Mrs Baxters Boarding House Ch 01

Adam is looking for lodging in Cambridge, England. He meets Bryony Baxter, a lady in her 50s who's offering room and board and a lot more.

This is the first instalment featuring Adam's initiation into carnality, his landlady introducing him to sex before she moves on to round off his education in sordid affairs.

I apologise in advance for any errors remaining in the text.

I hope you enjoy the following.

Thank you for reading.

GA – Da Nang, Vietnam – 6th of May 2016.

*

It's 1974, his fresher's year. Adam is living in halls but is desperate to move. He's been given a telephone number to ring, which he used and spoke to a woman. Mrs Baxter passed on her address, telling the boy a suitable time he should make a personal appearance.

Adam finds the address, his search taking him to a terraced townhouse with a narrow yet impressive façade, steep steps leading up from the street to a blue door.

He pushes the button and hears the clangour within, then waits for a long minute before she responds to the summons.

The first thing he notices is the deep crease of her cleavage. Adam thinks it's tremendous, the inner flanks of her breasts squeezed together as they are. As he gapes in surprise at the bounty before him, Adam is reminded of a comment he's recently heard, one suited to the university city of Cambridge. Inside his head a voice says,

Somewhere you could park your bike

, his eyes still fixed to her chest.

"Mister Gantry?" he hears, her voice dragging his focus up to her face.

Adam's face warms when he sees the amused glint in her eyes, the twist to her lips as she smirks at him suggesting she knows he's been looking.

He's flustered as he runs his tongue over dry lips, blinking while stammering, "Uh, yuh-yes ... I have an interview with Mrs Buh-baxter."

"Yes, that's me." The woman nods, honey-blonde hair moving in soft waves around her face. "You're punctual," she says in a tone of approval. She takes a step back and opens the door fully, giving Adam the benefit of shapely calves, her feet in precipitous heels. "Won't you come in?"

Despite his being a little rattled at being caught eyeing her décolletage, and regardless of his agitation at being new to the city, his university education in its infancy, Adam is still able to harness the impression of a genteel lady with elegant tastes, her precise diction reminding Adam of BBC radio presenters from a previous decade.

He has a moment to register she's very well presented, especially for a mid-afternoon interview with a first-year student. Her dress is a black A-line creation with a halter-neck, the swooping neckline showing off a generous amount of skin, those large breasts tugging at the boy on a visceral level he's reluctant to acknowledge, their size and shape a magnet for his eyes. Her hair is immaculate, make-up subtle and not overdone. She gives the impression of not being afraid of her age, which Adam dimly estimates at getting up for late-forties – an erroneous assumption. As it will turn out, he's short by at least five years. Mrs Baxter may not be in the first bloom of youth, but she makes the most of what she has, with Adam finding himself drawn to her on a carnal level, dark urges stirring within.

"I won't bite," adds the woman when Adam lingers on the top step. She cants her head to one side and beams a smile at Adam. "Nervous?" she asks.

He gulps and nods and says, "A little bit, yes."

"Don't be," she says, pausing to survey the boy from toe to crown. "First impressions are you'll fit right in here. Just relax, Mister Gantry. We'll go inside and have a lovely chat. I have a few questions, of course, and we have a few rules – but nothing too awful...

"We'll have a talk and see if we're compatible." She rolls her eyes and chuckles, then adds, "You might find I'm not to your taste. You might decide my house isn't for you."

She looks at Adam in such a way his cock thickens and grows, desire a sudden hot coal in the pit of his stomach.

He's appalled at his body's response.

She's an old bird

, he thinks to himself, perplexed by what's going on inside his suit trousers.

Adam struggles to focus on what's being said when the woman repeats her invitation for him to enter the house.

"Come in, Mister Gantry," she's saying, still smiling at him. "Let's get this started."

*

Adam steps across the threshold, catching a waft of her scent as he moves past her. He lingers in the long, narrow hallway, waiting until she closes the front door.

"This way, sweetie," she says, sliding a red-painted talon along the underside of his chin.

It's an odd gesture, somewhat intimate and provocative, the tone of her voice doing nothing to ease Adam's raging erection.

When Mrs Baxter eases past him, Adam throws an anxious glance down at the front of his trousers. He sees the ridge of his hard-on is obvious, his cock caught as it tries to find a position within the confines of the boy's clothing.

"I'll show you the house," the woman is saying, calling back over one shoulder. "First are the lounge and the kitchen..."

