Mrs. Bishop's Tender
Loving Care
By Helping Hand
Mrs. Bishop's Tender
Loving Care By Helping Hand When I was eighteen I used to go
to my friend Dan Bishop's house and play basketball in the concrete
court his Dad had built in their backyard. One day I tripped
and fell, scraping my knee and stomach pretty bad, so Dan's Mom
took me into the house to wash out the scrapes and bandage them
up. Mrs. Bishop was about forty and busty, with feathered red
hair. I was at that time when sex had just become an obsession,
so for weeks I had been sneaking peeks at Mrs. Bishop's breasts
whenever she inhaled a breath in her tight t-shirt, and watching
her round ass flex and bob whenever she walked away in her shorts.
She wasn't the only woman I had been gawking over in that way,
but she was one of them. When we got to the bathroom we both
saw that the scrape on my stomach was bleeding, as was my knee,
so she had me take off my shirt and stand next to the sink, while
she got a washcloth, sat on the toilet seat, and gingerly wiped
the dirt off of my stomach. It hurt like hell. Then she rinsed
out the washcloth and did the same to my knee, and that hurt
as well. Falling like that on the concrete had shaken me up.
My legs and hands were shaking like leaves in the wind. I was
hurting bad, and wasn't thinking about anything other than lying
down for a few minutes and calming down. After making sure everything
was clean, she got out some antiseptic salve and spread it around
where it had been bleeding. The salve was cool and her hand was
real soft, and the gentle rubbing motions on my stomach was feeling
really good. I remember looking down at my stomach as it rose
and fell with my breaths. It was tight and tanned, and it was
exciting watching and feeling her white hand and manicured nails
slowly making circles along the ridges and curves of my muscles.
As I kept looking, my mind began taking in other things. I noticed
how close her face was to my stomach. I could hear her soft breathing,
and even feel her exhaled breath feathering softly against my
skin. Then I looked further down, and noticed the way her breasts
rounded out her t-shirt, rising and falling with each breath
an inch from my crotch. I remember thinking how beautiful and
womanly she was. Kind of like the same feeling I got whenever
I went into a girl's bedroom with its frilly, soft, colorful
atmosphere that smelled of perfume. Very feminine and kind of
new to a boy of fifteen with no sisters. Then all at once, like
a thunderbolt, my body began to react to my thoughts. My blood
began to pound in my veins, and I suddenly felt my dick come
to life and begin growing really fast in my shorts. I remember
the feeling being so inexorable, frighteningly so. I wanted so
bad to be able to control myself, but I was completely helpless
against the desire that Mrs. Bishop's presence had instilled
in me. I remember thinking very clearly, "Oh my God, I'm
sprouting a woody right here in front of my friend's Mom!"
My body was wracked with conflicting emotions of intense excitement
and intense shame. I didn't know what to do, if I should try
to hide it or turn or run away or whatever. It was so humiliating
and so exciting all at the same time. I must have started squirming
around because she frowned and said "C'mon, hold still so
I can do this.", and with her free hand grabbed the small
of my back and pressed me forward towards her. There I was, standing
there with a raging hard-on, with my hips jutted out as if offering
it to her. I looked up in the mirror and my face was burning
red under my summer tan, and I looked so serious and terrified.
Thinking back on it today my expression was hilarious, but at
the time it was all deadly serious stuff. Mrs. Bishop hadn't
even noticed my boner yet, until she finished my stomach and
went down to my knee. As she did her hand bumped against the
tent in my shorts and she said "Oh! Excuse me!". She
seemed flustered for a quick second, and then without further
comment she ducked under it and start applying the salve to my
knee, seemingly doing her best to ignore it. I couldn't see her
face, and to this day I wonder what she looked like or was thinking
down there. I was breathing ragged by then and my face was literally
sizzling hot with embarrassment. I began to think I might faint.
When she was finished with my knee she leaned back up, curving
her head a bit to avoid what was sticking out there, and mumbled,
"We'll that should do it, we just need some bandages now."
She reached over to the top drawer, pulled out some gauze and
medical tape, and proceeded to bandage up my knee. By the time
she started on my stomach my hard-on hadn't dimmed in the slightest,
and so as she was applying the bandage it was very hard for her
to avoid my erection. All through the procedure her hands were
bumping it and sliding across it as she worked. The teasing and
taboo nature of these little bumps and swipes drove me absolutely
crazy, they just felt so fucking great. When she was done, she
gripped my hips with both hands and leaned back, admiring her
handiwork. "There, that looks great." she said, and
I couldn't tell if she was talking about the bandage alone, or
if she had a sly double meaning. I mumbled, "Thanks for
helping me, Mrs. Bishop", which came out really weak and
hoarse. Nothing was said for a few seconds, we just stood there,
her looking at my stomach (and crotch) and me looking down at
her. It felt so quiet that you could hear a pin drop in the room.
