One of my fondest memories revolves around an encounter that happened shortly after my fourteenth birthday. As I recall it was a beautiful summer afternoon and school had just let out. Heading home intent on playing some video games, I took a short cut that took me behind some huge houses. One in particular had always intrigued me because it stood apart from the others, and besides that, a fifteen-foot cedar hedge completely hid the garden from view, making me think that wild parties were happening, or that it was the hide out of some international crook.

Anyway, with wild flights of fancy cascading through my head, I walked along the fence line and was just about to cut across the field at the back of the house when a woman’s voice said. “Excuse me young man, can you do something for me?”

Turning a sumptuous blond in her early thirties stood there wrapped in a flimsy camisole that barley hid a tiny bikini. “Certainly,” I said, expecting her to need something from the local supermarket that was about ten minutes away.

To my surprise, instead of handing me a note and some money, she held out a bottle of oil, and said. “Would you be a sweetheart and rub some of this oil onto my back. I’d ask my husband to do it, but he’s away on business, again,” she ended, emphasizing the last word. “Come on through,” she went on, holding the gate open. “What’s your name?” She asked as I walked past her.

“Jeremy,” I said.

“Well Jeremy, you can call me Mrs. No, let’s not be so formal, just call me Jenny.”

By normal standards, the back garden was huge, even the massive a swimming pool, tennis court and trampoline barley used up a quarter of the beautifully landscaped real estate that surrounded the house. Walking over to a blanket spread out on the lawn, she removed her camisole and lay face down on it resting her head on her arms.

“Undo the strap on my bikini top,” she said, “I hate the line it leaves when I’m sunbathing. You do know how to do it, don’t you?”

“Yes I said, my mom broke her hand a little while ago and still has a cast on it so I have to help her do up her bra.

Kneeling beside her, I undid the clasp and spread the straps out on either side of her. Pouring some oil into my hand, I spread it over both palms and then tentatively placed them on her back and started to rub the lotion into her skin.

“That’s so nice she said,” appreciatively, “you have very gentle hands,” she went on. “You can rub a little bit harder if you like in fact I would love it if you would put some of those strong muscles of yours to work.

Digging my thumbs into her back, I worked my hands out from her spine to her side. As I reached the area just next to her armpit, I glanced down and was shocked at what I could see. Pushed out by her weight against the ground was the side of her breast. For a moment I paused, only one thought running through my head, to somehow find a way to run my hand across that mound of exposed flesh. I could almost feel the texture of her tit as I gently stroked it. On the other hand, I could mentally hear her as she rolled over and slapped me, called me a pervert and demanded that I leave. For a moment, I pondered the dilemma, and then after a moment’s pensive thought, I threw caution to the wind, thinking that even a quick grope of a tit, something I’d never experienced before, was worth the threat that she’d haul my ass out of there. Trying to make the movement as casual as I could, I lathered more lotion onto my hand and then started rubbing her side, sliding my hand ever closer to that exposed flesh. As my hand eventually ran over her breast, several things happened, one, a feeling of ecstasy flooded through me at the thought that I’d fondled a woman’s breast, well at least part of it anyway. Instead of her leaping up and proclaiming that I was a pervert and ousting me from her property, for my temerity, a shiver ran through her body and a slight sigh escaped her lips and instead of the rebuke I had been expecting, she seemed to turn slightly exposing even more of her right tit.

Emboldened by the fact that my gutsy move hadn’t elicited any recriminations, I again let my hand wander south, so to speak, this time lingering even longer on the exposed flesh and delving even deeper under the parts of her tit still pressed into the blanket trying to brush my fingertips across he nipple. As I drew ever closer to that nub of sexual excitement, Jenny said.”Jeremy, I know I can reach my legs, but would you mind rubbing some lotion on them seeing as how you’re doing such a wonderful job on my back. At first, I was disheartened that I had to move away from that beautiful warm soft skin, as I worked my way up her leg though; my eyes fell on a wondrous sight. As I drew closer to her buttocks, she casually moved her legs apart revealing her crotch covered by a flimsy piece of fabric.