My First Landlady

This is my first story on here, it’s probably a bit of a slow build up for some but… It’s been about 14 years since I wrote my last story, which used to appear regularly on Adrianna’s list.
It’s almost all true, there are just a few changes to protect the guilty 😉
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My First Landlady

I’m celebrating my 54th birthday next week; is it an achievement? Does it really matter? Well no on both counts, but for those capable of basic mathematics it means I was born in 1955 and the world was a very different place. Nice girls didn’t do anything and even the bad girls didn’t do much, so whereas now we’re led to believe that every girl over 14 is at it 24/7 back then they just weren’t.

Sadly I was a bit young for the “Summer of Love” and even the sexual liberation “the pill” brought to women didn’t mean sex became readily available, contraception was something married women used, not the stunner in Woolworths. Although I never understood it at 6’1” I was quite tall, I was lean and had developed the same muscled frame my Dad gained from 25 years of physically demanding work, I had what is described as rugged good looks and I was well equipped sporting nearly 9 inches of thick uncircumcised cock, all of which unbeknown to me got quite a few glances from girls.

When I turned 21 I didn’t really know anything about sex and yes, I was still a virgin. Sex was never discussed, pregnancy was very much a thing discussed by women, and the closest I got to the facts of life was my Mum telling me to stay away a girl who was “not nice” and who would get into trouble someday. I already knew her having received a wank from her at the cinema but she said I was a freak and far too big for any girl, so with my all but non existent sexual confidence shattered I opted for work over women, a decision which my boss told me was a very good idea.

I only got to learn about life because my employer wanted me to travel about the country installing new electronic exchanges, Hotels were only for rich people and I usually stayed for 2-3 months in lodgings, a home from home if you like, well almost, except that the landladies were not my Mum. They cooked, did my washing and ironing and generally provided most of my needs, it wasn’t until I stayed at the B&B of a 34 year widow that I found one who provided all my needs.

It was in a town about 50 miles west of London called Swindon, she was a quiet women whose older husband had died when she was just 28, leaving her a big house, no income and 2 children to raise, so she took in paying guests. Mostly lorry drivers staying for 1 night so having me there for 3 months was unusual and meant she didn’t need any other guests. I got on well with her and her kids partly because I never really caused her a great deal of trouble: breakfast, a packed lunch and an evening meal, a bath every night and clean sheets once a week, simple.

However spending every evening with her meant I got to know her quite well, even the dopey 23 year old I was could tell she was lonely and the things she said about her deceased husband made me feel she was better off without him. She was average height, thin build, had shoulder length brown hair, wasn’t what I’d call pretty but not ugly either, but from what I’d noticed had curves. I was somewhat intimidated by her for no other reason than my lack of knowledge of women, she discussed things with me I never heard my parents talk about, and I learned that she didn’t really like the drivers who all thought she was part and parcel of the overnight stay.