Mrs. Sampson's Gentle Handling
Daniel is a man in every way but one.
When he's hired by his parent's former neighbour to do some renovations he can't believe how hot she still is, even after so many years. His former crush is pretty impressed at what a handsome man Daniel has become.
As the two get closer and his secret is revealed, Sheila takes it upon herself to teach Daniel how to be a man.
Pinecrest Road looked just the way he remembered. A tingling started in his gut and his throat tightened a bit at seeing his childhood home. He did his best to push past the feeling as he manoeuvred the van around three parked cars, then pulled it up at number twenty-nine.
Mr. and Mrs. Sampson’s place.
He threw it into park, killed the engine and leaned back in his seat. He’d done the drive in just over two hours but he’d been late getting started. He’d have to put in a half day before checking into the motel.
Opening the door he stepped out into the noonday sun. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, waves of nostalgia washing over him at the smell of summer back home. He shook it off, chiding himself for being such a wuss about being back here again.
He was a man now. Trained carpenter. Had his own business. What the hell was he doing getting weepy about the good old days running around the neighbourhood with his friends? Jabbing his hands into his pockets he walked up onto the porch of the two-storey home. He lifted a hand to rap his knuckles on the door but didn’t get the chance.
The door swung open, cool air-conditioned air wafting out from inside the house.
Daniel’s eyes bugged.
Sheila Sampson looked as gorgeous as he remembered her. Hadn’t aged a day, it seemed. Her big bolted on tits that looked like they’d been paid for were as perky as all those years ago. Her tiny waist flared into generous hips and an deliciously round ass.
Try as he did to not let his eyes roam down her hourglass figure, he couldn’t resist. A quick glance down, then back up to see her smiling at him. His face burned hot. “Hey Mrs. Sampson,” he muttered, a little breathless.
“Danny Taves,” she said quietly.
Out of the corner of his eye he spied her smile widen a little. He saw her eyes flicker down his body, pause at his midriff and his chest. If he hadn’t known better he would have been flattered. But there was no way in hell Sheila Sampson had just checked him out. He cleared his throat and dared to meet her gaze again.
She eyed him for an unnervingly long time, her eyes wandering along his features, dipping down all the way to his legs, then crawling back up his body until his cheeks were red with embarrassment. She shook her head slowly and let out a breath. She waved him into the house. “Get in here, you. We’re letting all the hot air in,” she said, stepping aside to let him pass.
He flashed an awkward smile and shifted the one hand that was still in his pocket to try and hide the growing bulge of his erection. The entryway was narrow and he had to pass uncomfortably close to Mrs. Sampson. He caught a whiff of her perfume as he passed and underneath it her natural scent. The smell of the woman who’d been like an aunt to him. Feeding him and his friends bologna sandwiches and lemonade on long summer days.
Clearing his throat with a cough, he stretched out a hand in greeting.
Mrs. Sampson raised her brow and chuckled. “Are you kidding me?” she asked.
“Uh…sorry,” he muttered, letting the hand fall to his side. Another swell of embarrassment swept through him at the misstep. What was he doing? Greeting her like she was a contractor and not a woman who’d known him almost his whole life.
“Get over here you silly goose,” she said quietly. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.
He had to stifle a groan as she mashed her tits against his chest. He put his arms around her but pushed his hips back in an effort to keep the now raging boner he was sporting from touching Mrs. Sampson’s nethers.
After what felt like an eternity she finally let him go, though not fully. She kept her hands on his shoulders, leaning back to get a good, long look at him. Her eyes fell to his torso again and she shook her head. “Look at you all grown up,” she whispered. “It seems like it was just yesterday that you were all skinned knees and bruised elbows.”
He flashed a tight smile, maintaining his awkward pose to keep from prodding her midriff with his prick. Her proximity swamped his senses. His eyes darted down to the round bubble of her rump. Two beautiful orbs of undoubtedly creamy flesh ensconced in the Saran-like wrapping of her tight-fitting jeans filled his manhood with an almost painful ache.
He chided himself for being such a pervert. She was old enough to be his mother, for gosh sake. But the reptilian root of his twenty-two year old male mind was churning out hormones like a water cannon.
She tilted her head to one side and gave him a funny look as she let him go. “Are you blushing Danny?” she said, her smile turning playful.
“It’s really great to see you Mrs. Sampson,” he said, deflecting, hoping to avoid any further embarrassment.
She folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head again. “Danny would you stop with the Mrs. Sampson-ing? It’s Sheila. We’re both adults now.”
He smirked and kicked at the floor with a shoe in that “aw shucks” way she always made him feel.
“Come on. Let me get you a drink. You must be tired from the drive. Are you tired?” She turned and started walking back toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.