- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Thank you, loyal followers and welcome new readers. If you like what you read please VOTE and COMMENT. I love to know the stories are appreciated. All characters are over 18 years of age. All players are consenting adults.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jocelyn Handcock was a dreadful, prudish old woman.
In her twenties and thirties, when everyone is as pretty or handsome as they're ever going to be, her sour disposition kept all serious suitors away. Over the years, as her youthful beauty receded, her personality became more and more reclusive and twisted.
Now, with her sixty-third birthday come and gone, unremembered by anyone, Jocelyn has been left a bitter old spinster, living alone in the old house her parents left her. It is not a big home but she keeps it fastidiously neat, piously quoting the 'cleanliness is next to godliness' line to anyone who comments.
Along with her obsessive-compulsive neatness, she has also developed a fanatic desire for strict routines.
She walks down to her letterbox every day at ten minutes past two precisely. She does her clothes washing on Wednesday morning, rain, hail or shine. She plays cards with her friend Beatrice on Thursday morning from 9am till 1pm sharp (leaving in the middle of a hand if she realizes she can't get home in time). And on the first Monday of every month at exactly 8am, Ms. Handcock has a standing appointment with her hairdresser (a lady around the corner who worked out of her garage) where she gets the auburn rinse put through her hair.
And she masturbated herself like clockwork as well. The old lady does it precisely five times every day. In the morning, at 6am when her alarm goes off... after her second cup of tea at 10am... her lunchtime session in front of the TV soaps... her 4.30pm... and the big one in the evening. From 7pm to 9pm she fucks herself to sleep with the mammoth baptismal candle especially given to her by the vicar at church.
"You're a marvelous god-fearin' woman Jocelyn Handcock," he proclaimed solemnly in his deep Irish accent.
He presented her with the big wax phallus in front of the whole congregation. There were more than a few sniggers and whispers as the priest innocently passed her the dildo-shaped candle but none of them would ever have thought that an old woman like her was excitedly thinking the same thing. The outside world only ever saw the prim and proper, church-going senior, never guessing at the depths of passion and depravity in the old lady's soul.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
CHURCH
Sundays were special days for Jocelyn and began early. At 5am she rubs her aching pussy to orgasm, crying out happily into the gathering morning light at 5.30. Then its out of bed and into a hot shower till 5.45am where he scours her body mercilessly, trying to clean away her secret immoral thoughts... paying particular attention to her big bottom and her lascivious hairy cunt that she knows, in her heart of hearts, she had no control over.
Once she's done she meticulously dries herself, toweling dry her beautiful rounded body... a full plump body that has never been blasted by childbirth. She swipes under her huge football-shaped boobs and roughly over her dark red nipples... huge thick nipples that have never felt a mouth suckling them but are so incredibly sensitive. Bending over, with surprising flexibility for one so old, she dries between her toes, up her thick strong calves and thighs, between her legs, ignoring the delightful friction of the course towel on her insatiable old cunt, her back, her ass, under her arms...
Her lingerie is old but complete.
Knickers first, big loose granny bloomers, so old they are like a sack with leg holes, obsessively washed so many times they have a grey tinge. She pulls them up high over her protruding round belly so that the gusset slots up between her huge round ass cheeks and fat hairy pussy lips. She knows it's cheating but the friction of the satin up inside herself feels so nice when she walks...
Her bra, a similarly over-washed white/grey, is a thickly padded bullet type from the 1950s, an instrument of torture for most women - but not this sadistic old lady. To put it on she leans forward and dangles her huge saggy teats into the pointed cups, carefully ensuring the big long nipples fall into the tip. Then she fastens it at the front - six old-fashioned press studs that keep her mammoth boobs in check.
Somewhat ironically, for such an apparently prudish old lady she wears hosiery as well, sexy old-fashioned brown French stockings with a white suspender belt. She's convinced herself that she wears the slutty dark brown nylon simply to cover her sinful flesh. It was hypocrisy of course. She could just as easily have worn pantyhose... or socks like all the other old women. The suspenders make her feel sexy.
She takes time with her hair, eventually coaxing her long dyed auburn locks up into the tight bun that she seems to favor. The bun is so tight it seems to stretch her face like a mini face-lift, giving her a look of unblinking perpetual surprise. Jocelyn thinks it makes her look more youthful and, if it wasn't for the grim set of her mouth, maybe it would... at least a little.
Her wardrobe is full of unflattering sack-like frocks. Her 'Sunday Best' dresses all cover her from neck to well below the knee, completely hiding her lush curvaceous figure. The only skin showing is her hands and her pinched haughty head, sitting like a dried prune on top of the tightly buttoned collar, snug around her wattled saggy neck,
It is clothing much like her character - dour and concealing, giving no hint to what is really underneath.
Jocelyn is almost ready to go.
Shoes were flat black leather pumps. Never earrings - such adornment is the devil's work. She even feels like the Whore of Babylon when she applies the thin layer of maroon lipstick to her perpetually sneering lips.
Prim, pompous, and prudish she is ready.
At 7am her neighbors, the Besinger's are parked outside, ready for the hour-long drive to St Martins Catholic Church in the next parish. The Besinger's could have gone to a closer congregation but Ms. Handcock complained that all her friends went to St Martin's and rather than contradict her, Mr. Besinger drove her and his family an hour out of their way to the pokey little church in the next county.
The only member of the family who didn't mind at all was young Harvey Besinger.
His mother and father sit in the front seats. His older sister sits by one passenger window and Ms. Handcock has the other. Harvey sits sandwiched between on the hump.
There was no avoiding pressing against the old woman. Thigh to thigh, his arm gets pleasantly squished against the swell of her lovely big boobs. It's definitely the best thing about Sundays.
The horny young teen will sit in a fever of sexual excitement all the way there and all the way back. In fact, when they arrive at church, Harvey needs to visit the toilets, jerking himself off before the sermon starts. He has to get rid of the unseemly tent that the old woman has caused in his pants.
He repeats the process when they finally get home, straight up to his room to beat his meat, with thoughts of fucking the old woman racing through his head... plunging his huge, hard tool in and out of her old wet cunt.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
ALADDIN'S CAVE
Jocelyn Handcock was an obsession for the young man.
