Precious Moments With Fran

Matt sorted through the last of the papers that recorded the beginnings of the garden centre and nursery business that was known as 'Clarke Nurseries'. He had gone to work for Fran Clarke some twenty years ago, part of his efforts to gain some work experience after he had left college with business studies qualifications but no clear idea of where to start his working life.

He had done holiday work while at college and now, at twenty-two, credible and useful work experience was taking on a renewed importance for him.

Fran was the forty-five-year-old mother of his best friend, Tommy Clarke or TeeCee, at the time, but he had moved on and had left Fran, divorced by then for three years from his father, to manage and do the chores on the land that was slowly being turned into a tree nursery. It had its own productive apple orchard and space where she began to grow vegetables, free of 'additives' as she used to say.

Much of her produce was successfully sold in the small farm shop.

Her home was a fully equipped two-bedroomed caravan and the land, and her home, offered all the privacy that she wanted and needed as she remade her life.

At the time, and to his youthful sight, Fran was a strong and attractive woman, shapely no matter what clothes he saw her wearing for work, or when he sometimes met her and she was relaxed and her shapely, not overly slender body by then, clothed in casual clothes.

In truth, she was a buxom woman with a captivating smile and sultry laugh, her straw-blonde hair in a windswept or unruly tangle that, in hot sunny weather, was covered by a floppy hat.

He liked the woman that he saw, her soft voluptuousness something that aroused wayward thoughts in him, and her animated ways of talking business to people she dealt with also a feature of how she was with him and when they were alone, working; talking of what to do to slowly and carefully expand the business, and her reliance on him, giving them both the opportunity to learn and suggest things that she thought about and she would often agree to.

"I'm glad that you are working with me, not just for me," she often said, when they were of one mind about something that they had discussed and 'had done the numbers' on.

Fran had soon stopped calling him 'my dear boy', even if he was comparatively innocent of so much that she, in time, began to show and share with him; that Fran taught him. A conscious decision was taken to stay with her, a woman that he became besotted with; a busty woman who stood almost as tall as him, at close to six foot and with a body kept firm by the strenuous manual work they often had to do.

He learned from hearing her curses, when some administrative task was not going to plan, that she was not good at that, and it was then that his basic knowledge gained from a business studies course had drawn him in still closer. He worked on, and devised, spreadsheets and what gaps there were in his knowledge he made good by looking things up on the web.

His knowledge grew, along with the efficiency of the business; call it 'on the job training', but from there a bond with her became tighter, even over-familiar, moments were shared that she began when she stood close by his side, or she leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen and he would feel her breasts press against him, or her warm breaths on his face.

It was at such a moment that he wondered if she was wearing a bra, or it was loose under her blouse or T-shirt because of the warm weather and the physical work they often did.

In the poly-tunnels, where they grew flowers or brought on vegetables to plant out later, Fran would often be seen wearing a swirly skirt with scoop-necked blouse or a top, and he would often have to look away, aroused beyond enduring when he saw two large nipples poking out the fabric, and her freckled skin glistening with perspiration.

Days and weeks went by and he was learning all of the time.

He enjoyed working with his mother's friend, and Fran became more touchy. He did not mind the nicknames that she gave him, always accompanied by a softy touch to his arm. But he restrained himself from responding to those touches and would smile and slowly move away, after a moment and a shared look of involvement with each other.

His mother, Marjorie, would call in, unannounced, to see Fran and to learn about what he was doing there. Fran would enthuse about his contribution to the business, its running, and his ideas.

"I'll give him a good reference, Marjorie," she had once told her, "when Matt has had enough of working here."

Fantasizing about what he sought of her, working his length to images of Fran passing before his eyes, did not end his acute sese of frustration. He wondered how she could not see the bulge in his jeans, or cargo shorts he also wore to work, and especially after she had offered a fleeting touch to his arm when they worked in a confined poly-tunnel and their clothes stuck to skin. It was then that he saw those wonderful breasts and nipples, how they moved when she reached up to adjust the headscarf that tied back her hair.

Deliberate, or not, she was slowly seducing him.

