Debbie And Me 1

Debbie and Me

Author's Note: I first roughed out this story in my head in a pink haze of oxytocin after a thoroughly satisfying session of love-making with my wife. After writing countless wish-fulfillment stories featuring bondage, anal, deep-throat, and gorgeous young women with insatiable appetites for all of the above, I felt like writing a short and to-the-point story that reflects how good even vanilla sex can be for an old married couple who are still deeply in love.

These two characters are not me and my wife exactly, but there's a lot of us in them, including the sexual work-arounds that age often brings with it. If this level of realism is not to your taste, fear not. I haven't given up on the kinky wish-fulfillment fantasies. I'll be back to them.

Please let me know what you think of this alternate direction in my fiction. By the way, all characters in this story are very much over the age of eighteen.

Dinner was done, the dishes rinsed and loaded in the dishwasher, the counters wiped down. To drive back the chill of a Canadian winter, I lit a fire - our house is of the blessed vintage that actually has a wood-burning fireplace in the living room, and we think that the atmosphere created by a real fire is well worth the hassle of buying, carrying in, and replenishing real wood. Yes, we have a perfectly good gas furnace. But a gas furnace doesn't crackle.

We settled down on the couch to listen to another installment of our current shared audio book, a steamy bodice-ripper by Phoebe Hamilton cheekily titled

Temptation Island.

After several frustrating chapters full of misunderstandings and misreadings of each others' feelings worthy of a Shakespearean comedy, the couple in the story had finally realized what the reader knew all along, that he loved her as much as she loved him, and decided to celebrate that discovery with a long and extremely explicit sex scene.

When the last orgasm had stopped reverberating and the chapter came to an end, Debbie switched it off before another chapter could sneak up on us. She turned to me with a smile, put her hand warmly on my leg, and said, "I have an idea what we should do next tonight."

I smiled back, "I think I have the same idea. I take that last chapter as a challenge to see if we can do at least as well. I won't promise that I've got the sort of stamina Alfred has, but I'll enjoy seeing what I can do."

"Then I guess you'd better take a Daddy's Little Helper."

"I'm way ahead of you. I took one when I went for my last pee break. It's kicking in nicely now."

Daddy's Little Helper is, of course, Viagra. In addition to being seventy years old, I'm taking a variety of meds including blood pressure pills and a light dose of an SSRI for anxiety. As a result, I need to take even more pills to counteract those pills when I want to get hard and stay hard. A pain, but the SSRI has made me much easier to live with, and there's no buzzkill like a blood-pressure-induced heart attack or stroke. I'm happy to keep taking my witch's-brew of meds so I'll be around a while longer.

We finished the last sips of our drinks, put our glasses in the dishwasher, brushed our teeth, took our nightly selection of pills, and started getting ready for bed. I waited patiently while Debbie harrumphed her dress off over her head, inspected it to see if it was still clean, decided it was, and hung it back in the closet. Then she turned her back to me expectantly. As I do most nights, I came up behind her and unhooked her bra for her. Of course, she's perfectly capable of unhooking her own bra, but helping her with it is mostly an excuse for me to slide my hands around her from behind and help myself to a double handful of the breasts that tumble out when she slides it off the rest of the way.

Her breasts aren't as perky as they were when I first met them, but neither are some of my bits and pieces either, especially the old-man belly that keeps sneaking up on me despite all the exercise I use to try to keep it at bay. But I don't care that what used to be firm C-cup breasts are now somewhat droopy D's. After forty-plus years, they still feel as good cupped by my hands as they did when I first felt them. And with a gentle massage from my thumbs, their nipples still perk up under my palms. She thinks my male fascination with her breasts is funny, but she also finds it kind of charming, so she humours me and I'm happy to be humoured.

I made a soft purring noise and kissed her on the neck, right where it met her bare shoulder. That always tickles a bit and makes her scrunch up her shoulder. It's another of the little rituals that people fall into when they've been married and in love for forty-three years.

