'Age is just a number ~ a number that signifies hideous decay.' - Alexie Sayle
*******
Jetski rolled off me and lay his sweat-steamed body next to mine on the bed. We were both breathless but he was panting like a dog locked in a hot car. I rested my palm on his rapidly rising and falling breast; there was a pool of damp in the furry hollow of his palpitating chest.
The morning had begun with a tender waking kiss and had quickly escalated into a passionate embrace until Jetski wrestled me underneath him and speared me with his ever-present teenage erection. I'd wrapped my legs around his thighs in a symbolic entrapment and he went to work at creating within me that wonderfully indescribable feeling of an orgasm beginning from small ripples of pleasure then amplifying steadily into a tsunami of cascading and unstoppable climaxes. As I lay recovering from my first blissful overload, my hands idly tracing the contours of his spine, I'd soon become aware that Jetski was not going to give up easily. He resumed labouring intensely at his work, plunging his prick into me at a variety of angles, having learned that this was guaranteed to make my pulsating vagina clamp tightly around his invading cock and squeeze him until he groaned at the exquisite pressure; occasionally he'd pause the plunging to trace an ellipse inside me that made me squeal and cream his never-still penis. It was not long before a second orgasm washed through me and left me panting and blinking in the morning sunlight.
It was then that he slowed his attack, taking time to mildly tease all my inner recesses and ridges with his hard, round cockhead that felt as large as a ripe apple. My fingers were in his hair, pulling him down for a french-kiss as we settled into a comfortable and affectionate slow love-making. His entire body pressed down upon me and his hands sailed over my tingling flesh. His relentless, indefatigable dick played inside my welcoming pussy until the fervour gradually increased to a new crescendo and, with a frantic renewed effort, we moved on up from love-making to hard-core porno fucking. We climaxed in a mutual release that freed us from our frail and imperfect physical bodies and elevated us into another sphere; an ethereal joining, merging, unifying, until we collapsed, spent and wasted.
My hand lay on his hairy chest. I glanced at the clock and it told me that my labourious young man had been slaving at the coalface for over four hours.
"I do appreciate all you do for me, Jet," I said, snuggling up against him, "The efforts you go to, for me."
My leg curled over his and I rubbed my sloppy, puffy pussylips on his thigh. His breathing slowed. He smiled in the way that makes my insides feel all yummy. My seven decades fell away and I was a young girl in his arms. I snaked my arm around him until I was entangled about as close as I could be. I watched him close his eyes. My baby needed a rest after his work-out. He deserved it.
Very quietly, I asked, "Do you mind if I sleep on you like this?"
His last words before I felt him drift off to sleep, "I love it."
I hunched my body even tighter to his and joined him in my dreams. When I awoke, we weren't so much still entangled as glued. Our sweat and cummy juices had dried our sun-warmed skin together. I felt a little sore as I peeled my limbs away from his, gently so as not to wake him. It took me a few attempts to stand. Whenever I was sure my young guest wasn't observing, I allowed myself to be an old lady grumbling at the pain in my knees, the pains in my back, the pain in my shoulder, the pains in my feet, the... you get the idea. I hauled my weary seventy-one year-old skeleton up off the bed with much swearing and groaning then hobbled to the bathroom.
After a pee and a shower I returned, rubbing my long, grey hair in a towel and tugged away the bedclothes to reveal the skinny, naked youngster sleeping in my bed. My bed. My youngster. It felt like a dream I almost couldn't believe. Perhaps I had finally gone doolally and my children had put me in a 'home' and this was the hallucinatory result of my daily medications. Either way, I was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. I hung up my towel and sat on the bed. I let my hands roam over his exposed body. I curled my fingers around his soft and perfectly cute cock and toyed with him. He stirred a little in his sleep. My fingers looked so wrinkly and aged against his flawlessly smooth penis. I felt the softness leave it as it grew in my palm until it had swollen enough for the rosy apple head to peek out from under its hood. The funky smell of our mingled sex wafted up to my nose and I couldn't resist lowering, despite my aching vertebrae, to taste our fuck-flavour on him. It was so nasty, I loved it. I adjusted into a less painful position and stroked and sucked his spunk-moistened cock until Jetski woke and looked down at me.
