Sharing My Landlady's Bed - Sex Stories

Sharing My Landlady's Bed

... her legs as I imagined Greek ladies would have? Would it be shot through with grey? Would she shave? I hoped not.

I gripped my cock harder and rubbed faster, sliding my foreskin over my glans on a sticky film of seminal fluid.

What would she smell like down there? What would she taste like? How would it feel to penetrate her, to push my cock into her cunt?

I gasped as my orgasm erupted through me, spurting jets of semen onto my chest and stomach and leaving me limp and messy.

'If it's ok with you,' I said the next morning at breakfast, 'I'll stay here over the weekend rather than do the drive down to Bristol. It'll save me a lot of time and I can do some work on my laptop,' I explained in justification.

'That's fine,' said Penelope. 'Your room's hired for seven nights a week anyway, and it'll be nice to have some company at the weekend,' she added with a smile.

'Yes,' I said, seeing my chance. 'Maybe we could go for a walk in the park if the weather stays fine. And perhaps we could go for a drink afterwards, or some lunch.'

'Well that sounds lovely,' she replied, 'if you're sure you want to spend a bit of time with an old crock like me.'

We didn't do any more drinking that week, but we did linger over dinner and usually chatted a bit afterwards and I got the feeling that Penelope was enjoying my company and was pleased that we seemed to be getting on well. Of course, there is a world of difference between chatting to your sixty-something landlady and ...

... making a move on her. I hadn't quite decided if I was really going to go through with it but I was now masturbating every evening and most mornings as I thought about Penelope.

Saturday was cloudless and bone-achingly cold. I asked Penelope if she was still up for a walk and she said she was so we wrapped ourselves up and left the house and walked a mile or so to Alexandra Park which is a large, Victorian municipal park with a big boating lake and a cafeteria.

We walked round the perimeter three times over the space of about two hours and then we retreated into the steamy interior of the cafeteria and I got us coffees. The walk had been very enjoyable. Penelope and I had talked about life in Manchester, life in Bristol, books, politics - you name it. And I had thoroughly enjoyed her company, which only added to the increasingly strong sexual attraction that I felt for her, even swaddled as she was in a quilted anorak, a headscarf and a bobble-hat on top of that.

'Not like Greece?' I said at one point as we stood by the lake and she shivered at the sight of the cold water.

'Not like Greece,' she agreed, quietly.

On the way home I suggested we stop for lunch in a pub and after a bit of persuasion she agreed. The place we found was quiet, in the saloon bar, although there was a football matched being screened in the public bar. We had soup and a ploughman's and I drank the local bitter and Penelope drank white wine. Stepping out of the pub in the early afternoon ...