Adam looks down the corridor to see she's waiting at the far end.

"The lounge is on your right," she tells him as he walks past an open doorway. "This is the kitchen behind me."

Mrs Baxter turns and moves through another door that's facing Adam as he approaches. He follows her through and finds himself in a surprisingly large space, a wooden table in the centre of the room, half a dozen chairs set around its rectangular periphery.

The woman leans her rump against the edge of an earthenware sink, a window behind her overlooking a long, narrow garden.

"I cook an evening meal. Breakfast is up to you." Mrs Baxter chuckles and goes on with, "You students can't get up in the mornings. It would be an absolute chore doing breakfasts for you."

She points to a white fridge. "There's a shelf in there for you to use. And this cupboard is all yours as well," Mrs Baxter continues while gesturing at an overhead unit. "I have five rooms in total. Boys, all boys. There are absolutely no unannounced guests – and that's a very strict rule, Mister Gantry..."

The woman pauses at that, giving Adam a look while asking, "Do you have a first name, darling?"

Adam blinks, caught by the sudden shift in her monologue.

"I'm Bryony," she says after Adam tells her his name. "I prefer to use first names," she tells him. "It always seems so stuffy calling each other Mrs and Mister.

"Anyway," Bryony continues, moving past Adam again. "Any questions so far?"

He's wondering about the strict rule concerning no unannounced guests, but gets dragged along in Bryony's wake as she goes out into the hallway.

"We're on four floors," she says, already climbing the stairs. "My bedroom is down below the ground floor. There are three rooms on this landing..."

They halt so Adam can survey the corridor and doors leading off it.

"...With a shared bathroom," Bryony adds. "There's two rooms at the top of the house, plus another bathroom. Those are considered the best of the lot. They're taken on account of seniority. You'll start on this level," she goes on to tell Adam before moving off the landing towards a door at the far end.

"And this will be your room – if you decide I'm what you want."

Adam frowns at what he thinks is a strange turn of phrase. Surely she means if it's the room he wants? He ponders the point for a second, but holds his silence because he's too embarrassed to make any comment.

"Now," says Bryony as she leads the boy into the room. "Let's sit on the bed and have a little chat. There must be things you want to know, and I have a few questions for you."

Adam is pleasantly surprised to see it's quite a large space, bright with the daylight coming in through a sash widow. The double bed is another attractive aspect, and Adam decides the room is infinitely preferable to the halls he's in now.

"I like it," he says following a quick appraisal.

Adam is then nonplussed to see Bryony perched on the bed. "That's good," she coos, expression decidedly feline as she eyes the boy and pats the bed with the palm of one hand. "Now, come here, sit down, sweetheart."

It's the look in her eyes that makes the Adam. There's something predatory about the way she's looking at him. He experiences a ripple of uncertainty shivering through his body, anxiety and a strange frisson of anticipation clutching his gonads, his cock pulsing with clandestine desires. In a fleeting moment of madness, Adam pictures himself launching himself at the woman, his hands going to her breasts while he forces his tongue into her mouth.

"Pardon?" says Adam when he registers she's said something to him.

"I asked if you're a smoker," she says.

"Oh. No," Adam replies with a shake of his head.

Bryony pouts and says, "That's all to the good. And what about girlfriends?"

Adam's cheeks flare as he looks down at his shoes. "Uh, no," he says with a mumble.

Her eyes are round when she asks, "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Adam? I don't mean to pry, sweetie, but you seem ... well, a little on the shy side."

"I've had girlfriends," the boy mutters in response.

Her tone is low and narcotic when Bryony asks, "But not a special one, eh?"

Adam divines her meaning, his face burning as he shakes his head and croaks, "No."

He hears her murmur, "A virgin..." the tone bringing his eyes to her face.

The woman catches his gaze, holding the boy's stare while she pats the bed once again.

"Darling," she purrs, "do come and sit down."

His eyes go from her face to the dizzying depths of Bryony's cleavage. He gulps, swallowing down on the upwelling of lascivious desires.

Adam feels himself drawn to the woman perched on the bed, her words coming in from some distant place.

He takes the steps to bring him closer to her, the bed dipping as he sits down.

Desire rises up to swell his chest and his throat, and Adam can't quite believe what he's hearing when Bryony leans in close, her thigh against his.

He gasps when she asks him, "Do you like older ladies with big tits?"

