Randy Old Folks Home Ch 01

If you believe sex is for the under sixty set, this series is not for you. If things other than straight sex offend you, move on. Old folks know what they like and will ask for it.

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Every morning I wandered over to the neighborhood McDonalds for a sausage biscuit and a cup of coffee. Usually I read the free morning paper and saw the same five men at "their" table in the corner. They were all in their late sixties or early seventies and seemed upbeat most days. One cloudy morning, only one of the group sat solemnly, pretending to look through the morning papers.

We both needed company.

I sat down next to his table with my small order and asked, "Where are your buddies today?"

His name was Toby and he tapped the front page of the paper, "One died from this horrible swine flu that is going around and two others are trying to recover."

"I'm so sorry. I've been reading about the pandemic but I did not know it had spread into Oregon."

"Yea, keep your distance. We all live at the assisted living facility across the street. There is some talk that the state will lock us down today. I think we are the first place to have reported cases in the state."

I did keep my distance. I was sixty-six myself but I was healthy, took care of my wife - who should be in such a facility - and I spent way too much time alone, depressed, escaping into the internet, taking my wife to appointments and doing things that really did not need to be done.

In a few weeks, there were four regulars at his table and he motioned me over, introducing me to all of the "guys." Over the following couple of months, I learned about each of their working lives and how they wound up at the "Rose Garden Assisted Living Facility." All had originally gone there as part of a husband and wife team. Three were single now. Two wives died, one just left and the other was there, had Alzheimer's and was with a different man, not remembering her husband of forty years.

That triggered lots of questions, so I asked Toby to hang around for a while for us to talk. By now he knew all about my situation and loved to talk about anything.

"You should come over and check the place out. It's well run, has good facilities, lots of activities, the food is good -- but you get tired of even good food from the same place all the time."

"I was curious about Sam's comment that his wife was with another man now."

"There are over 150 people at the Garden but less than twenty are men. Sam's wife is a real looker and loves sex. She doesn't know who she is and sleeps around a lot."

"I didn't know such facilities allowed such things."

"We pay our bill and we are over 21. Some of us are still sexually active. Sam is not but there are lots of women who love to spend time with him for companionship or whatever happens. He doesn't mind about his wife. He knows she has good care. That had been a big worry for him before they became "inmates.""

"Inmates?"

"Just a term we tease the staff with. They take good care of us because it is an upscale facility and they know most of us can move to another."

"Helen would kill me if she knew I was even considering such a thing."

"Just come over by yourself. Come as my guest. You said you are usually on your own until noon. We'll have breakfast there one day. Just be ready to be hit on a lot."

That brought a laugh from me.

"No, I'm not kidding. You are tall, healthy and handsome compared to the few men who live there. The ladies are always wanting a date to go out with, travel with, talk with or just play cards with."

"I still struggle to find an escort once in a while or find other sexual diversions. The equipment still works and the absence of healthy female companionship in my life is one of my toughest problems. You are describing heaven for me."

"It definitely isn't heaven but older people are very open about what they want. The females will definitely make sure you know what they are looking for."

"You mean, straight sex, oral sex or just a TV partner?"

"Mable likes to be fisted. Janice wants you to watch her and then cum on her tits. Carol will do anything but likes anal. Ann is the most popular, she could take an anaconda down her throat. The twins enjoy each other's company but will double team you. Does that give you some ideas?"

"Enough to keep my imagination in high geer for a week. Maybe I will come over for breakfast. When would be a good time?"

We arranged to meet on Friday morning. I was expecting to see dozens of out of shape, unkempt, overmedicated and slow-witted females with walkers and in wheelchairs. That is pretty much what I had at home. Helen had been a gorgeous blond and still looks good when she can take a couple of hours to fix herself up. Her painful Parkinson's usually takes away any such motivation and her heavy duty pain killers take away her short term memory and humor. At one time she was the resident expert on blond jokes, was the manager of a large accounting department in an electronics company and turned every straight-males head.

