My name is – well, what difference does it make what my name is? I mean, you don't care about me. You're probably more interested in my little adventure and, if that's the case, you're one sick son of a bitch. But, okay, here goes.
Oh, hell, I don't care if you want to know or not. I'm going to give you a little background about me anyway. If you don't like, go screw yourself.
Still here? Fine.
I'm 42 years old and worked as a contractor for about 10 years before I got sick of the bullshit. It wasn't the people I worked for who pissed me off. It was the damned people who worked for me. Drunk, high or lazy, many of them were completely unreliable and did shitty work.
So when I was able to put together the money, I quit my contracting work, went on down to the bank and purchased a nice little apartment complex. Because I have no use for maintenance workers either, I make it a point to do all the repairs myself. It's my place so I take pretty good care of it, if I do say so myself.
I'm not making as much as I thought but I'm pulling down some regular change and I get some fringe benefits, as I'll explain later.
Here's a little more about me. If you don't like it, tough.
I'm not as long as a horse but I've got a cock as thick as a small baseball bat. After about 15 years of women (never got married – most girls are whores anyway) saying they couldn't get my monster in their fuck hole, I started to get the idea that I was sort of special in that department. Oh, I managed to get it in eventually. My feeling: if a woman can punch a baby out of that hole, she can take my thick dick in the other way.
Over time – and it got easier as I got older – I started to target mothers. Some of my buddies (assholes, most of them) said some mothers' floppy cunts were no good as places to stick their dicks. I on the other hand found they were a very nice fit, thank you, and most of these ladies were only too grateful to find a man who could "fill them out."
Okay, back to the fringe benefits at my complex.
I got to know most of the people in my buildings over time and, because I did such good work, there was an eager waiting list of people wanting me to repair the disposal or stop a leak or some damned thing or another that their limp-dicked husbands couldn't or wouldn't fix.
There are no children allowed in my complex (noisy, ungrateful bastards) so most of my tenants are older, although most of them have a family that doesn't live with them any longer. I found myself spending more and more time providing upkeep to my buildings and I wasn't getting out as much as I would have liked.
And the older ladies started looking better and better to me.
The first one I took was Catherine, a retired schoolteacher of about 60, with a big wide smile, liberal politics and a pussy as wide and friendly as all outdoors. She gasped the first time I fucked her but as soon as I bottomed out in her hole, she was fine and I grabbed a mouthful of tit and hung on for dear life as she soaked my cock dry.
Oh, yeah, and I got her washing machine working again too.
Then there was Margaret and Frances, Catherine (again) and Sally who I fucked in the kitchen while her fat good-for-nothing husband snored away while watching the History Channel (yeah – we get cable in our building too).
Most of the women came on to me in one way or another which at first was surprising and then I started to expect it.
I was in the middle of boning Emily, a fat 60-ish librarian at the nearby elementary school, when I realized she had never really come on to me. I just expected I could have her if I wanted. Fortunately, Emily didn't seem to mind but I never had the chance to bonk her again.
The reason is Sarah. And here's where my story gets kinky – although, as they say, it's only kinky the first time.
Sarah is Emily's mother and she lives in the second bedroom at their apartment. She had been at a doctor's appointment when I replaced some bad carpeting in their living room and put the meat to Emily. Usually, however, Sarah was home all the time either watching television or sitting on the balcony that overlooks the courtyard – and, yes, I take great care of the courtyard too. The lawn is mowed by me, flowers are planted in the spring and I even put in an irrigation system so it all stays green.
Sarah is 90 years old.
Hey, don't give me any crap! I'm just telling the story. If you don't want to hear, go elsewhere. I don't give a shit.
Not leaving, huh? You are a sick bastard.
Anyway, I know Sarah is 90 because she told me. I went back up to their place because the cheap-ass carpeting I put in earlier had wrinkled up and Emily was afraid her mother would trip over it. I didn't want that so I got up there in a hurry.