"Mrs Baxter?" groans Adam, the woman swivelling at the waist to present her chest to him.

"Just another few questions," Bryony whispers, her hand going to Adam's so she can press his palm against one of her breasts.

*

He gropes at her body while Bryony rubs a hand over the ridge in his trousers.

"It seems you do like something about me," she murmurs. Bryony leans in to kiss the boy's neck. "You don't mind I'm older than you by so many years, do you my sweet?"

It feels so good to have her rubbing his cock through his clothes, Adam can only gurgle an incoherent response. He gapes down at where she's unfastening his flies, her hand going inside, her fingers squeezing the shaft.

"Let's get this belt undone," Bryony says, with Adam complying automatically when she adds, "Lift your bum up so I can get these trousers down."

Before he can make sense of what's going on, the woman has his appendage out in the open.

"Ooh, darling," Bryony says with a coo of appreciation, "

that

is a lovely penis. It's a gorgeous big cock."

She tilts Adam's face with the tip of a finger, easing his focus up from where he's boggling down at her fist round his dick.

The expletive shocks Adam when Bryony purrs, "It's fucking impressive," grinning into his face. "I think you and I can have a lot of fun. What do you think, Adam – would you like to stay here for a little while with me?"

"I..." gurgles the boy, his throat working as he swallows heavily, throwing a glance back down to where she's slowly working his length. He blinks and gasps and stares into Bryony's eyes. "I've never done anything like this before." Then it dawns on Adam to ask, "But what about your husband?"

"There is no husband," murmurs the woman. "I've never been married."

"But you're

Mrs

Baxter...?"

"The man who took my virginity was called Baxter," she says. "He was such a perv, he ruined me for marriage."

Bryony passes this on with a smirk on her face.

"I'd be so bored shackled to one man for a lifetime," she adds. "I just call myself Mrs..."

Her chuckle is dark and dangerous, the woman smirking again as Adam hears her whisper, "Another one. Another virgin. Dear

God

I love it when they turn up at the door."

To Adam she says, "Don't worry, baby, I'll look after you. You don't have to concern yourself with anything. You just let your Aunty Bryony show you what she likes best."

The way she says it stirs the boy on a primal level as he sits on the bed, his attention fixed on his cock, his mind numbed by the speed of the woman's seduction. It's all beyond his very limited experience, almost past anything he could have imagined.

"The boys are all out," Bryony tells Adam. "They know what can happen when I'm conducting an interview." She snorts out a laugh and leans in once more. "After all, they've all been through it themselves." Bryony kisses his throat, her tongue running up over his jaw until she finds his mouth and, after pressing her lips against Adam's, Bryony asks, "I don't want to rush you, but do you think you'll be taking the room?" Then she chuckles again when all he can do is gawp and let out an inarticulate croak. "We have some very interesting times here," the woman continues, her hand still jacking at Adam. "My boys are very attentive ... and I do my best to make sure they're well looked after. We all get along famously, sweetie – although there is the occasional jealousy..."

She kisses Adam once more, her rump squirming against the bed while a short, tight moan escapes from her lips.

"But I can soon calm them down. I have special ways of including all of my lovely boys in the fun."

"Oh," squeaks Adam when Bryony abruptly releases his cock.

"Don't fret, darling," she says in response. "I'm just going to..."

Adam's mouth falls open when Bryony scoops a breast from her dress, a gasp issuing forth when the other swings free.

"My boys love my big tits," the woman informs him while hefting her breasts with both palms. "What about you, Adam? Are you a boob man?"

"They..." Adam begins. "You ... I mean..."

"Poor darling," Bryony says with a pout. "You're all flustered, aren't you, baby?"

She rises to her feet, Adam's gaze following the hypnotic sway of her breasts.

"You sit and give yourself time to think," the woman continues. "I'll just slip out of this dress."

Gawping at Bryony removing her dress does nothing to ease Adam's shock one little bit. All he does is let out a gasp and a mewl, the sounds coming out without him even realising as he takes in the sight of Bryony's underbust corset and stockings, the latter attached to the corset by a drop of no less than six suspenders, three to a leg, her underwear over the top of the straps.

"Whatever's the matter?" Bryony smirks, posing with her fists on her hips.

She tuts and pretends to make some fine adjustments to the level of the stockings on one thigh, deliberately taunting the boy by raising one leg, his gaze going to the lethal heel of her shoe.

