My mother stayed with me recently while she recovered from a broken leg, and readers of my accounts of this will know we ended up in a sexual relationship which we now maintain during my once-a-week visits to her house. This story starts when mum was still living with me.
My mum (Penny) was outside my house one day, struggling to stand on her crutches while opening the front door with her key, when a lady I'd previously never met but who lives four doors along from me, offered to help. Mum gratefully accepted, offered the lady some tea, and before long two were chatting away in my drawing room. When I got home from work that night, mum introduced the lady as Maureen and explained how she'd spent several years looking after her own, disabled, mother. Maureen was 65 years old, and her mother had died just 6 months previously leaving her living alone in her house along the street. Having been accustomed to caring for someone for so long, she took naturally to looking after my mum while I wasn't there, and that was great for me as it freed up so much of my time, particularly for work.
When mum was eventually able to move out of my place, she made arrangements to stay in touch with Maureen, and by way of a thank-you to her, I invited Maureen to join me for supper one night too.
Despite being 65 years old, Maureen was deeply attractive, had a lovely pretty face and very natural-looking blonde, wavy hair. Her shoulders were narrow, her breasts beautifully rounded but not enormous, her waist quite slim and her hips wide. In fact, her bottom and thighs were really quite large compared to the rest of her. She tended to wear black trousers over tan-coloured nylons, and a plain jumper on her top half. Her shoes were ordinary, not high-heeled and not flat either -- just plain, much like the rest of her to be honest. I quickly noticed the visible-panty-line through her black trousers betraying her choice of large old-fashioned panties underneath.
When she came for supper, she dressed in her usual fashion, but had made the effort of wearing lovely deep-red lipstick and some jewellery which I'd never seen her do before.
She was great company that night, quite out-going and confident in nature but with a sadness and a serious undertone which at first I couldn't place. Eventually, after dinner and after lots of friendly chat and a decent bottle of Sancerre, she opened up about her life. As I was to discover later, what she told me was only the tip of the iceberg.
Maureen had never married, instead she had spent every single day since the age of 24 looking after her mother who had become severely physically disabled. In all that time, she'd never met a man, never had a partner and lost whatever friends she'd had before then. I was the first man she'd had dinner with since her mother's death and as I suspected, the first 'date' she'd had since she was a young woman.
Despite her devastating story, we got on famously that night, and she became openly flirty and tactile, touching my arm occasionally in order to emphasise a point when talking. We stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil and there was an uncomfortable silence as we looked at one another. I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, and she responded by putting her hand up to run her fingers through my hair as she looked at me, smiling. I took her hand away, kissed it, then held her tightly as we kissed passionately with open mouths.
Our kiss went on for some time, and we pressed our bodies together in our embrace. My hands moved down to her fantastic bum and caressed her through the material of her trousers and panties. She responded again, running her hands up and down my back and over my bum and the back of my thighs.
When we broke off from our kiss, she put her head on my shoulder and we held one another as I leaned back against the kitchen worktop. Without thinking about it, I found it natural to say to her "would you like to stay with me tonight?"
At first, her only response was to give me a tight squeeze as we hugged, but then without moving her head from my shoulder, she spoke. To the best of my recollection, our conversation went like this.
"That's very sweet of you, but it's difficult for me. I'm quite a bit older than you and things have been a little complicated in my life to say the least."
"That's alright Maureen, if you're not ready I understand. I've had a lovely evening anyway and I've really enjoyed your company. There's no pressure on you of course -- it would be lovely to get together again soon, though. Can we do that?"
"Yes of course we can, that's very sweet of you to understand, I just don't want to mislead you that's all."
"Er... have you misled me?"
"I've not told you everything, I'm afraid. I'm not sure you'll want to hear it either -- In fact I've never been presented with the opportunity to tell anyone before, so I'm not really sure where I'd start if I wanted to."
"Maureen, it's all perfectly OK, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, really. If You do want to talk, you can do, I'm happy to listen you know. I tell you what, let's get a fresh glass each and you can tell me as much or as little as you want to."
We topped up our glasses and moved to the sofa in the drawing room. I sat down first, she sat down next to me and as I turned to face her, she put her head down on my chest and lifted her legs up onto the seat so that she was half curled up and laying across me, but so that I couldn't see her face and she couldn't see mine. Then she proceeded with her mesmerising story which I recount here from memory but which I'm certain is correct in as much detail as possible.
Maureen grew up in a small village in Sussex as the only child in a middle-class family. Her best friend was a girl called Susan who lived not far away. Maureen and Susan were inseparable, even staying friends long after they left school. Maureen started work in a shop in the nearby town, but Susan preferred not to work, but just to sponge off her parents instead. She had the dream of marrying a rich man and spending her days as a kept woman.
In their early twenties , the girls would regularly have dates with boys, but Maureen never allowed herself to become too involved, especially not sexually, instead allowing a quick goodnight kiss at the end of an evening out. On Maureen's day off, Susan would go over to visit as both Maureen's parents were out at work. The girls would spend the day talking, drinking tea and playing records in Maureen's room.
At the week-end, the girls would get the train up to London and spend the afternoon in the West End followed by an evening in their favourite pubs before getting the last train home. It was on one of these journeys that, according to Maureen, the story really starts.
