Assisted Living Still Getting Down

This story takes place immediately following Assisted Living: Still Getting it.

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In my head, I could picture myself behind Margaret, standing at the edge of the bed, impaling her with my cock as she knelt on all fours, and I felt myself getting hard again. I let myself out of her suite and walked down the hall and through the common room, hoping that no one noticed the bulge in my pants.

I had read that sexually transmitted diseases often ran rampant in eldercare facilities, so older people getting down must be a thing, but I felt funny walking out after exchanging oral sex with a resident 30 years older than me. I could still taste her on my lips, and the smell of lilacs lingered in my nose.

"Goodnight, Mr. King," the desk clerk waved. I waved back and kept walking.

My name is Tom King, I'm recently fifty-one years old, and divorced after 26 years of marriage. I have a daughter in graduate school. I'm considered handsome, although I don't see it, and I used to be in decent shape, but I've picked up a few extra pounds in the past year. It has not been a good year.

I put my dad at 74 years in an assisted living facility about six months ago, mainly memory issues, after trying to have him live with me. Just another complication that helped hasten my divorce. My mom died several years ago, suddenly, and dad was just never the same after that.

I got home and decided to research sexuality in the elderly. It was quite eye-opening. I was surprised to discover how many people still maintain sexual activity into their 80's and beyond. Margaret sounded like a normal, healthy, sexually active octogenarian. An octogenarian who also gave me the best head of my life.

I had a lot to learn and think about.

I usually visited dad every few days, according to a loose schedule, but decided to go and have dinner with him again the next night. I might also have wanted to see Margaret again. Despite her age, or maybe because of it, I found her refreshing. Her candor and openness were welcome, and even her body, which initially I might have found unappealing, I was learning to appreciate. A lot to think about.

I reserved dinner, and showed up at five, going to dad's room to escort him to the dining area. I wondered if he fancied any of the women here at the home, or if any of them fancied him? Based on his medical appointments I assumed sex was no longer on the table, but I was rapidly unlearning everything I assumed I knew. Still, I wasn't about to ask him, but it was something I might bring up to his doctor next time.

We sat at an empty table, hoping that Margaret would soon join us. She had no idea I'd be here, but hopefully she'd be happy to see me. A few minutes later she came in with a small group of other women, and they all sat down at another table. I didn't want to call out to her, and I wasn't sure she had seen me. So, I talked with Dad, who was happy for my surprise visit, and the other random residents and family members at our table. I studied each one, wondering which ones still harbored desires and passions, enjoying a younger lover or the comfort of their peers.

Once dinner was over, I tried to get Margaret's attention, but she didn't see me apparently and disappeared out the door with her gang of elderly women. I'll admit I was a little disappointed. I got dad back to his room, and comfortable in his chair with old sitcoms on, and then went to Margaret's room, hoping she hadn't decided the better of our recent tryst, maybe chalking it up to a bad idea.

I waited a moment at her door before she answered, and her face lit up when she saw me. Then, she flashed embarrassment, averting her eyes. "Is everything OK Margaret? Is this a bad time? I don't mean to intrude." I was beginning to feel a bit foolish.

"No, no, this is perfect, I'm so happy to see you again." She sound sincere. "It's just that, I don't know your name. You're Tom's son, but..."

"Tom also. Tom Junior." I laughed. "Here you are with strange men, and you don't even know their names."

She slapped my arm playfully. "Not my proudest moment." She looked out into the hallway. "Quickly, come in, come in." She practically pulled me into her suite. "Once these cougars learn you're a granny chaser, they'll be relentless. You have to be careful."

"I didn't realize assisted living was so cutthroat."

"Don't be fooled. They're all predators, and I want you all to myself." She hugged me and I hugged her back, not as afraid of hurting her as I might have been just yesterday. We stood like that for a while, before she said, "But not tonight".

I drew away and looked at her. "Hot date?"

She smiled, "No, chiropractor." She held my arms. "We were lucky last night, but it's not really safe here." She let go of my arms and sighed. "It's not like we have the greatest privacy, and getting caught could lead to all kinds of questions." She had a point.

She continued, "I can leave here you know, just like your father can. We're not prisoners."

"Oh. So, we can go..."

