Pat had recently turned 76 but still had a libido to match most women 50 years younger. I had been fucking her on a regular basis for nearly a year and my only regret was that I had not done so sooner.
We met up at least once a week, usually at the bungalow of 69-year-old widow, Hannah. She, too, had a strong sex drive. I had dubbed them both (though not to their face) as wrinkled, ripe and randy.
While my wife, Susan, had been away looking after her divorcee mother, who had broken her arm, my sex sessions had become an almost daily occurrence. Hannah, who didn’t have the complication of a husband, saw more action than Pat.
On a Monday morning, I took a phone call from my wife. She would be home on Friday, probably late afternoon.
I was planning a special homecoming when I heard a knock at the door. It was Pat, with a mischievous smile on her face.
“I’ve come round for a fuck.” she said.
The semi-on, which I had been sporting before answering the door, sprang to immediate attention as a full-on erection. It was clearly visible in my loose joggers.
Pat glanced down before making full eye contact. Neither of us spoke.
Pat was wearing a dark purple, satin blouse. Visible underneath were the edges of a lighter purple, lacy bra which supported a large pair of white breasts. A shiny red belt, worn tight, secured a long, dark blue dress. Her lipstick, bright red, matched the belt. Her strong, lavishly applied, expensive perfume invaded my nostrils before running down my spine and caressing my erection.
The pupils of Pat’s blue eyes were noticeably dilated and they alternated their focus on my face and crotch as she let her fingers run gently up and down the length of my swollen member. Every so often her hand would wander down and she would gently caress my balls.
After running the tip of her tongue up my neck Pat whispered in my ear to break the silence.
“I’ve got something to tell you.”
There was excitement in her tone and her breathing increased in pace and intensity.
“Hannah caught Andy and Chrissie in bed.
“She saw them in Andy’s house. They’d left the back door unlocked. Hannah slipped back out after seeing them. She told me she was really turned on by it and has been fingering herself silly ever since.”
The news caught me by surprise. The two people in question were Hannah’s children. Christine, who was in her third marriage, had a reputation for promiscuity while Andrew was single and widely regarded as a bit of a wimp.
“They were fucking? Brother and sister!” I responded.
“When Hannah saw them, they were sleeping but there were three or four opened condom wrappers by the side of the bed.”
While she spoke, Pat was moving her hips, grinding herself into me and panting heavily. I grabbed her by her upper arms and turned her so her back was pressed tight to the wall and pushed into her with a humping movement. Pat closed her eyes and pressed her lips against mine. An eager tongue probed my mouth.
My ear was next to get the tongue treatment before Pat whispered:
“There’s more. Hannah wants me to get Andy to fuck me. And then tell her all about it.”
While Pat was speaking I moved away slightly, allowing myself room to push my hand between her legs and slide two fingers inside her.
“Tell Hannah, I’d like to fuck her daughter.”
As I spoke, I moved my fingers in and out, gradually increasing the pace and intensity to match Pat’s breathing.
“You’re going to bring me off,” Pat hissed.
I moved my hand and placed my middle and index fingers each side of her clit and continued to maintain a rhythm. When I sensed she was close to climaxing, I homed in on her button and pressed hard. Pat erupted.
“Fuck! That was good. So, so, so fucking good.”
I pressed even harder and Pat’s orgasm, accompanied by screams yelps and grunts, continued.
After giving out one long, last moan, Pat said the word “fuck” at least 20 times. It may have been a monologue short of variety but it was delivered with an abundance of sexual intensity. I guessed a fuck or one of her first-rate blow jobs would be next on the agenda but Pat surprised me.
“Do you mind if we hang fire? Come round to mine at eleven.”
I glanced at my watch. It had just turned half past nine. Although I was busting to blow a load, the new arrangement did have its advantages. I didn’t particularly want any trace of Pat’s perfume lingering when Susan returned, especially not on the bedclothes.
“Of course I mind,” I replied.
“But that’s not going to stop me being round at eleven.”
The break gave me a chance to grab a quick shower before catching up with my e-mails.
The powerful surge of warm water in the shower relaxed me but did little to diminish my erection which pointed out red, stiff and proud. Looking beyond my eleven o’clock promise, I was anticipating Susan’s return and picturing the many things we would be getting up to.
The mundane routine of checking e-mails distracted me from sexual thoughts and by five to eleven my erection had mostly disappeared. When I closed my front door on the way to Pat’s, familiar stirrings returned.
A small blue hatchback was parked on Pat’s drive. I felt both surprise and an air of disappointment. A bigger surprise lay in store.
The door was slightly ajar but I rung the bell. There was no response, so assuming the bell to be broken, I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
Hearing Pat’s voice, I tapped gently on her living room door before entering.
