But what’s this? Between her legs there was a shiny patch on the dark leather of the arm of the chair. Had she wet herself from the pain? Or was it another sort of secretion? Was the horny old dear actually getting aroused by this? With my face a bare six inches from her bottom I could smell an aroma that was entirely novel to me but I instantly knew it was the smell of a sexually aroused woman. It must be something primeval that is hard wired into us but, even being a total neophyte sexually, I recognized the smell as that of a woman in heat, so to speak.
She was making low moaning sounds now and seemed to be grinding her pelvis against the chair arm. I kept kneading her buttocks, almost delirious with the sensations I was experiencing; the earthy, almost spicy, aroma, The groans of what I assumed were pleasure. The sight of a very moist vulva and a little arsehole that seemed to wink at me as I manipulated her bum, not to mention the very feel of two very well formed buttocks. I was as hard as the cane I had just wielded.
After a few minutes she seemed to shudder and collapse. She remained motionless for a dozen breathes and then abruptly she stood. In the process she bumped her bottom into my face and I was knocked onto my back. She turned and looked down at me. I was sprawled out with my erection doing a good job of imitating a flagpole.
“My goodness. Look at your tallywhacker. He is in rude good health isn’t he,” she commented in a very matter of fact fashion. “It is not healthy for a young man to walk around with his tackle in such a state. Maybe you had better go and mow the lawn. That should settle him back down.”
I was in a high state of arousal but had no recourse but to follow her instructions. I moved out the back door to the shed where the garden equipment was stored with a strong feeling of disappointment. I didn’t know what I thought was going to happen next but it was not pushing a lawnmower. I hauled out the mower and fired her up. Their lawn was not large, just a simple rectangle about the size of a tennis court.
As I made the first pass up the block of turf I saw that the venetian blinds into what I knew was the master bed room were open. I glimpsed movement inside. On the next pass with the mower I could clearly see Mrs Suitor standing in front of the full length mirror that also served as a wardrobe door. She had her hands on her hips and appeared to be contemplating her reflection. My next pass saw her in a similar pose but this time she had removed her blouse. On the next pass she was cupping her naked breasts with both hands.
This pattern continued for the 20 or so passes I had to make to complete the mowing. For the last 8 or so passes she was buck naked, still admiring herself in the mirror in an assortment of poses. It was almost like a still life portrait. She was frozen as I passed, but moved while I was out of line of sight.
Later I realized that she must have used the sound of the mower to judge her movements or she could have been keeping an eye on me in the reflection in the mirror. My mowing technique had become a little erratic. I slowed to a crawl as I passed the window and then accelerated when I lost my view.