Assisted Living Still Getting It

This story takes place immediately following Assisted Living: Still Got It.

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She beamed at me with her toothless smile, licking a final drop of cum from her lips. "How do you feel about eating pussy?"

I sighed, still basking in the afterglow of a powerful orgasm. "I feel good about it, I like eating pussy. But Margaret, what about Mr. Haskins?"

"Stanley? He hasn't been able to do anything sexually for years. I love him, but he's not getting any better." She paused for a moment and looked at me again "He would want me to be happy."

I thought for a moment. She had just given me the best head of my life, despite my reluctance. It seemed only fair, but I wasn't sure I was keen on the age gap to go down on nearly 80-year-old pussy. It was odd though, because if she was in her twenties, I probably wouldn't hesitate.

"I had a lover, a friend of Stanley's for a while, but he was placed in a home a few years ago, and I haven't had anyone since." She looked almost sad. "I'm old, not dead yet."

"No, I see that." I took her chin in my hand and lifted her face. "When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"Two days ago." She laughed at my surprise. "A girl has needs. Not like when I was in my forties or fifties, but I still have needs. "The last time I got fucked," She laughed again at my reaction to her using the word fuck, "Was several years ago. It's been much longer since anyone went down on me." She looked sad again. "I miss that."

It had been over a year since the divorce. I was missing it too. I wondered what it must be like at that age. Even at 50 I could appreciate my changing body and some of the challenges I would be facing. Suddenly, it didn't seem fair. "Margaret?" She looked at me hopefully. "I'd love to eat your pussy."

"I was told I tasted good."

"We'll see if that still holds true." I wondered if she would make me pull her slacks down and what kind of underwear she had on, or maybe depends? But she got up, and said she needed to get ready, and disappeared into the bathroom.

There was a knock at the door. "Margaret? Time for your meds." I got up and made sure my pants were back on properly, my belt tightened and answered the door. The aide seemed surprised. "Aren't you Mr. King's son?"

"Yes, I was just keeping Margaret company."

"Aren't you sweet."

I looked at her standing in the doorway, a small cup of pills in her hand. "I can make sure she gets those."

"OK, please be sure she does. She's not always good about it and runs into problems if she doesn't."

"I'll take good care of her."

"Thank you." She handed me the cup of pills. "Do it soon since she just had dinner."

"Yes, I'll make sure she gets done soon." It was all I could do not to smirk.

And with that, the aide moved on to the next room as Margaret came out of the bathroom, fully naked. I was pleasantly surprised. Her body was old to be sure, with stretch marks down to her smooth and hairless labia, while her tits, once large and firm I'm guessing, were now longer and sagging, but not as bad as some younger women I had seen. Despite my recent orgasm, I felt some life stirring in my cock at the sight.

"Oh?" She saw me with the cup of pills. "Are you going to administer my medicine?"

"If you take all of your pills, you'll get a treat."

"I already had my sucker, is this better?" She walked towards me and took the cup from my hand, tossing it back into her mouth. She went to the kitchenette and picked up a glass of water, washing the pills down. Seeing her from the back side was much better. Her ass wasn't that flabby and had obviously been well rounded in her youth. It still had some shape to it, but no tone.

She turned around, walking to me, and smiled, opening her mouth. Her dentures were back in, and she had her perfect, radiant smile again. "All done, see?" I pretended to examine her mouth. "Now, about my treat..." She reached down and took my hand. "Do you know what else I miss?"

"Elvis?" I winced at my own joke, not sure how it would land.

She laughed. "No, I was never much of an Elvis fan, but the Stones..." She sighed and placed my hand on one of her breasts. "I miss having my boobs played with."

It was surprisingly full, and still had some firmness, while the stretch marks offered texture. I was able to fit most of it in my hand and raised my other hand to play with the other one. They had good weight and were appropriately squishy. Squeezing and rolling them in my hands caused her face to transform. She closed her eyes, lost in thought, and gasped a little when I squeezed her nipples. They swelled almost instantly; little pink erasers surrounded by small pink areolas.

"When I was younger, I'd be wet by now," she mused distractedly. "Playing with my boobs was a sure way to get me to spread my legs." I lifted one of them and brought my mouth to it, as she gasped and stiffened, grabbing my arm with a firm grip. She tasted and smelled of lilac, probably her soap, and I licked and teased one nipple, before tasting the other. She made appreciative noises throughout and held my arm tightly.

She arched her back a little and moaned, and then with her hand still on my arm, guided me to the open door of her bedroom. Inside were two dressers and some pictures and knick-knacks, and a king sized bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, and scooted herself back on it, her legs spread and her knees up with the soles of her feet flat on it, waiting for me. "See? Playing with my boobs is a sure thing," and she held her hand out, inviting me between her thighs.

