GON2: Old Ladies
Getting Old Now ( R rated)
Westlake Village, California
July 25, 1998
8:45 AM in California
11:45 AM in New York State
Westlake Village, California
July 25, 1998
9;15 AM
Well, that’s a new one... I said/wrote ...I said ‘I love you’ to a woman I had just vicariously fucked that not only is three thousand miles away but, other than knowing she has large tits, light pink colored nipples and a dark-brown haired pussy, that I haven’t the slightest idea what in the hell she looks like and could even weigh three hundred pounds.
Sitting back, taking a drink of my now cool coffee, I could sense the— not uncomfortable dull sensation in my balls that happens whenever I have a ‘really’ strong orgasm.
But with a lady three thousand miles away?
Having a ten-thirty showing on an outside brokers listing this morning, I took a shower, then dressed in slacks, shirt and tie and a light weight jacket.
Backing my recently purchased, used ‘ninety-six’ Cadillac out of the garage, I waved to my next door neighbor, Milton, (Milt ) Abrams, who’s bigoted wife, Harriet — whom I still, in part, held responsible for Lita deciding to return to her husband —had passed away two years ago.
Two years older than me, Milt and I have become pretty good friends spending many hours either on his boat or mine imbibing ‘adult’ beverages.
Woodland Hills, California
10:10 AM
Waiting in the ‘Country Club’ Real Estate office for my clients, I spoke to Joyce Schnidt, another Country Club associate whom I knew, a guy knows, would jump into bed with me in a minute, but — having learned my lessen a few months earlier, I had absolutely no interest in this, not all together too unappealing, much older lady.
Besides, going along with the old ‘Confusions say’ saying: ‘Do not shit where you eat’, on principle I never allow myself to become sexually personal with any of the women in my office, and there are a couple that… But I don’t!
Westlake Village, California
3:22 PM
My copy of the seller approved ‘deposit receipt’ for the sale of their $175,000.00 home in my briefcase. Removing my jacket, shirt and slacks, I slipped into a T-shirt and shorts. Padding into the kitchen barefooted, I poured myself a glass of cold seltzer water — my favourite cold water drink since I was a kid, then pulled my chair to the computer…
Wondering what she might be thinking, and posting to me after she’d cooled off, after our subliminal, long distance fuck. But no. No post from Barbara.
“ ‘Hey,Mitch’!”
Answering, “Yeah?” as I headed outside.
“Looks like a great evening…” Milt said from his side of our joint barrier wall “… wanna take a boat out?”
Ever since his wife…
Other than Harriet preparing dinners and allowing Milt to fuck her every now and then, I had the sense that Milton Abrams did not miss his bigoted wife a hell of a lot, and not too long after Harriet had gone off to her all white heaven, Milt and me had become pretty good friends.
Ever since his wife had passed away two years ago, often on nice evenings we’d take either his or my — sixteen foot, battery operated, pontoon ‘party boats’ for a four mile an hour cruise around Westlake Island, sometimes stopping off at one of the classy restaurants on ‘The Landing’ for a drink — both of us single, needing no female input, occasionally for dinner and a drink.
Both restaurants being a bit too rich for my taste/pocket, when we did have dinner at The Landing we would have it at ‘Landings’ where I would usually order Landings Hamburger Dinner, which actually was worth the extra couple of bucks — made with a half pound, 100% prime ‘Angus’ meat; grilled as I liked my hamburgers: medium rare, along with a heap of french fries made of real potatoes, not the reconstituted mash now found in most other places. Add slices each of sweet onion and beef steak tomato and a ‘Beef Eater’ gin martini, all with the beautiful lake view…
Yep, well worth the extra couple of bucks.
‘The Landing’ was, of course, a fantastic place to pick up women, or to ‘get’ picked up by women when in need… Their need or our need, so long as …
Hell! We were all in need and here comes — off a boat in beautiful Westlake Lake, two older, possibly well heeled gentlemen, that we assumed the women assumed ‘were’ well heeled middle-aged gentlemen that had moored a boat to a pier of one of the fancy restaurant docks and came ashore for diner.
Three months earlier, on ‘4/9/98’,…
A balmy Southern California early spring evening, Milt and I were having dinner at ‘Landings’ alongside a table where there were two elderly, moderately attractive women celebrating one of their seventieth birthdays.
