An Afternoon with Mrs. Lassalle

I went upstairs after I woke. Mr. Lassalle was going into the auto shop and was giving me a ride. We waited at the table and Mrs. Lassalle cooked eggs and bacon. She was not wearing her nighty, but baggy shirt and slacks. I was careful not to meet her eye, or stare. I did sneak a look before we headed out the door. She said goodbye and walked over and kissed her husband.

I went out to the truck quickly to make sure I was sitting in the back seat as Mr. Lassalle and Kevin sat in the front. It was one of the longest 20 minutes of my life. Mr. Lassalle listened to country music and chain smoked. Kevin asked me about leaving the party. “It wasn’t even 11 pm. Were you tired or something.”

“No. Just bored.”

They dropped me off and I felt relieved that Kevin didn’t ask me any more questions about the previous night.

A few days went by, and I dwelled on what had happened that night. How could I not? It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and reliving the experience. I felt compelled to see her again. I biked over to the auto shop on Wednesday hoping to run into her. She was not there, and I made the excuse that I wanted Kevin to look over some ads from the Auto Trader.

“You looking for a car Willy?” Mr. Lasalle asked.

“Uh huh.”

“You 16 yet?”

“Soon, next month.”

“Kevin and I will keep an eye out for one.”

He asked me my price limit and I told him a small one, because I didn’t actually want to buy a car.

I biked home disappointed that she was not there. I knew they finished at 5pm and would be going home, so I thought I could risk calling her just before 5. She would probably be in her kitchen and answer the phone. I knew that there were multiple phones in the house, so I would have to be careful what I said. I called.

“Mrs. Lassalle?”

“Will?”

“Hi Mrs. Lasalle. I left my hat at your house, I think. Baseball cap. Black.”

She paused for a while. I assumed my call was confusing her, especially since I wasn’t actually saying what I wanted to say.

“I might have left it at my aunt’s house. You might not find it. I mean don’t spend too much time looking. I mean… umm.”

I waited. She didn’t say anything. Then after what seemed an eternity she said “If I find it, I will bring it to the Shop on Sunday. I get there around one. Can you come by?”

“Yes. I will be there for sure.”

“Ok.”

She hung up. I almost started shaking. I did it. I was going to see her again. The shop was closed on Sundays. What did that mean? Was I going to be alone with her? It was only Wednesday. How could I wait four days to find out?

I left my house before 1 pm on Sunday and biked 15 minutes to the auto shop. When I got there, I observed the auto shop from a distance. There were some cars in front, lined up waiting to be worked on I assumed, and one car parked that I thought I recognized as Lasalle’s second vehicle. The shop looked closed and there was no indication of any activity. I parked my bike behind some cars and walked to the door that opened into a small waiting room. I peered in. Still no sign of anybody. I knocked quietly, and then more forcefully. I saw Mrs. Lassalle come through the waiting room. She talked to me through the closed door. “Bring your bike to the back.” Then she pointed to my right.

I grabbed the bike and led it down a narrow gap between the Autoshop and a fence. I walked past a whining window air conditioner. I placed my bike along the back wall and Mrs. Lassalle opened a door and came out.

She looked really good. She was wearing a blouse and a skirt, and her hair looked straighter than normal. She stood near the door, and I looked down to see her legs were covered in nylons and she was wearing high heels. I just threw on a t shirt and shorts to bike over and I felt underdressed. She looked like she was dressed to work in a fancy office or to go to an expensive restaurant. She opened the door and told me to come in. The cooler air hit me as I entered. We walked a short distance and turned into an office. The office had a desk and an antique-looking wooden chair. There were files and filing cabinets and car parts and boxes on every surface and much of the floor. She walked behind the desk and took the only seat that wasn’t covered in boxes.

I stood looking down at her. She was wearing old fashioned glasses looking back at me. She looked better without glasses, but somehow the combination of those work glasses and the clothes she was wearing triggered a reaction. We just stared for a while. Then she asked, “You came here Wednesday?”

