A Musician's Magic Hands

For an older gal of 64, I consider myself to be in pretty good shape. I'm tall, lean and fairly muscular for my age, from a lifetime of exercise and eating well. I have shoulder-length silky blonde hair and despite the usual sags and wrinkles of someone technically elderly, I think I look pretty good.

But occasionally injuries pop up. This day, I was visiting Martha's Vineyard with my husband, Greg, of 40 years, and we were having a splendid time. He was off taking photos in town, and as usual, I patrolled the many boutiques, ending up with several bags by later in the afternoon.

As I was cutting through a skinny alleyway between rows of stores, I tripped on an uneven portion of brickwork and tweaked my right ankle, yelping in pain and limping along to a nearby bench behind a building that housed a bar and nightclub. I sat down, crossing my long, lean legs, and pulled up my foot to rub the ankle, thankful I'd worn a summery dress and silver flip-flops that made access easier.

"Are you OK, ma'am?" I heard a voice ask.

I looked up into the most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen. This young man stood there, a great mane of curly brown hair on his impossibly handsome head, looking at me with great concern.

"Uh, yes, I just twisted my ankle a bit, so silly of me, no need to bother," I said, surprised how shy I'd become in front of a boy easily 40 or more years my junior.

"No bother, really," he said, sitting next to me and motioning for my foot.

"What..." I started to say.

"I'm sorry," he smiled. "I'm a musician here, a guitarist, we're taking a break from rehearsing just now, but I'm also studying physical therapy in college. I've seen my share of these things, I'm just offering to have a look."

His beaming smile melted any resistance and still staring into his eyes, I slowly swung my foot up to his lap, not even realizing as I did so, it hiked my short skirt up to reveal just about all of my firm, tanned thighs and above, the white panties I wore.

"Uh, better give me both feet, ma'am," he said, shyly looking away.

"Oh my, yes, I'm so sorry!" I said in embarrassment, lifting the other leg to his lap and smoothing my skirt over my thighs as best I could.

"Well now, doesn't look too bad," he said, rubbing my injured ankle gently at first, and then a bit harder, sending electric tremors up that calf and thigh directly to my pussy, making me moan involuntarily. "Oh, I'm sorry, does that hurt?"

"Uh, no, not at all," I said in a low voice, trying to suppress the feeling threatening to overcome me as I watched his amazing hands knead my slim ankle. "Just..uh..just the opposite..feels nice, really...but you don't..."

"My pleasure," he smiled, working the tender flesh with both hands and then slipping off my flip-flops, making me jump. "Relax, relax, sometimes with these things, a foot rub helps ease any pain and swelling. May I?"

"Rub my feet?" I asked, astonished, as he nodded with a smile. "Well...I guess so....but I've been walking all day...my feet...gosh, they're all...sweaty and...well...I imagine stinky..."

"Not to worry, ma'am," he said with remarkable poise, now twisting to the side to better rub the soles of my aching, sweaty feet, one leg spread to hold them on it, his incredible hands digging in and kneading and caressing my feet in ways I never imagined could be so pleasurable.

"My God...what's your name?" I sighed, leaning back and enjoying his rub.

"Neal," he said, smiling at me, using his thumbs to dig into the soles of both feet, his long fingers around the insteps. "And yours?"

"Carol," I cooed.

"Relax now, Carol, and let me do my work," he laughed. "I'm a guitarist, I have pretty educated fingers, you know...."

"Oh, I know, I know, I know," I found myself chorusing, tensing my thighs to squeeze in on my pussy which I could feel getting wetter with every delicious rub by the young man's powerful fingers.

He worked them for long, sexy minutes, neither of us saying anything, but feeling something build between us. I looked around; no one was coming or going in our little secret hiding area. I wondered where my husband was and if he was looking for me. Then remembering he never came close to making me feel as good as Neal was, I shooed the thought away quickly.

His fingers worked up the balls of my feet where he began stroking, slowly, each long, red-painted toe, making me moan louder, then moving his fingers between them to twist around each, easing the tension there and sending jolts up my legs to my pussy. I fought the urge welling up inside me but could not ignore it. This young musician's talented fingers were giving rise to sexual feelings in me I'd never experienced.

I realized my eyes were closed as he continued to rub my feet and I was biting my lower lip. I blinked them open and he was smiling at me, looking down at my feet and up my legs.

"You are in amazing shape," he smiled. "Your legs...look so muscular and shapely for a woman...."

"My age!" I laughed. "No, that's fine, I guess they are for an old lady of 64!"

"Wow, Carol, really?" he asked in genuine astonishment. "Honestly, girls my age should have legs so...well, so sexy!"

I smiled -- and then watched as he slowly bent down a bit, his eyes on mine, and gently kissed each one of my toes, occasionally flicking his tongue out to lick the tip of each one.

"Neal, what are you doing?" I whispered, making no move to stop him.

"Shhhhh, dear lady," he smiled. "Allow me..."

"But they're so...sweaty and smelly!" I said.

"And they taste and smell like heaven," he growled.