I met Toby in the lobby and he took me straight to the dining room, promising to show me his room, the rec areas and give me the rest of the tour after breakfast. He had told several people that he would have a guest today. We sat at a table with four others and were interrupted often for introductions that I promptly got mixed up.

Just when I got back from humoring my small bladder, Toby introduced me to a tall, well put together, slightly overweight, silver-haired woman. She might be seventy but she exuded sex. "Dave, this is Mable, she has lived her for about five years now."

Mable's hands were warm and she shook my hand with both of hers. "Nice to meet you. You have nice hands, Dave." She rubbed the palm of my hand and pulled her fingers through mine.

"I leaned over to give her a hug and whispered, "They are talented also but are guided by my taste buds.""

She pushed back from me gently and I watched her eyes darken and shift from friendly to pure lust.

"What do you do to keep them so soft?"

"I used to build houses but now I write so the calluses have mostly gone away. Sometimes I still like to put them in a moist, tight glove to soften them."

She leaned close, "You are a naughty one, you must have heard about me."

"I heard something and it triggered a life-long fantasy of mine. I hope I did not offend you. I am a big tease."

"Not at all. Please come back and visit us. Bring your fantasies."

As I sat down again, Toby said, "Well you are a hit with Mable, she usually is not a talker at breakfast. But get ready for a million words, here comes Carol."

"Dave this is Carol; she is into all of the craft classes and exercises classes."

I stood and got my mandatory hug. She opened with, "The exercises are necessary. I need to lose some weight."

Very quietly I said, "I was so hoping you would come over and meet me?"

Her eyes sparkled, "Why is that?"

"Now don't slap me on my first day visiting."

"I won't."

"You have the cutest behind and I've been admiring it."

Carol was very pale skinned, short and was dressed to show off her ass, however, she was not used to open praise from men at the Garden. She turned bright red and was not the motor mouth Toby had warned me about. In fact she smiled, almost curtsied and left since she had finished breakfast.

As Toby and I were leaving the dining room a well endowed woman blocked our exit and extended her hand, "I'm Janice."

"Wow, nice to meet you Janice. I see why Toby did not have us sit at your table. I would have spent my all my time watching you and forgot about breakfast."

"Would I get to watch also?"

"Most definitely. I hope you don't like the quick MTV movies the kids watch. I find that I like to watch the full length movies that build up slowly before they give you a surprise ending."

Toby walked me toward his room, "You definitely know how to tease the ladies."

"It is all a big tease, Toby. I'll bring you a couple of my books tomorrow and list a few of the web sites that I write for. I truly enjoy words. Playing with them is how I have spent my free time for the last ten years."

I liked the facilities and met some of the staff before I left. Toby was impressed with my mysteries and in a few days, I got an invitation to be a guest speaker at the Garden. Teaching, book tours and mentoring had taken any fear of speaking in public away years ago. I gathered what information I could about my audience and tailored my talk to their interests, away from my work.

For an hour I talked about what writers do, their days, tours, etc. Then I took an hour of questions. They were good questions. Some of the people wanted to write about their lives or felt they had a good novel in them. The last question, tripped me up.

"Dave, your life's experiences gave you years of writing experience. How can we get good enough to write something that people would want to read; we don't have years and years?"

"Although practice does make perfect, it also can make you boring and write to a formula. Telling a good interesting story, in words that are comfortable for you will find your readers. Not everyone will like what you write but enough will. If you grew roses, write about it. If you were wild, had troublesome kids or worked in an unusual field, write about your lives. That is what people want to read, things that are real, things they can identify with, things new to them, things that are believable. Sure sci-fi sells but that is a small market compared to everything else. The best advice I can give you is to write and publish to the internet to get feedback and do not edit out the thoughts or experiences that are you. Readers see through that immediately."

I had met Ann earlier. I liked her immediately. She was clean, neat, smart, concise and confident. Knowing that we shared an oral fetish did not hurt. She asked, "Did you write for the internet as well as your published mysteries?"