Hearing them ordering their second round of martinis and considering them to be a bit ‘mellowed’; me being cute, leaning towards their table I wished a ‘Happy birthday!’ to whichever of the two women it was and instantly we were invited…
‘Mellowed indeed’! ‘Invited’? Hell, Milt and I were all but dragged to their table to share a small birthday cake that one had brought.
“We noticed you ‘boys’…” me sixty-four, and Milt sixty eight “...when you tied to the dock...” Mildred, the seventy year old birthday ‘girl’ slurred.
“And wondered if you’d like to…” Helen, the somewhat older lady than the birthday ‘girl’ asked “...if you’d be kind enough to take Mildred and me on a birthday cruise?”
Milt and I both ‘deciphering’ their words, attitude and body language to really mean … ‘take us on a birthday cruise, then a birthday fuck would make it a very happy birthday’.
Milt, on the slender side, with snow white hair and a ruddy, not too age-lined face, appearing to be rather, uh, ‘dapper’. And me, so I’ve been told by people that have known me, I look pretty much as I had in my mid-fifties. Which, so I’ve been told, ‘was ‘very’ nice’.
As for these not ‘too’ unattractive old ladies, A couple of old, retired whores? I thought.
Glancing at me, and receiving my affirmative mod, Milt said, “We would ‘love’ to take a ‘South Seas’ cruise with you lovely ladies.”
Knowing that more than probably we would ‘not’ be taking the ladies back to ‘The Landing’ and the parking lot by boat...
“A question, though…” I asked, giving the hint that we’d probably… ‘most probably’ split up if things went the way ‘we’ thought, the way ‘they’ thought things might happen the way we ‘all’ thought ‘things’ might happen “...did you ‘girls’ drive here separately or in one car?”
Getting the idea that we might make a stop, a ‘long’ stop before returning to ‘The Landing’ and parking lot. Also giving them the opportunity to ‘back out’, if they wished.
Mildred looking at Helen, Helen said, “ Yes, in the parking lot…” nodding her head to the side “... we drove here separately.”
“Okay, then…” the last of the cake eaten, the martini glasses empty “... whenever you girls are ready, Mitch here and me are ready, too.”
Apparently Mildred liking older, more dapper looking men, possessively took hold of Milt’s hand to be helped down the three long steps leading from the restaurant’s huge patio to the docks, then — holding onto Mildred’s waist with both hands, from the dock, into Milt’s now slightly rocking boat.
Sitting with a 'Landings' linen napkin on her lower stomach and lap, I hadn’t noticed, but when Helen stood, Holy shit!
Helen was one of those ‘really’ busty appearing older women that apparently liked younger men because she ‘very’ eagerly, ‘very’ possessively also took hold of my hand… Which though a bit warm and dry and bony, did not feel all that bad being held by my hand as I guided her down the three steps to the docks.
Stepping from the dock into the boat seemed to be a little problematic for Helen, as removing her hand from mine, she placed it about her rather thick, soft waist and, the slight rocking sensation apparently too problematic, twisting her body, my hand somehow— I’d swear Helen did it on purpose… my hand somehow became the willing support of one of Helen’s very soft, very heavy tits which, surprised by the size and weight, helping Helen to board Milt’s boat by holding onto the old ladies tit certainly did not bother me… Really, just the opposite.
Taking our ‘four mile per hour speed limit’ journey around three quarters of the circumference of the Lake to Milt’s ‘one boat’ boat dock took a half hour and, gliding alongside the dock, as Milt shifted the motor in reverse to stop the forward movement, I hopped onto the wooden pier to tie the boat down, onto two steel fore and aft cleats.
The sky in the process of darkening. The sun in the west starting process of setting….
“If you want…” knowing they would ‘not’ want “… we can drive you back to your cars.” I said.
“You two gals ‘do’ want to come on up …” Milt said “...to see the sun set, don’t you!” Not said as a question.
“At our ages…’ said Mildred — as they were still sitting, affectionately squeezing Milt’s upper thigh “...we can’t afford to waste even one good sunset, can we, Helen?”
Helen was still on the boat and I on the dock, having nothing affectionately to squeeze, giggling, “You do know how to make a martooni, uh, martini?”