Pat was sitting on the settee, flanked by Andy and Chrissie, Hannah’s children. There was nobody else in the room. Rarely one to beat about the bush, Pat came straight to the point.
“You told me earlier, you’d like to fuck Chrissie. Well, here she is. You can tell her yourself.”
I looked at Chrissie whose eyes were locked on mine. She gave a smile, showing a set of teeth with a pronounced gap between the middle top ones. Underneath a very short tartan mini skirt her legs were tanned and free of stockings or tights. She had a pair of black high heeled shoes and a plain white blouse buttoned up to her neck. As I matched her stare, she slowly and carefully unbuttoned the cuffs.
My heart was pounding but I spoke slowly.
“Open your legs, pull your cunt flaps open and let me bury my face between your naked thighs and eat your pussy. I want to taste what I’m going to fuck.”
I was waiting for a response from Christine but it was Pat who spoke. Her tone was low and barely above a whisper,
“And are you going to go down on me, Andy? I bet you’ve never licked out anybody as old as me. You won’t be disappointed. Bring me off and I’ll let you shoot spunk up my wrinkled slit.”
While Pat was speaking, Chrissie rolled a pair of skimpy black panties down her legs before picking them off the floor and placing them on the arm of the settee. I stepped forward and knelt down in front of her, my face six inches away from her knees. Simultaneously, she lifted her skirt and parted her thighs. Moving very slowly she covered her shaved heaven with both hands.
Chrissie and I were poised for action but Andy beat us to it. Within the space of seconds he managed to unzip his erection, rip Pat’s knickers off and press his tongue hard against her 76-year-old glory hole. There was a distinct absence of finesse as he moved his head up and down in a frenzy. Pat was not disapproving.
“Lick faster, you dirty little bastard. Make my cunt sore you filthy fucker.”
Chrissie, unlike her brother was in no rush. When she opened up her beautiful pink pussy, she did it carefully as though she was opening the petals of a very delicate flower. Kneeling in front of her, I lowered my head, ready to home in on her bud. My tongue was close to making contact when Chrissie replaced her hands, blocking access.
“Titties before clitty,” she said, freeing one hand to gesture me away.
She unfastened the buttons of her blouse slowly, working her way upwards before removing it. Bra, skirt and shoes quickly followed. Without being large, her breasts were a good handful and firm with dark, prominent nipples. It was my turn to tease, tracing the tip of my tongue around each nipple, barely making contact with skin, the colour of which was turning a deep red on her upper body.
A year off turning 40, Christine was two years into her third marriage. When she married her first husband, George, a young lawyer with deeply-held religious convictions, she was relatively inexperienced when it came to sex.
George may haven a devout Christian but he had an exceptionally strong libido and Christine had quickly put her inexperience behind her.
After four years of happy, monogamous marriage, George was a victim of a hit-and-run driver. He was killed instantly; the driver was never caught.
After six months of celibacy, Christine opened a new chapter in her life. She had a string of affairs and one-night-stands before making a second trip down the aisle, this time with Robin, an accountant two years her junior. Two days after their honeymoon, Robin arrived home heavily under the influence of alcohol and hit Christine. It was the first and last time he did so; she threw him out and filed for divorce the next day.
After years of playing the merry widow/promiscuous divorcee, Chrissie settled for husband number three, Tom – a laid-back bohemian art teacher who believed in open relationships. The arrangement seemed to have worked out very well for both of them and had provided untold pleasure for a large number of men and women, young and old alike.
After a few minutes of gentle licking, I sucked each of Christine’s nipples in turn before moving my mouth down to her stomach. She had a deep navel which I probed with my tongue’
“Go down,” she urged.
“Go down. Go down on me.”
I stood up and took a pace back, ready to undress. I glanced at Pat who was writhing in ecstasy as Andy maintained his cunnilingus frenzy.
I had started to loosen the tie to my joggers when my mobile phone buzzed in the pocket to alert me of a text message.
Cursing inwardly for not having switched it off, I took my phone out and looked at the screen. The message was from my wife, Susan and read:
“In taxi. Back in half hour. Get ready for long fuck session.”
I mumbled the contents of the text message but the other three chose to ignore me.
Desperately trying to compose myself and think quickly if not logically, I decided to give myself a maximum of 10 more minutes in Pat’s house. I would be staying to watch, not participate.
Meanwhile, Andy had called time-out on his muff-diving activity and was kneeling astride Pat, his bright red cock inches away from her belly.
“I’m about to blow,” he announced.
“I’m going to blow off. I’m going to spunk. Where do you want it? Where do want me to shoot?”