“Yes”

“Looking to buy a car?”

“No. Not really.”

“Looking for something else then.” She gave me a disapproving look. I started to feel a little bit nervous, like I was in trouble.

“Did you call the shop?”

“No.”

“But you did call my house. How many times?”

“Just once. The one time. I mean. I. Just the time we talked.”

She stood up and came around the desk. She was standing just a foot in front of me. I could hear the air conditioner grinding away in the window, yet I felt a little hot as I waited for her to say something.

“I left my husband’s bed last week to crawl into yours. You know he might have noticed. Then you come sniffing around this auto shop and calling my house.”

“Kevin and your husband were still here when I called.”

“What about Harry? What if he answered and mentioned to his father that you called? My husband’s not stupid Whil. One more screwup on your part and we are going to have a serious problem.”

I felt terrible. I looked down and to one side. I felt her fingers on my chin, she moved my head back, so I was looking straight at her. “You are going to do exactly what I tell you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. I will! I’m sorry!”

“You are not ever going to call my house or this shop again, or any other place I might be.”

“Yes.”

“You won’t come back to this Auto shop again.”

“I won’t.”

“Except on Sundays.”

What? What did she mean? I thought I was in trouble. Some sternness left her face and was replaced by a different look. A smirk. For a moment the odd asymmetric shape of her mouth was highlighted. She pressed her tongue against her lower lip. The 12 inches of space between us disappeared. Her lips were on mine and then her tongue was pressing against my lips and tongue. I felt her breasts pressed up against me and her legs on either side of my leg. We stood and kissed and shifted against each other. She stepped back and put her glasses on the desk. I followed until I was pressing against her. We grinded against each other with both our hands wandering and continued to kiss. I had kissed girls at parties before, but this was different. I knew what her tongue and lips felt like on my dick and those feelings mixed with the immediacy of her body. She pushed me back. I stood in front of her with an obvious erection pushing out my shorts. She touched it with the palm of her hand. I let out a little whine.

She pushed me another step back, then leaned against the desk. She started unbuttoning her blouse. Slow. As her shirt opened up, I saw the red bra beneath lifting her breasts and pressing them together. She carefully placed the blouse aside and then she lowered her skirt and pulled her heeled feet out as she leaned back on the desk. Her bra continued downward to cover her stomach and crotch. I didn’t know what it was called, but I guess you would call it a Teddy or Babydoll. Her soft midsection was squeezed, and the two sides of the material were held together by a red lace. The bottom was sheer so that her tight curly hair was easy to see. Beneath that she wore thigh high stockings with a white lace trim. Her undergarment pulled the flesh of her belly tight and made her look long and thinner than she was, and it supported her breasts in a way that made them look firm and large. She looked like a picture from a playboy magazine, but not as perfect.

Years ago I had seen those breasts hanging down in her lose shirt as she worked on her roses. They had looked great then, and they looked even better in the outfit she was wearing. Mrs. Lassalle had her physical flaws, but her tits looked absolutely perfect as she leaned back against the desk. If she could judge my reaction, then she absolutely knew how great she looked.

She stepped forward and pulled up at my t-shirt and quickly pulled it over my head and threw it aside. She moved back towards the desk and lifted herself up to sit on the top of the desk. She slid one shoulder strap down her arm then the other. Her nipples were exposed even as the bottom of the material held up her breasts. When I moved forward, she grabbed at my shoulders and then pushed my head down so that I pressed my face against her breasts, turning one way and extending my tongue to lick her nipple. I switched from one to the other then centered on one and gently tugged her nipple into my mouth and worked it with my tongue. I felt the flesh of her legs in my hand and her ass that was mostly not covered. I pulled back and looked at her crotch.

“Do you want to see it up close?”

“Uh huh.”