And then, on a certain day when it was so hot under the poly-tunnel roof that he had to strip off his T-shirt, she offered a fingertip caress to his bare chest and whispered all that she thought of him in his ear, plaguing him as she pressed those large breasts against his skin, her blouse not diminishing the effect that closeness had upon him.

He couldn't take it anymore, the sight and touch of Fran's voluptuous body. Fran, unbidden, then fumbled and found him; pushed her hand, free of the gardening glove, under the rim of his shorts and stroked him so wonderfully that they both began to pant as Fran jerked him off. Within a few minutes of frenzied tugging, sharing hot breaths and snatched kisses, he burst and coated her hand with his clammy warmth.

"Oh Matt...yes...yes you darling boy...cum, cum sweetheart, cum for me, sweetheart," she panted very excitedly in his ear.

Fran kissed his neck, sucked excitedly on his earlobe and, later, slipped her hand back over his flaccid but cum-coated penis that now felt like a slippery eel, caught in her grip.

"You had to know how I feel about you, sometime," he mumbled, looking at her in some embarrassment, his hands stroking her body. She must feel his hands trembling as he touched her breasts, Fran moving to make it easier for him to do so. "I'll...I want to learn about it and with you."

"Oh, darling! Everything is okay. Your wonderful dick belongs with me. I'm going to make you squirt more often and you have made me, your Fran, all hot by allowing me to do this for you."

She let go of him and Fran walked with him to her caravan-home that looked out over the orchard that he had helped her to prepare for the growing season.

There, in the surprising coolness of her bedroom they were soon naked, neither of them keeping from the other what they sought to claim and reclaim. For the first time he was stark naked in front of a woman; not just anyone, but someone who was his mother's friend.

"I won't tell anyone about this..."

"I know you won't, now stand in front of me, darling Matt," she asked softly, sitting on the edge of her bed, and reaching out to take hold of his penis, still clammy from her earlier claims upon it, before she slid it up between her breasts and leaned forward to kiss the tip, swirling her tongue over it.

"Oh...oh Fran!" he called out, in what was more of a yelp of dismay than pleasure. It was his first time someone had claimed him in this way.

Slowly and certainly, as rushes of uncommon longing coursed through his groin, because of what she did with her mouth and hands, Fran brought him to an aching erection, his penis arcing out from his belly. She caressed it with her wonderful breasts, and he did not care that they sagged. In his eyes they were magnificent and set her apart from his other friend's mothers.

Fran looked up at him and saw the wonder in his eyes, then squirmed as his hands closed over her breasts and squeezed, hard. He then pinched and tugged on her nipples, doing so as she sank over him and sucked, flickered her tongue over the domed tip of his penis,

"You have so much for me, and now I want you to give me pleasure...to come in me and I will show you how it feels to be with a woman."

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, that too...but to touch and please me in other ways also." She said it on pressing her lips to his belly as he moved his penis up and down between her breasts as she pushed them together. "Make love to my tits..."

"Yeah! Oh yeah!"

And so, he saw his dick sliding up and down, for the first time, between two large, warm, and fleshy breasts of a woman he was besotted with; a little in love with, even.

"They're for you, darling boy, my young man, these breasts and this body are for you from now on, my young stallion," he was told.

"Yeah...yeah, I want it all and with you," was all he could say in reply, his confidence suddenly at an ebb.

"Don't be shy or embarrassed. Just shoot your cum between them sweetie, or just squirt it all over me, with that hard horny cock. Shall I do it for you, can I do it?" Fran asked after which she suddenly grabbed his penis and worked it furiously in long strokes of her hands.

For the first time he saw what his stiff cock looked like in a real woman's hands as it was worked until he climaxed again, his body shuddering and as Fran pressed her lips to his body and he spurted over her, between those breasts, the sight of which had plagued him before this momentous and wonderful afternoon with her.

"We've only just begun to share our journey, Matt, darling," she said and, as he leaned forward to look how she continued to claim his penis, she kissed him deeply, open mouthed and lustfully. "Every moment we are together like this will just get better and better, I promise you...and I want that for myself too."

He knew that he would soon be taught how to fuck a woman and she had to be the one to do that for him; Fran, the woman with the large, but saggy, tits and with a strong and toned body, her hair all in a mess now that she had cast aside her floppy hat; she, with her tanned arms and legs, so strong and desirable, would soon pull him down onto a body that he ached to know of.

