarried. I never found a man who could accept me for who I was, a widow with a young daughter. There weren’t any men in town who fit. The unfortunate thing is, by the time I moved and then Penny grew up and left for college, I was thirty-eight and too old. I’ve learned how to live by myself now. It’s not too bad, a little lonely sometimes, but I get by.”
When I said thirty-eight wasn’t old, Gena frowned.
“I’m forty-four now and I don’t feel old, but according to how men think, I am. Men my age don’t want a woman who’s had a baby and still has part of her baby body. They’re looking for women who haven’t had kids and still look like they did when they were twenty.”
All in all, it was a great evening. I liked Gena when I was in high school, and after that dinner I liked her a lot more. I liked her enough that I asked her what her plans were for the summer.
Gena gave me an odd look before she answered, and when she did answer, she was pretty vague.
“I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I’ll go see Penny at least once and I might do a little traveling. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I was just curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat. You might find out something you don’t want to know. What are you doing over the summer?”
What I’d planned on doing was driving to Sioux Narrows, Ontario and renting a cabin for a week. I’d done that with Mom and Dad a couple of times. The scenery was enough to make me want to do that again. The fishing just made it more appealing. I’d fished in Illinois a lot when I was a kid, but the fishing on Lake of the Woods was fantastic.
When I told Gena what I’d planned, she smiled.
“I’ve never been to Canada, but I hear it’s really beautiful. Maybe I should go up there one of these days and see for myself. John and I used to drive to Lake Shelbyville a couple times in the summer. He’d fish and I’d just sit by the water and enjoy the scenery. It was really relaxing. I haven’t been back since he died. I had too many memories of the place to go back.”
When I drove home that night, I was a little sad for Gena. She seemed like such a nice woman and I knew that lonely feeling she said she had sometimes. In college, I didn’t have many friends. Most of the guys were into hard drinking on the weekends or spending time with their girlfriends. I didn’t have the money to go out drinking or for a girlfriend. When I started teaching, I was around a lot of people every day, but they were all in their teens. I’d been lonely for the last five years.
Fall turned into winter about Thanksgiving, and right after that was Christmas. Parents expected to see the results of the cost of the musical instrument they’d bought and having to endure their kids practicing at home, so like every other music teacher in the US, I scheduled a Christmas Concert for the Friday two weeks before Christmas. Janice Parsons, the chorus teacher, and I worked out a program for both the band and the chorus including one song of the groups combined. That song would be the last song of the night and was “Sleigh Ride”, by Leroy Anderson and lyrics by Mitchell Parish. Sleigh Ride had been recorded by several current pop stars, so the kids loved playing and singing it. We figured the parents would too. Several of the stars of the parent’s generation had recorded it as well.
The parents did love it. They stood and applauded when we finished, and Janice and I were ready with an encore if that happened. As soon as the applause died down, we led the band and the chorus in “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”. That was the end of the program, and fifteen minutes later, the last parents and their kids were filing out of the school gym. I was picking up music when I felt a hand on my arm. I turned and saw Gena standing there smiling at me.
“Ricky, you should be proud of yourself and proud of your kids”, she said. “I heard almost every parent saying they really liked the concert.”
I’d been standing there with my mouth hanging open, and Gena chuckled.
“Didn’t expect to see me tonight, did you?”
“No, I sure didn’t. I’m happy you came, but why did you?”
“Well, I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d come see how good a band teacher you are. It looks like you’re pretty good. Your chorus teacher knows what she’s doing too, and the way she hugged you before she left, I think she likes you. Anything going on there that you don’t want to tell me about?”
“No, Janice is married with two kids. Not much chance of anything happening with her. She’s just one of those people who hugs everybody.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so for a few seconds, we both stood there looking at each other. Then, Gena smiled again.
“So, what are you doing for Christmas…going home, I suppose.”
I shook my head.
“No, Dad turned retired this year and he and Mom left for Florida the day after Thanksgiving. My brother and sisters will be having Christmas Day with their families and I don’t want to be the only one there without a wife. I planned on having Christmas dinner at a restaurant and then watching a couple movies at home.”
Gena shook her head.
“Ricky, I can’t let you do that. It won’t be Christmas if you do. I know because Penny isn’t going to make it home either. She told me she’s going to spend Christmas Day with a close friend. What I think is that close friend is a guy. I should expect that, I guess, but it’ll be our first Christmas apart.
