"Come on, let's show these young ones how it is done," said Diane, placing her old, familiar hand into Alistair's lap and giving his cock a squeeze.
Something akin to nostalgia stirred in him, pouring from the pit of his stomach down to his loins. Almost like his cock was responding to the echo of a memory of a good time, long ago, forgetting the toll of the decades that had lapsed since. Had she squeezed him like that the first time he had posed for her in her studio? He couldn't remember. Barney, her husband, sat next to her. Naked of course. Knees spread, lap wide, cock long, he slumped his wiry nearly-70 year old body back into the deep sofa on which they all sat. Glass of red in hand he smiled a lopsided, good-humoured smirk at Alistair, pushed his glasses up his probescent nose, and laid back for the spectacle.
And what a spectacle it was. One of the younger artists that Diane patronised at the gallery she was displaying at, was squatting naked on a Turkish rug laid in the middle of the room. There wasn't an eye that wasn't on her and the young man underneath her. Alistair hadn't assumed the evening would turn to fucking, despite the fact he had been swinging with Barney and Diane for decades. What he hadn't counted on, was the appearance of these younger guests.
Barney and Diane had offered Cindy a young artist from the gallery a lift, along with some of her unsold oil paintings back, as long as she accepted their invitation to dinner. Wisely unwilling to manoeuvre her life's work back on the bus, Cindy had accepted the generous offer. When the gallery owner's son Ryan emerged to help Cindy carry her paintings to the mini-van, Barney had swiftly moved into gear and made clear there was room for all if Ryan was also in need of refreshment that evening. The young man had of course accepted and was clearly thrilled with the opportunity to spend some more time with Cindy and her paintings, now safely strapped into the boot of the minivan. Once they arrived back at Barney and Diane's townhouse, it had become clear Ryan couldn't get enough of Cindy, who was pretty delighted with his presence in return.
Alistair often marvelled at how smoothly Barney and Diane operated with younger people. If anybody else had attempted to set up the scenarios this couple master planned, they would be considered sleazy; coercive even. Yet, there was something about the two of them, now in their late 60s, that put people both at ease, but also somehow desperate to please, the intriguing power couple. Perhaps Alistair himself had felt that way a long time ago, when he and his late wife had first met Diane and Barney.
A mere two or three hours after meeting Barney and Diane for the first time Ryan was now spreadeagled, naked on the Turkish rug that graced the front room of this magnificent town house. Cindy, knees hugging the side of his head, buttocks on his chest and vulva pressed into his lips, was on top of him.
Alistair had wondered if he might ever have the opportunity to fuck Diane again on his way over, but had pushed back this wistful wish as he remembered that hadn't happened in years since his wife had died. It was no fun being a widowed swinger, he thought to himself, what did you have to offer? As clothes had been shed between the dining room and the living room, he had allowed himself the fleeting wistful wish that perhaps Cindy herself might avail herself of the services of a more experienced man. However, as Cindy crouched on top of the unbridledly joyous Ryan, and Diane's familiar hand wrapped around his cock, Alistair realised Diane was exactly what he needed tonight. Let's not pretend the old boy always reacted like it used to, and a woman who understood his sensitive spots, and that he might need a bit more pressure, started to seem increasingly tempting as the unexpected visual delights of the evening spread out before him.
He had managed to stifle a small gasp when Cindy had eased her white, satin knickers down over her hips to expose a fluffy, ripe bush sprouting between her legs. He had believed that young women these days were all disappointingly bald down below. That was one reason he didn't really tend to bother with women outside of his own generation. Younger women thought a good healthy bush was unclean and dirty, and their grooming regimes extended to between their legs, he had heard. It was a shame, he thought, his first interactions with pussy had intimately tickled his fingers, his chin, his nose and his lips in a way that thrilled him to his core. In his day, you had to delve into the thicket to find the holy of holies; it wasn't stripped bare. Where was the fun in that? He was pretty sure younger women these days were missing out on their gentleman friends being forced to use more than their eyes to discover the most intimate shapes of a new lover.
It was the stirring in his cock he felt when he first saw the thick red curls adorning Cindy's mons, that had initially encouraged him to join the others in stripping off, alongside the young couple who clearly only had eyes for each other. Ryan had the joyous privilege of unbuttoning Cindy's paint-stained jeans and tugging them as hard as he could over her hips. He had done this sat up in the middle of the rug as she stood over him. Helping her pull them off over her feet, now her thighs were free to spread. His already tumescent cock twitched, desperate for Cindy to put him out of his misery and plant her bushy wet cunt on it. This clever, girl had other ideas, however. She planted her feet firmly next to his shoulders and started to pull off her knickers, revealing the bouncy bush that had so beguiled Alistair.
Diane and Barney had also shed their clothes in a comradely fashion, and Diane's bush sat mere inches from his thigh. Her cunt was as beautiful as ever, but Cindy's mystical, young hairy pussy had him mesmerised. Playfully, softly, he mirrored Diane's squeeze by resting his hand on her bouncy pubes, stroking and teasing as she alternated tightening her fist around his cock, with allowing his swelling member room to breath and grow. This firm pulsation took him from pizza dough-soft and stretchy, to mozzarella-bouncy firmness surprisingly quickly. These days he didn't often get much harder than that and was pleased his cock had agreed to play along this evening. Muscle memory, from Diane's diligent hands, perhaps?
Ryan looked taken aback as Cindy lowered her juicy cunt onto his mouth, but it was clear the boy knew what to do. He ran his flat tongue from her cunt to her clit firmly, five, six, seven, maybe eight times. Paused. And then did it again. And again. His hands moved from her thighs and hips up to her spectacularly pert tits, cupping and stroking them and finally tweaking her nipples as they heaved with her increasingly deepening breaths. She started to rock the front of her vulva into his mouth and onto his strong, lapping tongue. She felt his undulating tongue, soft and tickly at first, magically shift her from an earthly being into a melting mermaid.
