Martha and I met in the church choir. I sang bass, she sang alto. We were both in our 60s. I was single, she was married. Her husband was overweight, diabetic and had high blood pressure. That's a deadly combination, at least it gave him a dead cock and his medical problems made Viagra, Cialis, etc. out of the question. So she was needy and I was available.
It wasn't long before we became lovers. We would meet at my apartment for playful, pleasurable sex and companionship. She quickly learned that I appreciated making love to women my own age.
"You're such a great lover," I said one day, "and so very responsive."
"No, it's you who's a great lover and a woman would have to be a stone not to respond to you."
"Which part do you like the best?"
"I like it all but I guess my favorite is the way you eat my pussy. Hell, you don't just eat it, you devour it."
In fact I had just finished devouring it and my face was wet with her pungent juices.
"Lick it off."
"Gladly," she said and commenced to give me a tongue bath.
"Leave my mustache alone," I said, and using my hand to brush my mustache closer to my nose I said, "I like to leave your smell there for as long as I can."
"Do you like how I smell?"
"Absolutely. And how you taste and feel. I love your pussy."
"You're too much," she said. Then she paused, and with a questioning look on her face she said, "Would you do me a favor?"
"Probably. Depends on what it is?"
"Well, I think you'd like it. Actually it's a favor for someone else."
"Who?"
"Harriet."
"Harriet?," I said with an astonished look on my face. Harriet was also in our choir. She and Martha were good friends and sometimes traveled together. Harriet was also about 60, skinny to a fault and rather homely looking. She was single and, to my knowledge, had never been married.
"What does Harriet want?"
"She wants to make love to a man. She's never done it and, as she says, she's not getting any younger."
"That's what she told you?"
"In so many words. I, uh, have told her a lot about you and me. She likes you and she thinks you're sexy. I've told her how gentle you are and quite a bit about our love making and she wants to make love with you."
"And she's never made love to a man, ever?"
"That's what she says and I have no reason to doubt her."
I thought for a minute and said, "Okay. I'll give her a call."
"Well, there are some strings attached."
"Explain strings."
"She doesn't want to be alone. She's really nervous about this and she wants me to be there."
"A threesome?"
"I don't think so. I think she just wants moral support and somebody there in case things get out of hand."
"You know better than that. I'd be a perfect gentleman."
"I know that but she's still a bit apprehensive. I didn't think you'd mind."
"Not at all," I said, "in fact it might make it all the more interesting."
"Good," she said. "I'll talk to her and set something up."
On Sunday morning, on the way to the choir loft, Martha handed me a note. It said, "Wednesday evening, after choir practice, your apartment. Harriet and me." I folded the note and gave her a thumbs up and a big smile.
I spent several hours on Wednesday afternoon tidying up my place. I put fresh sheets on the bed, selected some soft music for my CD player and brought out some scented candles.
Before choir practice I spoke to Harriet briefly. "Hello, Harriet. How are you?"
"I'm, uh, fine. I think."
"Listen," I said, "Don't be nervous and don't come to my place unless you really want to."
"Thank you," she said. 'I appreciate that."
After choir practice I hurried home and gave my place a last-minute inspection. I took off all of my clothes, put them carefully away and put on a tee shirt and sweat pants. Soon I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and saw Martha and Harriet standing there. Martha had a big smile, Harriet not as big.
"Come in ladies and make yourselves at home. Mi casa es su casa."
Martha laughed. 'I didn't know you spoke Spanish."
"Not much," I replied. "My vocabulary is limited. Siesta, taco, manana, adios, amigo, frijole, muchacha, things like that."
They both laughed and Harriet seemed to relax a bit.
"Pardon my casual attire," I said, "But I like to get comfortable as soon as I get home."
"Good thinking," Martha said.
"Would you ladies like something to drink? A soft drink or maybe a glass of wine."
"Wine would be fine," Martha said and Harriet nodded in agreement. She had still not said a word.
"White or red?"