"I suppose some would call this a sexual assault," I purred between licks and sucks, "But I hope you don't object?"
"No man would," he said with a hint of desperation.
"I'm learning quite a lot about myself since you came to visit."
His dick was upright now, proudly erect and I bobbed my head up and down, as far into my throat as I dare go. I was learning for the first time in my life that I enjoyed giving head. I'd done it before but it had never excited me the way it did with my adorable young man. His twisting twitches and his whimpers of glee gave me such joy. Jetski arched his back, raising his groin to meet my descending mouth. He reached out and brushed my hair away so he could view my blow-job all the better. My eyes darted up and caught his serious, frowning, sordid desire. I had also been learning to anticipate his physical reactions and I could feel his tension winding up. My boy was getting ready to blow. To prolong his enjoyment I slurped around just under his fat, damp cockhead.
"I'm learning quite a lot about you too," I said, trailing my tongue across his gooey tip.
Jetski's hand slid down my belly, cupped my pubes and eased a solitary finger into my slit to stir my juices. I felt my squishy walls grip him tight and I was proud of my septuagenarian internal-muscles.
"Wh-wh-what have you learned?" he gasped as I sucked on him, my lips fitting snugly around the dark-flesh helmet as my tongue lapped.
I relished his moans of gratitude so I spent a good few minutes just using my slutty mouth to solicit these sounds from my boy.
"I'm learning," I said as I licked up and down my teenage lollipop, "That you really like coming in my mouth."
It wasn't exactly dirty talk but it seemed to push him over the edge. His finger sought deeper penetration inside me. I felt his knuckles crush upon my labia. He cried out my name. His ejaculations bombarded my face and hair. I quickly got my mouth over the spurting head to save my already shampooed hair from his gloopy pollution. His finger circled in my hot cunt as I gobbled every last drop of his warm creamy cum.
Silently, I watched his face. He again looked so relaxed and happy and free. I'd forgotten the way a man likes to nap after shooting his load. I didn't begrudge him a second of it.
"Sleep, my beautiful boy, you earned it."
He closed his smiling, dreamy, sky-blue eyes and settled back on the pillow for a resumed sleep. I dressed and went downstairs thinking how decadent I was, fucking and sucking until nearly midday. I was pottering in the kitchen and humming along to the radio when the phone rang to put an end to my contentment. My gobby grand-daughter had gabbed to her mother (my second daughter) about my taking in a hot homeless hombre; my daughter didn't particularly care what I got up to but she had at least passed along the information which spread like wildfire among my other children and associated relatives. In the few days since my grand-daughter's discovery of Jetski the story had spiralled out of proportion and I received a series of consecutive phone calls, each accusing me of losing my marbles and succumbing to the wiles of a practised con-man who was working any number of nefarious schemes.
It was during the fifth call in which my irate son had berated me for allowing a drug-addict with a sob story into his family home and who'd then passed the phone to my daughter-in-law who explained to me about sex killers who inveigle their way into people's lives before strangling them in their sleep, when Jetski, wearing only his raggedy jeans-shorts, entered the kitchen, yawning and scratching his belly. I tried to interrupt the tirade of horror stories that was making my ear numb as I watched the potential perpetrator of these crimes quite innocently popping slices of bread into the toaster. When the call finally ended, after my pleas of sanity and common sense had been ignored, I decided not to answer anymore and switched the damn thing to silent. I tried to cool my fury. How dare they all think I'm such an aged imbecile that... it took some reasoning with myself to judge that they were only upset because they cared about me. They worried about my safety and happiness. To be so cared for was a very pleasant feeling once I'd allowed my indignation to ebb. Jetski's arms were around me, turning me around to face him. He hugged me close in an embrace and kissed me. I felt his hard dick nudging me through our clothes.
"I want you," his voice was husky and low.
My smirking lips pressed to his and I replied, "We have work to do. Eat your toast."