“Anyway, I’m going to be by myself too. Why don’t I make us a Christmas dinner and we’ll celebrate together. I might be a chorus teacher but I can still cook”
Just like the time Gena had suggested we have dinner together, I thought I should say I couldn’t, but the look on her face told me if I said that, she’d be really hurt. I decided there was nothing wrong with two friends celebrating Christmas together.
Gena said she’d have Christmas dinner ready at about two, so at one-thirty I drove over to the other side of the county where Gena lived. When I pulled into the drive of her house, I saw that it was pretty small, like two bedrooms small, but it was in good shape and she’d done some decorating. There was a wreath on the front door, and a plastic Santa and Frosty on each side of the walk. I saw a Christmas tree with the lights on through the windows in front.
I knocked on the door and then waited a few minutes before it opened. When it did, there was Gena in jeans and a snug top with an apron on.
She smiled and said, “Merry Christmas, Ricky. Come in and make yourself comfortable. Dinner’s almost ready so I’m going to change clothes. There’s eggnog on the dining room table. Help yourself.”
The eggnog was good. With the first sip, I tasted the not so subtle taste of good bourbon along with the creamy sweetness. I was taking a third sip after deciding Gena’s eggnog was better than just good when she walked up beside me, poured a cup of eggnog for herself, and then said “Merry Christmas” as she held up her cup.
I knew she wanted me to touch cups with her, but I was having a hard time doing anything except staring at her. When she said she was going to change, she really meant she was going to change.
Gena had lost her jeans and top and instead wore a red dress that almost wasn’t there. She was showing about a mile of cleavage and a couple acres of her breasts…well, not quite that much, but it seemed like it.
She saw me staring and grinned.
“Like my dress? I thought I’d dress up a little. Tell me what you think.”
With that, she started slowly turning around. If I’d been able to talk I’d have told her. I couldn’t talk because that dress had no back in it from her soft shoulders all the way down to the small of her back.
When Gena was facing me again, she smiled and said, “Well?”
I probably sounded like an idiot.
“It’s…it’s…wow…I think I should have dressed better.”
Gena waved her hand.
“It’s all right. Girls just like to dress up for special occasions, and for me, Christmas is about as special as they get. How do you like my eggnog?”
I managed to say it was great, right before I drained my cup to have something to do besides stare at Gena’s chest.
“If I’m bothering you, I can go change into something else.”
I said I’d just never seen her all dressed up and that she was a far cry from the chorus teacher I’d known in high school.
Gena smiled and stroked my arm.
“Ricky, I’ve always been different from that chorus teacher. I just couldn’t show it to anybody but John, and after he died, I couldn’t show it to anybody. Now, dinner should be ready. You sit down while I go get everything.”
Everything was a baked ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and green bean casserole. It was all good for two reasons. It tasted really great, and if I was eating I wasn’t staring at Gena. She didn’t seem to mind me looking at her, but I felt a little self-conscious about it. I mean, she was really sexy, but she had a daughter older than me. I wasn’t sure if I should be feeling what I was feeling.
When I’d eaten as much as I could, and then ate a slice of the chocolate cake decorated with Christmas trees and snowmen, I pushed back my chair.
“Gena, it was all really great, but I won’t need to eat for another couple days.”
“It’s been a long time since a man told me he liked my cooking. I like it that you just did. Let’s go into the living room. You haven’t seen my tree yet, and we can sit on the couch and talk.”
When Gena sat down on her couch, I was again stricken with the inability to talk. I knew her dress was pretty short. I didn’t know that when she sat down on the couch, the hem would ride halfway up her thigh, but it did. I hadn’t realized Gena had great legs because even though her school dresses were cut pretty low in front, they were always long. What I was looking at was slender legs encased in black nylon. I found myself hoping they weren’t panty hose when Gena wiggled a little, I suppose to get more comfortable. Her dress rode up a little more and I could see just a hint of milky white thigh above her stocking top and the clasp of the strap of the garter belt.
I was starting to get really nervous about what was happening. I didn’t know if Gena was trying to tell me something or if she just liked showing a lot of her body when she dressed up. It didn’t really matter, because she was starting to arouse me and I could just see my school superintendent standing in front of me and saying he just couldn’t tolerate such behavior from one of his teachers and he’d have to refuse to renew my contract.
Evidently Gena noticed.
“Ricky, don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m too old for anything like that. I just thought since we’ve known each other for long time we might get…closer…if we were alone. If you don’t want that, I’ll understand.”
Well the time for hiding what I was feeling was long past, and besides, I liked Gena enough I didn’t want to just get up and leave.
