I Found a Phone

I was carrying a pile of old box files from my office, to the archive room. Everything has gone digital and paper free, thank god. It's cleared a huge amount of space in my office. It actually looks a bit too sparse now. Anyway, I was carrying the penultimate batch, when my foot hit something. I couldn't see what so I bent down and put the boxes on the floor. Somebody's mobile phone. It must have been dropped. I looked up and down the corridor. Nobody in sight. I picked it up and brushed my finger on the screen. A bit of a surprise but also funny.

Why funny? Because the background image was a woman's cleavage in a plunging neckline. Not, young and perky but older and slightly wrinkly. Someone's wife I presumed. I opened the contacts to see if I could work out who it belonged to. No luck there, I didn't recognise any of the names. Maybe the pictures would help. They did but........

Alright, I was hoping for a holiday snap or family picture to give me a hint. The first few were naked selfies of an old woman. Presumably the cleavage woman. Taken using a mirror, the mobile in front of her face. There were several others, taken using a selfie stick. Most were from nondescript hotel rooms, none showed her face. There was enough on show as it was. Large breasts, a couple of rolls of fat and a big bald pussy. Moving on there were a couple of pictures with a similar woman, which gave the game away. No hidden faces. The owner of the phone had to be Henrietta, everyone calls her Hen. She's the cook in the staff cafeteria.

I put the phone into my pocket, took the boxes to the archive and set off for the cafeteria. Only mid morning so, it wasn't open. I went around the back to the kitchen entrance. I pushed the door open and shouted, we're not allowed inside. Hen appeared.

"I believe this belongs to you." I said holding out the phone.

"Thanks. How did you know it was mine?"

"The photos."

"Naughty boy.....Do you like a big portion? I like seconds if there are any. Especially if it's sausage."

Everyone has come to expect this from her. I'm not sure how she gets away with it. There are so many codes of conduct around these days, half of what she says would be grounds for dismissal. Other than her liking for pushing the boundaries where language was concerned, I know nothing about her, why would I. She dishes up lunch from behind her counter and that is the extent of my interaction with her. At least it had been until now.

I left work as usual at 5. I was walking across the car park, on my way to the bus stop, when a car horn sounded. I looked around, trying to work out where it came from. It sounded again. A small red car. I walked over, it was Hen.

"Get in."

It was more of an order than an invitation. I walked round, opened he passenger door and got into the seat. I expected her to drive off but she didn't even turn on the engine.

"Got a bit of an eyeful this morning, didn't you? Not a pretty sight for a nice young man like you. Not exactly Playboy centrefold material."

"Different."

"That's a polite way of saying what you're really thinking. Turned your stomach more than my cooking."

Alright, I was a bit shocked but it was just a naked body. Besides, her cooking is amazing, probably why she keeps her job. I'm a single bloke, not much good at cooking. I eat in the cafeteria every day, it's my main meal of the day. Not only is it really tasty, it's subsidised. A great perk, for someone like me.

"No but I was a bit surprised."

"Even fat old birds like a bit of rumpy pumpy. This fat old bird likes a lot."

"Who was the other woman?"

"If you're thinking I'm a rug muncher, I'm not. That's my sister. When I can't get it anywhere else, we share her hubby. He gets double the fun and I get enough to tide me over. Driving home?"

"Bus."

"I'll give you a lift."

She started the car and we were away. More like Lewis Hamilton than Miss Daisy. Although her car is small, it seemed to be screaming for mercy, as she threw it around corners almost on two wheels. A couple of times my head bounced off the side window. That didn't slow her down. When she pulled up outside the block where I live, I almost shot through the windscreen. Thank god for seatbelts. I opened the door, feeling a bit queasy.

"Thanks for the lift."

"See you at lunchtime."

There was a screech of tyres as she sped off. Note to self, stick to the bus. Probably the strangest day since I started work, possibly of my whole life. All of that from finding a phone. Do other people keeps stuff like that on theirs? I just had pictures of family getogethers, holidays and pets on mine.