Pat was breathing heavily and audibly though her nose. Her nostrils were flared and the cheeks of her face cherry red. Her response is likely to stay with me the rest of my life.
“Shoot it up your sister. Fuck spunk up her.”
Surprised and extremely turned on, I dropped to a crouching position and squeezed the base of my erection tightly. Emergency flash flood prevention successfully achieved, it was decision time. Text Susan back with an excuse or leave the party. I opted for expediency, made my excuses and left. As I closed the door I heard Pat’s voice.
“Andy. You fuck your sister’s cunt and I’ll fuck her face.”
I can never be sure of what happened next but neither Andy nor his sister made any audible protest of which I was aware.
On arriving home I figured I had just over five minutes to gather a modicum of composure. I splashed some cold water on my face, breathed slowly and deeply and squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I made an effort to empty my mind of all thoughts.
By the time the taxi arrived my breathing and colour had returned to normal and my erection all but disappeared. When Susan stepped out from the taxi, I became hard again. She looked stunning.
She was wearing tight jeans and a loose white blouse tucked in at the waist. The heels of her shoes were not high but sufficiently raised to emphasise a shapely well-toned rear at which the taxi driver was staring. He avoided my eyes when I paid him the fare and a modest tip. I carried the two large suitcases across the threshold and placed them on the floor close to the foot of the stairs.
I turned round to be faced by Susan who had shut the door and started to perform a slow striptease.
Susan undid the top three buttons before reaching behind her back and closing the floor-length curtains by the glass panelled front door. After carefully unfastening the other buttons, she straightened her arms, gave a little shimmy and allowed the garment to fall to the floor. Her bra was tight, well fitting and generously filled. Although its decorative fabric was thick, the shape of her hard nipples was clearly visible.
After unfastening the buckle of her belt and loosening the top of her jeans, Susan traced her fingertips up her bare skin before settling each hand on the cups of her bra and gently massaging her breasts.
After two or three minutes, her fingers made the return tip. Her right hand pushed down inside her black cotton underwear. She closed her eyes and pleasured herself.
The movement of her hand and fingers was slow and deliberate but exercised with firm pressure and was clearly transporting her to a state of extreme arousal.
I was poised to grab her when Susan opened her eyes, smiled and pushed past me and slowly climbed the stairs. Halfway up, she turned. I was ready to follow but hesitated when she raised her arm and showed the palm of her hand.
After she had turned and continued to the top of the stairs, Susan moved slowly round and beckoned me up, only to gesture for me to stop when I was half way up.
She loosened the top of her jeans further before reaching behind and unfastening her bra. After slowly removing it, she held it over head with her arms aloft. Her large breasts trembled seductively. Her nipples were rock hard.
Unable to contain myself no longer, I climbed the rest of the stairs and joined Susan on the landing where I thrust my right hand down the front of her loosened jeans, homing in on her pussy which I squeezed tightly.
The underside of my hand was immediately coated with sticky wetness and I slipped two fingers inside her sex. After a couple of slow thrusts, I withdrew my fingers, placed them either side of her clit and began to frig her, gently but quickly.
Sensing that Susan was about to climax, I sank to my knees and pulled her jeans down so they were round her ankles. The urge to eat pussy was intense; the urge to fuck even greater.
Unlike the septuagenarian Pat, who tended to be very vocal during sex, Susan continued to say nothing. She groaned when I entered her and pushed all the way in. I tensed my legs and maintained that position without moving, fighting the urge to ejaculate.
I felt a powerful compulsion to tell Susan about the sexual adventures I had experienced while she had been away. I wanted to blurt out that I’d been fucking and eating the pussies of two women in their seventies. The thought of sharing those experiences was a real turn-on but I fought that particular urge and kept my thoughts to myself.
I started thrusting in low gear, long deliberate strokes, but soon I was in passionate overdrive; fast, hard and rough. Susan was pushing back, equally hard and fast.
Her orgasm came swiftly and was more intense than I had ever witnessed before. Her body went into fierce spasms accompanied by a long loud scream followed by a series of lesser squeals. Again, I pushed in all the way and froze, struggling inwardly to delay my ejaculation. It was a losing battle. I flooded her like I had never flooded her before, triggering yet more involuntary jerking and passionate shrieking.
I grabbed Susan, whose jeans were still round her ankles, by the wrist and dragged her into the bedroom where we both undressed and collapsed onto the bed. Ten minutes later, Susan climbed on top and we made love a second time. Afterwards, Susan spoke for the first time since returning. Her tone was casual.
“I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”
“The bad news is I’ve invited my mother to stay and she’ll be arriving some time tomorrow.”
Again, she paused.
“The good news is. And I’m sure you’ll think it is good news, is that she wants you to fuck her.”