Me And Mrs Craddock

“Have a nice time, dear!” my mother called out as I left the house.Not for the first time I wondered what she’d think if she knew what kind of ‘nice time’ I was hoping for. For the past few months I’d had many very nice times with her good friend Mrs Hotter, an affair which had ended when we were caught in the act by her son, Tommy.However, Mrs Hotter had given me to understand that Mrs Craddock, two doors down from her, might appreciate a visit. Her words were etched on my mind: “She gets lonely, poor thing. Her husband travels a lot in his work. She’d welcome the company. If you’re willing, she’s quite happy to entertain you this coming Wednesday evening.” So there I was, having done myself up to the best of my ability to make an impression.Making an impression was, truth be told, not something at which I excelled. This was why my experience with girls my own age was virtually non-existent. Mrs Hotter had taken my inadequacies in her stride, and thanks to the months I’d been seeing her, it wasn’t my lack of sexual know-how that was an issue, but my inability to present myself as even half way desirable.I took the long way round to Mrs Craddock’s, so that I could approach her house being seen by as few neighbours as possible. My involvement with Mrs Hotter had taught me the value of discretion. Mrs Craddock lived right at the end of the street, and I approached from the corner feeling very nervous. I couldn’t actually recall seeing the woman, so had no idea what to expect. I realised now that Mrs Hotter hadn’t furnished me with any clues as to how to approach Mrs Craddock. What if she required a more sophisticated approach from a man, even one who had only recently reached his majority? Mrs Hotter had freely admitted that she liked getting down and dirty, and had taken the initiative in most situations. What if Mrs Craddock required seducing? I had never successfully seduced anyone in my life. Even my one same-age sexual experience, with Frida, the Bensons’ au pair, who had by now returned to a town in northern Sweden with an unpronounceable name, hadn’t come about as a result of active seduction. Come to think of it, I still can’t think how it ever happened.These thoughts made it impossible for me to feel like a cast iron adult as I walked up the garden path. I stood on the front step, feeling all at sea, but now I’d come this far, I had to follow through. Since I’d been given to understand that I was expected, it would have been impolite not to show up. I rang the bell.It took next to no time for Mrs Craddock to answer the door. My first impression of her made me scarcely able to believe my luck. The woman looked dressed to kill in a blood red dress, black nylons and heeled sandalettes. I was so taken with her figure I hardly noticed her bob cut and her cool, blue eyes. Before I had time to deliver the line I’d prepared, she was saying, “You’re Darren, are you?”I nodded. “Yes, Mrs Craddock.”She looked me over as if I was a specimen to be analysed. What little confidence I still owned now required life-support. “You look strong,” she decided. That was good, wasn’t it? Then she was pointing. “You can take those paving slabs round the back for me. There are gloves in the barrow. I’ll be with you when you’re done.” Then she closed the door.This wasn’t what I’d been expecting or hoping for at all. Had Mrs Hotter go the wrong end of the stick? Had I got the wrong end of the stick? Had Mrs Craddock pulled a fast one just to get someone to do a bit of heavy lifting? From what little Mrs Hotter had said, I’d had a vague idea of someone one might feel sorry for. That wasn’t the impression Mrs Craddock had given at all. The one slither of hope I had was her attire. She wasn’t exactly casually dressed, and I did want another look if nothing else.Besides, I’d been brought up to be helpful, so I set about the task. There was a wheelbarrow next to the pile of slabs, which I loaded up and wheeled round the back of the house. Spying a big pile of dirt close to some French windows, it seemed a safe bet that this was where the slabs were meant to go. I offloaded and returned to the front of the house.It took five trips, by which time I was unpleasantly sweaty and feared I was giving off an odour to match. Having made an effort to appear presentable, bahçesehir escort I was now wondering why I’d bothered to spruce myself up at all. Still, Mrs Craddock appeared as I offloaded the last of the slabs. “Why don’t you come in?” she said. “You look like you could do with a drink.”“Thank you, Mrs Craddock,” I said. “I’d like that.”She led me through the house, which was very similar to Mrs Hotter’s, but then they would have been built at the same time. We ended up in the living room, where Mrs Craddock indicated an armchair for me to sit in. There was an armchair opposite, which she herself occupied, crossing her nylon legs, at which I couldn’t help but stare. She’d already poured out two glasses of wine. After my exertion I would have preferred orange juice, but at least Mrs Craddock preferred a different tipple to Mrs Hotter, whose drinks had always made me cough and splutter like a novice. Wine I could handle.“Well, Darren,” Mrs Craddock said, giving me a new appraising look. “Tell me a little about yourself.”I was still pretty nervous. I’d learned a lot about sex from Mrs Hotter, but new acquaintances always made me feel ill at ease, and it was important I made a good impression. I took a sip of wine, crossing my own legs and trying for suave man of the world. “What would you like to know, Mrs Craddock?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from where black nylon met red dress.“How old are you?”