Memories of Harry

I moved in with Harry two days after his seventy-first birthday. He'd flown to the West Coast to visit his daughter. To celebrate making it to seventy one, he told me with a grin. He was supposed to be gone a week. But he called me from San Francisco and asked me to pick him up at the airport the next morning. He sounded upset and a little down.

When we got his luggage and into the car, he kind of collapsed on the passenger seat. I started the car and we drove out onto the freeway to campus. Harry lived only a couple of blocks from campus. "You came back early I guess. Something wrong?"

He skidded around under the safety belt, so he could look at me, I guessed. "Sort of. That's why I asked you to pick me up. So we could talk." He paused and I waited. Silences between us had already become something we both sort of liked. "I mentioned you to Deborah. I guess she got the wrong idea. She's upset. Called her brother, my son Dan. You know, I mentioned him I think."

Harry had even showed me pictures of the two. Dan was a hunk. Tall, well-built. Nice smile. Harry sighed again. "Anyway, they both got upset. They seem to think I've suddenly become a doddering old fool who's being set up by some thieving sex-pot." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry. I wanted us to become a family, I guess. All four of us. I don't know what happened exactly. I guess I really blew it."

This was not good news to me. My heart lurched and my stomach started to hurt. I realized I was developing more than just fondness for Harry. What had started as sort of a sex project of my own, you know, what would it be like to be intimate for a while with a man old enough to be my grandfather? "So, where are we, Harry? Do you not want me to move in? I don't want to cause a rupture in your family. I care too much about you to do that."

Harry sat up like he'd been goosed. "No no! Nothing like that. Damn it! I'm doing it badly again. I haven't changed my mind at all and I hope this wrinkle won't put you off. I just want you to know going in that things with my kids are not copasetic."

We talked some more, even after we got to Harry's house. And in the end we agreed Harry was still sensible enough to make his own decisions. And maybe Dan and Deborah would come around in time. I wasn't so sure about that, but I wanted to be with Harry and he obviously wanted to be with me so what the Hell? The future would take care of itself.

Two days later I gave my notice at my apartment and started moving out. The first things we moved were all personal. My toys, my clothes, my books, like that. Harry had insisted I have private space as well as the run of the place, so I had a lovely large second floor bedroom. It connected to the bathroom that also connected to his larger bedroom on the other side. His room was almost a suite. There was a big walk-in closet as well. I sat down on the bed in my room. It was a comfortable double bed but I didn't care. I didn't plan to spend much time in it.

We dumped the boxes of stuff on the floor and I took Harry by the hand and tugged him down the hall to his room. "Great room, my friend, but we need a new bed."

"Really? What kind?"

"King sized" I smiled up at him. I hope we're gonna spend big chunks of time in this bed and we need to be able to sprawl. What I didn't know was this fit in real snug with Harry's ideas. We were already fine-tuning our attitudes to each other. "But enough work. I think it's time for your birthday present."

"That's not necessary," he started to protest by I leaned up and ran my tongue over his lips.

"Correct," I giggled, "Not necessary, but welcomed, which is why I'm giving you a birthday fuck." I flipped open my shirt and flashed my breasts at him. He grinned and reached for me. I danced away and dragged my jeans down off my hips. I'd intended to leave my panties on for a minute, but they went too and I was naked. Harry licked his lips and reached again. I grinned and backed away, pointing at the bed. "Just lie down, my birthday lord and I shall do the honors."

He laid down in the center of the bed and I cruised up to him, leaning over so my bare breasts hung just out of range. I made him lie still and not try to touch me. I watched his eyes following my breasts. Then I unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his belt. I worked his arms out of his shirt sleeves and tugged his pants down and off . After I removed his socks I squatted on the bed with my legs open and proceeded to minister to his feet, mostly with my mouth. I sucked his toes and ran my fingers lightly up and down his calves. Did he like it? Oh, most assuredly he did. I could hear him beginning to murmur and sigh. I could see his rising erection and I could smell his arousal. Mine too. My sex was getting moist.

I crawled up the bed beside him on all fours, arching my back so my breasts swayed and my ass lifted into the air. At mid thigh I stopped and massaged his legs, reaching eventually right up into his groin but I was careful not to touch his genitals. Harry was becoming more aroused and a bit frustrated. I could tell by the way his testicles moved in his scrotum. He was mumbling louder. It was some foreign language I didn't recognize. I slid up and began to lightly rub his belly, just using the very tips of my fingers. Round and round they went. His belly rippled and his thighs flexed.

