“Well, if you had got into her panties, I would have had to congratulate you. I know my daughter’s a prude. Her father has reinforced ‘saving herself for marriage’ so many times, I’m sick of hearing it. And I’m her mother.” She said, confidingly.
“Are you a virgin?” She asked bluntly. “Or are you also saving yourself for marriage?”
“Mrs. French,” I said, “I think you’re more than a little drunk. Let’s talk about something less… personal.
But she overrode me, putting her hand on my chest like she was miming ‘stop’. “Because if you said yes, I was going to offer you my experience as a special Christmas treat. I believe it’s after midnight” she said, looking at her watch. “It’s my special Christmas present just for you.”
She leaned in and kissed me on the lips, silencing any protests I could’ve made. Her hand drifted from my chest down to my crotch.
“What about your husband?” I managed to whisper between kisses.
She grabbed me by the shoulders, and stepped back. Looking me straight in the eye, she stated, “He hasn’t wanted me for the past five years. That’s why I drink so much. When I drink myself to sleep at night, I don’t think about what I’m not getting. Thinking about it was getting me all frustrated and then I never got to sleep. Alcohol is my sleepeez. But, tonight we could help out each other, right?” she said, hugging me. “I’ll teach you everything I know. Promise.” A tongue slipped into my ear. “And you can give me what I’ve needed for the past five years”
The true reason I was resisting was finally pushed to the surface. “I’ve uhhh, I’ve never screwed before.” I admitted, a bit ashamed. “I’m afraid I’ll screw up or something. I’m a virgin.”
“Shhhhhh,” she said, putting a finger to my lips. “I’m the teacher and teacher says, follow me.”
She grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom. “Turn on all the lights. There’s going to be some show and tell to start with, and I want you to see everything clearly.” she looked at me lecherously.
I began turning on lights as Mrs. French pulled her ‘ugly Christmas sweater’ over her head. But, she was still moving toward the bed with the sweater covering her eyes. She tripped, and fortunately, fell onto the bed. The skirt she was wearing flipped up and gave me a flash of granny panties, before falling back into place. Mrs. French got her knees up on the bed. The sweater was still stuck on her head. She wiggled her ass as she struggled with it. I laughed out loud, but I was staring shamelessly at Mrs. French’s exposed ass. Even panty-clad, as it was, it still gave my dick a jolt.
She finally got the sweater off her head, and had turned over, sitting on that fine motherly ass I’d just been ogling. Her glasses had come off, and were most likely stuck somewhere in the sweater. Her hair was full of static electricity, so her pixie cut hair was standing on end, kind of like a dandelion gone to seed. Underneath was a more attractive face, though. Wow, she’s way more of a babe, with her glasses off, I thought.
Free’d of the sweater, she pulled the undershirt she had on, over her head, showing that she was braless. I could understand why Mrs. French went without one. Her less than C cup breasts didn’t need it, though they sagged a lttle. The quarter sized areola and pencil eraser nipples of dark brown contrasted nicely with the alabaster flesh of her breast. She lay down on the bed, head on the pillow, while she pulled off her skirt. Then came her granny undies, exposing something that didn’t look at all like a granny pussy. It looked pretty plump and juicy to me, not at all shriveled. This was about as far as I’d ever gotten with appreciating the female anatomy based on Playboy’s. I was seeing my first pussy, and a mature one at that. Her pubic hair matched the sandy brown color on top of her head and I could see her pussy lips peeking out through the bush.