"I'm here with you, now show me Fran...show me!"

She soon did and another, adult, world opened up before him.

♥

Fran pulled gently on his hair and made him look at her, both of them languorously tired from all that had happened once more. There were days, now, when they could not keep their hands off each other and they rushed to get the day's work done before they took each other to bed.

"Yeah, I guess I had better go home," he said, smiling at her and slowly moving away. 'I can't get enough of your naked body, how you keep me in you...make me do things until I feel wasted."

She felt that way too and empty, just as she did whenever he eased his long love wand out of her. She called it that, as he was becoming such a good and energetic lover, magical, doing all that she suggested and taught him.

But then, instincts could have played their part in what happened between them too.

She was naked in bed, with the son of a friend of hers and what a horny MILF he would think of her, even if Matt never said anything so crude about her.

"Rubbing that body lotion over us was a good idea," she confessed, as Matt moved away and sat on the edge of her bed, looking for his clothes that lay scattered over the floor, along with hers.

He had massaged it into her back and buttocks, then taken much more time to do so on her thighs, belly and finally her breasts, his fingers stroking her sex as he did so. She had been coaxed to part her legs, a little further, before he performed oral sex, and fingered her pussy in ways that made her moan and claw at his shoulders in a vain attempt to coax him to take her.

But she had her ways to seduce him and to change his mind; to talk dirty in his ear that she wanted nothing more than for him to waste her. He would soon push his stiff cock into her slicked heat in a slow and deepening rhythm, her hands clawing and gripping his buttocks until their bodies slapped and a demonic rhythm was again set.

"You know what to do now, darling, so go on!" she would call out, as he kept going with youthful enthusiasm but sublime control; the tension in his buttocks letting her know he was holding it all back until she said she was with him and they could climax together.

Or else, she would climax and he was so lost in what they again shared that he wanted it to endure; he held back and pulled out of her and resumed using his tongue and fingers, all that he did guided and controlled by her calls to him or the insistent grip of her hand to guide him in just what she wanted.

How she would climax and scream, out of the wayward pleasure that he, her young lover, brought. He had learned to be patient, to allow her to recover, before he thrust his erect cock back into her, to move his hips in a sinuous plunging rhythm, to do that in an increasing tempo until she shamelessly had another wasting orgasm.

She had made no secret of enjoying what he did for her and kissed him deeply on the mouth, her ways with him soon letting her know that he was close.

"Come on, fuck me good!" she begged.

He would thrust into her, the mattress groaning as he pounded against her, his balls slapping her buttocks as she lifted her legs, and gripped his body, locking them behind his back.

Fran again began to moan and grunt with effort, and neither of them lasted much longer as she climaxed, her body shuddering at the moment that his penis seemed to leap inside her and he ejaculated.

"Oh Jeez, Fran...that hurts...that hurst but feels so darned good!" he called out, his body shuddering as the pressure in his nuts, and the searing rushes of his semen, finally eased.

Fran had grabbed fistfuls of bedding as she screamed, both of them pursuing the fading moments of shared pleasure, snatching kisses and expressing words of affection and finally clinging to each other, offering caresses to enervated skins.

"Until tomorrow," he would say as she was left lying on the bed and he gazed at her, at the body of a woman so much older than he was, but who had taught him all that he now knew.

♥

Matt sighed as he closed the box. The photographs had aroused many memories of Fran, a passionately giving woman whom he had left after a year of working with her and during which time Clarke Nurseries had changed so much. It had thrived, and he had learned of business and loving in such a short time; so much for a guy of twenty-two or so.

They had several reunions, some tearful, all of them precious moments exhaustingly and devotedly pursued. He had always thought of her as a friend, teacher, lover and companion; their deeper relationship never spoken of, other than between themselves.

Fran had known that her son, Tommy, would never take on her business, her life's work as she thought of it, even if he knew, full well, how she had invested as much as she could afford in the many acres of land that it covered.

But Fran had found a young soulmate, then bed mate, over the years and had known that he would step in to keep the place, and her memory, alive.

"You gave me a chance at finding my way in life. I owe it to you to keep the place going as you once did."

♥