Author; Storyace, [Aceinthe_hole]
Title; Strict landlady
Summary; a is surprised to find an woman
attractive; even more surprised to enjoy being [lightly]
dominated.
Keywords; M/F [older oriental woman] interrac Fdom
I got my first apartment when I was 19. I developed a strange
relationship with my landlady, to put it mildly.
I couldn't really afford my own place, and things were bit tough.
There was a knock on my door; it was her, Mrs. Lim.
"You're late with your rent." She said, sternly. She was like
that; very direct.
"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Lim." I told her honestly, "I just got a
new job, and I won't get my first paycheck for two weeks."
"You're two months behind." She told me. "When are you going to
pay?"
"As soon as I get my first paycheck, I promise."
"You can pay three months rent on one paycheck?" She asked,
peering at me over her little round glasses.
"I could pay one and a half." I said.
"You promised rent on the first of every month." She said,
clearly annoyed with me.
"I'll catch up as soon as I can." I pleaded.
She stood and stared at me for several very uncomfortable
seconds; then she squinted slightly, and said; "Okay. You wash
my dishes. Every day. Until rent is all paid."
"Your dishes?" I said, a bit confused.
"Yes. You come and wash my dishes. Interest."
"Well; all right." I agreed.
"Six o'clock tonight." She told me, still squinting at me over
her glasses.
"Okay." I agreed again.
She turned and walked back towards her own apartment.
I suddenly realized that six o'clock every night was going to
kill my social life. Maybe I could arrange to do it earlier or
later, I thought. It was all very strange.
I knocked on my landlady's door at 6 PM. She opened it and
looked up at me. She seemed different somehow.
As I followed her to the kitchen, I realized what it was; she was
wearing a dress. Mrs. Lim invariably dressed in faded blue jeans
and an sweatshirt. It wasn't an amazing dress; but it was a
different image of her. She looked actually feminine.
Mrs. Lim was at least 50 years old. Her hair was mostly black,
but had streaks of gray, and was cut off at her shoulders. I was
surprised to notice how slender she was.
She waved me to the sink without saying a word. It was piled
high.
Well, I owed her quite a bit. It would only take 15 to 20
minutes, really.
As I worked, I felt quite self-conscious. In a strange woman's
kitchen, washing her dishes. Smelling her food. I looked over
my shoulder; Mrs. Lim sat at the kitchen table, smoking a
cigarette as she watched me silently.
I dried with a dish-towel, and then started to look in the
cupboards to figure out where to put what.
"Okay, you go home." My landlady said, standing up. "I put it
away. Tomorrow, same time."
She bustled me out the door quickly.
The second and third days were pretty much the same; there was a
strange tension in the kitchen as I did my chore. She always
watched me silently and smoked cigarettes. But on the fourth
day, I turned around at some point, and I saw that she had one
hand clamped between her legs; the movement of her wrist was
unmistakable. As she noticed me looking at her, I quickly turned
back to my job.
She didn't say anything about it; neither did I. I went home,
trying to figure out how I felt about what I'd seen.
She was a strange bird, my landlady. I really didn't know
anything about her, except she was Chinese, and a widow. How
strange to be a sex object; I thought of how my friends and I
used to talk about women, and it seemed pretty amusing the way
the shoe was now on the other foot.
I wore a tight T-shirt the next day, and a pair of jeans that
left nothing to the imagination. What the hell; why shouldn't
the lady enjoy herself? There was something fun about it.
The running water made too much noise, but while I was drying up,
I flexed my shoulders a bit extra. I listened; I could hear her
breathing. I looked at her in the reflection of a stainless
steel serving pan. She was masturbating. Sitting there openly
masturbating as I washed her dishes.
I turned around and looked at her openly.
She stared at me through her glasses, as her finger kept up its
drumming on her open clit. I leaned back against the kitchen
counter and looked back at her.
It was really quite obscene; her skirt was hitched up, and she
was wearing no underwear. Her legs were splayed apart, her mouth
hung open as she stared at me and came.
She didn't say a word; she looked suddenly self conscious, and
went quickly into another room, closing the door behind her. I
went home.
I was seeing a at the time, and didn't have much desire to
screw my landlady. But there was something flattering about
it all; to think that she was getting sexual satisfaction just
watching me. It was disturbing, but exciting.
The following day, she wasn't in the kitchen as I did her dishes;
she was fighting against her urges. That didn't last long.
Because the day after that, she was sitting in her chair again.
Not only that, but she had put on some makeup, painted her nails,
and had a faint scent of perfume around her.
I pretended to ignore her, but I flexed my muscles a bit,
stretching my shoulders and back every now and then as I worked.
Before I was through, I turned to face her.
