Date: 1 Mar 2001 16:44:13 -0800
From: Jan <janmay699@icqmail.com>
Subject: Widows Walk ( Adult Youth g/F)

WARNING:  This story is a work of fiction that contains
descriptions of explicit sexual acts between a woman and a girl.
If this type of content offends you, or you are under the age of
18, do not read it.

Author's Note:

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for
personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to
repost them at your own site, please contact the author for permission.

Copyright 2001 Jan.  All Rights Reserved.

Please e-mail me at janmay699@icqmail.com if you have suggestions for
future chapters.

                         THE WIDOWS WALK

	I grew up in southern California on a red clay bluff facing
the Pacific Ocean.  Most of the homes in the neighborhood were
made to look like Spanish stucco with red-tile roofs.  But the
house at the end of the block just before you went down the wash
to the beach was different.

	This house was made of wood.  It was made like a New England
home of a Sea Captain.  It was slate gray with windows trimmed
in white.  All the railings were turned on lathes so the varied in
diameter and were white.  The roof had a round turret at the north
end of the house that opened onto a flat roof with a bout a 10-
foot by 20-foot patio like wood floor with the same white
railings.  On top of the turret was weather vain in the shape of a
Sperm whale.  The grounds were thick with plants of all kinds and
a fishpond with a waterfall in the front yard.

	I loved to stop on my way home to look at the yard and
fishpond.  I was the kind of kid that carried a manila sketchpad
with me all the time.  When other kids were playing at recess I
would be under a tree drawing the birds or a stray dog that was
looking for food.  When we were suppose to be reading Tale of Two
Cities I would be drawing thumbnail sketches of the teacher or my
classmates.  This sat me aside from most of them.  I would be the
one painting backdrop for plays, never in them.  So I tended to be
a loaner.


	So one day I stopped at the gray house and entered the yard to
check out the fishpond.  It was full of Japanese Koi fish.  I was
sitting cross-legged drawing a calico fish on my sketchpad when a
cool shadow was cast over my shoulder.  I looked up with a start,
to see a woman silhouetted behind me.

	This woman was about 5-feet 4-inches with long blonde hair
down her back and a straw hat covering her head.  She was in long
sleeved shirt and cotton gloves that were soiled and a clay pot in
her hand with a freshly potted flower in it.  She had on baggie
bib-overalls and work shoes.  She was a little plump around her
waist.  She was looking at my drawing with a warm smile on her
face.

	I liked her the moment I saw her.  She asked if she could
see the rest of my sketches.  I was about to hand her my drawing-
pad, when she lifted the pot in her hand.

	She turned to walk up to the porch that ringed the house.  I
followed her up the porch and around the house to the back of the
house.  She sat the pot on a shelf on the porch.  She kicked off
her shoes with her toes as she pulled off her gloves and laid them
on the shelf.  She unbuckled the straps of the overalls and they
fell to the porch.  She unbuttoned the lose shirt and dropped it
on top of the clothes.  She took het hat and sat it on top of the
clothes.  She was standing there in bra and panties.

	She simply opened the back door and opened it for me to
enter.  I entered a cool mudroom next to a kitchen overlooking a
view of the ocean.  She led me to a round breakfast table in that
round turret it had a view of the ocean and shaded from the sun on
the north side of the house.  The woman said her name was Ruth,
Ruth Barns that is.  She took my sketchpad and lay it on the table
as we sat in the round backed chairs.  She was flipping through my
sketches of teachers, classmates, birds, dogs and cats.

	She asked me what my name was.  I told her my name was
Jeannette Harris.  She wanted to know all about me.  I was telling
her that I was 13-years old and lived a couple of blocks north of
her in one of those Spanish stucco things with rounded windows and
doors.  I was the oldest of three kids.  My parents both worked so
I was by my self for three or more hours after school.  So I was
in no rush to get home to do homework.

	Ruth gave me a warm smile and asked if I would like a glass
of iced tea.  She was up without my reply and was pouring two tall
glasses of tea from a pitcher she pulled from her fridge.  She was
so natural moving around her kitchen in bare feet, bra and
panties.  Her blonde hair flowing around as she walked.  She
brought the glasses to the table and was back in the kitchen to
bring a plate of cookies.

	She sat next to me and told me that she was a widow.  Her
husband was from an East Coast sailing family and he had moved
west to sail out of Long Beach Harbor.  He had been killed
inspecting a troublesome boiler when it exploded in his face.  Now
she was all-alone, her only daughter was away at college back east
near the family home.  She just worked in her garden and went
shopping when the mode struck her.

	She asked if I would like to see the house.  I was thrilled
to see what it was like.  It was so different from all the other
houses in the area.  The tour went from the breakfast area to a
formal dinning-room that could seat 12 people.  Next a family room
that was filled with dark wooded furniture and heavy drapes on the
south facing walls.  A massive guest bathroom for guest was
between the rooms.  The living room was large in the front of the
house.  It was light and airy, the furniture was what I would call
French in stile with fabrics embroidered with floral patterns. The
room was filled with china all over the place on display.  Jars
from China and dishes from Japan.

