Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Author’s note:

I would like to apologize in advance to my readers. In the retelling of this story it sort of took on a life of its own. Normally my tales are fairly brief and concise, this one however seemed only to grow as I put pen to paper. (Figuratively speaking). Since it did turn out to be rather long I have decided to break it down into several smaller portions both for ease in posting and for reader consumption. That said… I hope you enjoy this longwinded tale. It is a true story, all of this really did happen.

Life is a tapestry, a cloth woven of many different threads that create the whole. This story is a thread, one of many, contributing to the waft and weave that is the Whole cloth, being Jim.

Being Jim Ch.6 Lessons of Life

By Frodov

This story is based entirely on true experiences from my past. Names and a few details have been changed to provide anonymity for those involved. Discretion is a precious commodity and is becoming rarer and rarer every day.

Sometimes to better understand the “whole”, the big picture in its present state you must pick a thread and follow it back through the weave to earlier times or events, to see the interactions that colored that thread or created it. Often one thread is formed from multiple smaller connected threads, much like the cloth is woven from many threads. But isn’t that life? This story reaches back to my time in college. I was working full time mostly in a part time job delivering pizzas to pay for my gas and insurance to allow me to commute to and from school and home. Remember this all happened before cell phones and the internet, cable TV was still in its infancy. The 80’s big hair bands, big hair, a different time.

-Part One-

“Wait… Stop, stop, stop!” She said with an exasperated sigh. “Go wash your face, brush your teeth and then bring me a glass of iced tea when you come back.” She said as she crossed her legs and closed her robe over herself covering up those long silk covered legs and that very hairy oasis between them.

I knew better than to protest, I slid back off the edge of the bed, my erection dragging along the covers under my boxer shorts. I had no idea why she stopped me again and sent me off to do this. I did know that she would explain in her own time and I would probably learn something valuable from the seeming nonsense and my frustration. I walked from the master bedroom and down the hall to the bath room. I ran some warm water in the sink and soaked a washcloth before applying a little soap and then washing my face. I rinsed out the washcloth and wrung it out then folded it over the towel rack. Then pulled my toothbrush from the holder and applied a bit of toothpaste then began brushing my teeth. This was the third time in the last hour and a half that I was sent to clean up and then fetch something for Maggie. Now I would normally think of myself as a pretty patient sort of guy but this stop and start stuff was wearing me pretty thin today. I spat out the tooth paste and rinsed my mouth with some cold water. I dried my face and hands on a hand towel and then exited the bathroom to turn right and down the hall to the kitchen to retrieve a glass and fill it with some ice and tea.

As I entered the kitchen I found Penny sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in hand and some papers in the other. Her half frame reading glasses perched on her delicate little button nose as she looked up over them and smiled at me.

“Did you brush your teeth?” She asked giving me that knowing smile and raising one delicate eyebrow in questioning expression.

“Yes Miss Penny.” I said as I smiled sheepishly to her. As I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher of iced tea that was always present. I poured about three quarters of the glass full as the ice clinked and rose with the cloudy amber liquid. “Penny?” I began as I returned the pitcher and closed the refrigerator door. Turning to her I continued. “I know sometimes I’m a little slow to pick up on the lessons but what am I doing wrong? Am I doing something wrong or is Maggie just teasing me or something?” I asked tilting my head slightly to one side then catching myself and returning it upright and standing up straight almost as if at attention. It occurred to me that my habit of tilting my head to one side was much like what dogs do when they are trying to understand their master’s intent.

Miss Penny’s facial expression softened and she set down the papers she was grading and her coffee cup then held out both her arms beckoning me to her side. I stepped up to her and she wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me into her. My now semi flaccid erection just a bulge under my silk boxer shorts seemingly nestling in between her soft womanly mounds of breast casually gathered together under her gossamer like silk robe. I knew that there was nothing else on under that robe as Penny was almost loath to wear much more than her “wrappers” around the house unless casino oyna she was tutoring or entertaining guests. While unofficially I was a student, of sorts, and was being “tutored” by both herself and Miss Margaret, Maggie she insists in private, I was considered almost one of the family. What an interesting, odd even, family indeed. Perhaps I should pause my narrative here and introduce you the reader to myself, and these two wonderful if often times confounding women.

