It was a sunny Saturday in late September a few months after my introduction to the pleasures of the flesh at the hands of Sue, an older woman (see Its Better Than Football). I was outside lounging in our front garden trying to get the last of the year's sun and was dressed accordingly in just a pair of shorts. I live with my parents and we are lucky to have a corner plot with its resultant larger garden.

I noticed a cyclist on the main street riding towards me. Even from a distance I could tell the rider was female and with each few yards she approached I revised my appraisal of her. This was a favourite game of mine, lying on the grass just watching girls and women approaching, usually on foot. I would try to work out a level of desirability for each, a bit like Dudley Moore in 10. This cyclist started well and improved, as she got closer. My guess at her age had started out quite young but as I saw more of her approaching face it ended at in the mid twenties.

The slender figure that had initially misled me was clad in shorts and low cut top. Her breasts seemed large compared to the rest of her body but not overly so. Her bronzed legs were well shaped perhaps because of the cycling. I was looking forward to when she passed me so I could check out her arse as it powered those tanned long legs. She wore a baseball cap which hid her hair and cast a dark shadow that somewhat hid her face.

As she drew level with me I made no attempt to hide my interest, I was too busy just relishing the sight of her breasts bouncing in rhythm to her pumping legs. I'd just about got a rear view when a car overtook her and turned immediately in front of her to enter into our road. The car took the cyclists space meaning that the woman had nowhere to go and was forced to either collide with the car or fall off her bike. She did the latter hitting the ground hard and rolling a few feet. I jumped up and ran to the fallen cyclist and was relieved when she sat up and screamed 'Bastard!' at the disappearing car driver. Whether he'd every even seen her was doubtful as he carried on as if nothing had happened.

'You're all right then?' I asked holding my hand out.

'Yes I'm fine I think,' she replied as she took my offered hand and used it to held her stand up.

I gave her a long look over, partially to check for any injury, but mainly and selfishly to appreciate her body. She was aware that my gaze lingered longer than was strictly necessary, especially on her firm breasts. 'Honest I'm fine,' she repeated not commenting on my wandering eyes, although thinking about it they weren't wandering far from her ample breasts.

'Your knee is bleeding and your bike is definitely not O.K.' I said, nodding at the broken bike. 'It looks like the car ran over your back wheel.' The bike looked quite an expensive one and I was something of an expert. In England at fifteen-years-old a bicycle was the only alternative transport to Shank's Pony (legs!). I therefore added, 'luckily it looks like it's only the wheel that's damaged.'

As she looked at the mangled wheel she nearly collapsed, probably realising that it could have been her that had been run over rather than her bike. Quickly I grabbed her round the waist to support her. 'Come on. I think you need to sit down for a bit.' She let me lead her to my house where I sat her down at the kitchen table. Being English I immediately put the kettle on to make that "cure all" a cup of tea. The woman was still quiet but her colour was slowly returning so I told her I was going to leave her for a few moments whilst I went to retrieve her bike from the roadside. I quickly carried the damaged bike into my yard and left it by the back door. The kettle was just boiling so I made her a cup of strong, sweet tea. She gave me a weak smile as I gave her the cuppa and I sat down next to her, uttering the usual mundane platitudes. As she drank her tea the shock wore off being gradually replaced by anger. She began to swear at the unknown driver, casting strong dispersions on his parentage. Seeing that she now appeared O.K. I went and fetched some antiseptic cream from the bathroom.

When I returned I knelt down in front of her and started cleaning her injured knee. The wound looked bad especially with bits of gravel from the roadside sticking to it but I knew that it was a very minor injury. With football and our biking my friends and me had performed this operation on each other countless times in the past and I thought nothing of it. At this point all thoughts of a sexual nature were, for me, surprisingly absent.