She walked over to a bag and pulled out an exercise mat and placed it on the floor. She crouched and laid back on the mat. Her legs were spread, her nipples exposed, and she was still wearing her high heels. I took off my underwear and crawled on top of her and started to lick her nipples. Her hand was on my shoulder and pressed away towards her feet. When my face was right over her crotch, I touched the material. I could see her thick pubic hair matted down under the mesh.

“There is a clasp at the bottom.” She told me.

I felt down between her legs, and I found that the front and the back of her underwear were held together by a pair of hook and loop fasteners. I struggled with them till one disconnected, then the other. Then her underwear sprung down and up and exposed thick pubes in both directions. She pulled her outfit a little higher exposing her lower belly that expanded now that it wasn’t being held tight. She had thick hair from the crack of her ass to near her belly button. It even grew up the sides of her leg. This was the early 80s and I guess women didn’t shave or trim. I didn’t have a lot of experience other than looking through playboy magazines, but I was shocked how hairy her pussy was. I had felt it the previous weekend, but now in the clear light of the office it seemed like a lot.

I knew she would want me to lick her, but I would have to part that thick bush and find her fleshy opening. I had heard all the stories of pussies being smelly and tasting bad, but the only odor was a smell of perfume or scented soap. I nuzzled my nose and lips into her coarse hair until I detected her opening, and I extended my tongue and separated her folds. Once I had my tongue between her flesh, I dragged it upwards parting her thick curly covering. All these years later I can honestly not remember if there was a taste, only that as I continued to lick her, I started to enjoy it. Her folds seemed to open up and her pubes became less noticeable. I didn’t know what I was doing, but as I continued to lick over and over, she sighed and moaned. As I licked her low my nose touched her wetness, and near the top I could feel my chin making contact. I tried different things, like using my lips to kiss or extending my tongue deeper. Her hands were on my head and shoulder, and she kept pulling me closer until more of my face was pressed into her. Near the top of her opening, I felt a little nib, like a pencil eraser and when I licked it and tickled it with my tongue, I would get the strongest reactions from her. She would gasp and her body would tense, and her hands would tighten on me. Holy fuck I was getting so hard. I kept it up until she held me tight against her. She started rocking and lifting her hips. I extended my tongue, but I could hardly move my head because she was pulling so hard against me. She swung her hips and grinded against my mouth until she was breathing very heavily. She gasped and quivered against me. After a few more movements, she moaned and then released her grip on me and turned sideways forcing me back.

She lay there breathing with her knees bent and her ass exposed. I was covered in her juice, but I didn’t notice because I had an urge to get my cock out and press it against her. I slid along her leg until my cock parted her thighs and I felt the wetness there. I pushed forward more until the head of my dick felt her pubic hair.

“NO.”

I stopped.

“Not like that.”

She pulled away from me and then grabbed my hardon. She pulled me upwards and I shifted on my knees until I was right over her face and lowering my dick into her mouth. I moved into a pushup position as she took me deeper and grabbed onto my ass with both hands. I swung my hips up and down for only a brief time and I started to squirt. I yelled and shook. It was all over in less than a minute.

I rolled sideways and looked down. My cum on her lips and chin looked like melted ice-cream. She reached over to her bag and pulled out a towel and pressed against her face, and then against her crotch. She tossed it at me and told me to clean up. I lay half on the mat with my head against a filing cabinet as she got up and left the room.

I heard water running. In a minute she came back and started to put on her skirt and blouse.

“Get cleaned up. The bathroom is down the hall.”

After we had got our clothes on, she took a couple of cans of iced tea from the vending machine in the waiting area and led me out the back. We walked to the back of the property and sat down in a shaded area on a small sheet she spread on the grass. She lay sideways along the sheet sipping her iced tea and eying me. After a while she smiled. “You didn’t last long.”

I was really embarrassed. When she gave me a blowjob last week, I managed to last a while, but this time I was so turned on by her coming against my face I couldn’t last. “Sorry. I got a little excited.”

She smiled wider. “It’s ok. We can try again. But you can’t put it in me without a condom. I brought one.”