"To your place. Or a hotel." She winked at me. I appreciated her candor.

"Is it safe?"

"Oh, a strapping young man like yourself? You could probably take me. I think you're safe." She was smiling, insufferably pleased with herself.

"Margaret, you know what I mean," but I leaned in for comic effect and whispered, "Besides, you might be packing some heat."

"You're the only one packing heat, dear." I thought it was cute how she used the word dear. "But yes, it's safe. Unless you plan on taking me to one of those dungeon things for some BSDM or want to tie me up. I definitely would not recommend that."

I laughed, "Do you mean BDSM?"

"Whatever."

"OK, I think you're safe."

"Not too safe, a girl has to live you know."

"Skydiving?"

"Let's start small." She looked at the clock on the wall. "I have to get to my appointment." She walked to a desk and pulled out a small pad of paper. "Here's my number," she said as she jotted it down. She handed me the slip of paper and another piece with a pen, "give me yours."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, are you free?" I handed her my number and the pen back.

"I think I can squeeze you in."

I walked with her towards the recreation area and suggested an exhibit on Picasso at the Art Museum. She suggested we bring my dad for that, saying "I think he'd appreciate getting out of here. We'll just bring him back early."

I feigned indignation, "Margaret, I'm hurt that you feel we need a chaperone." She laughed. "But I'm sure you're right. He would love that."

We had arrived at the recreation area. We looked at each other awkwardly amidst other residents in the area, and I simply said, "See you tomorrow," before turning to leave.

"Tom," she touched my elbow, and I turned back as she leaned in to whisper, "Make sure you have lube." She was chuckling as she walked into the chiropractor's room.

Dad, of course, was delighted when I called and told him about the museum. I wasn't sure how to broach the subject of Margaret coming along, So I just decided to go for it. "Dad, there's a woman at the home who I think would appreciate getting out, is that OK?"

"That sounds very nice TJ." Dad had always called me TJ, obviously for Tom Junior. The nickname never stuck with anyone else, it was our little thing. It was hard to read Dad these days, I was never sure how much he understood what was going on, or if he'd even remember this when I got to the home. He just seemed to take everything in stride though.

I had spent last night tidying the house, as best I could on short notice, and drove the short distance to the home, stopping along the way to pick up some Astroglide. Once there, I collected Dad from his room, and Margaret was waiting at the entrance when we got there. I had to sign Dad out, due to his special, memory related needs, but Margaret appeared able to come and go as she wished.

Margaret was wearing a three quarter black dress with a white belt, and black clogs, contrasting with my jeans and oxford, and Dad in his sweat pants and shirt. I was instantly drawn to her full chest, obviously shaped by a bra, and her slim waist. The belt complimented her white hair, and the overall effect was very sexy and European. I wondered if the other men and visitors at the home were having the same reaction I was.

We got to the car, and I felt funny putting Margaret in the back seat, but she insisted, so I got Dad ensconced first, and then held the back door open for Margaret. "I love the dress Margaret, you definitely still have it."

"Oh, this old thing?" We both laughed. "You just like it because it will be easy to take off."

"Margaret, please," I exhorted her, "I have to drive." She started to get into the car. "But I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

She looked at me and whispered, "I'm not wearing any panties," and winked.

The museum went well. It was a popular exhibit, and we browsed the galleries waiting for our entrance time. Dad got a bit tuckered after a while and I ended up renting a chair for him, but Margaret was surprisingly spry and was delightfully kind and attentive to Dad. She was also attentive to me and often had a hand on me or would stand close. Her familiar smell of lilacs had been replaced with roses.

We had a few moments looking at each other where I actually wanted to kiss her or squeeze her ass. I imagined brushing my hand against her breasts, but in such a public place I was mindful of what the reaction might be. Were she a younger woman or one my age, such gestures might be easily dismissed, but such a blatant display of affection or desire with someone who would easily be assumed to be my mother, would suggest scandal. Again, it didn't seem fair.

She recounted seeing a large Picasso exhibit back in the 80's, when I was a gangly youth, and she and my dad shared stories about life back then. He related stories of the time I was born, and my childhood, while she spoke of being able to apply for her first credit card without Stanley's approval. That was the year after I was born.