"Corsets and basques," Bryony says while staring at Adam. "Hide a multitude of sins when a lady gets to my age." Then she pouts and shrugs and continues with, "But my boys seem to enjoy me all wrapped up this way." A laugh tinkles up from her chest, with Bryony rolling her eyes. "I'm always having to buy new lingerie," she reveals to Adam, her tone low and conspiratorial. "Sometimes I'm plastered in spunk ... My boys," she adds on a wry chuckle, "often make a bit of a mess.

"What about you, sweetie?" she adds, the shoe going back to the floor while she leans in to take hold of Adam's erection once more. Her breasts hang in front of his face, with Adam still gaping, his jaw hanging slack while Bryony strokes his length. "Are you one of those boys who sprays jizm all over the place? Or are you more of a dribbler?

"I know what we can do," she says, her fist working faster. "We can find out..."

*

He moans and gasps, hips jerking as he fucks up into her fist. A geyser of semen arcs high, the gloop describing a steep parabola before spattering down, the second and third spurts already following on.

"Oh, Mrs Baxter," groans Adam, his words tapering into a groan.

The woman lets out a yelp of delight, spunk all over her wrist as she continues to work Adam's length, his goo pouring down in an indiscriminate rain.

"That's it, my lovely," Bryony mutters, her gaze avid as she watches the deluge. "Give it to me. Show me what you can do."

She continues to stare, her tongue moving over her lips as the outflow subsides.

Bryony rests her free hand on the boy's shoulder, the other milking his cock as she says, "Would you like me to be your first time? Now we've got

that

out of the way," she adds with a nod at his cock, "you might not come as soon as you put it in."

He's too stunned to speak. Adam gapes up at her face, then looks down to the mess. There are splashes of spunk all over the place: the front of his shirt is dotted with translucent smears, blobs of gloop on his tie. Bryony's forearm is liberally spattered, jizm smeared over her skin, with more of the stuff staining the cover on top of the bed.

Bryony levers upright, her eyes fixed on the boy. She then examines her arm and her wrist before licking some of the cum from her skin.

"It's up to you, Mister Gantry," she says, taking a step away from the bed. "I'd say you've passed the interview. As far as I'm concerned there's a place for you here. But it's entirely up to you. If you need a few minutes," She mentions a price for the rent, then finishes with, "I can leave you alone to think it all over."

She squats down in front of the boy, taking herself to an inferior position so she has to tilt her face to look up into his eyes.

"Look at me, Adam," Bryony says, her tone a command.

The boy blinks and closes his mouth, throat working while he gulps down on the shock of the moment.

Bryony's attention flicks to his dick, then back to his face. "I'd absolutely adore to have you live in my house," she says with a catch in her voice. "I'd be thrilled to be the first lady you put that gorgeous thing into," she tells him. "And I promise you, sweetie," Bryony whispers, a hand squeezing Adam's knee. "There's a lot more we can do together if you decide you'd like one of my rooms. I'm a generous landlady, Adam. Just take a little time to think about what we could do together.

"If you don't mind sharing me with the other four boys..."

*

He watches her strut from the room, her hips swaying with that particular feminine grace, the jiggling buttocks sending a ripple of need coursing through Adam.

"Shit," mutters the boy while assessing the damage to his clothing.

Adam examines his shirt and tie, then looks at the mess on the bed before glancing towards the door. He sits there and tries to make sense of it all, wondering what the hell has just happened. Then his heart leaps in the rack of his ribs, the realisation coming at him like a main line express train.

He's suddenly anxious, excitement a hot tide as Adam recalls what the woman has said. He gulps at the enormity of the situation he's found himself in. She said she'd be his first. The woman is actually willing to let him put his cock into her body.

And the way she was dressed! The stockings and heels and the corset...

The image comes to mind of Mrs Baxter's large breasts, her teats long and thick, her eyes gleaming with an intensity Adam has never seen in a woman's expression before. He sees it again, those orbs swinging and swaying, her fist working his dick.

Adam groans out, "Oh Jesus, oh fucking hell," still unable to believe what's just occurred.

Snippets of the past several minutes' flick across his mind's eye: the way she'd looked at his cock and the compliments she'd bestowed. Adam relives the moment she'd scooped her breasts from her dress, feeling the shock as she'd disrobed to reveal the corset and stockings. He hears her voice and the lewd words she murmured and muttered, feels her fist working his dick as she fisted his length with such a casual air, the glorious surge spurting out of its eye...