My name is James, Jim or Jimmy and sometimes Jimbo to my family and friends. I am or was at the time a college student working part time at almost full time hours for a nationally known pizza delivery chain, I’ll call them “Dom’s”. Physically I’m just Joe average, standing about five foot eight, tilting the scales at about two hundred pounds. I played football up through high school, played one year of soccer, ran track and even took one turn at the wrestling team but decided that just wasn’t for me. I was sturdy but not ripped like many guys who dedicate themselves to weight lifting or body building. Blond hair turning slowly to a light brown, brown eyes , an open and honest face not exactly handsome but far from homely… or so I’ve been told many times. I was not someone that stood out in a crowd. That being said, it was probably a good thing as well because generally speaking I was, and remain somewhat, mostly, shy and quiet around strangers and people I’ve just met. I do fancy myself as a keen observer of those people around me however. I take in far more than I let on. My parents instilled within me a sense of respect for my elders and strangers in general, and a strong work ethic. Along with that I was and remain a bookworm, as apt to get lost in a good book as I am to seek out real life adventures, of which I actually indulge in more than most people are aware. I’ve learned many things in my short life, some from studying things and people around me, some from trial and error in doing, and some by instruction. This tale involves all the above but focuses more on the latter. I have had the great fortune of knowing and receiving care and instruction from some very special people throughout my life, none more special as the two ladies I will introduce to you in this tale.

The ladies, Miss Penny, that’s what I call her by her request as she rather despises her full name of Penelope Anne Ridgeford. “It just sounds so stuffy.” She would explain. Penny at the time of this tutelage was still a working teacher in the neighboring county from where she lived with Miss Margaret, more on that later. Penny was as I mentioned earlier had a penchant for wearing little to nothing in the way of clothing around her home. She was a buxom lady indeed with large but not overly large soft breasts that begged to be held and caressed. As a woman in her mid forties, those breasts did fall prey to the affects of gravity somewhat however so they did sag but ever so slightly and not an unpleasant sight to behold certainly. They had slightly darkened aureolas about the size of half dollar coins with soft pink marble sized nipples right in their center. I can tell you they were very sensitive. Miss Penny was not a slender lady but certainly not fat in any way either. Standing a modest five foot six barefooted or in her silk slippers that she wore anytime she didn’t have shoes on or was not bathing, I would later find out just why that was. Her soft shoulder length hair often changed color depending on her whims and moods but I will always remember it as the coppery strawberry blonde that she wore when I first made her acquaintance.

She was soft spoken most of the time, not a timid or meek voice but rather a confident one that caused people to listen all the more closely to her when she was speaking. Her voice coming from the softest ever smiling lips, full and often slightly pouted causing her dimples to peek out on her cheeks. Miss Penny had a kind rounded face that was complimented by those full lips and a smallish if a little wide button nose that set off the biggest light blue eyes. Her long luxurious lashes were the stuff dreams are made of for cosmetics designers and models alike. Those eyes popped and they were highlighted by a set of carefully manicured but full eyebrows that rode on her forehead like beacons drawing ones gaze to those lovely blue eyes. Those eyes could shine like the brightest sunlight when she was pleased with you but turn as hard and as cold as icy stone when she was displeased with you. As with her soft spoken demeanor, her gaze also grabbed and held your attention. Miss Penny was in her own describing, “Plush”. Not thin, not fat, certainly not a hard body but not frail either. I might call her sturdy but that would almost sound demeaning really. Penny was soft in all the right places, had curves where they were meant to be, abundant but not in excess.