Debbie stopped dyeing her hair a few years ago, and now it's taken on a salt-and-pepper look that I personally find gorgeous. She used to wear it long, flowing in a dark brown cascade below her shoulders, and I loved it that way. Now she wears it short, curving around her ears and framing her face like a soft salt-and-pepper helmet, and I have to admit that it suits her that way. We have both mellowed into new personal styles that match our changing bodies and personalities - my beard, now as white as the beard of Father Christmas, is short and close to my face instead of full and dark as in days of old. When I look in the mirror, I have to admit that it suits me, too.

She slipped her panties off, and I couldn't resist a quick feel of her shapely bum, a little broader now than it once was but still well worth handling. I stripped off my clothes, tossed them in the laundry, and we climbed into bed and got ourselves adjusted. I held the side of her face with one hand and turned it a bit so I could lean in for a full-on passionate kiss. We held the kiss for at least a full two minutes, exploring each others' mouths with our tongues. Without breaking the kiss, I let go of her face and slid my hand down to cup a breast again. Her nipple had gone back to sleep, but it woke up again as soon as I touched it, and her breath hitched slightly.

I broke the kiss finally and slid my mouth down to take her other nipple between my lips for a gentle tongue-massage. My hand wandered slowly down her body and ended up between her legs, which parted for me so I could explore between her pussy lips. Her pussy was starting to moisten in anticipation of what was to come, and I ran my fingers slowly back and forth in the warm, moist space of her vulva.

She let me lie on my side and explore for a few minutes. Then she put her hand on my chest and pressed gently to get me to roll onto my back. She scrunched down so she could put her lips on my nipple, and it returned the favour by perking up the way hers had done. Man-nipples don't stand up as spectacularly as woman-nipples do, but Debbie knows that I love the sensation of her lips and tongue making them do their best. When I'm shaving around the edges of my beard, I always try to remember to take a couple of quick swipes with the razor to clean up the stray hairs that grow around my nipples. I want to keep them as mouth-friendly as I can.

Her hand slipped down to my crotch and wrapped itself around my penis. It didn't instantly spring to attention the way it did forty-three years ago, but it started to stir to life. She moved her hand up and down my shaft gently, coaxing it into its happy pose. She rubbed gently with her thumb, sliding it along the little cleft at the tip in the way she knows I love. I started breathing more deeply, and felt a drop of pre-cum start to form in that cleft. Her stroking thumb spread it neatly across the head of my penis. I stretched like a cat in the sun and murmured, "That feels wonderful."

Once she had my penis good and interested, she started moving her mouth slowly down my chest, licking as she went, until she got all the way down to my crotch. Then she took my penis in her mouth and began sucking gently, on the head, one hand still encircling the base of my shaft and the other cradling my balls. She ran her tongue across the tip just the way she had been doing with her thumb. Then she started bobbing her head up and down so my corona rubbed in and out against her lips.

The hand that was cradling my balls drifted to my anus and made little circles around it, sometime drifting across it. Anal sex is a hard "no" for her, but she knows that my asshole is sensitive and loves to be stimulated, even if only from the outside, and she's happy to do it for me as long as I keep my hands off hers.

For a while, I had a sex toy called a ButtRam, a large, man-sized vibrator with a hilt like a little dagger to make sure it wouldn't disappear if the user got over-exuberant with it. When we felt like a special treat, she would lube up both the toy and me and work it slowly and carefully in my anus to the hilt, then turn it on and hold it there while she rubbed my cock vigorously with the other hand. It felt amazing as it stretched open my sphincter and stimulated my prostate, and it produced some of the deepest and most satisfying orgasms I've ever had.

Alas, the fun went out of the ButtRam when I developed a small hemorrhoid that made it too painful to insert. My doctor doesn't think the toy caused it, but it certainly didn't make us want to use it anymore, and it has remained, neglected, at the back of my night-table drawer ever since.

Getting old really sucks. Although, as George Burns once said, it's not that bad really, when you consider the alternative.

Returning to the scene at hand, ButtRam or no ButtRam, Debbie's teasing strokes across my anus were combining with the actions of her lips and tongue on my penis to ramp up my arousal. She didn't try to take more of my penis than would fit easily in her mouth. She had tried deep-throating me a couple of times earlier in our relationship, and quickly learned that, whereas some porn stars seem to have no gag reflex, she is not so fortunate. No matter; the things she was doing with her mouth were causing the sexual tension to bubble up in my entire body. I involuntarily curled my toes, clenched my fists and pressed my bumcheeks tightly together as the sensations spread through my entire body.