I had a mini-orgasm the second he opened his mouth to suck my right big toe inside, his hot tongue washing over it, digging between it and the next one, lapping it in swirling circles. I groaned, clamping my thighs together and let it happen, closing my eyes, biting my lip as one by one, Neal sucked all 10 of my anxious toes, slowly, wetly, triggering mind-blowing orgasms along the way. I couldn't believe how talented this young man was, his mouth sucking my toes and then licking the soles up and down, suckling on my gnarly heels, all the while those fantastic hands massaging them, before slipping up over my ankles to knead the muscles of my calves.

"Good GOD, Neal!" I moaned, watching his hands caress and massage the freckled skin of my shins and calves with deep, sexy strokes, up and down. "Your hands...they're..."

"Hands of a musician are the best, Carol," he laughed.

I couldn't believe how bold this young man was, how assured and confident. He spread his legs now, and looking in between I noticed the thick bulge of his crotch. I'd given this young stud a raging hardon, and I couldn't have been prouder -- or more horny.

HE sensed that, and smiling, leaned forward, putting my feet together directly onto the biggest cock I'd ever felt, then stroking his way up my thighs, slid his hands under my dress, cupping my upper thighs in them and using his thumbs to hook aside my panty and slowly rub my hairy, wet pussy, those thumbs diddling the clit between my furry lips in a way I'd never experienced. My eyes were wide open, shocked, and staring into his calm, gentle blue ones. He kept moving his thumbs in beautiful, slow circles, rubbing my nub between them as he gently pushed his cock into the soles of my feet.

"Jesus Christ, Neal...your fingers..your hands..." I moaned, rotating my hips in timing with his stroking, my thighs quivering under his hands. "I'm gonna....jesus, I'm gonna cum...."

He said nothing, only smiled and rubbed my clit with his long thumbs harder and harder until I screamed a low, guttural scream and came like I never came before, my thighs quaking, my pussy absolutely on fire and soaking my pubic hair and gushing out to coat his thumbs, the lubrication silky and hot and causing a smaller series of orgasms before I settled down and gasped for air, realizing I'd not been breathing throughout his incredible clit massage.

I opened my eyes as Neal smiled, pulled his thumbs from my soaking wet pussy and lifted them to his mouth. It triggered another small orgasm just watching him lap the glistening juices of my pussy from them.

"What...what about you, my dear boy," I sighed, pushing my feet against his huge cock as he leaned back, smiling.

"Well, if you insist," he laughed, unsnapping his jeans and freeing his thick, long cock, my eyes bulging at the site of it.

He continued to do all the work, jerking his dick, stroking it up and down the soles of my feet before putting it between them to slowly fuck them. I'd never done this to any man before and I never felt more sexy doing it, or rather him doing it to me. He leaned back, hands hooked behind his head, smiling at me, gyrating his slender hips, pumping his huge dick through the wrinkled clamp of my feet, oozing precum that sizzled when it landed on my insteps and ankles. He groaned, watching me watch him fuck my feet, thrusting harder and harder, slapping my heels into his bloated balls.

"Here," he hissed. "For you, Carol..."

Without making a sound, that smile on his young face, he came, a huge, thick, ropy eruption of cum, white, creamy and nuclear hot, giant jets that exploded out of his massive dick head and splattered in cinnamon strips all the way from the tops of my thighs, over my knees, down my shins, spreading over my calves, and finally ending by coating my toes and insteps. I came just watching him cum, and found myself panting again, having held my breath throughout his most prolonged orgasm.

"Holy mackerel!" I exclaimed, watching him pull his wilting cock from the cummy clamp of my feet. "My God, Neal, you cum so much!"

He laughed and wiped his dick on my soles before putting it back into his pants. I sat, looking down at my completely cum-coated legs and feet.

"Uh, we need something..." I said.

"We have something, dear lady," he smiled.

I lost track of my orgasms the minute Neal leaned over and started lapping his sperm from my wrinkled, tanned thighs, his impossibly hot tongue slurping the spunk into his mouth, opening his lips to mouth the flesh, working his way from thigh to thigh, knee to knee, down my shins and over my calves, slowly, deliciously cleaning every sexy drop of his young seed, his eyes tilted up to watch my reaction, smiling as he did.

He got to my ankles, licking them clean, and then slurping his way through the blanket of sperm on my insteps, finally suckling each toe, one by one, that tongue swirling over and between them, and over my soles, lapping them gently as he held the heels in his strong hands. Long minutes later, he finished and sat sideways again, my feet in his lap. HE slipped my flip flops back on, bending to playfully give my wiggling, wet toes a kiss.

"There," he said proudly. "Feeling better now are we?"

"Oh, God, Neal, yesssssssssssssss," I moaned, swinging my feet to the ground and standing as he took my hand to lift me.

We hugged, kissed gently and parted. He looked at me walk away.

"You're perfect!" he laughed. "No limp, nothing! I guess my hands were good for you?"

"To say the least, young man," I sighed. "To say the least."

"Are you staying on island tonight?" he asked. "Maybe you can come see us play. I promise to make it worth your while."

"Well, my husband doesn't like to stay up late," I sighed. "And I'm not sure I could get away without him noticing..."

"Then see you tomorrow on your shopping trip!" he said with a beaming smile. "You know where to find me..."

I smiled, walked away and started counting down the time until then....