Silently, we regarded each other. She fingered herself openly,
her face almost expressionless.
I didn't really think about it; it just seemed like a fun thing
to do. Very very slowly, I unbuckled my belt. In slow motion,
one link at a time, I unzipped the fly of my jeans.
I stared into her eyes as she fingered herself through an orgasm;
frantically fingering herself. I smiled at her in silent
acknowledgment before closing my trousers again.
I realized as I returned home, that we hadn't actually said a
word throughout the entire evening.
The next day, I exposed myself to her.
I had a hard on, too.
I leaned against the counter, and played with it as she stared,
her eyes traveling from my dick to my face and back again as she
writhed in her chair.
I almost approached her; I wanted her to touch me. But instead,
I went home.
I masturbated in my shower, thinking not of my pretty girlfriend, but of my goggle eyed landlady.
I stood at the sink, washing dishes. It was strange how many of
them there were; she lived alone. Of course, she was making
extra, intentionally.
She was behind me. I could feel her breath against my neck. Her
hands touched my hips. I ignored her.
Her hands went into my shirt, they traced lightly across my
belly. It was nice. I kept washing.
She unbuckled my belt.
She unbuttoned my jeans.
She unzipped them.
She reached in to my underwear.
I kept washing up.
The hand on my penis felt fine; I shuddered with the
pleasure of her touch. Her hand reached out, into the hot soapy
water. It went back to my cock.
Instead of masturbating herself, she masturbated me. I kept
washing up as her hot little hands played with me. She held my
balls and jerked me off into the sink.
I turned to look at her; but she had left me alone in the
kitchen, closing the door on her privacy again.
And still, we had not said a word to each other. As if speaking
would somehow break the weird spell.
I knocked on the door; she opened it, peering up at me.
I smiled at her; she was standing very close. She looked good.
I didn't tell her with words, but I let my gaze travel down her
body and back again. I looked into her eyes and smiled.
Hesitantly, she smiled back.
She had small breasts, slim hips, and a tight ass. She was
fairly short, only coming up to my nose. She had very high
cheekbones, and her skin wasn't perfect. She was a strange
enigma of a woman, silently exerting her will; or at least trying
to.
She followed me to the kitchen. I turned to face her, and then I
started to undress.
Her eyes never wavered from me as she pulled out a chair and sat
down. Shoes, shirt, trousers, underwear. I stood before her
stark naked, a 19 year male, tall and fit, my stiff cock
standing proudly before me.
"Do it." She said. The first words she'd spoken to me in a
week. "Wash. wash the dishes."
I almost cracked up laughing; there was something wonderful in
her simple fetish. I turned to the sink and began.
She stroked my ass cheeks, my balls and my cock. I washed.
She nibbled at my neck, I felt her pressing against my
back through her clothes. She stroked my stomach and pinched my
nipples.
I twisted around to face her; she stared at me wide-eyed as I
impetuously put my arms around her, and hugged her tightly. Her
mouth hung open in uncertainty and surprise; I kissed her.
Her body was small and strong; she was fine boned, but had worked
hard during her five decades of life.
I could taste her dinner in her mouth, the difference in our ages
somehow made it more exciting instead of less. I ground my hard
on against her stomach, grabbing her small ass and pulling her
against me.
She became mysteriously demur and hesitant on the surface, but
there was clearly a volcano just below. I took her dress from
her small body; she wore no panties, as usual, but I removed her
bra. She had fine breasts; magnificent for a woman of her age.
There was small, yet still shapely. I lifted her as I kissed her
nipples, her legs wrapped around my torso. I carried her to her
bedroom.
As usual, neither of us spoke. We both knew what we wanted. Her
breathing was short and deep as she stared up at me expectantly.
I climbed on top of her, her legs wrapped around me and I kissed
her deeply as her hands held my penis against her hot wet
opening.
I didn't find out until later that she'd had three children.
Despite that, her vaginal muscles gripped me tightly as I finally
had real sex with her.
Her four limbs gripped my body, and she stared at me through her
glasses as she had one orgasm after another.
I'd never been with a woman who responded to me like that. My
50-year-old landlady was more sensual then any teenage female,
any female of any age, I've ever known. She was wonderful, and I
held her tightly and into her until I was spent.
We lay silently afterwards, as she smoked a cigarette, her
expression impossible for me to read.
Did she feel guilty? Did she feel regret? I couldn't tell.
She'd been living in my country for many years, since before I
was born, but her culture was not mine.
She looked at me blankly as I dressed. I smiled at her, and
kissed her on the lips gently before going home.
My girlfriend, Barbara, was 18. She had short auburn hair, and a
pretty face. I watched her as she my cock.