"When you write, a lot of your great ideas don't grow into books, some go into directions that cannot be in a mystery and sometimes you are compelled to let your imagination go and release your frustration and desires through your characters. Yes, I have written and still write more for pen pals, the internet, chain stories and special friends than I publish under my name or even non de plums for specific genre."

Ten hands went up but the moderator said it was nine and time to stop the timed portion of my talk. I did agree to stay for more coffee and cookies for a while longer to address specific questions.

Twin spinster sisters asked me the million dollar question, "How about porn? Do you write porn? Why do so many people read and get involved in it?"

"I'll respond to that question but I don't think I should take any follow-ups in open discussion."

"All people have common interest in sex and some experiences with sex. So, we all can write about and read about something we know, to some extent. There is not another subject that is of interest to everyone. Sure some people put restrictions on such thoughts, but writers could try to describe the horrors of a rape, the blissful feelings of the best sexual moment in their lives, paint impossible fantasies or describe the sweet companionship that they wish for. It is the easiest way to publish, get experience and get feedback. Yes, I write porn. It is a great diversion and escape from daily problems."

I told the twin sisters about Literotica being the most quality story site and having enough submission rules to make it a good place for them to try. They asked, "Do you write for that site? Under what name?"

"Do the two of you read such stories together?"

They did not answer. "I see, I am to answer very personal questions, but you don't have to."

"Yes, we read them together. Often I read out loud for a while and then Sally does."

I wrote two different names on a post-it note and gave it to Cally. "Now, I answered your question but the names on this list are just for you and your sister."

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That's how the Tuesday night writing classes started at the Garden. I even brought Helen one night in her wheelchair, introduced her and said she was my editor, proofreader and critic for many years until she grew tired of my style. That drew a laugh but everyone could see the physical pain in her eyes that racked her body.

Within a few weeks quite a few people were working on autobiographies and discovering how difficult it is to be accurate in telling even your own life story -- researching dates, remembering who was at certain functions, rediscovering names. One night I realized this was ceasing to be fun for some people.

"Writing for most of us is done for fun. Remember I mentioned that first night that writing short stories and putting them on the internet is a great diversion and stressful relief. Please, please do not struggle so with your words until you do not enjoy writing. Imagine yourself as a story teller before written language, sitting around the fire at night, trying to entertain your listeners. Some anthropologists say this is why women bond, talk and share differently than men. Day and night they had lots of time to talk, tell stories and share while their men were away, not talking and being quiet while they hunted. Let's learn again to entertain and enjoy. For next week forget all the work and frustration. Write something fun or interesting that happened in your life and bring it to class for someone else to read. We'll mix the stories up so no one will know who wrote them, if you want."

I was the only male on the next Tuesday. We had fourteen in the class. The stories were fun interesting and well written. The evening was just about over when Cally said there was one more to read. As she began, I recognized it as one of my stories about aged, caring lovers. She was a talented reader. The words sounded much better spoken by her than they did when I wrote them. She did not edit the sex scene and it was torrid. You could hear a pin drop in the room when she finished. There were a few hard swallows and some were trying not to make noise while breathing. Several wiggled in their seats.

I did not want to discuss that story. It was very personal. I should never have published it.

"All the stories were wonderful and entertaining tonight. You all did wonderful jobs making the stories show your love, passion and experiences. Thank you."

The group broke up quietly. No one stayed behind that night. I left a note on Toby's door asking that he set me up for a dinner date with Mable.

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"Dave, we both know why you asked me out tonight. Why are we going out to dinner and pretending?"

"Mable, you might be pretending but I am enjoying your company, your voice and I hope you will enjoy having dinner with me, playing and teasing. Are you in a hurry?"

"I do have an interest that seems to get the guys to want to take me straight to bed and then leave." "You also live around many people you can talk to and share with. I want to enjoy being with you. Then if anything else happens, fine. This is the restaurant you picked from all those in the city. Why did you pick this one?"