When she judged that she had me as hard and as excited as I was going to get, she lifted her mouth off my penis, wrapped her hand around it again and began rubbing it rapidly along its entire length.

This is probably a good place to explain that, even with the Viagra, I no longer seem to be able to get quite hard enough for penetration. This is fine with Debbie, who, it turns out, never got much pleasure out of penetration anyway. I wished she'd pointed that out to me a lot sooner, although I should have been able to figure it out for myself if I could have gotten my head out of my ass long enough to pay attention to anyone's pleasure but my own. Really, young men enjoying the thrill of young sex can be kind of stupid sometimes.

Anyway, between my difficulties with penetration and her lack of real interest it it, we reverted to a sex act that we had developed early in our relationship when Debbie hadn't felt quite ready for full-on "real" sex yet. That is, she jerked me off and I jerked her off.

I can hear what you're thinking. It sounds pretty half-assed, like two kids fooling around in the back seat of a car. But really, your penis doesn't have to be inside a vagina to be happy. Even though the physical act of beating my meat is something I could have done equally well by myself, it's the presence of two people and all the back-and-forth vibes that go on between them that makes just fucking into making love. Once we went back to our old-school mutual hand jobs, we never looked back and never once angsted about what we could get to go into where.

So that's where we were, working up to part one of our mutual hand jobs. With all the foreplay we had been doing, it didn't take long for Debbie to get me where I needed to be. Sometimes her hand gets tired and I have to finish the job, which is just as satisfying. She holds me in a tight embrace while I do it, and her close presence makes the act way more intimate than just masturbating. But tonight I was so turned on that the sensations in my pelvis and penis were rising quickly toward climax as Debbie continued stroking.

My penis started to pulse and my pelvis to clench harder. I had a washcloth ready in my hand, and as soon as Debbie saw it move toward my crotch, she pulled her hand away quickly so I could use it to contain spurt after spurt of creamy cum.

OK, who am I kidding? These days it's more like ooze after ooze of creamy cum. But the sensations that ran through me were as intense as if I were shooting a pornstar load. I clutched the cloth over my cock and shuddered through a long series of aftershocks as the pleasure hormones flooded my brain and my muscles went rigid, then slowly relaxed as the aftershocks subsided. I lay blissfully beside Debbie and blessed Phoebe Hamilton for her service. "That was a good one," I murmured. "Thank you."

Finally I collected myself enough to roll out of bed and head for the bathroom to clean up, still clutching the goopy cloth to my penis until I got there. I got a clean cloth to wash the end of my penis so I didn't drip all over, then headed back to the bedroom, dropping the cloths in the laundry hamper on the way. When I turned the corner to the bedroom, Debbie was still where I had last seen her in the bed with the covers turned back, only now she was lying on her back with her legs spread invitingly. Her pussy seemed to be saying, "Welcome back."

We made eye contact and smiled at each other for a couple of beats. Then I stood there for a few beats more and ran my eyes slowly down over the rest of her body. We see each other naked every day, getting out of bed, walking to the shower, and all the other mundane occasions when couples see each others' bodies. Yet after all these years, I still sometimes gaze at her naked body and really feast on the sight, as opposed to just seeing each other go by. She knows I like to look at her, and she enjoys the fact that her seventy-three-year-old self can still attract a frank sexual gaze from at least one admirer.

Lying on her back, her otherwise saggy breasts resumed some of the rounded shape they had in youth, looking almost shockingly white in contrast to the dregs of summer tan that still lingered on any parts of her not covered by a sundress or swimsuit. Despite some wrinkles and rolls, a few age spots and other markers of time, her body is still fit and very worth looking at. Her labia were peeking out at me from a soft down of nearly-white pubic hair, clearly waiting for me to do something interesting with them.

