FRAU SCHMIDT I remember Frau Schmidt very well. I was then 16 and going through a rough time with girls. That is, I had not yet got myself a girlfriend and spent my time thinking of some of the ripe young women in high school and spending myself every night in their imaginary bodies. Then one afternoon I was invited over to my friend's place. John lived on a large block of land outside our outer suburban town, with his parents and the housekeeper, a large woman of about fifty then, though she seemed like a grandmother. The parents were away on a holiday in Europe. We were to play tennis that afternoon with a couple of girls from our class, and after a doubles, and a glass of iced lemonade in the shade of a tree, sitting on those rickety tubular steel chairs they had then, the girls decided to play a singles together. I went into the big old house to use the toilet, and while there looked out the window at the girls. Both had very ripe bodies and long black hair, brown eyes, big breasts, and soon I was standing and watching and pulling on myself. I would have come fairly quickly, but the noise of something shutting behind me froze me. I turned slowly round and found the bathroom empty. Then I noticed a panel in the wall at about hip height. It was about a hand breadth wide, had no handle , but obviously slid to the side. I carefully put my finger tips on the wood and slid sideways. It moved and soon I was kneeling and looking into what appeared to be a bedroom. There e was an old brass double bed in the centre, and walking slowly away from me was a naked woman, her big buttocks swaying in a very provocative way. She turned and I grabbed hold of myself and began pumping again for her breasts were large and sagging and had big brown nipples that stood up like little thumbs. Standing side on, she began to heft her boobs and then to roll those wonderful nipples between her fingers. Nothing like the sylph-like nymphs one saw on the pages of Playboy. I was instantly erect and the woman, who was I saw Frau Schmidt, the housekeeper , now lay back on the bed and began playing with her breasts and her generous piss lips and moaning, her eyes closed. I became frantic and spent myself within a dozen or more strokes, staggered back and slid the little door closed. I pulled up my pants, rinsed my face with cold water to cool down and walked out, realising only then that the woman had been spying on me, as I on her, and had been fantasizing about me herself a she brought herself to a climax on that old bed. The thought was unsettling and though we played a desultory couple of games before finishing up for the afternoon, I could not get my attention of that large, ripe body. John and I spent a little time chatting in the lounge room, swapping school gossip, then we went in to dinner. The housekeeper had prepared a roast with mashed potatoes and we drank a glass of beer, at her insistence, feeling very grown up. I tried not to look at the woman, though it seemed to me that she had no bra on, and that those big breasts were moving up and down beneath her cotton dress with a great deal of abandon. Once or twice, as she was clearing things from the table, for she did not eat with us but would eat later, she said, her fingers slid as if by accident along my arm. John did not appear to notice. It was now quite dark and since I had no lights on my bicycle, the housekeeper suggested that stay the night. I had coffee with John and then, being quite tired by the events of the day, I went to bed. As I lay there trying to read myself to sleep with some old National Geographics that had been gathering dust on the bedside table, I thought I heard a faint sobbing and the creak of springs. I put down the magazine and got out of bed, padded in my pajamas over to the side of the roof from which the sobbing had come. All was silent now, but then, just as I was going to return to my National Geographics, there is was again. I stepped out into the corridor, lit by an incredibly dim naked bulb hanging from the high old ceiling, breathing in the scent of old wood, dust and linseed oil that permeated the house and heard the sound again. I crept along to the next door. Yes. It was definitely coming from here. I slowly turned the knob and pushed. The door swung easily in a few inches and I peered into the room. To my surprise I saw that it was the selfsame room I had seen this afternoon, and there was the housekeeper, wearing large flannel pajamas and lying on top of her unmade bed, slowly feeling her tits and quietly crying. Something was definitely weird. I walked full into the room. "Are you, er, all right…?" I began, and the woman opened her eyes and looked at me with something like reproach on her face. Her eyes I noticed were quite dark brown and her short peppery grey hair as in disarray. I felt myself start to lengthen. "I am sorry. I wake you? I am so lonely. I want man to hold. " She held out her arm. "Come. Just to hold!" I closed the door behind me and padded over to the bed, wondering what would happen now. She half rose and now drew me down with her, hugged me long and hard, then lay back and undid her pajama top, grabbed my hand and placed it over one of her nipples. She gave a long sigh, closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her lips as I began to knead her breast, then when I rolled on top of her she parted her legs and I lay on her belly and took both breasts in my hands, sucking alternately on her nipples which were now quite huge. My tool was rock hard now, and she must have felt it, sandwiched between our bodies. For she gave another sigh and, grabbing my buttocks, pulled me against her. Her heavy thighs rose up on either side of me and she crossed her ankles on my back. I could not help myself but thrust my pelvis against her a couple of times. "Stop," she commanded in a hoarse voice. "Take off your things!” She released her legs from around me and I slid to the floor, pulled off pajamas and pants and stood, jutting and throbbing as she slipped out of her pajama pants, lifting her large hips to do so, then shed the top. "Quick," she groaned, reaching up for me as I eagerly on her again. "Just fuck me!” I raised my hips but before I could feed my tool into her hot cunt she had grabbed me with a strong, calloused hand and jammed me into her quite surprisingly tight hole. I wasted no time but began furiously pounding into her, as she clawed my back and, eyes closed, mouth open and salivating, grunted in pleasure in time to the slop, slop slop me my rod plumbing her hot, wet depths. . Finally I rammed in one last time, my buttocks clenched and I sent a great stream of man seed spurting up her. Later, after I had pulled out and we lay side by side, idly fingering each other, she confessed to having spied on me in the afternoon. "I wanted you very much," she whispered, pulling slowly on my engorged by still soft dick. She glanced down critically at it. "Hmm," she said. "He needs a little attention, does he not?" I nodded, having my mouth full of her tit at the time, and she pulled away and sat up, leant over me and drooled copiously on my tool and began pumping, slowly, licking the tip from time to time. Her big hanging breasts and her sagging belly all swayed in time to her work, but in no time it was quite hard and upright and she rolled back, still slowly squeezing me, admiring the gaping hole in the end of my purple knob. "OK" she said. "Now you do me from behind, like a dog in heat?" This time we got down on the floor and she placed herself on all fours and with her head down on her arms, she presented her heavy buttocks and long, wet slit to me. Almost overcome by the erotic scent of the women, a bitch in heat indeed, I knelt behind her and slid in. I began moving in and out, going as deep as I could with each thrust, my balls hitting her pubic bush each time, but this time I took longer, and soon she was crying out in arousal and finally going into spasm. I waited till she was finished and then slid in hard and fast and came. Later on I was to get to know my friend's sister and to enjoy both her and Frau Schmidt together, but that as they say is another story.