The Old Woman

I came unannounced to her front door straight after college the next day, wanting more of the same. A lot more. My only sex before this was two rushed blow jobs from a pimply girl down the street, behind the bushes in a local park. That was nothing on the pleasure Evelyn had given me, just with her hands. Evelyn, I decided, was in a class of her own.

I saw the faint shock on her face: there was no smile. She let me in, but in the solemn way you'd let in a police officer. She walked ahead and said "come into the kitchen dear," and then "bring out the chair and stool dear." I stood in front of my chair, waiting for her to undo my pants. I thought of the hand job she'd given me the day before and went instantly hard. But she had disappeared. She came back with what looked like a glass of cloudy water. It crossed my mind that a 78 year old lady who gives you a hand job one day might be quite insane and might throw a glass of water over you the next day. But she set the glass down by the stool, then came over and undid my belt. She let my pants fall, then carefully and respectfully released my hard-on from my jocks and let them fall too. I sat down.

"I am very sorry my dear," she said, "I am an old woman and can't kneel anymore. I have to use the stool."

That's OK," I said automatically, cock harder and bigger than ever in my life, all sorts of good natural chemicals flowing through my bloodstream.

"It's not really OK, but I will do my best." She sat on the stool, and then shocked me by removing the teeth from her mouth and putting them in the cloudy liquid. Then she turned her attention to my rampant member. She leant forward, one hand under my balls and the other at the base of my cock and then advanced on me with a quiet, intense, determined look on her face -- a face suddenly crone-like. Her toothless mouth closed over my purpled head and she began work on me with her lips and tongue, also moving her hand and mouth a little from side to side. The pleasure was wonderful at first and then extreme and unbelievable. Underneath, her other hand crept inward as though she was trying to reach my ass. All in all, she had remarkable expertise in her technique, which I only fully appreciated later when I'd had more sex with girls my age.

It was not long before I released into her mouth. It felt like a whole ocean pouring into her. She went still as soon as I began to come, and stayed that way until I was shrunken back limp, then she carefully withdrew, lips closing at once. She moved all that fluid around in her mouth, fingers wiping her lips, and then looked up at me. She swallowed.

"Goodness me," she said. "Gulp." She smiled up admiringly, just as though I'd accomplished something very meaningful and clever and a bit wicked. Quickly she breathed in, and out. Then attended again to my cock, wiping my tip with a tissue.

"Turn away dear, this isn't nice for you to see," and she put her dentures back into her mouth. "Could you help me back up?" I lifted her under her matchstick arms. She was perhaps five feet high, about 150cm. I felt like my bodily deposits had added significantly to her weight.

Then she gave me an instant coffee, without saying much. She moved about doing her own things, and I assumed I should go. "Leave the cup dear," she said, "I'll wash it out."

And so it went from then on, day after day, with variations. She asked me if I would like to blow over her face again instead of into her mouth. I said yes. Each time I dumped on her face she'd get that smile like she was laughing at herself. I felt like a king.

Each time I visited she was dressed from neck to ankle. There was no sense of her wanting any physical attention on herself. I was relieved at that, because honestly I did not want to look at or explore her old, withered body. But the pleasure she gave me did inspire affection. At first I'd kiss her, or give her a gentle squeeze when I arrived, and once I even brought wildflowers I'd picked, but all my gestures fell strangely dead, she'd either ignore them or take them as a demand for further service on my erogenous zones.

It seemed to bother her that she couldn't kneel for me, as though she was ashamed. "You deserve better, dear" she'd say. After that we sometimes we lay on her bed, and when I'd finished she'd nestle her face into my genitalia.