When dressed for work, the classroom, she was nothing extraordinary and would hardly garner a second glance from most people, especially guys. canlı casino She could dress up and people would perhaps take a second look, but when she was in her preferred state of dress, or undress as the case may be, she would turn any man’s head and many a woman’s head as well. One last outstanding feature I must mention was her strong but slender hands with their immaculately manicured nails. Miss Penny could have been a hand model for any jewelry line or cosmetics line for that matter. She had the perfect nails in my opinion, just the right length to be elegant as if a drop of paint were just hanging from the ends of the fingers. They had a natural shape, tapered not squared off of chopped. I can’t remember ever seeing those beautiful fingers when they weren’t perfectly painted and polished. Her legs seemed to be borrowed from a gymnast half her age, while not overly muscular, they were toned and had exquisite curves of their own. They ran from the floor thickening a little perhaps in the thighs but with not an ounce of flab, to the bottoms of her sweetly pear shaped ass in the back and to a velvety neatly trimmed crotch within which was centered what I came to know as her peach. While not completely hairless, Penny’s peach was lightly covered with velvety soft peach fuzz where the hair was nearly nonexistent save for a neatly trimmed heart shaped tuft of strawberry blond hair just above her peach.

Then there was Miss Margaret, Miss Penny’s Housemate. They both lived in this modest four bedroom home with two car garage and full basement. In a quiet neighborhood with tree lined streets, good fences and quiet neighbors. While Miss Penny was almost bubbly in her sweetness and outgoing manner, Miss Margaret was decidedly not, at least by outward appearances or casual observation. Margaret, Maggie to her friends, was an imposing figure of a woman. Reserved, almost haughty, perhaps aloof would be a better way to describe her. By all appearances she was a stern intelligent woman that didn’t suffer fools or foolishness. Like Miss Penny, a look from Miss Margaret could stop you in your tracks or halt your words in mid speech. Those liquid copper orbs could burn a hole through solid steel or they could softly shine like the light of a candle when you were in her good graces. Separating those copper colored lights was a patrician nose, longish, delicate but firm. Her nostrils would flare when she was upset or angry or when… well… I’ll talk more about that later.

Above Margaret’s eyes separating her eyes from her forehead were two dark brows that always seemed to be immobile, but when her mood changed or she was startled they grew animated and would dance and jump as if they were living creatures. Below her nose there was a wide set of thin tight lips. Margaret didn’t wear much make up and certainly didn’t draw attention to her lips but on occasion I’ve seen her with lipstick on and it changes the entire look of her face, her face softens. Her wide lips set off her strong chin and jaw line that sit atop her long thin neck. A neck that like the rest of Miss Margaret is toned but not muscular.

Margaret stands about five foot seven in her stockinged feet. Aside from bathing I’ve rarely ever known her to not be wearing stockings of some sort on those elegant shapely legs. For a woman in her late forties she was remarkably toned and fit. Her arms and legs slender and long, her ass also on the smallish side but nicely rounded and shaped all the same. Two smallish but well rounded firm breasts rode high and proud on Margaret’s chest seemingly defying gravity. Topped by two dark shaded points of her nipples about the size of pencil erasers, were surrounded by slightly darker quarter sized areolas that seemed to float on the milky white skin that covered Margaret’s body. That pale white skin contrasted with her hair. She had raven black hair, a full glossy gossamer cloud that framed her face, hung to the middle of her shoulder blades when she let it down. Usually it was tamed into a tight bun or other restrictive styling that left her generous yet delicate ears exposed to the world.

In the lobes of those ears she always, always, wore a set of pearl stud earrings. There was one more pearl stud but it was constantly worn much farther down, not in an ear, but rather in a piercing of the hood covering Margaret’s magic switch, her clit. I can’t count the number of times I blessed that single pearl and silently thanked the gods for that jeweled beacon, surrounded as it was by an equally dark cloud of gossamer like raven black hair. If Miss Penny had a Peach, Miss Margaret had a large ripe plum, one surround by that raven black silky soft hair. Soft yes, but dense, it certainly takes some getting used to but once that has happened it becomes a thing of beauty and wonder. It’s also a source of frustration for the uninitiated. That would have been me, more on that later though. From outward appearances, Miss Margaret would appear to be the antithesis or opposite of Miss Penny as far as kaçak casino personalities go. While Miss Penny is ordinarily bubbly and seemingly happy, Miss Margaret appears to be stern, or almost cross, cold, and as I described earlier, aloof. Miss Margaret Eileen Mays is, was, also a teacher. She taught among other things typing, in a senior high school right here in this very town. In fact she was one of my own teachers, and I was, one of her students. I am now one of her students again, a very special kind of student, for a very special kind of teacher.