	The second floor had three bedrooms.  A bathroom was
between the daughter's room and a spare room.  On the south side
of the house facing the wash and ocean was the master bedroom and
master bathroom.  The room had a large four poster bed that was so
high that there was a step stool next to her side of the bed.  In
front of the sliding doors onto a porch was a French longing
recliner with a back at one end.  The closet had mirrored sliding
doors that reflected everything in the room.  It made the room
look twice as large as it was.

	Then we went back to the north turret and went up the
winding stairs to the roof room.  A door led out to what she
called the widows Walk.  She said that in the Whaling days wives
of ship captain's had those over looking the harbor so they could
see the ships coming and going.

	Then we went into the round room that was an office with
desk in the middle made with heavy inlayed woods and a leather top
on it.  The brass light hanging from the center of the vaulted
ceiling had a green glass shade.  The walls were filled with books
from floor to ceiling. Four windows gave the room of the area in
all directions.

	Ruth took down a large book from the shelf to show me
Japanese prints of famous artist watercolors of Koi Fish.  As I
looked at the simplicity of line that looked so real Ruth put her
hand on my shoulder.  She was so close to me that I could smell
her floral perfume and the earth from her garden.  She hair fell
from her shoulder and onto my back.  She shook her head to through
it back over her shoulder.

	She took down anther book of art of the Masters and another
book under it.  I flipped through the book admiring the quality of
the pictures.  You could see the brush strokes in the oil paint.
When I looked at the next book the title said Erotic Art of
Lesbians.

	As I opened this book it was drawings of nude women at play.
They were playing volleyball, croquette or lying in grass next to
a stream or lake.  They were feeling each other, kissing each
other.  As I went through the book the pictures became photographs
of women making love to each other.

	As I turned the page to look at the next photo I felt her
hand slide to my waist as the other hand cupped my breast.  I held
my breath.  I knew I should stop her, but I also wanted her to
continue with what she was doing.  My panties were wet and my
nipples were getting hard.  They only did that then it was cold or
I played with them in the shower.

	Finally Ruth turned me around and kissed my mouth.  It was
softly at first.  Then she pushed her tongue between my lips as
she held me tightly against her bra-covered breasts.  Her hand
pushed the books to the side of the desk as she placed me on top
of the desk.

	She stepped back and removed her bra.  Her breasts were
large with creamy skin and pinkish areolas and dimpled flesh
around grape sized nipples.  Then she put her thumbs under the
waistband of her panties.  As they passed her thighs they fell to
the floor and she stepped out of them.  I was looking directly at
her crotch.  It was obviously shaved clean.  I had seen my mom's
and new they should have hair on them.  The vagina had a little
mole visible just to the right of her mound.  But the biggest
surprise was that she had a tattoo on her pubis.  It was a Polar
Bear about the size of a silver dollar and it looked like it was
diving into her pussy.

	Ruth reached under my skirt and pulled my panties down from
the back.  I had to lift my ass up a little for her to pull them
off.  She dropped them in the desk chair.  She lifted my skirt up
to my waist and spread my legs wide so she could look at my pussy.

	Ruth gave a sigh and said lovely my dear.  Then she kissed
the inside of my caves and worked her way up my leg to the inner
thigh.  My pussy was positively dripping wet by the time her
tongue found my little clitoris.  I put my hands on the back of
her head and pulled her closer to me.  I could not help it I
climaxed in her mouth.  This was the first time that I had ever
climaxed any other way than with my fingers in my pussy.

	When I calmed down Ruth gathered up our under ware and lead
me back down the stairs.  We went back to the master bedroom and
she undressed me and placed me on her bed.

	With my legs hanging over the side of the bed Ruth hardly
had to bend over to open my vagina again.  My 13-year old breasts
were already a C cup.  So she had plenty of flesh to suck on.  I
was squirming all over the bed in my excitement.

	Ruth got on top of the bed next to me. She held me close to
her and kissed me.  Then she turned around and lay beside me on
her side.  She lifted her leg and bent it so that I was looking at
her vagina.  I ran my fingers over that tattoo and felt that there
was no stubble on her mound.  Then I put my face close to the
first pussy I was to ever taste.  I smelt her odor; it was a mix
of her perfume and the salty smell of ruin.

	As I felt her open my pussy and put her mouth on me again I
put my face in her crotch and kissed her too.  I found it so
exciting to feel my tongue slide up and down the valley of her
cunt.  When she took my little clitoris in her mouth I came again.

	While we rested Ruth turned around and took me in her arms
and talked to me about her setting up an artist studio in her
spare room so that I could visit every day.

	We became loves after that day.  My family was thrilled that
this woman thought enough of my talent to become my patron and provide
a place for me to paint without you younger siblings under foot
and to know that I was being watched after school until
dinnertime.  I was allowed to sleep over anytime I wanted to spend
a weekends with Ruth.


Hope you enjoyed the story and want more.  Please send your
comments to janmay699@icqmail.com