The following day, it was with some trepidation that I went to the cafeteria. Luckily it was quite busy. Hen was sharing general banter with everyone. Although, she did wink and blow me a kiss when she served me.

At the end of the day, she was waiting for me again. A couple of beeps of her horn. I guessed that ignoring it would bring more sounds or her driving alongside me. I gave in. She pushed the passenger door open.

"Can we go a bit slower this time?"

"On the way back or when we get to your place?"

From what she'd said and what I'd seen, no reason not to think she wasn't serious. She spared me the travel sickness. We pulled up outside my block and I got out. She turned off the engine.

"I suppose you're coming in."

"Thanks so much for asking, I'd love to."

"You weren't going to leave anyway, were you?"

"Of course not."

I opened the front door, picked up my mail from the box on the wall and went up the stairs, to the door of my flat. Hen, followed on behind. More accurately feeling my behind. The first time, I knocked her hand away but that wasn't enough to stop her. Inside she had a good look around, even tidying a few things that I'd left laying about.

"Where's the kitchen. Looks like you need feeding up."

Like I've mentioned, I don't cook. She found a few scraps in the fridge and made us both a Spanish omelette. At least I can make tea without messing it up. Unsure about her motives, I sipped at my mug slowly. She finished hers and said,

"Bedroom."

"What?"

"My sister is on holiday for the next two weeks. Want to see how grateful a mature woman can be, for returning her phone."

It was only just after 7. A box of chocolates or bottle of booze would have been a sufficient reward. Contemplating the possible scenarios, I think Hen was planning to get as much, if not more out of the reward than I was. She didn't even wait for me to say anything. She stood up and started pushing doors.

"Ah! Here we go. You need to take more care of yourself but no point making the bed now. Come on, don't be shy."

I wondered if it should be me taking the lead. I just followed. I don't think I'd ever expected to be put in this position. She must be twice the age of any woman I've slept with. She's certainly fuller in the figure but on the flip side far more active. Whoa. Down to her underwear in no time. Not exactly the best side of her. With her back to me, the narrow black material of her thong, tanga or whatever they were, was being eaten by a pair of large white buttocks. With her bra unclipped, she swung round, her large boobs sort of carried on moving in the direction she'd turned. If there wasn't much of her knickers on show from the back, there was little more from the front. A total wedgie, in the crack of her definitely bald pussy. Not for long, as they soon hit the floor.

I'd barely undone a button, yet I was confronted by a naked mature cook who seemed fairly desperate. There wasn't any going back. She removed, folded up my duvet and placed it on top of the chest of drawers. She then climbed on to the bed, like a prowling tiger, her boobs handing down and swinging as she did. Alright, so her belly was hanging down too, so not a total turn on. She wiggled her bum at me before laying on her side to watch me.

I wasn't rushing. Trying to put things off? Possibly. Eventually, I was down to my pants.

"Don't worry. I don't care how big or small it is. If it works and you know what to do with it, we'll be fine."

Very reassuring. If I stretch it a bit, I can almost manage six inches. More like five and a half if I don't. So, I was now naked too and even though she's not the best looking, I couldn't help having an erection. Naked woman, naked man, a natural reaction, whatever the two of us looked like physically.

"Good enough." She said.

Her hand patted the bed beside her. It felt a little odd being seduced in my own bedroom. It didn't stop me getting on next to her. She squashed her plump body up against mine, planted a kiss on my lips and took hold of my dick. Unsure about where I should put my hands, I hesitated. I've got plenty of experience with women, just not one, this old, this large, or this randy. Laying on my left side, I managed to get my hand in contact with her right breast. Oh boy that is big and soft. Slightly more so than the left buttock I was massaging. I thought she'd be far rougher. Her fingers soft, almost gossamer like on my cock and balls. She really knew her stuff.

"The purse with the diamond within is on the other side." She said lifting her knee slightly.