I smiled and blew gently in his ear. My hand snaked farther up his torso, fingers traced some ribs, careful not to tickle and spoil the mood I was building. This was making me hot too. I slid the fingers on my other hand into my wet pussy, jiggling just a little to spark a tiny zing of pleasure. Then I leaned over and blew gently on the very tip of Harry's cock. It pulsed in response. It throbbed. Harry groaned. I blew on him again. I took my hand off him and waited a couple of breaths. Then I carefully and very lightly touched the tip of his cock with my tongue. Once, twice, quick little touches that made his penis bob and weave and his balls draw up. That was just the appetizer.

I figured Harry was getting close to coming so I backed off, placed a hand on his chest and scrubbed him lightly between the nipples which were erect. I licked them. I licked his nose. I scuttled up to his head and peered into his eyes. I can only describe the look he gave me as lustful. I kissed the end of his nose and stuffed a pillow behind his head so he could easily see down the length of his body.

"Look at that cock, will you?" I purred. "That prick, that penis, that hose of yours. I swear it's bigger around than the last time I saw it. You'll split me in two with that thing."

Harry just grinned and flexed muscles so his cock bobbed. He knew I was funnin' him just a little. Here he was, this seventy-year-old guy with a raging hard-on. I loved it. I wanted a camera to record Harry's birthday fuck. Never mind. "Harry," I growled in as low a voice as I could manage. "I know that many men really love to see that first penetration, to see that cock sliding moistly into a woman's vagina. I hope you're like that. That's what you're gonna see next so you have to keep your eyes open. But you have to be still. I'm gonna do all the work here."

Harry grunted and bobbed his penis at me. I had a hard time not breaking into a fit of giggles. There's just something about human sex, fucking, that's funny, a little ridiculous somehow. Sometimes it tickles my funny bone at the same time some guy is tickling my crotch. Don't misunderstand me. Harry's kids did most times, I think. I'm not talking about passion or love or the intimate moments leading up to a mind-blowing orgasm. Or even a little climax. That's the target, right? But I digress.

Harry was having fun at the moment and I was giving him a ringside seat for the moment of truth. Like in the bull ring. The moment of penetration, baby! I swung my leg over his hips and stood up in a half crouch. You have to get the scene right. Harry was naked. I was naked and we were both starting to dribble fluids. I could see I wasn't going to need any lubricant which was good. The lighting was pretty strong from the bedroom window. We hadn't bothered to pull the shades. So reflected sunlight was streaming through the window, between my legs and highlighting Harry's cock. The lamp in the room gave us plenty of fill-in lighting.

I wiggled my hips and coyly covered my pussy. I blew my man a couple of kisses. Yes, I was starting to think of him as My man. Then very slowly I bent my knees and sank down until my lips, my pussy lips, were just a millimeter or so above his cock head. I could feel the heat rising from him. I breathed deeply and sank a little lower, just a touch, a loving kiss. Harry groaned softly and started to raise his hands.

I shook a finger at him. I had to uncover my crotch and he could see the fluids now dripping onto him. He could feel the slippery juice snaking down the sides of his prick. His cock. His root. I sank a little lower, gave his cock a longer kiss. Then I slowly, excruciatingly slowly lowered myself a little way onto his cock. I could feel my lips spreading to accommodate him. I paused. I smiled into Harry's eyes. I hoped he wouldn't come too soon. I sank a little farther. Now a little more than half of him was inside me. I was feeling good. I was wanton Eve to his lusty Adam. We were joining together. My muscles sent me signals they were giving out. I sank lower until I completely engulfed him. The sensation was incredible. I rose up a trace and sank again.

Harry groaned louder, and again. His rod pulsed inside me, sent tremors deep into my psyche. Again and again while I held as still as I was able. And then Harry came, and came and came. I saw the exquisite pain of great pleasure roll across his face. Had he died in that instant, I think he would have died happy. But he didn't die. He just had another, smaller ejaculation. I leaned forward very slowly and we kissed. A gentle soulful kiss of mutual appreciation.

I managed to lower my knees to the bed so I could squat more comfortably on Harry's groin. We stayed that way for a long time, even after Harry lost his erection, just resting. Coming down, breath slowing, a little sheen of sweat. But what about me? What about my orgasm? Didn't happen. It wasn't about me. I was sure Harry wouldn't speak that old shop-worn cliché. You know, 'Was it good for you?' Or something like that. Harry didn't need to ask. He knew it was good for me. Better than good. But it was really about Harry. This was Harry's birthday fuck.