She and my dad had both lived through periods of social and economic upheaval, and I began to appreciate their experiences as peers, instead of a child hearing stories. Margaret had lived a long and varied life, and that young woman was still in there, full of defiance and drive, determined to live life on her own terms. And all I wanted to do was lift her dress and tongue her pussy.

We had lunch at the café and finally saw the Picasso's. She managed to squeeze my ass a couple times, and I resisted looking around to see if anyone noticed, and even one time squeezed hers back with her giggling like a teenager. We left the museum, and I drove Dad back home, while Margaret waited in the car. No one questioned me about her as I quickly got Dad back to his room, and resting in his chair.

Eagerly I got back to the car, where Margaret had switched to the front seat. She was all grins as I started driving and placed her hand on my thigh. "This is so exciting, I feel like a kid again," she bubbled, "It's been a couple days since I felt like this. Before that it was many years."

"I know the feeling Margaret," I replied, and she squeezed my thigh appreciatively.

I pulled off the street and into a parking lot. "Is this where you live, Walgreen's?" She had that mischievous tone in her voice, and that sparkle in her eyes as I parked. Like most men, I could separate sex from intimacy, But Margaret deserved much more than just a romp in the sheets. I turned to her and placed my hand on her cheek, looking into her eyes. A nervous, exited young woman was looking back. I leaned forward into the sweet smell of roses, and she met me for a kiss.

It was tender and tentative. Her lips were dry and thin, and I licked them to provide moisture. Her tongue emerged to touch mine, and we gently explored each other's mouths as our lips slid over each other. It was brief, and I sat back to look at her, eyes closed, with a smile on her face.

She opened her eyes, and purred, "That was unexpected."

"Yes, for me too."

"It's been a lifetime since I've done it in a car. But I'm game if that's what you want." I started to bluster at that, and she added, "I'm pretty sure backseats are more uncomfortable now than when I was a teenager."

"Cute."

"I try."

I pulled out of the lot and finished the drive to my house. Her hand had wandered to between my legs, and by the time we were there, I had a raging hard on. I remembered to grab the bag with the Astroglide in it, and I had to help her up the steps to the back door, she said she didn't do well with stairs anymore and I realized we might not end up in my bedroom on the second floor.

The den still had the twin bed my dad used before he left, I'd have to spruce it up, if it even came to that. I was assuming she was interested in fucking, based on her lube comment, but maybe that was just her being silly.

There were three more steps inside the house, and then we were in the kitchen. "Thank you for helping me with the stairs dear." She looked around, taking in the spartan surroundings. I lost a lot of things in the divorce, and had only restocked the essentials. "I haven't been in a house in years. Stanley and I lived in a condo until we started home hopping. This is nice."

I came up behind her and enveloped her in my arms. She was small against my body, and I could feel my semi-erect cock pushing against her lower back. I was appreciative of her short hair as I leaned down and kissed the back of her neck, and she shuddered against me.

"It's been years since anyone has kissed me, especially like that." I took that as encouragement and spread kisses along the side of her neck, and onto her shoulder where I pulled the neck of her dress and bra strap aside. She cooed appreciatively as my hands stroked her breasts.

I started slowly pulling her dress up, my mouth nibbling on her ear amidst her giggles and gentle squirming. Finally, the hem was in my fingers, and I realized she wasn't kidding about not wearing panties as my hand slid over her mons. I gently probed between her legs expecting she would be dry, and she was. I felt for her clit being careful to not pull or push anything roughly. Her slit was unyielding, sealed shut, but her clit manage to emerge, and I fingered it delicately.

She stiffened slightly, and sighed, her hand coming to rest on my hand, as if guiding me to her pleasure. "I may need to sit down, you're making me dizzy," she whispered, and I finished pulling her dress up as I slowly directed her towards a chair, where she sat.

Facing her, I leaned down to give her another kiss. Her arms flew up and around my neck as we kissed more passionately now, my tongue running over her perfect teeth as she held me tight and stroked my hair. I had my hand on the side of her face and our kiss soon cooled, lips sweetly brushing against each other, her fingers caressing my neck with the scent of roses filling my head.

