Being a hotshot football player back in High School
had its advantages. The advantages being all tha babes
I wanted.

Not that it always came easy. Sometimes it did. Girls
my age – even College girls – would make a move on me
before I even set my sights on them so it saved me
some work.

What wasn’t easy was picking up mature babes. That was
my big passion back in those days. But I found it
difficult to talk to those 30-something and 40-
something babes.

One of them was one of the ladies from church. Her
name is Helen B. I didn’t know Helen’s age, though she
had to be at least in her thirties if not forties.

Helen was a major babe. She was black, very short, and
had really big tits. Just my type.

Unfortunately I didn’t have the nerve to hit on her.
And it’d also occurred to me if I did, it was likely
she’s reject me. That’s a lot for a teenager to take.

Helen was nice enough. She’d talk to me but never knew
I was a football hero. I felt no need to tell her, I
don’t brag about it.

It was eating me up that I wasn’t fucking her. But it
was worse when I was around her. When I wasn’t, I was
fucking the hottest girls my age, so it provided
distractions.

Then I went away to college, four years out of state.
I became more of a football star and when it came that
time for the draft pick, I not only got picked I had
no problem getting signed to the team close to home
with a long term contract, something the team’s owners
never have regretted.

So I was back in the old neighborhood after College,
got my own place, and I was regular at church.

Helen B was as nice as ever. And still hot.

She knew I was a pro-football player but treated me
like a regular guy. I liked that.

I still had the hots for her, and I still like older
women, but I was having fun with a lot of the Black
teenage girls at church. My tastes had shifted
slightly in the past ten years or so.

It wasn’t until a few years back I found out Helen was
married. I never knew. He never came to church, I
never heard her talk about him, and neither did my
mother or the other church ladies.

I still didn’t know how old Helen was. Late forties,
early fifties i’d’ve guessed. And she took care of
herself. Helen wore a lot of outfits – not necessarily
expensive or overtly sexy – that showed her busty,
slim figure. I found out from one of her friends she
was serious about exercise. An hour on the treadmill
ever morning, and that was just to start her workout.

I kind of teased Helen about. She had a good laugh.
“We older ladies need to stay in shape!” She announced
to me.

After Helen told me she was upset she found out her
gym would be closed for a few days, they needed to
make some repairs.

“I work out at home myself,” I told Helen. “And I have
a pretty decent gym. You’re welcome to use it
anytime.”

Helen took me up on my offer and came by the next
morning and we worked out together.

It was hard to keep my hands off of Helen. She looked
so good in leotard and tights… Not only did Helen
have a huge set of DDs, her butt was huge, too, wide
and firm. The things I’d like to do with her butt [not
to mention other parts of Helen’s body]…

I made it through the morning, and unfortunately her
gym reopened the next day so that was it.

That really was it. A few years have passed, and I had
hoped Helen would come workout again but she never
did.

I’d found out about a year and a half ago she’d been
taking care of her husband, he’d been sick some time.

Then Sunday they announced that he had passed away, a
very sad time for all who had known him, but
especially Helen.

I wasn’t good at consoling people. I guess I was
missing those genes. But I wanted to console Helen.
Unfortunately, I had an away game and when I got back
they’d already had his funeral and burial.

Fortunately, now I could make any awkward attempts at
consoling Helen without making a fool of myself in
front of others.

It was a Monday when I went by her house. I’d heard
she took some time off to pack away a few of his
things and have them put into public storage. It
didn’t seem like anyone else was visiting, a relief to
me.

A rang the bell and she answered it half a minute
later before I could ring it again.

“Hi, Jim! What are you doing here?” Helen exclaimed,
smiling up at me. She had on old jeans and a t-shirt
but still looked sexy as Hell.

I nervously ran my fingers through my blonde hair.
“Well, I had planned to make a half-assed attempt to
console you…”

Helen laughed. “Well you made me laugh, that’s a great
start.” She came out on the porch and hugged me, her
huge, soft tits pressing against my hard belly.

“Thank you for coming,” Helen said.

Thank you for not CUMMIMG, I said silently to my
raging cock.

“Come on inside,” She said.

I followed her in. “I just wish I could have been her
sooner, especially for the funeral at least.”

“Don’t worry about! You’re a busy young man,” Helen
waved dismissively. “You know, your mom is so proud of
you. I’ve seen the scrapbooks of all the newspaper
clippings you’re in.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I didn’t know my mother
was doing that…”

“Oh, yeah. I wish Harold and I had had a son who grew
up as well as you. He wouldn’t have to be a big
football hero, as long as he had turned out to be a
wonderful young man like you.”

I grinned, and I figure it had to be a big, goofy
grin. “Thanks,” I said.