“You kidding, Helen? Does ol’ Milt know how to make a martini?” Holding my arms to her, putting my arms around her waist, her chest onto my face, I helped Helen from the boat to the dock and up the railroad tie steps to Milt’s patio.
As Milt did pretty much the same with Mildred.
“Every one sit…” steering Mildred to one of the cushioned deck chairs clustered around the glass topped patio table “...while I rustle up a pitcher of ‘martoonies’.”
“Where you ladies from?” I asked, killing time as Milt rustled up a shaker of martinis.
“I’m in Sherman Oaks.”
“And I came all the way from ‘Sun City’…”
“In Arizona?” I questioned Helen.
“Yes, to help my old, sorry, Mildred. To be with ‘old’ friend Mildred to celebrate her ‘seventh’.”
The sun sinking to the west as Milt returned whit a shaker of very dry martinis…
Making three drinks each for Mildred and Helen and two each for Milt and me and, having no intention of making and serving more because one of us would have to drive the ladies to ‘The Landing’ parking lot, and they would each have to drive to wherever they would spend the night… And we did ‘not’ want it to be with us.
The sun sunk as we four depleted the shaker of gin martinis.
“Pretty shitty sunset, if you ask me.” Mildred said accusingly as though it was our fault.
“Ain’t no fuckin’ sunset tonight, Mitch… Where do you live?”
Moderately soused, as were Milt and Mildred. Nodding to my left. “There.”
“Right there, next door…” leaning in to me, planting a wet kiss on my cheek “...wanna show me?”
Wiping my cheek with the back of my hand. “Yeah, I do.”
“Mind if Mitch shows me his place?”
“Not at all..” Taking hold of Milton’s arm . Show me your place, too, why don’t’ch’ya, baby.”
Knowing what was coming. Soused or not. Seventy ‘plus’ year old lady or not. Big tits! Standing, my self servingdick causing a tent like appearance on the front of my slacks.
Taking hold of Helen’s hand. Leading her through Milt’s home. Through the front door, across the three foot wide grass meridian separating Milt’s driveway from mine.. Digging the keys from my pocket, unlocking the door…
“Nice place…” Demanding, “Where’s the bedroom!”
Didn’t have to show the way as Helen figured it out for herself and all but dragging me and throwing me onto the bed…
The only light showing from the ceiling fixture in the hall, Helen was on me. My shirt being dragged up over my head and off. Fumbling with my belt and zipper — as I wear no underwear, my slacks along with my lose fitting deck shoes were dragged from my body and my dick instantly drawn into her mouth…
‘Rape’! Am I being raped by this old lady? Or maybe an old whore/
“Mitch…” sucking and releasing “… ‘I need it!” Sucking and releasing… Breath coming in hard gasps. “Been years since my Bennie passed and I haven’t sucked a cock since…” suck and release “… and I ‘love’ sucking cock!”
Being raped, or not, by an old lady or not, or an old whore or not really felt ‘very’ nice as I gave in to the warm, very wet suction and release as every cell in my dick filled to capacity with penile blood.
Suddenly stopping as — not bothering to unzip it, her dress was yanked over her head, her slip and panties lowered past her ass, down her legs and — but for ugly ‘knee highs’ and huge bra leaving Helen completely nude, which even in this semi light room was not a pretty picture. Then…
Waiting for this, I watched, as reaching behind, unclasping what must have been four or five clasps then, leaving deep depressions on both shoulders where the bra straps had been Helen's huge — if one can imagine two moderate sized watermelons hanging from a tree limb, seeing in the dull light Helen’s tits were huge and heavy, the areola a of her dark brown nipples as large as small saucers… The nipples themselves as prominent cherry pits partially hidden within the dark flesh.
Attempting to hold a tit, the volume of flesh too much to contain in one normal hand. .. And most certainly too much to contain in ‘any’ normal mouth.
One must understand that throughout my life all the girls and later women that I had ever been with, and had ever gotten to even ‘the bra off stage’ had small or moderately small, or moderately larger tits- such as my ex-wife Marsha. Oh yes, there was Lita, and way back in 1963 there had been Elizabeth Herzon who did have ‘great’ tits that had truly been appreciated. But never ‘anyone’ like this old lady. This old ladies tits were..? Actually a rather ugly ‘novelty’, that seeing then, I never again wanted to see— but yet my dick was still at full attention.
