I was sixty-five years old, when my wife, Mary, died. She'd been sick for some time so we hadn't had sex for a couple of years. And, it's funny, but I didn't even miss it. Maybe I'm getting old. And Mary hadn't been looking so great. I mean she wasn't attractive to me anymore, so I was just as happy that my sex life had come to a close. I tell this to people and they laugh at me, because I look much younger than my age. Everyone says I could pass for forty-five. My hair is still full and black. Yeah, there are a couple of grey hairs next to my ears, but otherwise not. I don't have a lot of wrinkles, and my body is still fairly firm. Hey, I'm not a twenty-year old kid, but for sixty-five, really not too bad
The only thing was that after the funeral, I started losing weight, and not shaving every-day, and all that. I guess I'm not that good at taking care of myself. I've always had a woman to cook for me, and tell me to spruce up and everything. First my mother, then my wife. I never had to do anything for myself. My son, Michael, was getting very concerned about me.
"Dad. This is no good. You're not taking care of yourself," he said. "I'm really worried about you."
"Don't be silly, Michael. I'll be just fine," I answered.
"No. You won't be. I can see what's happening here," he said. "Gloria and I have discussed it, and we think you should come and live with us."
"That's ridiculous" I said. "You two kids have your own lives. You don't need an old guy like me around the house all the time."
"Yes, we do," he insisted. "We've talked it over and we want you to come and live with us. We insist."
The two of them wouldn't leave me in peace until I agreed to move into their house. They had a large guest room with a big double bed, and they put me in there. They had no children, so when they both went to work after breakfast I was alone in the house all day. Just like I had been in my own house. But Gloria, at least, cooked all the meals, and left me lunch and made sure I was properly dressed and groomed every day. This went on for a few months, and everything was all right. But then I could see that Gloria was getting edgy. She would snap at me for no reason. I didn't know what was going on. Then one night, I overheard a loudly whispered conversation coming from their bedroom.
Gloria: This is not a hotel, and we're not made of money. Everybody has to pull their own weight around here.
Michael: But, Gloria. He's an old man. He's retired. You knew all this before. Why didn't you say something then?
Gloria: I thought I could put up with it, but I can't. This is no good. He's got to contribute.
Michael: But what can he do at his age?
Gloria: I'll tell you what he can do.....
And then the voices got very low and I couldn't hear anything else. I wondered what they had in mind for me. I knew when they asked me that I shouldn't have come. I should have stuck to my guns. I was so upset that I had a lot of trouble falling asleep that night.
They never said anything to me at all, but a couple of nights later Gloria made some coffee after dinner. I saw something funny. "What kind of powder did you put into my coffee, Gloria?"
"No powder, dad. That was sugar." she answered.
"I usually put in my own sugar," I said
"Well tonight I did it for you. Am I such a terrible daughter-in-law?"
We both laughed as I drank my coffee. About a half hour later I started feeling very sleepy. I started to yawn.
"What's wrong, dad?" Michael asked.
"I don't know. I'm just so sleepy," I answered.
"Maybe you should go up to bed and get a good night's sleep," Gloria suggested. I didn't want to go to bed yet. It was way too early, but I was soooo sleepy. I shook my head trying to shake that drowsy feeling away, but it wouldn't go. I tried to stand up and I started wobbling on my feet. I almost fell.
"Hey, dad. Be careful," Michael said. "Come on. We're going to take you up to bed. Just lean on me." They got on each side of me, and with a little difficulty they got me up the stairs and into my bedroom.
"I'll take his clothes off and put him in bed," Michael said. Gloria nodded and left the room. Michael sat me on the bed and began stripping my garments off me. Every few seconds I started to slide over onto the bed and he'd have to straighten me up to get my undershirt over my head. Finally he was finished, and I drooped down again. This time Michael laid me out carefully in the middle of the bed. I was lying on my stomach and my rear end was in the air. I was practically asleep. I think I was even snoring a little. I think Michael thought I was asleep, but in this deep stupor, I could still hear, and I had a vague idea what was happening. I was waiting for Michael to throw a blanket over my body. But it never happened.
"Is he ready?" she asked.
"There are some things I want to do first," he answered.
"But company is coming in a half hour," she complained.
"There are some things. I have to do first. I want to make sure he doesn't get hurt. He's my father, for Christ's sake. Do you mind?"
"Do whatever you have to do," she said in a resigned but annoyed tone.
"He looks pretty good for his age, don't you think?"
"I suppose so," she answered.
"His ass is still pretty round and firm, not all saggy like most guys his age."
"You want to try it?" she asked.
"Don't get funny, bitch," he snapped.
"I'll be in the bedroom," she said and I heard her walking down the hall. I heard Michael go out of the room and then come back in with a crinkly paper bag. I felt the mattress sag a little as he sat on the edge of the bed, and began to take things out of that bag. I didn't know what was happening, really. I was practically asleep. My eyes were closed and I was breathing evenly and deeply. I felt his hand go down to my rear end, and it felt like he was slipping a finger inside, except the finger felt very cool and slippery. He kept working his finger in and out, and it was like all the time there was more and more slippery goo going into me. But that was ridiculous. Why would my son be doing that? I must be dreaming this, I thought. It could have been a dream, it was starting to feel sooo good. It had to be a dream. Then the finger felt like it was bigger, or maybe it was two fingers in my butt. But that's crazy. Why would my son be putting his fingers into his father's ass? That just wouldn't be right. I must be asleep. But, oh, it was feeling nice. Then it felt like there were three and after that even four fingers in there, working in and out, bending, twisting, kind of stretching my little asshole. I heard him rummage around in the bag for something, and a few seconds later I felt this big hard thing---it felt like plastic. First it played along my cheeks, then my ass lips, and little by little it was feeding inside my body. Wow. What a crazy dream. In my sleep I was getting turned on and wanted to hunch my ass around the intruding instrument and pull it deeper into my body. This was going on and on, and I was just lying there, semi-asleep, just enjoying it for all I was worth. I heard the doorbell ring downstairs, and then Gloria was going down. This must be the company she had mentioned a while ago.
A couple of minutes later I heard two sets of feet climbing the stairs, and then Gloria and a man were at the door of the room.
"There he is," Gloria said. "All yours."
"Not so fast," Michael said. I felt him get up from the side of the bed. "You have the money?" He asked.
"I got it," the man answered.
"Give it to me," Michael said. I heard the crinkle of paper money. Michael must be counting it, I thought.
"I wouldn't be doing this, you know, except my wife is visiting her grandmother in Florida for two months, and I'm really hard up. I just gotta get off." The man said.
"I understand perfectly," Michael answered. "And we're delighted that we could be of help to you in your current situation. In fact, any time you want to come back would be fine."
"I'm going to my room," Gloria said.