I liked her, we seemed to have a lot in common. We enjoyed each
other's company; I'd even been to meet her parents.
But as she my cock and stroked my balls, I found myself
imagining a 50-year-old face, slanted dark eyes staring
at me through her glasses.
Barbara was a nice girl, but she seemed kind of half-baked. Not
quite done yet; a girl, not a woman.
My heart beat increased as I knocked on my landlady's door at 6
PM sharp. I could feel my cock pulsing lightly.
She was wearing an elegant black sleeveless dress. She had
replaced her glasses with eyeliner, and had applied some color to
her lips. She was taller; she was wearing heels.
She waved me inside, characteristically silent.
There was some music playing softly, and I danced for her a
little bit as I undressed.
She stood silently watching me, her arms crossed under her
breasts, looking just faintly amused.
"No dishes today." She told me; "Vacuum."
Vacuuming seemed to me to be about the unsexiest activity
imaginable; but I went to it, moving her furniture and cleaning
her floor and carpets.
She lit a cigarette, and followed me closely.
She'd done her hair, I realized. There were no flyaway strands
anymore; it was a smooth helmet of black and gray around
her face.
She grabbed my naked ass every now and then, her fingers digging
into my flesh. I kept cleaning.
Finally, I switched off the machine and turned to face her, my
hard on standing stiff before me. She stared back at me, her
face impossible to read, but her nipples visibly protruding
through her dress.
I grabbed the small woman in my arms, and our lips went wild with
each other.
Once more, I took her to her bed; her skinny body bucked and
heaved as I pounded her with my eager cock, her fingers dug
into my shoulders and her eyes bored into my face as orgasm after
orgasm passed through her, until I started to worry whether she
was healthy enough for such exertion.
"My God, Jerry; are you ever going to stop?" Barbara asked me.
"Oh God."
She had another orgasm, and still I couldn't come. It wasn't
that she didn't turn me on; I was just a bit depleted. It was
11:00, and I'd left Mrs. Lim at eight.
Or was it that Barbara just didn't quite do it for me anymore?
Did I prefer a 50-year-old woman to an 18-year-old? Did I prefer
my landlady's liver spots to Barbara's perfect complexion? Mrs.
Lim's small well-preserved to Barbara's big melons?
Impossible.
Barbara was and tight, smooth and uncomplicated. I fucked
her frantically, anxious to prove myself right. I made her come
again, and then I squirted her with my own feeble excretions.
On my hands and knees, I scrubbed the floor.
"Harder." She said to me, "Get in the corners."
Her little foot, in an open high-heeled shoe, was next to my
face. What a cute little foot, I thought; so well-kept, the
nails filed and painted. I scrubbed against the skirting board,
and admired it.
I reached out, and stroked her ankle with my fingertip. I
crawled over and kissed the foot.
I didn't look up at her, so I couldn't see how she was reacting.
But she sure didn't move away; I licked between the toes, kissing
up to the ankle and back again. The foot moved away, and the
other foot was placed before my face. I repeated the performance
before looking up.
My lover stared down at me with that blank expression that
let me know it was time.
I was thinking I shouldn't be doing this, it wasn't right. But
when my dick slid into her wet dark tunnel, when her legs wrapped
around mine and her hands gripped my forearms, it felt so very
right.
When I made the woman come, I felt that it was somehow more
important, more special. Barbara was just a silly, naive child.
Sure, she had a killer body; but she had so much to learn.
"You never told me your first name." I said afterwards, as my
elder lover lit her habitual cigarette.
"No." She answered, exhaling luxuriously.
"Well, what is it?" I asked.
"You can call me Mrs. Lim." She answered with a sly smile.
I was getting worn out; Mrs. Lim wanted it every single day, and
I couldn't stop myself from submitting to her whims.
And then I would go out with Barbara later, and of course she
expected loving as well. The damn thing was, even while I was
getting stressed out about it, Barbara thought I'd improved a lot
as a lover, since it took me so long to come.
I started to get more and more irritated with her; crying and
flopping around like a beached whale, enjoying her orgasms while
I tried to imagine something that would bring on my ejaculation.
The stupid was getting more and more infatuated with me,
completely oblivious to the reality that I'd lost interest in
her.
While I was on my hands and knees cleaning out Mrs. Lim's toilet,
she stood behind me, watching and smoking. She stepped closer;
her heels clicked on the floor tiles. I didn't look up, but her
shoes and the hem of her dress entered my range of vision.
I scrubbed under the rim of the bowl, strangely excited, the
smell of the cleaning fluid strong in my nostrils.
Her hand caressed my naked ass briefly. Then pulled away, and
struck the same point. Then again, harder. And harder.