I wasn’t sure why I needed to wear a condom. I figured she was on the pill or something. So, I asked her why I needed to wear a condom.

“So, I don’t get pregnant Willy. I can still get pregnant. I am not that old.”

“Mr. Lasalle wears a condom?”

“No.” She moved two fingers like a pair of scissors towards my shorts. “I had him snipped when I was pregnant with Harry. He gets to put it in me anytime he wants. I owe him that. He fucked me last night.”

Wow. She was being so coarse. I thought of my tongue deep inside of her. I knew I should be grossed out.

“Does that bother you?”

I shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Mr. Lassalle has taken care of me, given me everything Whil. We can’t mess up. You have to do things my way.”

I nodded. We drank our drinks.

“I was young when I married him. Not much older than you. I was nineteen. Last week when we were sitting on the couch, I decided I wanted someone young. Mr. Lasalle is twenty years older than me.”

We sat silently for a while. I reached over and touched her ankle. “I won’t mess up. I promise.”

She took a sip of her drink and then lay back on the blanket. “You really enjoyed going down on me. Didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Come lay back.”

I lay down beside her and looked upwards through the branches at the sky. After a while I reached over and ran my hand up her thigh under her skirt. She pushed it away and then reached over and felt the front of my shorts.

“Hmm. Young guys.”

We got up and picked up the sheet and headed back into the office. She came close and we started to kiss. Our mouths tasted different this time. Despite the iced tea, there was a sour taste in her mouth. It was a dirty feeling. I continued to French kiss her anyway and she slipped her hand into my shorts. I was already hard. She opened her purse and took out a small plastic package. She ripped it open and I dropped my shorts and underwear and took off my shirt. I stood in front of her as she kneeled on the mat and rolled the condom onto me. She had a funny look on her face as she concentrated on getting on right. With her glasses on, she looked like a stern librarian. Then she lay back and shifted her skirt down. I helped her remove it. She left her heels on. She unclasped the bottom of her underwear, and it sprung open again. She still had her shirt on, but I didn’t care. I was staring at that expansive bush. I got on my knees between her and leaned over. I dragged my penis against her pubes until I found the fleshy part. I easily entered her. I didn't know it at the time, but she was not small and tight like younger girls. I was leaning on her, swaying my hips, pushing myself slowly in and out of her. I wanted it to last forever, so I occasionally held still inside of her. When I thrust hard, she slid up and down on the mat beneath me. I lifted myself up a little at the shoulders so I was able to look down and see past my skinny belly and watch my dick slide in and out of her hairy bush. She was still wearing her glasses and she held her head off the mat and stared down past my naked belly to watch me grind away.

After a while she told me to get up. It was too hard to be on her back with me on top of her. She walked over to the desk and leaned over it. I was looking directly down at her ass. Her pubes extended right into the crevasse. Her curly hair hung down between her legs and I could see the folds of her pussy still separated. I slid my dick against it. Then I adjusted and bent my knees a bit and got it to slide upwards and in. Once I was in, I was able to stand up straighter. I slid forwards and back. Her ass cheeks shook. I pushed up her undergarment to expose her back. I kept sliding in and out trying not to cum.

“Fuck me Willy.”

I start pushing into her harder and faster. I was slamming into her so hard the desk shifted forward. I bent backwards and yelled. My legs shook and I leaned forward wrapping my arms around her as I spasmed inside of her. When I finally stopped moving, my weight was pressing down on her as I breathed on her back. After my breathing calmed, she asked me get off of her. I straightened out and looked down so I could watch it slide out.

We cleaned up. I grabbed at her, thinking she might want more. I didn't think she came in that position. She told me the second time was just for me.

She asked me to leave. She really had work to do. She told me to come back the following Sunday. I did. That and every Sunday in July and August. Then we meet somewhere else. But that is another story.
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This series of Stories:

An Evening with Mrs. Lasalle
An Afternoon with Mrs. Lasalle
Dinner with Mrs. Lasalle
Working for Mrs. Lasalle