I slid in beside her and gave her another deep, sensuous kiss. Then she scootched down, took my now-limp penis back in her mouth, and licked off those last pesky drops that always hide in your urethra and sneak out of even the most well-washed penis, making a little puddle in the bed you intend to try to sleep in. She's never wanted me to cum in her mouth, but she doesn't object to a little taste of husband-cum in the interests of clean sheets.

Then she rolled back again and resumed her inviting position. I reached down and cupped her mound in my hand, just enjoying the warm feel of that very personal bit of Debbie. Then I explored between her lips again. Her pussy was still moist, but it doesn't really moisten very much anymore. Old age sucks, etc. Fortunately, there's an easy remedy for that situation. I reached over to my night-table and took a big pump of lube in my hand, held it for a minute to warm it, then spread in between those inviting lips and into the entrance to her vagina.

Debbie made a deep, contented sigh as I began to massage her personal bits. I took one of her labia, then the other, gently between my thumb and forefinger and slid up and down it from the very bottom to the very top, pulling it open and rolling it carefully between my fingers. I could see little twitches of pleasure run across her face as I slid my fingers over her sensitive lips.

We always leave a light on when we're having sex; the unspoken communication of each others' facial expressions multiplies the intimacy of the entire performance. It's part of the connection that makes two-person sex so much better than one-person sex.

It's also a tactical advantage. Many women are somewhat, or a lot, noisy when they're having sex, whether it's a discrete succession of rhythmic eeks or a full-throated orgasmic scream. Debbie, on the other hand, is totally quiet, her emotions directed inward rather than outward. I know when she's about to cum, or is cumming, mostly by watching her face. In the leadup to an orgasm, she gets a faraway look that tells me she's concentrating on the feelings building in her body. Then her face gets tense and taut, as she focusses harder on what's going on in her clitoris and vagina. Sometimes it even gets an almost agonized look, the way a man's often does when he's masturbating. Her whole body tightens and her head rises slightly off the pillow. Then, when the orgasm finally washes over her, her face abruptly breaks into a broad smile, and when it's over, every tight muscle relaxes and her head drops back to the pillow.

At this point, she was in the faraway look stage. I shifted from general fiddling around in her vulva to rubbing two fingers across her clitoris, crooking them into a hook shape so I could flick rapidly. But not too rapidly - with practice I've found the speed she likes best to provide maximum stimulation without overdriving her sensitive bits. Her face was slowly getting tense and the muscles in her whole body tightened - she was starting to home in on her first orgasm of the night. I shifted gears and thrust two fingers in her vagina as far as I could get them, still crooked so I could stimulate her anterior vaginal wall. She doesn't seem to have a particularly defined G-spot - maybe that's why PIV sex doesn't do a lot for her - but that motion still turns her on.

When I said that she doesn't get a lot out of penetration, I meant that she doesn't get a lot out of just penetration with a penis. Penetration with fingers, along with clitoral stimulation and all the other things I was doing, seems to be something else again. I put my thumb on her clit and rubbed it while continuing to work my fingers in her vagina. She was drying out a bit, so I took a short break to give my hand another pump of lube, then got back to my job.

I watched her face as she gradually got closer and closer to her climax. I love watching it gradually change as the sexual sensations course through her more and more intensely. I also admired the closeup view of the lines in her face, slowly etched there by time and experience, every one of them precious to me.

I moved my fingers out of her vagina and back to her clitoris for another session of rapid rubbing. Suddenly she stiffened, her face changed, and she broke into the broad smile that spells success. That was my cue to stop moving my fingers and just hold her spasming vulva in my lube-slicked hand while it finished flooding her body with the same sort of pleasure that had so recently flooded mine. Then she went into total relax mode on the bed.

That's the thing about doing each other in succession instead of trying to do it simultaneously. She can concentrate completely on the signals my body is sending her and do what needs to be done to maximize my pleasure. Then I can do the same for her: total focus on the other person's experience. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Ah, there it is," I said as she lay blissed out. "I knew we could find it if we tried long enough."

I've always been a one-and-done man when it comes to orgasms, but Debbie is blessed with the ability to have several in a row. I think I counted twenty-one once, but that was a long time ago. Even now, it's not unusual for her to have five or six. Fortunately, they seem to get a lot easier after the first one has primed her body.