This is a sequel to 'The Old Fellah Needs a Hand'.
I rang the doorbell but there was no answer, so I fished out from the pocket of my denim skirt the key I'd been given. The apartment was deadly quiet, I began to fear the worst. My neighbour was a very old man, after all. The phrase 'kicked the bucket' slid unwanted into my mind as I closed the front door.
I called out, "Gramps?"
I stood by the door listening for signs of life, hearing none I trod softly down the hall. I wondered why I was stalking stealthily and decided it was nerves.
'I'm sure he's fine,' I told myself but I didn't quite believe my own reassurance.
I pushed open his bedroom door and smiled affectionately. The relief was immense. The old codger was fast asleep, stretched out on his bed, naked apart from his untied robe. The curtains were closed, shutting out the noonday sun. I crossed the room and stood over him, watching his chest move up and down.
"Still breathing then, Gramps?"
Hearing his gentle snore, my eyes strayed down his body, exposed by the open robe. His cock looked like a snuggly sleeping mouse. I reached down and ran my hand through the grey hair on his strong, wide chest. Down further over the Naval tattoos on his tummy to...
"What's this, you dirty ol' bugger?"
Individual puddles of still-warm spunk were splattered across his belly.
"That's why you're asleep. And you said you weren't a sad wanker!"
I held up my cummy fingers and examined them in the darkened bedroom. I brought my nose to my fingertips and inhaled the musky perfume of pure masculine essence. A ripple of warm familiar feeling ran through me. Since I'd started playing with the old pervert, beginning with a handjob then moving on to licking and sucking on him while I jerked him off, advancing to tasting his thick pearlescent sperm after his breathless climaxes, I felt my inner-cum-slut developing at an alarming rate. Was I really this unashamed cum-hungry whore I was playing at being? Was it just playing or... am I really this filthy? Overcome by an irresistible urge, I leaned down and trailed my tongue through the modern art splatter across his hairy tummy, licking like a kitten at his cooled cream.
He stirred in his sleep and I froze, like a naughty little girl up to no good, with my tongue extended and with a globule of gloop balanced on the tip. His breathing told me he was still asleep. I swallowed and went back to licking his skin clean down to his curly, grey, spunk-soaked pubes. Here I met his pungent male scent again. I pressed my nose into his damp curly hairs and inhaled deeply.
I walked down to the bottom of the bed and opened his robe completely, revealing him, exposing him. I curled my fingers around his beautiful cock and felt its substantial weight. I peeled the skin back slowly and released his hypnotic intimate and unique fragrance into the room. I rested my other hand on the bed, leaned over him and breathed in his sexy, dirty smell.
Unable to resist I squatted down by the bed and lowered my head over his legs to slurp my wet tongue around his cockhead. The taste was animal. It spoke to something deep down in my primordial soul. My hand instinctively snaked up under my skirt to massage my pulsating pussylips through the nylon crotch of my already wet pantyhose.
'I'm such a slut. What is it about him that drives you crazy? Surely lads your own are fitter? Sexier? Cuter?'
His fat cock swelled as my mouth toyed with him. I closed my eyes, my head bobbed and I surrendered to the sensation of sucking this hardening veiny meat that felt so natural in my mouth.
I looked up as he altered his position, sleeping still but now with a huge smile on his face. I wondered what he was dreaming of as he spread his legs wide. I had one hand rubbing my nylon-covered cummy cunt and one hand stroking his now thickened, stiffened cock. I lifted his dick and snuffled around by his sweaty balls, sampling his unwashed and unmistakable male odour. I kissed and sniffed and tasted his wrinkled ballsack for a long time then, lowering my face even further, I used my tongue to gobble his balls into my mouth. I couldn't get them both in, so I took turns suckling on each.
My hand was stroking him faster now as my excitement grew. My fingers were pressing my soaked tights up into my throbbing,
pulsing pussy. Wanking him and sucking on his big sexy wrinkly grandpa balls, I was feeling deliciously slutty and lost in my own world when his chuckle startled me.
In a just-woken-up voice he said, "Hello girl."
*******
As I stood in my octogenarian neighbour's kitchen making two cups of tea I hummed happily to myself. My thoughts strayed to this lad I'd been seeing recently. Everything about him was... fine. Just fine. He was cute, pleasant, had a fit bod, was nice, generous, funny. But. I just didn't feel it. Whatever 'it' is, it was missing. When we kissed, when he touched me, when we made love. The past half hour had confirmed to me that nothing was as truly exciting to me as a much older man. I got so more horny just licking Gramps's thick ol' cock than I had doing all the other stuff with my boyfriend. I was just pondering how I was going to phrase breaking up with him when Gramps poked his head around the door.
"I'm just going for a pee."
"Okey doke," I replied, adding the milk to the tea, "Don't fall in."
"I was, er, wondering if you..."
I looked around to see the old fellah waggling his eyebrows suggestively. I giggled at his comical leering and followed him. I stood next to him in his bathroom, holding his warm and partially engorged willy over the toilet bowl. We waited for a minute, he picked some fluff off his robe and I flexed my grip on his cock. After another minute in this silly position I sensed a growing pressure in my palm and then I felt his piss coursing through him a moment before it jettisoned out of the open slit at the tip of his cock. He watched me watching his arc of hay-coloured piss splash into the pool. I moved my other hand so I could wiggle a finger in his stream, playing with him like a child plays with a hose.
"Don't make a mess, you little fool," he laughed.
I gave him a sultry look, like one of the femmes fatale in the black and white films we sometimes watched together, and put my dripping wet finger in my mouth. I sucked and fluttered my eyelashes at him.
"Oh you dirty fucki-" he was interrupted by my kiss.
I smooched him and held him until he finally finished his micturation (I think that's the proper clinical word, I'd looked it up one day out of curiosity) and then I did the dingle-dangle thing that gets all the droplets out.
We sat on his sofa, his teevee tuned to the classic movie channel, sipping our tea and watching black and white people gabbing to each other. I crossed my legs, enjoying the secret thrill of my juice soaked pantyhose gusset squelching on my tender lips. I saw his eyes roam down my legs encased in sheer coffee-coloured nylon. He reached down and raised my foot in his hand. He slipped off my sneaker and brought my wiggly toes to his nose and then began to kiss my foot. I smirked and drank my tea.
"Sweetheart," he said between kisses to each of my toes,"I have a favour to ask."
"I've told you, I'm not going to have sex with you, we're just-"
"Playmates, yes, you've told me a thousand times," he put down his mug of tea and used both hands to explore my calf and thigh, "And I hope to change your mind about that but that wasn't what I was going to ask."
We sat in silence, watching the movie and drinking our tea; his hands idly but lovingly caressed my legs.
"I have a friend," he said eventually.
"Yeeeeesss?" I said, my voice full of suspicion about what he was about to suggest.
"I told him about you."
"What the fuck!?"
I kicked his hand away and put both my feet on the floor, as if ready to storm out in a huff.
"No, I mean, I didn't tell him anything about you, about who you are, just... just that I have a drop-dead-gorgeous eighteen year-old beauty with a killer body who enjoys, for some unknown reason, fooling about with me."
I eyed him with caution.
"And do you know what he said when I told him?"
"Did he want my phone number?"
"No," he chuckled then looked serious, "He said I was a damn liar."
"Oh. That's harsh."