I looked at her and smiled.
“Gena, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel or what I’m supposed to want. It seems like yesterday you were Mrs. Bartis and I was just a student. Back then, I dreamed of something like this happening. Now…well, it looks like you want it to happen and I’m not sure…well…what would other people think if they knew? What if I’m different than you think I am.”
Gena moved over until her thigh was touching mine.
“Nobody will know unless we tell them, and I don’t intend to tell anybody. All I intended to do today was give you an opportunity, not to beg for anything, just to give you the idea that I would if you wanted to. If I thought you’d changed, I wouldn’t have done this, and I wouldn’t have done it for anybody other than you because you were the only boy in my classes that didn’t talk about me. I’ve always remembered that about you. It’s why I like you so much.”
If Gena hadn’t been stroking her hand up and down my forearm, I might have been able to stand up and leave, but that small, soft hand was doing things to me that made that impossible. I looked Gena in the eyes and asked if she was sure about this.
She didn’t say anything. She just put her hand on the back of my head and pulled me close enough she could kiss me.
It wasn’t a long kiss, but it did things to me that kissing any other woman never had and while I didn’t have a huge amount of experience, I wasn’t a virgin. My cock reacted predictably.
When Gena gently pulled away, she smiled.
“Does that answer your question?”
I don’t really remember how we got from the couch to her bedroom. That’s probably because Gena kept kissing me as we walked. I do remember hoping that I could do for her what she wanted. As it turned out, I shouldn’t have worried at all.
Things didn’t go like I expected them to go. In college, I’d had sex with two girls. Both of them waited for me to undress them. Gena didn’t wait. As soon as we were standing beside her bed, she lifted the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head, then laid it on the chair beside her dresser.
Apparently there was some sort of bra in that dress because when Gena turned back around, all she was wearing was a black thong panty over her black garter belt and the black stockings that garter belt was holding up. Her breasts were sitting a little lower than those of the girls I’d been with, but didn’t sag like I’d thought they might.
Gena rolled the thong down over her hips, let it fall to her ankles, and then stepped out of it. That’s when I got the second surprise. Instead of being shaved, Gena’s mound was covered by dark brown hair. I’d thought shaved was pretty erotic, but Gena was like when I got a baseball bat as a birthday present. I knew what was beneath that patch of crinkled hair, but I couldn’t see it and that sent all sorts of thoughts through my head.
I didn’t have much time to think those thoughts though. Gena started unbuttoning my shirt while she kissed me again, and when she pulled it open and pressed her soft breasts into my chest, she took away any thoughts about anything except the woman I was going to make love with.
For a while, we just stood there beside Gena’s bed. She’d put her arms around my neck and as we kissed, she pulled her breasts into my chest a little tighter. When I stroked up her side and then the side of her left breast, Gena made a little moan into my mouth, and then pushed her tongue between my teeth. She moaned again when our tongues touched and then started unfastening my belt.
By then, I wasn’t just standing there. I was exploring Gena’s mature, ripe body with my fingertips. Her breasts were firm, but yielded to my gentle touch. Her hips weren’t very firm, but when I stroked them and then gently separated them, Gena moaned into my mouth again. Just before she unzipped my pants, she pushed her mound into my stiff cock and then pulled gently away from me. Her voice was a low, soft, and throaty whisper.
“Ricky, I need you.”
When I’d fantasized about Gena, she always just lay there while I did my thing. Once we were in bed together, Gena proved she was different that way too. She snuggled up to my side, perched her left breast on my chest and then felt down my belly for my cock. I was stroking her nipple at the time, but when she kissed me and began slowly stroking my shaft, I jerked a little. That caused me to pull on her nipple, and Gena gasped, “Oh God, I’ve missed that so much.”
It was right after that, that Gena draped her left leg over me and started rubbing her mound against my thigh. I took that as a sign she wanted more than my fingers on her nipple. When I slipped my hand down her side and then over her hip, Gena raised her leg and opened herself to my touch. When my fingertips touched hair, she lurched a little and then moaned when I probed deeper.
The hair on her mound had been matted together by her thong, so I spent some time carefully separating the strands that were laced together over her lips. In the process, I touched Gena’s outer lips a lot, and each time I did, she’d either make a little moan or catch her breath, and a second later, she’d push her mound up so my fingertip slipped further between her thighs.
Gena was wet when I finally parted her lips and slipped a fingertip between them. When I stroked the ripples of her inner lips, Gena lurched up into my hand and stroked my cock a little faster. A little later, I gently separated those soft, rippled folds and found out she was getting really slippery. Always before with a woman, it had taken longer, but Gena seemed to be getting really aroused even though I hadn’t done much yet.
