My name is jordan Johnson i was born in Africa 1993
Chapter 1 - The wild ones
Every day, as he cycled by, Jordan would look to see if he could see her. He was a 17-year-old student who lived in digs a few streets away. He could have taken a quicker, more direct route to college, but he always made a detour and slowed down as he went past the house. He hoped for a glimpse of this lady whom he described as the 'perfect woman.'
Sometimes, she would be in her garden, on her knees, weeding. Those days he got to see her well proportioned figure, and hear her hum at her work. She had such a lovely voice, he thought. Other times she sat on her porch, with her legs crossed at the ankles, reading, and he could see her legs. Such shapely legs. So desirable to a red-blooded male who was just discovering feminine delights.
One Saturday morning Jordan had gone down to the local store when he noticed a familiar form leaning over the counter, busy chatting to the storekeeper. He reckoned she was in her forties, and today she wore a bright red cotton dress with a white belt, and her brown hair was gathered up in a ponytail with a red ribbon. She was the 'Lady' he admired so much. He could hear the familiar voice and longed to be closer, but stayed just out of the way, partway down an aisle, looking on. He just caught the odd snippet of their conversation.
"...Anyway, as I was saying, Len, my husband, is away for two weeks on business, and wouldn't you know it, I have a problem with the plumbing in my kitchen. As you know, I'm fairly new to this area and I don't know many people, let alone whether they are capable of fixing leaks. I wondered... is there any chance you could help me out?"
"Well now, Mrs Peters, you know, normally I would gladly help you, but what with the store, and the baby just being born, you know my life is pretty full right now. But I tell you what though; there is a board over there where locals put cards to advertise. You might find something there."
She thanked him and then breezed past Jordan, hardly noticing him, on her way to check out the cards stuck on the board at the back of the shop.
He watched her for a few minutes as he bought his few items of shopping. Her hips swayed and her ponytail swished as she looked carefully from one side of the board to the other.
"No luck?" the shopkeeper called over, as she sighed and made her way toward the door.
"No" she replied, sadly. "Maybe I'll just ask around the neighbours, but I don't really know anyone that well."
Jordan took a step toward her and put out his hand.
"Er... Excuse me, but I couldn't help but overhear... Mrs Peters is it...?"
She half turned again.
"Yes it is. Oh, I've noticed you pass my way on your bike sometimes. Do you know of someone who could help me out?" She shook his offered hand.
"Well, my name is Jordan," he smiled, and added, "I have a bit of free time this afternoon. I'd be more than happy to take a look and see if I could do anything to help."
'I'd do anything for a sexy, mature woman such as you,' he thought. 'There's something about that sexy ass of yours that really gets me going.'
Chapter - 2 que sera sera
Mrs Peters started to protest in reply, turning away again, unsure of letting a young man into her home when she was alone. But the shopkeeper, who had overheard, cut in.
"Oh, you'll be fine. I can vouch for Jordan, he's a fine upstanding college boy, and you haven't really got too much choice otherwise."
Mrs Peters turned back towards Jordan and she looked him up and down quickly. A young African man, clean cut and very pleasant looking. He had a very friendly smile revealing the whitest of teeth, and a bulge down in his crotch that she found quite a turn-on. She inwardly scolded herself for letting her eyes rest there and tried to remind herself that she was married. But she couldn't disagree with the fact that Jordan was one young fit looking man, and he was coming round to her house!
"That would be very kind of you, Jordan," she agreed. "If you can call round at 3 o'clock, I'll have a jug of cool lemonade ready, as it's such a warm day."
Jordan agreed, and they said their goodbyes and parted company.
At 2:45pm Mrs Peters looked anxiously out of her kitchen window. There was a freshly made jug of lemonade and two glasses ready on the kitchen table. She felt a bit jittery, almost excited, at the thought of Jordan coming round. For some reason she couldn't get the thought of his body out of her mind. She was having devilish thoughts about seeing rippling muscles and maybe touching young cock again.
At 2:55pm Jordan rode his bike down the driveway, came to a halt, got off and parked it up against a wall. He then smoothed his clothes and hair and knocked on the door at exactly 3pm.
All the way there, visions of Mrs Peters had been going round his head, which caused him to wobble and almost come off his bike on a couple of occasions, as he was sometimes so preoccupied he forgot to pedal.
Mrs Peters opened the door and greeted Jordan with a smile, looking just as delicious as she had done in the shop. But she had changed from her red dress to a cool looking, loose, white shift with little blue flowers. It accentuated her form perfectly with the curves in all the right places. He found it difficult not to stare.
"Thank you for being so prompt. I've found you out my husband's tool box help you."
But she longed to see his tool and couldn't
me Meg," she said. "If you're to help me, Jordan, we should at least both be on first name terms."
"Ok then, Meg it is."
"There's a leak under here somewhere, and I'm not sure how to fix it, but I have to keep this bucket here to catch the drips."
Jordan finished his drink then went and put the bucket out of the way. He made sure the taps were off, and then went over and lay down on his back, put his head under the sink, and set about trying to find the leak and fix it.
Meg stood by Jordan to see if she could help, and watched him as he worked, once or twice resting her eyes on his bulging crotch.
"It's so good of you to help me out like this," she said. "I hadn't got a clue what to do."
After a while Jordan said, "Try that now Meg, run a tap and see what happens."
She ran the water for a while and then he called up to her, "All seems Ok now; you shouldn't need that bucket here anymore."
As she held out a hand to help Jordan get up, they both noticed the sludgy mark all down what had been his fresh, clean cotton shirt.
A few minutes later, in the midst of her mad thoughts, she had a brainwave. Meg went into her bedroom and searched out a shirt of her husband's. She picked one she reckoned would fit Jordan, then went and knocked on the bathroom door.
"Are you decent?" Meg asked, as she turned the handle. "I have a shirt you can put on for now, while yours dries," and she walked in holding the garment.
She looked up and saw Jordan standing in front of her, with droplets of water down his naked torso, just as he hurriedly tied a towel around his waist.
"Thank you for the use of your shower, Mrs Peters," Jordan said gratefully. Somehow it seemed more proper to address her formally, considering his state of undress. He reached over to take the shirt from her, but as he did so, much to his horror, the towel became untied and fell from
help glancing at his crotch again.
Jordan looked around the kitchen as he sat down. It had a slate floor, tidy surfaces, and pine cupboards. There was a vase of yellow roses on the table. He also detected the smell of baking from the oven.
"This tastes beautiful," he commented, as he sipped the lemonade she poured for him. "Now, how can I help you?"
"I'll show you," she said.
And with that Mrs Peters got up off her chair and walked to the other side of the kitchen where the sink was, with Jordan watching her hips sway with every step she took. 'What man wouldn't want to put his hands on those hips,' he thought to himself.
As she bent over to open the cupboard under the sink revealing a bucket, the enticing shape of Mrs Peters' perfect ass was shown to Jordan. He was aware of a stirring in his groin, and looked down, embarrassed.
Please call me Meg
To be continued
this is my first time so please do be tooooo harsh