The flesh of her body, though — in this dull light I cold see was a bit ‘crepe’. However beneath the soft, somewhat wrinkly flesh there did seem to be hardened sinew as though Helen did partake in a serious, for a lady her age, regimen of body strengthening exercise.
Taking the lead now. Shoving her forcefully onto her back,
Helen’s tits flopping heavily onto the sheet on either sides of her chest.
Kissing her tits… Taking a ‘long’ time kissing her soft tits, then attempting to suck a nipple into my mouth, but it was too large to take into my mouth. Kissing her hard chest and soft, rather mushy stomach — as all the time hearing the harsh, quickening of Helen;s breath. Moving downward, smelling the scent of, as can best be described as old wet seaweed, my lips went no lower than her deeply inset navel.
Holding my head in both hands, attempting to move it downward as, gasping between breaths: “Hadn’t been eaten in years. Do it! I love a tongue in my cunt!”
But refusing to get any closer to that awful seaweed scent. Realising I’d go no further, “Fuck me!” Helen demanded. “I ‘love’ a cock in my cunt!”
My dick, though, smelling nothing, and as always having a mind of it’s own, suddenly found itself closely entrapped within a hot, very wet, extremely slimy fissure...That felt ‘wonderful’!
At least until this old lady, having the strength to roll to her side taking me from the upper position to the lower position. With Helen above me, her wildly passionate gyrations yanking my dick from and back into her now gaping pussy with her heavy tits slapping my face with such stinging volatility I was sure one of those tit slaps would break my nose or at least blacken my eyes.
“Helen, stop!” But, the grunting growing quicker and louder, sounding less as a person in the heat of passion, more so an animal growling over the last morsel of meat on a bone.
No longer knowing if my dick was in Helen’s pussy or flaying between her strongly clamped hot, wet thighs, submerging and resurfacing within her pussy as Helen’s ass pumped up and down as Helen’s tits slapping from side to side…
Using what strength I had I was able to lift her chest upward as the grunting became a high pitched squeal immediately followed by a gushing of warm fluid onto my dick and thighs that commingled with my own fluid as I came.
Physical action slowing. Grunting slowing as harsh breath struggled to become even breathing, Helen rolled to the side and off of me.
The phone ringing, hoping it was Milt calling to ask if I was ready to drive the girls… ‘Shit’! To drive these old bags back to their cars.
Standing naked...“Yeah! Hello!” ...my dick dripping onto my feet.
“Mitch, it’s me. You ready to drive the ladies back to their cars?”
“Helen…” I yelled “...Mildred wants to go! Go! get dressed!”
So what did I take from this? What lesson did I learn from this?
Inventing a new ‘Confusions Say’ saying: ‘Never fuck with old women’!
Westlake Village, California
7/25/98
3:32 PM
“Hey,Mitch!”
Answering, “Yeah?” as I headed outside.
“Looks like a great evening…” Milt said from his side of our joint barrier wall “… wanna take a boat out?”
Hoping to hear from Barbara, “No…” I called back “...I’m waiting for a call, so I’ll pass now.”
“Okay, if later you decide to, give a yell.”
“Okay.”
Checking my computer, there was an Email from Barbara.
beachbaby.global.com
Hi, honey. Something pretty good has happened today. I’m going to be in and out, so let me know when you’re home and I’ll write right back, if I’m home.
*** Thinking, ‘Honey’ ….
Lippy1.fatboy.net
Hi, baby. Got in a few minutes ago and just got your message. I’m glad that something goo happened to you today, you deserve it. So tell me!
beachbaby.global.com
You remember ‘Writers Place’ publishing that article about the national poetry contest in Chicago?
Lippy1.fatboy.net
Of course! Don’t tell me you’ve been…
Barbara’s message coming back before I could finish
beachbaby.global.com
“Yes! I’m one of our three finalists and have already talked to Chuck and asked my sister if she’s watch mom for the three days…
Lippy1.fatboy.net
And?
beachbaby.global.com
I’m all set and wondered if you’d like to...
Next GON #4: The Arrigment
