"You want me to touch your..."
"I wouldn't ask if I weren't desperate!"
It was my turn to say "Ummmmm." He looked so vulnerable and embarrassed, how could I refuse? "Okay, sure." I said, breezily walking off to his toilet.
"C'mon then, Gramps!" I called. He shuffled in, blushing further, and positioned himself over the toilet bowl. "Right, here we go." I was egging myself on, fighting the awkwardness. I pulled apart his pyjamas and slid my hand in the (what do you men even call this penis-slit?) gap and then dipped my hand into his underwear. As my fingertips touched his cock, we both flinched. I giggled and he began mumbling apologies, breaking the pristine silence.
There was no eye contact between us as I curled my fingers around his warm cock and gently (like I was scared I'd hurt him) pulled at it until it was out. I held it, aiming the bulbous helmet down into the bowl. I could feel my palm getting hotter, beads of sweat on my forehead.
His cock was not lengthy but very thick, and was feeling heavier and heavier as I stood there, gripping it softly. I was just wondering how long this would take, when I felt, through the skin of my palm, ripples of fluid coursing through the thick old cock, just before a pressurised jet arced out of the big pink head. The old man moaned in pleasure and relief as it continued to pour out of him.
"You must've really wanted to go!" I was hoping small-talk would help drag us through this unwanted intimacy but he remained blissfully silent. It just kept coming. Frothy dark
piss seeming to almost fill the bowl. Finally, it began to slow and my old neighbour was gasping his thanks as his cock dribbled the last of his flow.
"There was just no-one else I could've asked." He said. "Don't just put it away, girl!"
"No?"
"Sorry, no. You have to ... shake it off a bit. Or I'll wet my pants." I looked at him skeptically.
"Really. It's like a hose-pipe, you have to jiggle it all out before you pop it away."
I gave him a "you'd better not be messing about" look and stared to jiggle his cock. I kept sproingling it in my palm until there were no more drops, then I replaced the old codger's cock back in his pants. I was washing my hands in his basin when I surprised him with a question: "I s'pose you'll be needing me to come back later and do that again?"
So I returned once more that afternoon, once in the evening and one last time before I went to bed. He was getting annoying by thanking me so much and constantly apologising that I almost had to tell him off, threaten to not return if he didn't pipe down. On the second day, it had begun to feel routine, not normal but not outlandish either. We'd even began to chit-chat as I stood next to him in his small toilet, holding his warm heavy cock, feeling his pee pulse under my touch, tingling my palm. I found I had to grip him tighter so that I didn't drop it as it pissed, but he didn't object.
Also, on the second day, I noticed that he seemed to be enjoying it more. He didn't say anything but his dick was longer when I fished it out of his pyjamas, longer and thicker. I no longer had to peel back his foreskin off the cockhead, it was already proudly exposed. I felt him watching me look at his growing prick and I felt uncomfortable and ashamed that I found it so obviously fascinating.
On the third day, after helping with his morning pee, I found my hand was instinctively moving along the shaft, back and forth. I was shocked. I froze. I looked at his face, he was grinning.
"You can play with it if you want to, I won't tell anyone."
I looked at him and a sense of empowerment came over me. I gripped his still stiffening cock and wondered how big and
hard do these things get? I slid my hand over the purple helmet then down to his grey fur. He moaned a deep appreciation of my gesture. I repeated this up and down movement as I watched his face.
"Your bandages seem awfully loose." I said, my eyebrows raised quizzically.
"Ummmm, what's that?"
"The bandages on your hands. They look loose. Almost as if you'd been wrapping them around your own hands."
"I, er, had to check the injuries were healing okay, didn't I?"
"You're perfectly fine, you ol' fraud! You... just like me touching you, don't you." I rubbed my fingertips all around his cockhead, teasing the little pee hole.