I pulled back to see her, eyes closed, faintly smiling, as I kneeled in front of her, parting her legs. I leaned in to explore her with my tongue, as she murmured, "Wow, twice in one week, a girl could get used to this." I laughed with my tongue on her clit, causing her to giggle. I pulled on her hips slightly, and she scooted forward on the chair, giving me full access to her vulva. I sloppily licked at her slit, and the lips slowly peeled back, before I was able to insert my tongue, further moistening her hole. She would definitely need lube, but not until after I was done licking her.

Her fingers were firmly in my hair, and I could feel her guiding me back to her clit as she sighed breathily. I was able to easily insert one finger, finding her G spot, but she was remarkably tight and firm. I wondered how hard it would be to get my cock in her or if it would hurt.

I looked up, past the crumpled length of her dress bunched around her waist, to her face. Her eyes were closed again, and she looked lost in thought, her mouth open as she breathed heavily. After my prior experience, I knew I wouldn't break her, so I sucked and licked her clit with abandon, as if she were a teenage girl. Her hands in my hair and her breathing broadcast her feelings, and I could sense the rising and falling waves of pleasure she was experiencing. I reached a hand up under her dress and pushed aside her bra, feeling one of her breasts in my fingers. Her small nipple was already stiff, and she gasped when I squeezed it, rolling it around between my thumb and finger.

"That goes straight to my crotch," she whispered, and I felt her tense up a little as my face was lightly flooded with warm liquid and she shuddered slightly. She half laughed and half moaned, and then started pushing my face away, apologizing.

I smiled at her with my wet face, "Margaret, did you just squirt?"

"No, I'm afraid it was only pee. Things get a little mixed up down there when you get older." She looked embarrassed.

"Margaret, it's OK. Pee, squirt, doesn't matter. Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, very much so," she sighed. "I'm sorry, I just didn't want you to...," she trailed off, searching for words. "I'm sorry I'm so old," she eventually blurted out.

I stood up, wiping my face with my sleeve. I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. "I'm not. Besides, maybe I have a thing for golden showers." She winced at that and then brightened.

"Sounds like we're a perfect match then." Her face got serious again. "You're young Tom. You could have a woman half my age. Maybe even two. Why are you spending time with me?" She took my hands in hers. "I appreciate it, really I do, but why?"

"When I look at you, when I touch you, when I kiss you, do you know what I see?"

"A horny old lady?"

I chuckled at that. "I see a beautiful, vibrant, and horny young lady, living in an old body that has served her well for eighty years." She just looked at me for a moment, and I could see a tear forming in her eye. "I would kiss you right now, but I kinda have pee on my face."

"I don't care," and she pulled me towards her, mouth open for another long kiss.

"So that's what I taste like," she observed after our mouths parted.

"Yummy, right? Sweet."

She nodded and looked down at the fluid on the chair. "Good thing you pulled my dress up, or you'd be doing my laundry." I grabbed a dishtowel and started blotting it up, and wiping it off her thighs, as she protested, "I was kidding, you shouldn't have to clean up after me."

"It was my fault, Margaret. If I didn't have my face between your legs, it would have never happened."

"I hope you learned a valuable lesson, young man," she said with mock severity, wagging her finger at me.

"I did. Lay a towel down next time." She mouthed the words "next time" and giggled.

I started to take my shirt off and she straightened up in the chair. When it was off, she asked me to remove her dress, so I pulled it up and over her head. Her bra was a mess where I had pushed a cup aside, so she twisted the front clasp, and her other tit dropped. I slid the shoulder straps down as she tugged it off. She stood, slipping out of her clogs, and stepped in to hug me, our skin warm where it met. Her hands roamed my back, and she pressed herself against me more firmly. I returned the embrace, her skin smooth and dry, and slid a hand down below her waist to cup her cheek.

"Margaret? Why me? I'm sure there are available men, why did you single me out?"

"Who says I did?" She chuckled. "I don't know, something about you. I figured why not go for it. I was actually surprised you ended up going along with it."

Her face nuzzled my chest, and I could feel her lips kissing me, as her hands dropped to my waist, and started unbuckling my belt. Soon I was wearing only my boxers, my pants in a heap around my ankles. The thin fabric did nothing to hide my excitement, and her exploring fingers didn't lessen the swelling. I quickly pushed the waistband down as she hastened them on their journey floorward. My cock was now pushing against her belly, as she looked up at me.