I've always had this thing for older woman. I'm 25, banged my share of MILF and more than a few GILFs, grannies in their 60s. Something about their enthusiasm and experience more than offsets the wrinkles and sags of their bodies, especially bodies they work to keep in shape.
Maddie was one I'd had my eye on for awhile, she works at the Laundromat I go to. She's well built, and very pretty for her age, which I didn't know. She has dark red hair, no doubt dyed, a pretty if saggy, puckered kind of face, and fairly solid little body. She's a granny sort to be sure, very friendly, helpful.
I was there just before closing one hot, steamy summer night, and she was wearing a sleeveless top, showing her marvelously thick but firm arms, wrinkled around the shoulders and biceps, but sexy as she moved heavy baskets around. Mostly it was her legs this hot day: She had a pair of knee-length Capri pants on, and her calves looked amazing, creamy smooth, pale, with a hint of purple veins running in the backs of them, and a decent amount of muscle beneath that quivering meat as she moved.
"Wow, I gotta say, Maddie, you have an amazing figure for a woman your age," I said, leaning on the counter and looking down at those calves and red-painted toes in her sandals. "And your legs...you have incredible calves, ya know?"
"Aw, thanks, Sam," she blushed, looking down. "Yeah, I take care of myself, walk a lot..I guess I'm doing OK for 75."
I blinked. 75? Seriously? This really pretty, well-preserved GILF was 75? She looked 65, maybe, perhaps less. I couldn't believe it.
"No way, Maddie," I said. "That's impossible!"
She laughed and took out her license. Sure enough, she was 75 – and in a month, about to turn 76!
"I have never seen such a...well, forgive me, but such a delicious pair of legs and feet or anything else on a woman your age!" I gushed. "That's incredible!"
She smiled, then a mischievous look gleamed in her dark eyes.
"My late husband loved my legs, especially my calves, and my feet," she said softly. "But maybe that's too much information..."
My dick stirred.
"No, not at all, I love hearing...stuff like that...uh, tell me more.."
She looked around. We were alone, and it was 10 p.m.
"Wait here," she said firmly. "And watch these!"
She came around the counter, looking back down at those marvelously sculpted old calves and walked to the doors, locking them, the muscles flexing nicely beneath that slightly wrinkled but amazingly smooth white skin. She walked back to me, smiling.
"Have a seat," she said, motioning to a row of seats behind some machines, out of view of the glass front of the now closed Laundromat.
I obeyed, transfixed, and she sat next to me – and swung those meaty little legs up, plopping her feet on my lap, kicking my balls and making me grunt.
"Oh, sorry, silly me!" she giggled like a schoolgirl. "Now be a good boy and rub granny's tired, old, smelly feet!"
I looked at that smiling old face and slipped off her sandals, watching those wrinkly toes wriggle as my trembling hands embraced them, massaging them, caressing them. I groaned, felt my hard dick push up into her heels as I worked the wrinkled soles and insteps, marveling at the soft feel, inhaling the sweet-sour aroma wafting up from her sweaty feet. I looked at those shiny white shins, the flare of old calf muscle on each side of them. It was driving me nuts.
