When I went out of my room in the morning, to go to the loo, I met Mrs Ganty, wearing just a nightgown. She asked me how my night had been, and if I had taken my temperature in the morning. I had not; I’m now unsure if I had forgotten, or if I had believed that I needed not check it anymore. She asked me to bring the Vaseline jar and a sheet of toilet paper from the bathroom when I was done. So I did, and she was waiting for me, seated on the bed, thermometer in hand.

“Hand the Vaseline and paper to me, pull down your pajama bottoms, and climb across my lap, on your tummy.”

And so I did, and I had my temperature taken in this embarrassing position—embarrassing as it reminded me how my parents, most notably my mother, had spanked me at times. Mrs Ganty’s nightgown was short, and maybe she had pulled it up some more. My penis rubbed against her naked thighs. That, plus the thermometer, plus her hand gently caressing my behind, resulted in a raging erection.

We did not speak. After some minutes had elapsed, Mrs Ganty removed the thermometer, wiped my anus, and told me to get off her lap. When she saw the state of my penis, she smiled.

“What a lovely way to salute a lady!”

She gave it a little rub and went on to clean the thermometer with alcohol, and put it back into its sheath. Not knowing what to do, I had pulled my pajama bottoms up again, but my penis was making a little tent in the front.

Mrs Ganty then undid her nightgown. The sight of her bosom took my breath away—I was still not used being around a naked woman. She removed it and went to fold it on the back of the chair.

“Daniel? What are you waiting for? Are you shy now?”

And so I removed my pajamas and folded them on the seat of the chair. As I did so, Mrs Ganty came behind me, kissed me on the back of the neck, and began hugging and caressing me. Her stomach, her pubic hair rubbed me from behind. Needless to say, I was still hard.

We rolled onto the bed for a good round of caresses and petting. Then, Mrs Ganty laid back her bottom to the side of the bed. “Your tongue, dear.”. I knew what was expected of me, knelt on the floor as she opened her legs, and began licking her vulva, holding her thighs. It did not last long, however; I was in for a different kind of action.

She patted the bed. “Come lay besides me.” And so I did, and she began sucking me. Again, it did not last long. She laid on her back, legs open, next to me.

“So Daniel, my dear. I want you to show self-control. You will penetrate me, you will move, but I don’t want you to ejaculate until I have had an orgasm.”

I entered her and began thrusting. She held me against her, caressing my back and buttocks. After a little while she brought her hand down and masturbated her clitoris as I moved. Then she removed her hand, and asked me to thrust closer and rub my pubis on her clitoris.

It was easier to control how close to orgasm I could go not to risk ejaculating with me on top rather than her, and I’m proud to say that I brought Mrs Ganty to a very satisfying climax in this most traditional of positions. I let her catch her breath.

“Time for you, Daniel.” Having left behind the stress not to ejaculate prematurely, I could now enjoy better the delights of Mrs Ganty’s vagina. I did not rush it, but nature got the best of me and I ejaculated. Mrs Ganty hugged on her bosom. We rolled on the side and hugged again.

In a romantic story, we would have probably said silly things such as “I love you”. There was not of that here. I sure felt some gratitude, even some affection, towards Mrs Ganty, for her attentions, for initiating me to the joys of sex; Mrs Ganty sure felt for affection for me; but this was no love story.

“Dear, I think we both need a shower.”

So went both into the tub. Mrs Ganty washed my hair, rinsed it, then washed my body methodically, first the top, especially the armpits, then the legs, then the genitals, then my behind. She rinsed me also methodically.

“I don’t need my hair washed, but would you please do the rest?”. And so I did, taking cues from her; did her armpits, her breasts, her back, her legs. When I came to the genitals, she stopped me. “No soap inside. Around, yes, but not on the vulva. Use water to clean it.” And she turned around and bent over, so that I could properly wash her down there. I wondered if she had been doing that with her husband.

I dried her and she dried me. Then, we parted to get dressed.

“Daniel, yesterday as you were still not up, your parents called.”

I vaguely recalled the phone ringing.

“They said they had tried phoning you but you did not answer. I explained the situation to them, that you were sick and I had kept you some days here but you were feeling better and you would be back today. I think it’s time to pack your things. Do you think you would feel good enough for yard work tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“I’m having lunch with Mrs Suratin. Better if you leave before she comes! Can I expect you tomorrow morning?”

I nodded, again.