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At thirty five, she is 17 years my senior; she is also my best friend's mother. Her name is Rachel; she has stunning looks and a figure that makes women in their twenties jealous. My story begins just after Alan, my best friend left to work abroad for a year; His father had died five years earlier of cancer, leaving Rachel to bring up Alan alone; I was still living with my parents at this time.

It was a summer Saturday morning and I was walking round our local supermarket buying some beer when I spotted Rachel pushing her trolley. Ever since puberty I have had dreams of fucking her; whenever I see her, my bollocks tighten and today was no exception. She was in front of me, dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater; the sweater was tight fitting and the jeans clung like a second skin, showing off her still firm backside to perfection; I followed her, my gaze never leaving her backside, watching as it swaying slightly as she walked. Finally I caught up with her and said hello. She said hello back and asked what a single young man was doing in a supermarket. I wanted to tell her I was lusting after her, but resisted and told her I was buying some beer. We carried on walking round and talking and I asked how she was getting home, knowing she didn't drive. She told me she was going to phone for a taxi but I told her she had no need as I would be more than happy to give her a lift home. She agreed, as I guessed she would. We paid for our shopping and being the gentleman, I said she should go first; it also gave me the opportunity to visually check her over. By the time she'd paid for her shopping I was getting a hard on in my trousers and ...

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