"White, I think," Martha said.
"Harriet?"
"Whatever you're having is fine with me. I'm not much of a drinker," Harriet said and then giggled.
"White it is."
I went to the refrigerator and returned with a bottle of chilled wine and three wine glasses which was 75 percent of my wine receptacles inventory.
I opened the wine bottle and poured three glasses. "A fine domestic Chardonnay," I said. "One of California's finest."
I raised my glass and said, 'Let's toast to good times and good friends."
We each took a sip and Harriet said, "This tastes pretty good. It's sweet."
"Sweets for the sweet," I said.
"Oh, you," Harriet said, and giggled again.
"It's sweet," Harriet said, "but not overpowering."
"Just like me," I replied.
"Oh darn," she said and giggled louder.
We drank and talked about things we had in common, the choir, the church, some of the people there. We drained our glasses and I said, "Care for a refill?"
They both nodded affirmatively and Harriet said, "Are you trying to get me drunk."
"Just relaxed," I said, "just mellow."
"Mellow sounds good," Harriet said.
We finished our second glasses of wine and I said, "Let me give you the ten cent tour."
I showed them the rest of my apartment which took about a minute and we ended the tour in my bedroom.
Harriet looked around expectantly at the burning scented candles and at my bed. I turned on my CD and seductive new age sounds filled the room.
"Let's get comfortable," I said and began to remove my tee shirt.
"Oh, my," Harriet said, "Oh my."
I looked at Harriet and said, "Do you want me to undress you?"
"If you want to," she said. Then she looked at Martha and said, "you can get undressed too if you like."
"I'd like that very much," Martha said. "I'd stick out like a sore thumb if you guys are naked and I still have my clothes on."
Martha quickly took off her clothes and sat down on an over-stuffed chair. "I'll just watch," she said.
I moved closer to Harriet and began to unbutton her dress.
"Are you okay with this?", I asked.
She nodded and bit her lower lip.
"We won't do anything that you don't want to do."
She nodded her head and let me continue.
I gently and slowly unbuttoned all the buttons and hung her dress neatly on a hanger. She stood there in her bra and panties, in an uncertain pose with her hands and arms hanging by her side and an expectant look on her face. I thought I could detect a bit of a twinkle in her eye.
"Are you feeling the wine?", I asked.
"Just a bit," she said.
"Would you like me to feel you?"
"Do you want to?"
"I want to very much."
I moved closer to her and began to kiss her very lightly. Her lips were a bit dry and I ran my tongue along them and then darted it into her mouth, kissing her more deeply. She sighed and moaned just a bit and pulled me closer. I could barely feel her tiny tits pressed against me. I moved my hands slowly and tenderly up and down her back and she moaned appreciatively. I dropped my hands to her butt and slowly and gently squeezed each little globe. For an older woman she had a very tight and compact little ass.
"You feel good," I said.
"Do you really think so?"
"I really know so."
She began to run her hands up and down my bare back and then she said, "You feel good too."
"Thank you," i said. Then I pulled away from her slightly and put my hands in front of her breasts.
"May I touch you, here?
She nodded and I placed my fingertips gently on each breast, moving my fingers gently out until they centered on her nipples which were very erect under her bra. I slowly caressed them and she began to moan and breathe heavily.
"Does this feel good?"
"It feels wonderful."
"Take off your bra so I can really feel them."
"Okay," she said and unsnapped her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts were so small that was very little sag and they were crowned with protruding pink nipples.
"Lovely," I said. "Simply lovely."
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear you say that, even if you don't mean it."
"Oh, but i do mean it."
"But they're so small," she said.
"Size is irrelevant. And there's an old saying among men that anything more than a mouthful is excess."
"But Martha has more than a mouthful."
I laughed and said, "A gentleman allows makes allowances." I turned and looked at Martha, still seated in the over-stuffed chair. She was smiling warmly at us and cupping a breast in one hand while she slowly stroked her pussy.
"Martha's being naughty," I said.