The woman broke off the profanities, as she said to me, 'you don't need to do that you know? It's only a small graze as much as it stings.' For the first time since the accident she looked at me, 'I'm sorry. You've been my "Good Samaritan" and all I've done is swear at you. Look! I can do that myself. I really am capable of looking after myself.' A small pause was followed by, 'well I am now anyway.' She then realised that she still had some tea left in her cup and put it to her mouth to finish it.

'Ugh! Sugar. I hate sugar in tea,' she grimaced.

I'd seen her drink most of it without comment or a hint of distaste and she too quickly realised it when she continued with a smile, 'it seems that I've drunk most of it anyway. So thanks! I must have needed it. Oh I'm Kate by the way.'

'David,' I said returning the smile; already learning that every woman looks a thousand times better with a genuine smile on her face.

'I think the knee has enough cream on it by now don't you?' she then asked.

Aware that I was still rubbing around her knee I abruptly pulled my hand away, 'I'm sorry,' I said before adding a little sheepishly, 'I wasn't really aware what I was doing.'

She laughed for the first time since we'd met and said, 'You mean you were enjoying it too much?'

Blushing I acceded, 'There is that too. I'm really sorry I wasn't trying to take advantage or anything.'

Again the laugh came. 'I know you weren't. Anyway it's me that should be apologising. You've been great, a real young gentleman and all I've done is give you stick.' She leaned down and said in a whisper, 'to be really honest, I liked it too. It was nice and relaxing. Still I'd better be going instead of taking up all of your time.'

I put my hand on the stretch of bare skin below her shorts just above the injured knee. 'No don't go,' I said far too quickly, 'I've nothing special to do,' before adding with very little belief, 'and you may still be in shock.'

'Do you really think so?' Kate asked, although we both knew that she was no longer in danger of shock. Briefly she stood up and I could see that although not actually in shock the incident had certainly shook her. Still not trusting herself to walk too far she sat back down. 'If you're sure I'm not in the way.'

'I don't mind. Honestly. In fact it's nice to have someone to talk to with mum and dad away for the weekend.'

Kate had not moved my hand nor commented on where it was, so I took it as a positive sign and began to gently massage her thigh keeping well below the level of her shorts. My cock also decided to wake up and started to grow in my shorts. She asked my about myself, my parents and where they had gone. As I answered I continued the gentle caressing of her leg and was quite excited when after about five minutes she partially parted her lovely suntanned legs. I loved the natural smoothness of her skin (I was not yet aware of shaving, waxing and other feminine ways). I leaned against the inside of one leg and looked at her crotch. Her shorts fitted too loosely to allow me to discern the beauty I knew lay below, but the knowledge I'd recently gained of what was tantalisingly close was enough to make me hard. My hand continued to stroke her leg but now on the inside of her thigh and reaching right up so my fingertips made contact with the hem of her shorts. Sometime around then the conversation, already superfluous, ceased altogether as we both concentrated on my wandering fingers. I let them wander just inside the right leg of her shorts; Feeling no resistance I let my fingertips attempt to search out her sex. Her thighs were very firm and sitting as she was they took up all the room at the top of those shorts. This meant that my fingers were not able to reach their goal. As if having a mind of their own they retreated back to her exposed thigh before advancing again, this time, outside the shorts. Soon I felt my fingers touch the softness of her pussy through the coarse material.

Remembering what Sue had taught me I pressed, squeezed and teased her pussy through her shorts. I could feel the dampness my fingers were causing and could hear the telltale change in her breathing. I whispered that Kate should stand up, which she did, whilst willingly helping my hands undo her shorts and smiling down at me as my fingers gripped shorts and panties together before slowly lowering them both to the floor. Whilst she was still standing I admired only the second naked pussy I'd seen. Kate was slimmer than Sue but with larger, firmer thighs. She had the same taut stomach and I noticed that her tan was continuous; no bikini line on her. Her pussy hair was a little darker than the light brown of her head and formed a thick triangular bush. I sat her on the edge of her chair spreading her legs wide. Her hairy bush limited my view of her pussy. Swiftly I slid my legs under the chair positioning my hungry mouth just in front of her swollen lips.