Then Mrs. Bishop got a smirk on her face as she looked up into
my face, then back down at the bulge in my shorts, as if she
was just moderately amused at my predicament. She didn't seemed
turned on at all, it was just a bemused smirk. Then, without
saying a word, she undid the drawstring of my shorts and slowly
pulled them down. I looked down dumbly, watching as her downward
pull dragged my shorts downward, first revealing my pubic hair,
then tracing the contour of my cock, and finally releasing the
tip and freeing it to bob up at full mast. Seeing Mrs. Bishop's
smirking red lips an inch from the tip of my cock is an image
I'll never forget. Mrs. Bishop looked at my dick pulsing in front
of her face for a moment, and then let out a chuckling sigh that
caused her breasts to heave. That was the most embarrasing part
of it, how I was going out of my mind with desire while she just
sat there as if it was no big deal. I remember thinking how unfair
it was for me to be so completely at her mercy emotionally that
way. Then with one hand Mrs. Bishop reached over to the sink
and squirted a few globs of lotion into her hand. I gasped as
the cold lotion touched my dick and was spread around by her
soft palm, and soon she was stroking me up and down, which was
without a doubt the most pleasurable experience of my life up
to that time. My breath came in ragged gasps as she stroked very
slowly and methodically, using the gentlest touch and a slight
twisting corkscrew motion. I remember noticing how my stomach
was heaving in and out slowly with each stroke, and I felt my
butt cheeks involuntarily cramp up into little knots. Back then
my dick was ultra-sensitive compared to now, and the slightest
stroking would send amazing sensations coursing through my body
that as an adult I simply can't duplicate. I felt my excitement
rising by alarming leaps and bounds, and my breaths became quivering
moans, which caused Mrs. Bishop to smirk again and chuckle to
herself. She then reached out with her other hand and began rubbing
the sides of my testicles between her fingertips and thumb, moving
them gently in little circles. This felt so controlling to me,
as if she had my nuts totally at her mercy, and she was teasing
them while deciding whether or not to squeeze them and make me
cum. I think the fact that I was naked and she was clothed made
it feel very dominating as well. It was damn exciting regardless,
and my body was a rock-hard slab of iron tension as I fought
to keep some sort of control over my reactions. But any attempt
on my part to control myself was hopeless. She kept up her rubbing
and stroking for another minute, snickering and purring, and
soon I felt my body tense and my whole pelvis pulse stronger
than ever before. The intensity was frightening. With a gasp
I began cumming in large globs that arched up in the air and
splattered down on her t-shirt, covering her breasts with patches
of creamy wetness. I was bucking and moaning in her hands, but
she just held on to my nuts and kept up her stroking until I
was spent and exhausted in front of her. As I came down and the
tension in my muscles dissipated my knees began buckling, and
I had to reach out and hold onto the countertop for support.
The only sound was my gasping breathing and quiet moans, and
the squishy sound of Mrs. Bishop's hand sliding up and down my
spent cock. Then the spell was broken. Mrs. Bishop looked down
at her t-shirt and commented, "Wow...nice load, kiddo,"
and let out a womanly, silvery giggle that was so freaking sexy
to me at that moment. She used the washcloth to wipe me off,
quickly pulled my shorts back up, turned me towards the door
and patted me on the rear. "Mum's the word. Off you go."
I stumbled out of the room into the hall, and she closed the
door behind me. I heard the water begin running, and figured
she was cleaning herself up. I leaned against the hallway wall
for a moment, catching my breath and regaining my senses, then
I staggered outside. Dan looked over and asked me if I was OK.
I said sure, but I wanted to sit down for awhile. I never told
him or anyone else about what had happened, and it never happened
with Mrs. Bishop again. I definitely wanted it to, and I guess
I followed her around in a sort of puppy dog way for the rest
of the summer, looking for another chance, but she just basically
ignored me and kept her distance, although she did smile at me
in a different, more playful way after that night. I'll never
forget that experience. In terms of pure excitement and heat,
it still ranks among the all-time best for me, as fleeting and
unexpected as it was. THE END |