"It has home cooked Southern food. I was raised in the South. I guess it reminds me of my childhood."

"I'm a southern boy -- born in Georgia. I know about crackling cornbread, fried salt pork, okra, chittlins, mustard greens and grits. Can you match that?"

"Sweet Thing, do you know what you are supposed to eat on New Year's Day?"

"Well, "Shut my mouth," if you are not the cutest little bitty in the barnyard. You have to have greens and black-eyed peas so you will have dollars and pennies all year."

We both had lived in California for so long that our ancient southern accents were strained at best. She held her head back and laughed with gusto.

"Now a test for the pretty lady, "What did the smart Southerners of Atlanta do with the most expensive piece of real estate in the city?""

"That's too easy, at North Avenue and I-75 sits the largest three story hot dog stand in the world, The Varsity."

"I'm starved; I hope you like to eat as playfully as you talk."

Mable and I honestly enjoyed each other's company and were having a fantastic time before the entre was served. "I have to run to the "little girls' room" before the main course gets here."

"May I come help you?"

"Better not here in polite society. Back on the farm I'd say, "Yes.""

"You are a big tease."

"No I'm not."

"Prove it. Bring me your damp panties back."

"Sure thing, big boy."

She definitely did not back down or get embarrassed. I did not hide what I held in my hands when she put them there. They were pink with a lacy top, I pressed them to my nose and inhaled while I kissed at the damp crotch.

Her eyes sparkled and her entire face smiled naughtily.

"Can you guess now?"

"Guess what?"

"Well you challenged me why we were going out because I already knew your fetish. What's mine?"

"Let's see, you are a cross dresser and want to wear my underwear."

"No, I'm the most oral man you have ever known and I want to taste you and lick you for hours while I cater to your fetish."

She groaned and said, "Can we leave now and go back to my room?"

Our food was served and we idly chatted about life, likes and dislikes.

"In our house, we never ate desert after dinner. We ate early, waited and had it with coffee or milk as a late snack."

"That's funny, Dave, we did the same thing."

"I've arranged for the restaurant to give us a thermos of coffee and some cheese cake to go."

"I'm stuffed now. That sounds like a great idea."

"Except.............?"

"Except what?"

"I've lived on the west coast so long, I like a little sweetness right after dinner."

We had teased a lot but this puzzled her.

I leaned close and kissed her. "That is sweet but not sweet enough."

Again I leaned close, "Give me your tongue." I sucked. It is nice to get old enough not to care about the others in the restaurant.

"That is even sweeter but it will not hold me until we get back to the Garden."

Again she could not guess where I was going. "Put two fingers into your pussy and let me suck them."

That shocked her. Then she remembered we were together for sex and her juices flowed again. She did not move.

"You mean woman. Do I have to crawl under the table cloth and get the sweetness I so desperately need or are you going to feed me. Isn't it a southern woman's job to be gracious and feed her date?"

I watched her glance around the room then decide to dismiss everyone except us. Her eyes returned to mine and never blinked as her right hand disappeared under the table cloth. Her legs rustled and her eyelids almost closed for a second when her fingers slipped into her body.

"Not too fast, Pretty One, it takes a minute or two for the sweetness to accumulate. Maybe if you thrust your fingers in and out a little, it will help."

She accepted my challenge but was a little unhappy with me. "I hope you cum in your pants."

"I'm not going to do that but everyone in the restaurant will know that you have gotten me very excited when we leave."

Her satisfied smirk said she liked knowing that.

The fingers she offered me were more than wet. I cleaned them and complimented the chef on the aroma, the bouquet and the delicate seasoning.

As we left the restaurant, Mable eyed her handiwork with pride. When she locked her arm into mine, she pulled it back to make the tent in my slacks even more pronounced. I put my other arm behind me and said, "Just follow the arrow back to where we parked."

Before I cranked the car, I could smell the sweetness of her and feel the heat. "I don't want you to cool down on me and lose interest in spending some time with me. We need to stay hot to earn our cheese cake and coffee."