In the living room, there were several storage bins
laying around and open. Helen had an old photo album
on the coffee table. She lowered herself down onto the
old sofa behind it. As Helen did, she leaned forward,
giving me a view down her gaping t-shirt.

The living room was brightly lit, and I could see the
top of her tits spilling over her bra. Shit…

“Come sit down,” Helen said, patting the sofa next to
her. I did. “I was just looking at some old photos,
back when I was young…”

“Helen, you’re still young!”

She laughed. “Jim, I’m sixty-two years old.”

“Fuck, i’d’ve guessed you to be in your early
fifties…” I blurted. When it hit me what I’d said, I
added “Sorry about the language.”

Helen laughed again. “Jim, you don’t have to apologize
to me. I’ve said my share of curse words in my day.
You should have heard me when I was having sex with my
husband…” Helen winked. “I haven’t laughed that hard
in years, you’re doing a good job consoling me.”

She leaned forward and started flipping through the
pages, pointing out certain photos.

She flipped one page and let out a little gasp. “I
didn’t know THAT photo was in there…”

It was a photo of Helen in a very tiny bikini. Very
tiny.

“Oh, lordy, I still don’t know what possessed me to
wear that thing!” Helen chuckled.

“Why not? Look at that body! You should have been a
bikini model!”

Helen laughed harder. “I don’t know about that! I did
a lot of crazy things back then but I never dreamed of
becoming a model of anything!”

“You still could be a model, Helen,” I replied.

“Are you kidding?!? That was about forty years ago!”
She said, pointing at the photo.

“So? You are hotter now…”

Helen turned to me. “Really? You think so?”

“Helen, remember that day you came over to workout at
my house?” She nodded. “You do not know how bad I
wanted to tear of the skimpy leotard and tights and…
well, you know…”

You know, it felt good to get that off my chest.

“I had no idea, Jim…” Helen replied.

“Then you didn’t know I had a crush on you as far back
as when I was I teenager. I always thought you were
the hottest lady at church.”

Helen smiled broadly. “You really are good at
consoling me!” She stood up and offered me her hand.
“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You consoled my mind, now I need you to console my
body,” Helen grinned as she led me upstairs.

She closed her bedroom door behind her and slowly
undressed. I began to take off my close, too.

Once she was naked I wasn’t disappointed. And when
Helen saw my hard, visibly throbbing cock, it was
obvious neither was she.

Helen’s huge tits were very firm for her age and her
areolae were massive and oval-shaped, nipples large
and very stiff. Her pussy was obscured by her thick
black bush between her firm thighs.

Helen came over to me and gently held my cock.
Breathily she said “I haven’t had a cock inside me in
YEARS. That day at your house all I could think about
was you fucking my brains out, even if I was married.

There are so many things I have wanted to try that I
never ever had the nerve to ask my husband to do, but
I’m sure a young lover would be open to…”

“I’m open to almost anything…”

Helen smiled. “Not that I mean kinky stuff.

Like stroking your cock right now, I’d never done that
to my husband. Your cock feels good in my hand…

And different positions. My husband only fucked me in
the Missionary Position.”

“What position are you up for trying right now,
Helen?”

“Ummm, I’d love to be on top.”

“Let’s do it,” I said as I led her to the bed.

I laid back and Helen climbed up on the bed and
straddled me. “Mmmm, I’m SO wet!” She giggled softly.

She held my cock again, stroking it a few more times.
Then she lowered her pussy down on it. I felt her
soft, tight flesh wrap around my shaft. Helen was very
wet.

She moaned softly as she began to ride me slowly. Her
eyes closed and she put her hand on my chest and
bounced up and down harder, gasping.

It didn’t take long for Helen to cum. I felt her body
stiffen briefly then spasm strongly. She never
stopped, only increasing her pace and orgasming more
often. Not to mention more loudly, each one louder
than the last.

Helen’s tits bounced around in circles as she fucked
me harder and faster.

Some forty minutes later, I felt it coming. My nuts
tightened up. My cock seemed to swell up. And like a
fire hose at a blaze it began to shoot out my jizz
into Helen, triggering her most intense orgasm as she
screamed in pleasure.

With the last of my jizz having spurt into her, Helen
collapsed atop me, my cock sliding from her pussy
slipperily.

We were covered and sweat and catching our breaths,
not in any rush.

Finally Helen spoke first.

“You did a great job as a consoler,” She smiled, and
then kissed me. “What I need now is a personal trainer
to give me this kind of workout a few days a week…”

“I’d like to apply for that job!” I offered.

“I was hoping you would,” Helen chuckled, leaning down
to kiss me again.

I slid my hands to her full butt and gave her cheeks a
squeeze. I hoped she had in mind the anal workout
also…