How did I end up like this – standing in the semi-darkness before a half-dressed old woman with a trickle of blood rolling over my lip?
What the hell happened to my fantasy?
It started out simply enough. I was just being a good neighbor and, well, things happened. THINGS HAPPENED, GODDAMIT! Why is this my fault?
Okay, I'll tell you briefly how I got into this mess and you decide if I'm a bad person. I'm not, I swear. I'm just a lonely man, past his prime who still feels something. As it turns out, it can happen at surprising times.
Let me backtrack.
I live in a nice old house in the downtown area of . . . well, it doesn't really matter where. It could have been anywhere. Let's just say, mid-America, okay?
Many years ago I grew tired of "working for the man" as we used to say and I started a home-based business. I work out of an office in the upstairs of my home and business is okay, not great. It's just me and Herbie, my "pure-bred" Golden Retriever. (That's right, I was sold a bill of goods about the damn dog. Pure bred my ass! Why does he have short legs like a schnauzer then, huh? Tell me. But that's a story for another time . . .) No wife, no woman except a few I've picked up at the local American Legion. I'm in my late 40's and I've had some luck taking home half-drunken wives and even played house with one for a week before I grew tired of her.
I know what you're thinking. Old women. What's the matter with him? Hey, let me tell you something. They've got big tits, they've got round asses and they're willing. They don't hang around after a hearty fucking and I don't have to buy them dinner to get them to bed.
Well, a funny thing happened. Over time, I actually came to prefer the old nookie to newer stuff. I still leered at the tight-bodied women but my cock had a mind of its own. He wanted fat, old woman pussy. What am I supposed to do, I ask you?
I live next door to a nice old woman. I'm not going to tell you her name – let's call her "Sally" -- and oddly enough, I never really had any thoughts about boning her. At least not until one day a few months ago.
Sally is in her late 70s and she looks like she's in her late 60s. She's heavy but dresses well and goes to the hairdresser every week. She's always made up, even when she's outside watering the plants. She moves kind of slow (I think she had hip replacement surgery a few years ago) and lives alone. Her husband died 10 years ago.
I would speak to her when I was getting the mail or doing the lawn. She gives me cookies for Christmas every year and is polite and friendly but we pretty much keep to ourselves.
The heavy rains that came through the area earlier in the summer started dripping through the ceiling and she had buckets all over her living room to catch the leaks. The next thing you knew, she had a bad mold problem and her roof was a mess. The contractor (when she finally found one – they're awful people) said she'd need to be out of the house for a day while they tore the roof and ceiling apart.
The problem was Sally really had nowhere to go. She was on a fixed income, took the bus everywhere and didn't have any friends in the area (or alive) any longer. She came to my door one day looking quite distraught and told me of her predicament. It took me a few minutes to figure out that she was basically asking me to put her up for the night.
I was a little surprised (we didn't know each other THAT well) but I had a spare bedroom downstairs (I sleep upstairs) so I said, sure, she could have that. She was very grateful.
You're probably thinking that I took advantage of the situation while she was staying at the house. Well, I almost wish I did. The fact is, the thought didn't cross my mind. But something interesting happened and that's what got me into this mess.
It was about10 at night and I said goodnight to her and asked her to turn off the downstairs TV when she went to bed. I went up to work in my office for a few minutes before going to bed. My office actually overlooks the big downstairs dining room and the spare bedroom where Sally was sleeping is off that dining room.
Anyway, shortly after I head upstairs, Sally shuts off the TV and goes to the downstairs bath to prepare for bed. She rightly assumed I was upstairs. What she didn't know is that I could look downstairs from my dark office and she couldn't see me.
Well, Sally got washed up and walked through the dining room without a bra and wearing only thin cotton panties pulled loosely over her chubby, but not droopy belly. I could see her walking slowly toward the bedroom door and my cock (who had been asleep during this whole episode so far) awoke and took notice.
Nice tits. There weren't huge but they were good-sized and she had very young-looking, very smooth shoulders. Her hooters swung ever-so-gently as she hobbled across the living room toward the bedroom. She had a huge ass (I guess I never noticed before) and nicely-shaped thighs but chunky lower legs.
All I could think about was slipping my hands into those panties and rubbing her ass while sucking at her wonderful tits. But I was sort of in shock. Not tonight. It didn't seem, well, sporting. Hey, I told you I'm not a bad guy!
After her repairs were completed the next afternoon, she thanked me warmly and moved back into her house next door.
In the meantime, I was wracked by fantasies. In my fantasy I would sneak into her bedroom, slip into her bed and slowly begin caressing her until she awoke in a hot passion and begged me to take her.
It was a warm fall evening when I put my plan into action. It was about 11 pm. I knew she kept her extra key under a fake rock by the back door. It was child's play to open it up and go in.
I'm sure you'll agree with me that this was not an unreasonable thing to do. After all, the woman was parading herself half-naked in my house! She knew what she was doing! Does anybody doubt this?
Anyway, Sally was not in bed as I had imagined. The lights were out in her bedroom but she wasn't there. I looked around and saw the light on in the bathroom and I couldn't help but smile. When I saw her nightgown lying across the bed, I knew she would be half naked – or better. Things were looking up – as was my Mr. Johnson.
I stood in the darkness behind the door and Sally eventually came in to the bedroom. As I had hoped, she was bare from the waist up and wearing those same loose cotton panties. She looked heavier in this light but I took notice of her soft neck and the sweetly swaying boobs as she bent over to pick up her nightgown.
"Hi, Sally," I said softly. I think you'll agree that this was the gentlemanly thing to do. After all, I didn't want to scare her. She turned around with a start and held the nightgown close to her body.
Playing hard to get. Okay. I could deal with that.
"What . . . what are you doing here?"
"I thought you might like, you know, a visit," I said, smiling. I knew she had been teasing me. Don't you think so?
"How'd you get in," she said, backing off. She looked frightened and angry too. Women. Go figure.