I determined I would be worthy of the wait, and slid in between her legs, my face inches from her hairless pussy. She smelled of musk and lilac as I gently kissed her inner thighs and listened to her moan as she laid her head back on a pillow. She knew exactly what to do with her hands and I felt her thin fingers stroking my hair as I circled her vulva with my mouth. Her lips were very thin, and I imagined it looked somewhat like a pre-pubescent girl, featureless and pale.

I parted her slit with my tongue and realized how dry she was. I did my best to moisten it, noticing how she tasted faintly like sweet musk. She squirmed and giggled as my tongue penetrated her. "Oh, how I missed this," she moaned quietly, and pulled on my head to draw me in closer. I inserted a finger, and found my saliva was sufficient lubrication to find and stroke her G spot, while my mouth moved upwards to seek out her clit. It was there, just smaller than I expected, and after using my other hand to pull the thin hood away, I was licking it with abandon.

She was very still for a while, and I wondered how much she was feeling. I was trying to be gentle, but firm, with a delicate tongue just on the tip. I started to suck on it and draw what I could into my mouth to massage it more firmly, when she began to move a little, a gentle rocking of her hips. I could feel her fingers in my hair start to tighten a little as I increased my suction and drew patterns on her clit. Circle, square, triangle, repeat.

Despite having just gotten the best blow-job of my life less than an hour before, I felt myself getting fully hard with my face in her pussy. I considered opening my pants and stroking myself, but I didn't want to scare her or make her feel like I wanted to fuck her. I'm sure her dryness would have made that a challenge anyways. I wanted her to be relaxed so she could enjoy herself.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting from her, but I noticed her sweet, musky taste had gotten stronger, and her pussy finally began to get a little wet as my finger continued to stroke her. I wasn't sure if she would cum from this or not, but she was murmuring appreciatively and her legs started to get antsy. I took that as an encouraging sign and continued with light suction and firm tongue stimulation. Her clit had become more responsive, swelling a little, and making it easier to manipulate with my lips and tongue. I found her lack of movement refreshing, as I didn't feel I had to hold her down to keep my mouth in position.

Other than her breathing, which had gotten louder and faster, I wasn't sure what kind of effect, if any, I was having. She didn't seem to want me to stop, and my mouth wasn't exhausted or cramping yet, so I kept going. After what seemed like a few more minutes, out of the blue her fingers just suddenly squeezed my hair very hard. I felt her entire body go taut, and I looked up at her face to see her mouth open and the tendons in her neck standing out. She had her head back, chin jutting forward, and I was afraid she was having a heart attack. Her breathing had changed to fast and shallow, and her eyes were closed. It looked like she was being shocked, her mouth open in a silent scream.

I felt like I should stop, but kept tonguing her clit, waiting to see. After a short while she relaxed, and her fingers loosened, stroking my hair again. She opened her eyes and returned my gaze with a wan smile. "Are you alright?" I asked.

"Mmmm," she responded, purring like a kitten. "I'm great. That was..." She closed her eyes, and her breathing continued to slow, "That was great."

"Sure looked that way from here." I started to get up and she reluctantly released my hair. "I was afraid you were having a heart attack."

"What a way to go," she laughed dreamily. She started to straighten her legs, wincing slightly at how stiff they had gotten. I glanced at the clock and realized I had been going for almost thirty minutes. "It takes longer now, but everything is so much more... intense. I'm lucky though, the estrogen helps."

She looked like a different woman laying there, her body flushed with color, her eyes vibrant and sparkling, even her nipples and vulva had become a darker pink. I was feeling quite pleased with myself. "Well Margaret? Was it like you remembered?"

"Better." She slowly tried to sit, and I reached out to help pull her up. "Stanley was never very enthusiastic about it, and Winston, his friend, just wasn't very good. He could never finish." She reached out and placed her hand on my cheek. "But you," she looked at me fondly, "You were both." She sighed. "I'm sure you'll make a young woman very happy."

"Maybe so, but tonight I'm glad I could make you happy." I thought for a moment. "Margaret? You still taste good."

She smiled at that. "Be a dear, and help me get out of bed, I need to clean up." I offered my arm as she swung her legs over the side and stood up shakily. "My legs missed that feeling," she said as she walked stiffly to the bathroom. I could hear her running water, and she spoke a little louder, "Yeast infections really suck when you're old," and then she laughed.

I stood outside the bathroom, not sure what to do. I felt like I should be going. She emerged shortly after, without her dentures and smelling like lilacs again.

"I hate to eat and run, but I've got to get going."

"Of course. You've worn me out." She paused and looked at me. "Tuck me in before you go?"

"Yes, Margaret."

She climbed back into bed, this time with the covers over her and I tugged the sheet up a little, making sure she was fully covered. I leaned down and gave her a kiss on her forehead. "Sweet dreams Margaret."

"Mmmm," she murmured. "I'll dream of getting fucked by your pretty cock."

"Maybe next time." In my head, I could picture it, and I felt myself getting hard again. I let myself out and as I walked down the hall and through the common room, I hoped that no one noticed the bulge in my pants.