My cock stiffened as she spanked me, the stinging pain so
incredibly delicious.
After a while the spanking slowed, and stopped. I looked up at
her.
She was out of breath, and wore the strange poker faced
expression that I'd come to know so well. The expression she used
to cover her excitement, but that now only revealed it, to me at
least.
My ass was burning from her assault; yet I wanted her.
I stood up, threw off my rubber gloves, and grabbed her around
her slim waist, hauling her against myself. Our tongues met in a
frantic display of mutual need; her body was so warm against me,
her skin so soft and smooth, her smell so alluring.
In bed, I'm always dominant; her little legs will spread, and
I'll dive in, usually licking her for a bit before doing it to her
hard and straight in a missionary position. Her eyes are big,
clear, and dark. Her mouth so small and kissable, so completely
mine. Her orgasms flow like water, strong and steady, powerful
yet pliable.
She stares up at me, helpless now, as my fluids pump deep into
her body; she's so small and vulnerable when she receives my
flood.
Why, I wonder; why did it feel so good with her? Why was it so
perfect when I'm in her, why does it seem better than with the
few other women I've had?
As usual, she lit a cigarette as soon as I rolled off of her. The
acrid smell irritated me, but it was important to her.
"Chi." She said.
"What?"
"My name. It's Chi." She said.
Slowly, we opened ourselves to each other; it was so weird and
backwards, like the rest of our relationship. We had been having
sex, wild sex, every day for three weeks before she even told me
her first name.
She told me of her children; a son and two daughters. One
grandson. Her husband had died 20 years earlier. She had worked
hard, economizing as only an woman could, until at last the
building was paid for. She could now relax, things were ok for
her. There were 5 rental apartments.
Boyfriends; yes, one. Ten years earlier. A Hong Kong man.
Me? Left home a year ago. Working to get by, dating was a pain.
Girls were nice, but now I realized that there had been something
missing.
For the first time, she went down on me.
It wasn't that she knew something that my other lovers hadn't;
but it was the most magnificent of my short life.
She was so alien, so different, yet so familiar. So distant yet
so intimate. I had served her; been her sex toy, but now she
sucked my cock. Her big eyes said more than any other woman ever
had verbally, even though I was too stupid to understand yet. Why
did I find her so irresistible?
Chi is a swallower; why does that make a difference?
She thinks I'm the reincarnation of her husband. I don't believe
in that, and yet I feel an inexplicable urge to be in her
company, and to serve her.
Once we started to talk, we suddenly couldn't stop; we just have
so much to tell each other.
Her children were upset when I moved in with her; they're all
older than I am. Anyway, if they love their mother, they should
by glad she's happy.
I quit my job. Now I do the administration, the maintenance on
the building, and serve Chi.
There is only one crack in my happiness; the future terrifies me.
But for now, I bring her coffee in the morning, then give her
some massage. We still do it every day. I'm just amazed at Chi's
sex drive; she says she's amazed herself.
Sometimes, I crawl around naked with a collar on; or I stand
in front of her and just masturbate, while she sits, fully
dressed, smoking a cigarette and watching. when I'm ready to
come, her composure usually breaks, and she leans forward;
knowing what she wants, I step up to her and put my quivering
cock in her mouth. Her alien eyes watch me intently as I come,
while her fingernails scratch lightly across my balls.
I manicure and pedicure her, soap her when she showers, brush her
hair for her, and serve her food [although Chi does the cooking].
I shave her crotch and her underarms every day, since I love to
lick those places when they're smooth like that; it makes her
shiver and moan, and she always wants more.
She loves to sing to me softly as she rocks me gently in her
arms; then I'm her baby, and I suck her breasts.
She likes to sit on the sofa while I sit on the floor [naked, of
course] while I kiss and rub her feet; she usually wears a short
kimono that doesn't quite give me a view of her waiting flower.
But after a while, her thighs spread slightly; she makes no other
sign, just watches me silently as I begin kissing my way up her
smooth leg.
When I lick her, she can't sit quite still any more; she grips
my head and bucks her hips involuntarily as I assault her moist
slot with my tongue. Her breath gets shorter, and her approaching
orgasm thrills me. Sometimes she'll come like that, sometimes
not; either way, we soon run for the bed; then I'm on her, her
hands grab my dick and hold it against her while I push it
in.
Then her veneer is stripped off; when we're coupled, Chi reverts
to a primal state. She grunts and clutches me, and she squeezes
me with all her strength as she comes.
Then I screw her; you bet, I screw my lady until she begs
for mercy, until she can't take it anymore. And I love every
moment we're together, every glance from her alien eyes, every
touch of her, every whiff of her scent, every order from her
lips.
Ace 2002
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