A clear invitation to get to know what looked like a large, bald, bulging pussy.

"That jewel needs a good rub to keep it polished and shiny."

What was I to take from that? I've fingered women to orgasms. Whether I'm good at it, I don't know. I don't think men ever really know whether they are pleasing women completely. Getting them off is one thing, for the most part that's a physical response. Brining them to a state of emotional satisfaction is something quite different. No time to think too deeply about that, the physical side of things needed attending to, at this juncture.

What she'd described as her purse was as soft and pudgy as I'd expected. What I hadn't expected was how wet she'd be. I'd on occasion had to lick my fingers to add some lubrication. No need now. Her inner thighs and the wrinkly flesh either side of her slit weren't just damp, they were soaking. I try not to dive right in for a woman's clit. Most don't like that but Hen isn't most women and she seemed to be asking for exactly that. Her reaction to my first touch seemed to show that I'd guessed right. Her copious soft warm flesh jiggled, various parts of it rubbing against me.

"Polish it hard, rub a dub dub."

I'd obviously not been doing it to her satisfaction. Just about any woman I'd slept with would have screamed in pain at what I was being asked to do. For Hen, it just seemed normal. Not just normal, what she really needed. She was really getting in to it. Even so, her fingers on my cock were still being really gentle. There must have been the temptation to rub me raw. She was almost cooing like a dove when she came. With her attitude I'd expected something a lot more outrageous or crude. I eased the pressure with my fingers.

"Oh no you don't. Time for seconds."

So I carried on. I think her hand must must have been as wet as mine by this point. It only took another couple of minutes for her second orgasm to ripple through her. She'd barely stopped her large frame heaving from the pleasure she'd received, when she pushed me on to my back.

She liked a bit of rough play with her clit. That carried on with the way she fucked. She got her knees either side of me, aimed my dick at her pussy and dropped down hard. There was some weight behind it, as her arse hit my thighs. She was at it like a jackhammer. Her tits were bouncing wildly. She moved her hands to cup them but didn't reduce her pace. No surprise to me, that I didn't last long.

When I'd cum, she let go of her boobs and leant forward squashing those huge orbs against my chest.

"That was a good portion wasn't it." Was all she said.

Within half an hour she'd dressed and gone. Leaving me to contemplate what had just happened. In the normal scheme of things, I wouldn't have invited her to share my bed. Henrietta is an unusual woman by any measure. She'd invited herself. Was this just a one off thank you, for finding her phone? Was she expecting repeat performances? I definitely didn't see her as someone I would marry. As a short term sexual partner it definitely had potential. I didn't have anyone else at the moment and it appeared that she didn't either.

One of my assumptions was correct. She was back for more. Not every day but frequently enough. Reading between the lines of our post coital chat, she's had a lot of sex. No, not just a lot, an absolute shed load. All sorts. So much so that, she needs the rough approach to get her over the line. A lot less sensitive than she used to be. Her experience, has made things great for me too. She gives the most amazing blow jobs.

After a few weeks of her coming to my flat and fucking me senseless, she wanted to move things on. She has a liking for playing games. Not the sort with a board and dice, the sort where you act out scenes. Her favourite involved us booking in to a hotel. I recognised the decor, from the photos on her phone. It is part of a nationwide chain, all of the rooms look similar. She insisted on booking in with the receptionist. After which she said,

"Come on son."

I could see the confused look on the receptionist's face. The room we'd booked only had a double bed. If anything the sex in this almost anonymous location was even wilder than before. I was a little wary at first when she pulled out her phone and began taking pictures of me, selfies and even pictures of the two of us. It progressed into close ups of our fucking and wide shots using her selfie stick. I got the hang of it in the end and even started acting for her pictures.

Through all of this, she either cooks for me or sends me off with a pre cooked meal to warm up. Whether it will carry on or not, I don't know but as a temporary interlude in the flow of my life it's been exciting.