“Eighteen and a half,” I replied truthfully. And then, because I thought it was polite to show some interest in her, I continued. “How old are you, Mrs Craddock?”The woman frowned. “Never ask a woman her age, Darren. Have you not learned that?”This made me feel very silly indeed. I didn’t know why I’d asked anyway. It was obvious that she was about the same age as Mrs Hotter, late forties, some years older than my mother, who had given birth to me when she was quite young. “I’m sorry, Mrs Craddock,” I said, taking a new sip of wine to cover my embarrassment.“What do you do for a living?”This was an awkward one, another source of embarrassment. I suppose I could have lied, but for some reason I said, “I’m between jobs, Mrs Craddock.”“I see,” Mrs Craddock said. To my relief she didn’t sound as if she thought this was a stain on my character, as people so often did. “Girlfriends?”I reached for the wine again. “Er, I’m between girlfriends too,” I said, thinking it wasn’t a bad line.“How many girlfriends have you had?”Crap! This was not a question I wanted to answer. The truth just wasn’t an option this time, since I’d already intimated at least one. Though Mrs Hotter hardly qualified as a girlfriend in the accepted sense of the word, I could always pretend, just as I could pretend the same of the far from successful coupling with Frida, the Swedish au pair, and a mild fumble with Caroline Potts. “Three, Mrs Craddock.”She nodded to herself, seeming pleased with the answer. “Interests?”I had a vague idea that ‘football and noisy indie bands’ wasn’t an answer any woman would appreciate, especially one like Mrs Craddock. Then it struck me that my chance to appear more sophisticated than I felt had arrived. I took a new sip of wine. “Beautiful women like yourself, Mrs Craddock,” I said.The woman arched an eyebrow. Then she gave the flicker of a smile. “Yes,” she said. “It would appear so from the way you’re looking at me.”That made me very self-conscious indeed. I tore my eyes away from the woman, scanning the room, my gaze fastening on framed photographs of two children, at various stages of their development. Remembering how I’d been caught in the act with Mrs Hotter by her son, I felt suddenly anxious. Mrs Craddock seemed to read my thoughts, saying, “I doubt very much that they’ll be home before Christmas.”“Oh?” I said, hoping to prompt some further information that might put me completely at my ease.Instead Mrs Craddock took a sip from her glass before saying, “Well, you come highly recommended. I’ve heard a lot about you, Darren.”This was good. Mrs Hotter must have given me a glowing review. All the same, I went with a line I’d picked up from a film. “All of it good, I hope.”Mrs Craddock gave a funny little smile. “I’m told that you understand the value of discretion,” she said.“Yes, Mrs Craddock. beylikdüzü bayan escort I would never tell anyone about…” I was being presumptuous. So far there was very little to keep from anyone. Things had been easier with Mrs Hotter. We’d become co-conspirators, comrades in clandestinity. Mrs Craddock seemed more the kind of person who liked the threat of mutually assured destruction. “It would be … if anything came out about … I mean, if something were to happen… I wouldn’t want to…”“You wouldn’t be tempted to tell your friends, for instance?” There was steel in her voice.“That I got off with a hot…” Oh shit, I really was putting my foot in it. “I’m sorry, Mrs Craddock. I didn’t mean…”“Well would you?”“Oh no, Mrs Craddock. If anything… I mean… You can’t be too careful, can you?” I was sweating even worse than after moving all those slabs.The woman stared hard at me, as if trying to make up her mind. Then she relaxed suddenly. “Tell me, Darren, what preferences do you have when it comes to les arts d’amour?”I had no French, but I understood well enough what she meant. The question took me by surprise, since I didn’t think I’d done particularly well on the discretion test. Not wanting to say anything that might put her off, I replied, “I’m open to experience, Mrs Craddock.”There was another long silence as the woman ran her eyes over me, as if she still wasn’t sure. There were questions I wanted to ask her, about her husband, about what she hoped or expected from me, except that I had a vague idea this might be off putting. I didn’t have many talents, but if there was one thing I was really good at, it was putting my foot in my mouth. All the more reason to act like a clam and let Mrs Cradock take all the time she needed to make up her mind.As the silence dragged on, I studied Mrs Craddock, trying not to make it too obvious, and no doubt failing miserably. The curve of her bosom was definitely something to get the pulse racing. The auburn bob cut framed her face nicely. Her eyes were searching, unemotional, her cheeks full, her mouth sensual. As she shifted position, my eyes returned to her thighs, and now there was just enough movement in her dress to reveal that the nylons were stockings. This was definitely a preference for me, though I was still reluctant to openly voice specifics. If my ardour had been slightly tempered up to now by the nature of the interrogation, at this point I felt tangible growth.Mrs Craddock’s positional change was almost certainly intentional, for she teased her nylons with a red nail and said, “Would you do two things for me, please, Darren?”“Of course!” I replied, a little too eagerly to be commensurate with suave sophistication.“Firstly, in future I want you to address me as Nurse Craddock. Can you do that, Darren?”This was peculiar, but now that the situation was becoming promising, there was only one answer. “Of course, Mrs… Nurse Craddock,” I said.“Good.” Her eyes roamed me again.“What’s the second thing, Nurse Craddock?”