Just Hard Enough To Be Perfect Ch 02

Four weeks to the day after being used while only semi-conscious, I answered a knock at my door to find the 73 year-old grandmother who had taken advantage of my drunken state stood on the step looking oddly both innocent and apologetic.

"Can I come in?" she said quietly, "I'd like to try to explain why I did what I did in the hope that you'll understand and maybe make up for a couple of things that I've been sorry for ever since that night."

I don't know if was my polite upbringing, or some curious desire to find out why an old woman had forced herself on a very drunk man fifty years younger then she was, so I just shrugged "ok", gestured towards the kitchen, and followed her down the hallway.

"Do mind if I make something to drink? I've brought my own and I'm a little nervous about talking to you," she said pulling a box of herbal teabags from a large brown leather handbag she placed on the kitchen table.

She refused my offer to do it, put the kettle on, smiled almost benignly while it boiled, filled two mugs which were on the worktop, and dropped a small green bag in each. "Do you like herbal?" she smiled handing me one of the cups.

I just shrugged again, and sat on a chair facing her as she did the same.

"What do you think? " she said nodding at my cup as I sipped from it. "It's very nice" I replied truthfully, "But you really didn't need to come round and apologise or anything. I was drunk, what happened, happened, and I really don't remember very much."

She smiled weakly, "But I've had regrets about that night, so I just had to come round and see if you'd let me in."

"It's really ok," I replied emptying the contents of the cup down my throat, "There's nothing to apologise for."

"Oh I'm not here to apologise for anything," she said with a smirk, "I am sorry about it, but not in the way you're thinking."

She obviously noticed the puzzled expression on my face. "I've never done anything like that before, but you didn't do anything to stop me so I just sort of carried on."

"I wasn't in any state to stop you doing anything, but are you really here to tell me that you're sorry about getting carried away?" I replied, wondering why an elderly woman in a blue cardigan was sat in my kitchen theoretically apologising, but with a very wide grin on her face.

"No," she replied firmly, "I'm sorry that I wasn't prepared.

She pulled a tube of vaginal lubrication from her handbag and stood it on the table. "I was a little dry last month, and had you been a bit.... um.... bigger it might have hurt me. Don't get me wrong, you were just hard enough for it to be perfect, but I've spent a month wondering how it would feel if you were... um... full sized. That might be even more perfect."

I laughed that she'd never know, thanked her for tea, and suggested that she ought to go before anybody got embarrassed.

She giggled, looked directly at me and smirked, "The last time I was here, I wasn't really thinking, but having done it once, it's going to be much easier a second time."

The old woman then pulled a small tin about half the size of a deck of cards from her hand bag and placed it on the table next to the tube of lubrication: "I was a specialist anaesthetic nurse for over forty years, but I don't know if it's possible to get a man fully hard without some sort of.... um.... help when he's... um... less than fully functioning otherwise."

I tried to stand with the intention of asking her leave, but collapsed on the kitchen floor. The woman then knelt beside me popped open the little tin, pulled out a small blue diamond-shaped pill, pinched my cheeks, dropped the tablet into my partly-open mouth, and grinned, "My husband's been gone for ten years, and I don't know how well that will still work after all this time, but I've got plenty."

I tried to move, but couldn't as she slowly unbuttoned my shirt, sighed happily, took off my shoes and socks, and then stripped me naked before standing up and grinning. "I don't know how long that little pill will work with a man your age, but the stuff I put in your tea won't wear off for about four hours."

I stared up helplessly as the woman left the kitchen and returned dragging half the soft furnishings from my front room behind her. "It was fun, but not very comfortable last time," she said, stuffing cushions and seating under and around me.

She stood up and grinned even wider: "That little pill must be stopping you from falling asleep, but you'll be out soon enough and won't remember a thing when you wake up. Not that you'd tell anybody anyway. Who's going to believe that you think a seventy three year old grandmother whose name you don't even know might have had non-consensual sex with you for a second time?"

Her giggles turned to laughter as she took off all her clothes except for a pale blue bra, picked up the tube of lubricant, squirted some into the palms of her bony, leather-like, mottled hands, knelt over me, and rubbed my erection to full size. "Lovely," she grinned, "I've NEVER had anything like this inside me." Her dentures practically glowed white under the fluorescent lighting, and her heavy jewellery seemed to flash as she straddled me.

It was too much effort to keep my eyes open even if I had wanted to look at the heavily creased, pale, sagging, face of the overjoyed woman on top of me, and as she guided my erection towards what looked like a wet bleached scouring pad stuck onto an old crumpled paper bag, I passed out.

When I woke up three hours later, I was naked and alone, the seating and cushions had been returned to the front room, my clothes were folded into a neat pile near my feet, the cups had been washed, and for some reason I felt very clean.

I staggered to me feet, just as I had four weeks previously, and wondered what had happened in the three hours I'd been unconscious..

And then I saw the empty tube of lubricant stood on its cap near the edge of my kitchen table, and felt somehow glad that I didn't really know how the contents had been used.