It’s funny how small events in one’s life often evolve and turn into life changing events at a later time in that same life… like ripples on the pond, or a butterfly flapping wings and creating hurricanes a world away that sort of thing. One small action, a smile, a kind word, holding a door for a stranger things that most take for granted and never think about again can actually mean the world to someone who desperately needed a moment of kindness… or someone who witnesses that act and is impressed with the selflessness of a person offering that moment of kindness. I know, I know, get on with the story right? Okay… but just bear with me a moment or two longer, it will make sense later when you need those missing puzzle pieces.

Many years ago, not so long during the setting of this story perhaps, I was in high school, a sophomore actually. During my years of high school we had schools called “Junior high” that taught grades seven, eight and ninth (what would be freshman year for most schools). So sophomore was the first year most kids in my area were introduced to High School. For most kids entering high school is an eye opening experience, a brave new world to explore and learn. Sure there are the usual cliques and clubs and organizations that people gravitate to, to fit in, to find themselves amongst others of the same or like minds and desires. What? Too deep maybe? Okay to be brief I was a jock, so I went out for the Soccer team over the summer break between the school years and my transition from junior high to senior high school. Likewise when the school year started I went out for the football team. I made the team and even impressed the coaches enough to win a spot on the team. Not unheard of for a sophomore to be on the first string even if it was only special teams but not common either, especially for a smaller guy by varsity football standards. But I was quick on my feet, tenacious and in a word, I had balls.

Okay let me explain. In this case balls meant I didn’t back down and I would take on anyone on the playing field, no matter how much bigger than me they might have been. During one of the early practices I had been assigned as a blocker for the kick-off receiving team my counterpart opposing me was the biggest guy on the team, a gentle giant in person to be sure but he towered over me by a good foot and a half and outweighed me by probably by half again my own weight. He didn’t move fast but he didn’t deviate when he did start moving either… think steam roller on legs. Big Henry was a force to be reckoned with. As it turned out, the ball was kicked, the kicking team stormed down the field. The receiver caught the ball yards behind me so everyone was focused on my little patch of turf and the path of the ball carrier that fell in behind me and two other guys… Big Henry was heading our way, picking up speed with his head down. Of the three of us blockers, one guy tripped (or so he said) and went down, the other guy, bigger than me hit big Henry a glancing blow on his right hip and ricocheted like a ping pong ball, then there was me.

I knew it was going to hurt but then I always was head strong and didn’t know when to quit once I set my mind to something. You could almost feel the ground beneath our feet trembling as big Henry stormed in. I put my arms up in the blocking stance, put my head down a bit and just hit him as hard as I could right in the chest. BAM! I saw stars. I could have sworn I heard birds chirping just like in all the old cartoons too. They tell me that big Henry stopped cold when I hit him, the ball carrier danced around us and ran half the length of the field before he tripped on his own two feet trying to look over his shoulder. The coaches all stood stock still, stunned at what they had witnessed. Then the next thing I was aware of after seeing stars was a truly massive paw of a hand in my face. As my eyes cleared enough to see, I followed the hand up the arm to a smiling big Henry. I took the hand and he lifted me up effortlessly and swatted me on my back saying “Good hit man!” The swat on my back nearly sent me to the ground again. I honestly thought I had blown my chance at getting any playing time and was dragging my ass figuratively speaking until practice broke up. The head coach asked me to walk with him as we all went back to the locker room to clean up and change. I thought that was it, he was going to tell me to turn in my equipment, thanks for trying, don’t call us, we’ll call you… Well you can imagine how stunned I was when he told me that he liked my hustle and what he saw, he wanted me to be one of the special teams guys. ME? A “Specialist”? WOW!

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32



Yorum Ekle

E-Mail Adresiniz Yayınlanmayacak. Zorunlu Alanlar *