And that heady realisation is making me purr with delight; a young boy admiring the long shapely legs of this older woman. I must give him a sexy show, one that he will remember. I can just make him out in the dark hallway as he peers through my partly open door. I am going to take my time and enjoy it and pretend that I don't know he's there. After all, it's not every day that a sexy old girl like me has an appreciative audience. Strangely, I feel empowered, as I stretch out my legs in turn and smooth down the nylon stockings.
Yes, even at 47, my legs are excellent and have always been my best feature. I used to be a showgirl when I was in my twenties and still like to dress up in my old costumes occasionally. And, if my 18 year old godson, Paul, wants to admire these legs of mine, he's very welcome to.
Goodness knows I've been flashing them at him often enough during the few days that he's come to stay with us. I always wear the most expensive and seductive of lingerie and I'm sure he has caught more than a glimpse or two of my various lace or satin panties as I sit opposite him in the lounge.
I know I'm making progress, because, he left the T. I know he was trying to peek up my skirt and what a good sign that was. Last year, he wasn't interested in such things, but, I can see that a year has made a difference. Maybe this year he has developed a dirty mind. I certainly hope so. Oh yes, he's still looking at my leg show and I know that I have his full attention.
I sigh with undiluted pleasure because I cannot begin to tell you how much that pleases me. I vow to smother him with love and kisses and to grant him many naughty privileges when I finally seduce him. As it is, I can take as long as I want with my stocking show because my husband is watching television in the lounge downstairs and won't disturb us.
He rarely strays from his favourite seat and is certainly not bothered about sex these days, not with me anyway. Which is why I am so frustrated, I suppose, locked away in our remote seaside cottage for weeks on end. But, the fires of lust still burn deep within my soul. And I mean to do something about it very soon.
I stand up and clip my suspenders into place making sure his view of me is unimpaired. Stockings, suspenders and black lace panties on a blonde lady like me, never fail to arouse a hot blooded young male and I feel sexy and confident as, slowly and seductively, I light his fire.
If I play my cards right I'll have him in my bed before the week is out. The next day I'm up early after a restless night. Bob, my husband has developed a cold and has been snoring during the night. It's the perfect excuse for me to move into the spare bedroom right next to Paul's.
Bob won't think twice about it, as I often do that these days. Also, this morning, I have made up my mind to shave all the hair from my pussy, just like those young sluts in the girly magazines. I have been thinking about it all night. Maybe, I'll just leave a "landing strip" as some of them seem to do. And the mere thought of his fingers feeling me down there is making me quiver already. As it is, my heart is thumping madly like a young girl as I carefully use the safety razor Now I do my long tanned legs, so that they are smooth as silk once more.
After an hour of titivating myself, I am ready to emerge. One more check in the mirror and I am very pleased as I view my naked frame. People say I look 10 years younger than my real age. Well, today, I would have to agree with them. After breakfast, I sit opposite Paul and manage to arrange my skirt so that he starts looking at my legs again. Poor boy, am I tormenting him too much?
I can see his eyes drawn there time after time to enjoy the sight of stocking tops and bare thigh. Occasionally, I carelessly cross my legs, knowing that he will probably get a generous glimpse of my white panties.
Then, to spoil it all, my dolt of a husband suggests he takes Paul fishing and off they go for the day. I am a bit miffed, but, I still make them a packed lunch and see them off with a smile. It's so annoying, but, I make the best of it and decide to go through my wardrobe and plan what I am going to be wearing the rest of the week. I can't wait much longer.
He's going home on Saturday. When they return, I have dinner all prepared and I am wearing my blue figure hugging dress. It's the one which shows a daring amount of my ample cleavage and I suppress a smile of satisfaction as Paul gawps at me with wide eyed wonder.
Now he knows I have a decent bust to go with my other womanly curves. I am thinking that he would like to hold and caress my breasts and play with my nipples. I smile warmly in his direction, giving him a silent message I can see his eyes drawn there even though he's supposedly watching football on the television. He keeps looking across like he can't help himself.
I like this game we are playing, it's much better than the one on the screen. Of course my husband is completely oblivious to my antics; he is glued to the match with his mouth open.
He's a bit of a lost cause really, apart from his disgusting interest in young schoolgirls who he spies on during netball practice at the local school. He thinks I don't know, but I do. Eventually, we all go to bed and during the night I make several visits to the bathroom wearing nothing but my high heeled sandals and a sexy little see through nightie.
But, disappointingly, there is no sign of Paul who must be a sound sleeper. I had hoped to bump into him in the darkness, but, it didn't happen. I leave my door slightly ajar for him in the hope that he will venture into my room, but, I think the boy is too shy and well mannered to make such a move.
So, I guess I'll just have to make all the running and put temptation in his way. As it is I feel all hot and bothered, so, I slip out of my nightie and lie naked on the top of the covers with my long legs spread apart. One hand slips down to my sex and I start to finger my sex while the other hand rubs over my hardened nipples.
I am thinking of Paul and imagining his young fingers exploring me just like this. Paul", I moan, I want you so much Come and take what is yours. Hours later I fall asleep, desperate and unsatisfied. I cannot go on like this. I am so frustrated. I have Paul to myself the next morning as Bob takes the car to town for its annual service.
As he usually waits for it to be done, it will be later this afternoon before he returns. Thankfully, he hasn't suggested taking Paul with him. That means he will also grab the chance to watch the young girls in their gym slips before coming home.
In the meantime, I suggest a walk on the beach to Paul and he readily agrees. I'm thinking we can find a nice quiet spot in the sand dunes where we can snuggle up close and really get acquainted, but, just as we are into our walk, it starts to rain and the plan gets abandoned. Instead, we call into a cafe on the way back for coffee and doughnuts. Then later, we run back the short distance to the cottage as storm clouds open.
That's when my conniving mind comes up with an idea. When we get back, I whip off my slightly wet denim skirt and get out the ironing board.
I am standing there in the kitchen in just a blouse and pantyhose as I iron my clothes. Paul comes back downstairs after a quick change and is towel-drying his hair. When he sees me in nothing much below the waist other than nylons and high heels, his jaw drops open.
Of course I have my panties on underneath, I'm not a total slut, in spite of what you think. My hopes leap as I see a little tell tale bulge develop in his trousers. The poor boy is fascinated and can hardly put a sentence together. Later, as it gets to evening, I look at my watch and sigh with frustration as the time drags by.
I want to take all my clothes off and go to bed, preferably with Paul. Surely, tonight, there will be some action and we can consummate the growing sexual attraction between us. The thrill of showing my legs and panties to him is wearing off.
I need physical contact now and plenty of it. I know that once he touches me in that way he will be like a damn bursting with his lust.
This afternoon, I asked him to help me put some curtains back up. This entailed him doing not much more than standing at the bottom of some steps and looking up my dress. It was an exercise he carried out with great enthusiasm.