“I’d like you to stand up and undress for me, Darren.”At last we were getting somewhere! I would rather we’d both undressed, but I didn’t want to say or do anything to risk the moment being lost. “Yes, Nurse Craddock,” I said. “I’ll do that.”As I began to strip naked, Mrs Craddock turned and walked across to a large bureau. Again I was surprised, but inclined not to argue. Besides, as she walked, I got a good view of her fantastic arse beneath her dress. It really was something to behold, and my equipment responded to every step she took. I watched as Mrs Craddock opened a drawer and took out a pair of latex gloves. We’re talking old school here. This was back in the day, before nitrile and vinyl, when medical professionals still used gloves of proper rubber that snapped into place, as these did when Mrs Craddock pulled them on, giving me a very particular look.This was good. I remembered the school nurse using gloves like this, and it had always excited me in ways I didn’t quite understand. If this was Mrs Craddock’s thing, I definitely wasn’t going to argue. By now fully naked, I didn’t know whether to look at the woman’s sturdy thighs or the tantalising swell of well-rounded bosom.As promising as the situation had become, I still escort beylikdüzü felt at a disadvantage. Over the past few months I’d become accustomed to Mrs Hotter’s ways. She would have stared straight at my erection and complimented me on it with a wicked smile on her face, leaving me in no doubt at all what she wanted. Mrs Craddock came up to me and eyed me like she was about to dissect me. I was unnerved to find it very sexy. Then she said, “Open your mouth, Darren. Show me your tongue.”This was very weird indeed, but again, who was I to argue? The sheer proximity of the woman was enough to keep me nice and rigid and desirous of getting much better acquainted with her. I would do whatever she wanted. “Yes, Nurse Craddock.”I poked my tongue out. “As far as you can!” Mrs Craddock ordered. I did as she said, wondering exactly what this did for her. She brought both hands into play, the fingers of one touching my lips, the fingers of the other feeling my tongue. It tickled, and the taste of rubber was very odd, but I did my best not to show it.“Very good,” she opined at length. “Wiggle your tongue for me, Darren.”Stranger and stranger, but I did as I was told.“Excellent!” came the verdict. “You may close your mouth, Darren.”I didn’t want to. I wanted to ask what this was in aid of. But having got this far, I didn’t want to risk making a complete ninny of myself either. My compulsion to blurt out inappropriate things had amused Mrs Hotter, but nothing so far suggested that Mrs Craddock shared that endearing trait.Latex fingers were placed at the corners of my mouth, before being dragged down my neck to my chest, suddenly teasing me so that I experienced an instant nipple erection.“Excellent reflexes,” Mrs Craddock decided, before sliding her hands further down my front. I rather hoped she would go straight for the prize, but that kind of luck was never going to come my way. Instead her hands slid round my body, suddenly grabbing and squeezing my buttocks.“Nice and firm!” Mrs Craddock decided approvingly.It seemed impolite to just stand there, so I said, “Thank you, Nurse Craddock.”The woman didn’t respond to that, not directly. Still squeezing my buttocks she leaned forwards. My breathing ceased for a moment as her tongue emerged. Then she was licking the side of my neck. I just stood there, flabbergasted, as my skin grew moist. I was even more amazed, yet gratified, when Mrs Craddock moved on from my neck, using the tip of her tongue to render my nipples harder than I’d ever known was possible.“Salinity slightly greater than one might expect,” Mrs Craddock decided, standing up straight and removing her hands from my bum.Yes, the woman was decidedly odd, but I decided to treat this as a good thing. “Thank you, Nurse Craddock,” I said, instantly wondering if the circumstances warranted me thanking her.Again, the woman seemed hardly minded to react to this at all. Instead she took my wrist. “Now, we’ve already established that you’re a strong lad, moving all those paving slabs. What I need, Darren, is to test your grip.” My head virtually exploded with relief. At last! She was pulling my hand up to her magnificent bosom. “Squeeze as hard as you can, Darren.”I grabbed her breast, squeezing until my whole hand hurt. Having ogled her for half an hour or more by now, my cock couldn’t help but harden like it was twisting itself in knots, a twitch causing a trickle of pre-cum to emerge. I wanted to stand there, feeling Mrs Craddock’s ample boobs for a whole lot longer, but that wasn’t going to happen. “You may let go, Darren.” Reluctantly I did so. “Excellent grip! Excellent!”I decided to take that as a compliment, as neutral as Mrs Craddock sounded. Besides, she was now looking down at my eager young cock. A latex hand moved, fingers moved, spreading the smear of liquid that had emerged. “Very good,” she said. “A nice, healthy reaction in a young man.”I was throbbing hard, aching even, but I still wasn’t sure what to do or say. I was used to Mrs Hotter and her pottymouth, the way she appreciated vulgarity. This was a new woman, of whom I knew nothing. Amidst the blur of carnality, Mrs Hotter had at least advised me not to assume that all women were like her and take things for granted.The trouble was, I really wanted Mrs Craddock, and I wanted her now. I stared at her bosom, wanting to grab hold of it again. I thought of her arse and wanted to grab hold of that too. But perhaps that was too forthright. I looked down as Mrs Craddock withdrew her hand, my eyes descending to the black nylon where it disappeared under her skirt.