She moaned and lifted up her hips when I found her entrance and slipped my finger inside her, then locked her mouth to mine and started feeling for my tongue with hers. When they touched, it was my turn to groan as little shocks raced down my body and made my cock lurch. Gena felt that and she slowed her strokes a little, but it didn’t help. I wanted her, wanted to feel her passage massaging my cock, wanted to feel her hands on my back, wanted to hear her starting to pant.
I was getting ready to roll Gena on her back and kneel between her soft thighs when she raised up enough she could roll on top of me. Once she was sitting there on her lower legs, Gena reached between us, took my stiff cock in her hand, and moved it back and forth between her swollen lips. I guess she was satisfied after a few of those motions, because she pushed my cock back a little and then pushed down.
The first thing I felt was my cock head moving between her puffy lips. The second thing I felt was the feeling of Gena’s slippery and rippled passage slowly sliding over my cock. I looked up at her face and saw she had her mouth partly open. Her eyes looked wide open, but I could tell she wasn’t looking at me. She was concentrating on impaling herself on my rigid shaft.
When I looked down over my belly, what I saw was Gena’s lips spread out around my cock as she kept pushing down. She stopped then, shuddered a little when she raised back up, and then pushed down again. I felt my cock sliding into slippery warmth that was just tight enough the feeling was starting to make me lift my hips up and push my cock deeper inside Gena.
Gena wasn’t letting me do that though. When I pushed up, she just raised up and kept my cock at the same place. When I relaxed, she started pushing down again. She didn’t stop that time until she was sitting on my thighs. Then, she pulled both my hands to her breasts.
When I gently squeezed the soft, heavy globes, Gena caught her breath and then started slowly moving her body up and down over my cock. Every so often, she’d lean down and give me an open mouth, tongue-tangling kiss that cause more shocks to race down to my cock. It wasn’t long before I was meeting her stroke down with an upstroke of my own. When I did that, my cock would go a little deeper inside Gena’s rippling passage and that felt like nothing I’d ever felt before. The second time I did that, Gena gasped and then rocked her body enough to push my cock inside her even deeper still.
Not in my wildest fantasies had I dreamed a woman could be so erotic and so stimulating. I’d enjoyed sex with the other two women, but this was more than just sex. This was two people joined together and each trying to bring the other to that ultimate conclusion, the shattering end that would leave us both gasping for breath and shaking as the waves washed away any semblance of anything except raw, animal passion.
Gina got there first because I was holding back for dear life just to prolong what I was feeling. One second she was slowly riding my cock and making little mewing noises, and a second later she cried out a little and started to shake. Her strokes got faster, then faster still, taking me along with her. A couple seconds later, Gena couldn’t hold herself up anymore and eased down on my chest. As her heavy breasts flattened out against me, she cried out again, then again, and her hips jerked up and down so fast there was no way I could keep up.
It didn’t matter anyway. Gena groaned, then cried out, then went stiff, and her body shook all over. I let go then and while Gena lay there on my chest, panting and shaking, I spurted my cum inside her three times.
Gena was still quivering a little when she nestled her face against my neck and whispered, “Thank you, Ricky. I needed to feel like a woman again, and you just made that happen.”
I ended up spending the night with Gena, a night that saw us make love again and then go to sleep with Gena’s thigh over my legs and her breasts pressed into my chest. We didn’t stay that way all night of course. When I woke up the next morning, Gena was lying there propped up on one elbow and her heavy breasts were sitting on top of each other. She smiled when she saw my eyes open, and then leaned down and kissed me.
That kiss led to Gena on her back and digging her nails into me as she shrieked out her orgasm and I shot what little cum I had left deep inside her. Once I’d cum, Gena wrapped her legs around my waist and kept me from pulling out. She whispered that she liked feeling me inside her and wanted to keep that feeling.
I did slip out of her eventually, but she still wouldn’t let me go. She kept me there, between her smooth, soft open thighs with my chest mashing her breasts flat, while she kissed me and stroked my back.
When she sighed and said we should probably have some breakfast, she did let me go, though I’d have gladly stayed there. Strangely enough, it wasn’t because of the sex. That had been great, but there was something else. I couldn’t figure it out at the time, but it was like Gena was different. Or, maybe I was different. Whatever it was, it was there.
It was there when I went back to my apartment too. Gena said she was going to visit Penny, but she’d be back home by New Year’s Eve if I wanted to come over to celebrate with her. I’d had weeks before that seemed long. That week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve felt like it was a month.
At midnight on New Year’s Eve, Gena and I toasted with the champagne I’d brought and then made love in her bed again. This time, Gena just draped her thigh over me, felt between us for my cock and then guided it between her soft wet lips. It took longer, but that was just that much longer I could feel her lush body against me and that much longer I could feel the zinging sensations of her open-mouth kisses mixing with the feeling of her rippled passage stroking my cock.
The rest of the school year, we met on the weekends at either her place or at my apartment. The days between those weekends were pretty empty except for our nightly phone calls. I continued to teach and I loved every second of it, but those weekends were pretty special.
It was that summer that I met Penny for the first time in seven years. Gena said Penny was coming to visit her so we couldn’t do anything together, but she did want me to see how Penny had grown up.
Well, Penny had grown up in two ways. I remembered her from high school as being tall for a girl and skinny as a rail. In seven years, she was still tall, but she’d blossomed out into a copy of her mother with heavy breasts and wider hips.
She’d also grown up a lot in how she related to people. I remembered her as being pretty shy. She wasn’t shy when Gena left us alone. Penny looked at me and frowned.
“I know something’s going on between you and my mother. I’m not judging either of you, but you have to promise me one thing. Whatever you two decide to do, you have to promise not to hurt her. When Dad died, I thought she was going to die too. She slowly got better, but I won’t have her put through anything like that again.”
I gave Penny my word that I wouldn’t do anything of the kind. She smiled then.
“The reason I know is I know my mother. She acts around you like she acted around Dad. You’re the first man since Dad died that she’s done that with. I hope you know how special you are to her.”
I said Gena was pretty special to me too. Penny smiled again.
“Are you going to do anything about it?”
I’d thought about that a lot, and I’d tried to look at both sides. Gena was twenty-three years older than me, so people would probably talk about how it wasn’t right. My school board was pretty conservative and I didn’t yet have tenure, so I could possibly lose my job.
Balancing that was the feeling I had for Gena, a feeling that I was happiest when I was with her and felt like crap when I wasn’t. Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine a life without Gena.
What if I did lose my job? There were other schools where I could teach, schools where the school board wasn’t quite as conservative. I could also get my master’s and go into school management. Superintendents are judged by how well they handle the finances of the school district, not by who they’re married to.
Mom and Dad might not be a problem because Mom was five years older than Dad, but I wasn’t sure about my brother and sisters. They’d all married people their own age.
If I did what I was thinking about, would Gena and I last? She was forty-five then and I was twenty-two. When I was sixty-five and ready to retire, she’d be eighty-eight if she was even still alive. Gena said John stayed young because she was young and wouldn’t let him get old. Would it be that way with Gena and me?
I looked at Penny then.
“If I did what I think you’re suggesting, how would you feel about it?”
“She’s my mother, Ricky. I can’t feel anything but love for her. If you’re as good to her as Dad was, I could probably love you too.”
Mom and Dad were a little taken aback when I told them. Dad started to say something, but Mom cut him off. She told me that it was my decision and that they’d support me. My brother just said I was never like other guys so it didn’t surprise him. My sisters were a little backward about wishing us luck until they met Gena again. They’d had her as their chorus teacher too, but just like me, they didn’t really know her. After the afternoon Gena and my sisters spent talking, they were still a little unsure, but they liked her a lot.
We were married by the Justice of the Peace in Gena’s town that fall just before school started, and we honeymooned for a week in Chicago. We didn’t see much of Chicago though.
Well, that’s about it for the story of how Gena was first my chorus teacher, then my friend, became first my lover, and finally my wife. There were some important things that happened between then and now, though. I wanted kids and so did Gena, but she was worried about her age. We ended up adopting a baby boy the year after we were married and a baby girl the year after that. I think they both helped to keep Gena feeling young.
They’re almost grown now and are away at college, but they both come home for the Christmas holidays. I love those holidays, but it’s pretty nice when they go back to school too. That’s usually on New Year’s Day. The night after they’ve left, Gena will snuggle up to me on our couch and put her arms around my neck.
“Remember that first Christmas and New Year’s Eve? Think we could sort of re-live that tonight?”
Gena is sixty-eight now, but I guess it’s like she said. She’s staying young because I’m still relatively young. I know that those nights are just as good as that first night. We're only good for once now, but that’s mostly because of me. Gena hasn’t changed that way, not at all.