Cheryl Gets a Younger BodybyAuryman©
The woman I've been seeing is amazing. Attractive and intelligent, with an incredible sense of style and taste in clothes, meals, music and movies. All around amazing. And insatiable in bed. Creative, attractive, thoughtful and considerate. And did I mention insatiable in bed?
Okay, so I repeated it. I'm a guy and we notice that kind of thing. And appreciate it.
Cheryl and I met at the library of all places. I was doing some research on allergies and she was trying to find materials on side effects of a new drug. While she was asking at the Information Desk, I recognized the name of one of the ingredients she mentioned.
"It can have a long term negative impact on the brain," I warned her. "Do you know someone who is using it?"
The impact of what I said was surprising. She leaned her head on the desk and started crying. Long story short, I talked to her, we had coffee, then dinner, then spent the weekend in bed at her place. She didn't tell me everything that first weekend, but it was clear that she'd been exposed to the drug and was wrestling with what to do.
That was about a year ago. Over the last few months, she's finally revealed the rest of her story to me. Not all at once, but in small bits and pieces. The first clue was about six months ago. It happened like this:
I'd reserved a table at our favorite Italian restaurant. Cheryl made me promise to stay in the front room while she got dressed. I'd already showered, shaved, and put on one of my favorite chocolate colored suits, so I settled into the easy chair in the front room and thumbed through one of her new magazines. Fifteen minutes or so later, she tapped on the hallway wall.
"Close your eyes," she called. I did, chuckling at her sense of humor. She was always coming up with new things to make our life interesting. A new outfit, a different recipe, new music, things were always changing. I heard her walk across the room and stop in front of me.
"Open them," she said and I did. She was wearing a new dress, a stunningly impressive red thing with a diagonally cut neck, parallel cut hem and a low, low back. As she turned around, she gave a slight wiggle. The fabric moved and I could see the area at the small of her back just above where the cheeks met. A gust of wind or the wrong movement and her bottom would be exposed. I wondered what she was wearing underneath but didn't ask. Let it be a surprise.
"Do you like it?" she purred. I smiled and nodded. Even after all this time, I still wasn't use to her and hoped and prayed I never would be. She leaned forward and the top fell loose, I was able to look down the front of her dress. She was wearing a matching color push-up bra. I felt myself start to get hard but knew that nothing would happen before dinner. We both enjoyed the tease too much. She kissed me on the forehead and stood back up. "Who's driving?"
As I sat across the table from her over dinner, I thought I noticed more sparkle in her eyes, more energy in her movements. She told me she was in her 50's but looked easily ten years younger. I knew she spent a lot of time at the gym and that she took vitamins, a lot of vitamins. The row of bottles in her bathroom looked more like a display in a store than a shelf in someone's home.
She flirted with me across the table, I responded by rubbing my toe up and down her calves. She loved it and we both knew it. In just six months, we'd learned an awful lot about each other's bodies.
Over dessert, she whispered to me "look at the couple at the next table." I turned my head casually and saw an elderly couple, maybe in their 70's or even older. They were smiling at each other, occasionally touching each other's fingers across the table. "I want to be like that again someday," she said softly. I nodded. Growing old together. A nice fantasy.
When we got back home, Cheryl lost no time leading me to the bedroom. She stripped me but kept her clothes on. That was a huge turn on for me and she knew it. She stood beside the bed and slid the soft fabric up and down her hips, the hem climbing slowly higher and higher until I could see what she had on underneath. It was some kind of satin material, a deep burgundy color. As she slid the dress higher and higher, I saw that it was barely a piece of underwear at all. The patch was no larger than the back of her hand and held in place by three pieces of ribbon that tied behind her back. She gathered the fabric around her waist and I stared, eyes wide and cock already stiff.
Cheryl dropped the skirt back into place and knelt on the bed between my feet, then leaned forward in a quick motion and took me in her mouth. I thought I would cum right then, but I held out. She kept her mouth open wide and moved down slowly as far as she could without my cock touching either the sides of back of her mouth. It was incredible, the feeling of the warm air circulating around my cock head, her lips three inches or so down the shaft but not touching it. She pulled her head upward and the air of the room chilled me just a bit. I shivered and she smiled and did it again. She did it over and over until I begged her to stop. I couldn't take it anymore. The last time she did it, I made my cock jerk and it banged against her tongue. She laughed and reached for me with her hand. She closed her fingers around my sack and closed her mouth around my cock head. Then, she started moving up and down fast, tongue licking me inside as she banged my cock against the back of her mouth. I came right away, she pushed her head down and locked her mouth around the base of my cock, swallowing. I felt the contractions of her throat around my cock and unloaded every last drop I had.
I raised myself up on my elbows. "You're amazing," I said. She smiled at me, stood up and walked across the room to the closet. She unsnapped the dress and it slid off of her in a single piece. I admired her body, firm and round, not like the boy-sized models in the magazine ads. No, my Cheryl was a real woman all the way. Her breasts strained against the push-up bra and the tiny patch of material between her legs was even darker, wet with her desire.
"Steven?" she asked tentatively. I lay back down, arms behind my head. "Hmmm?" "Steven, have you noticed that I'm forgetting things lately?"
I didn't say anything, but I had. And not just that. She'd had at least three episodes of obvious confusion, not able to form sentences, not able to find simple words.
She climbed onto the bed and snuggled against my side. Her hand idly touched my cock. It began to stiffen and she stroked it gently. She asked, "do you like my body?" I smiled. "Of course. You're beautiful. And you take care of yourself. You really are something. I can't stay on a schedule at the gym. They'd have to drive here and pick me up..." She put her finger over my mouth. There was something on her mind and she was having a hard time saying it.
We lay like that for a long time, then she let out a little giggle. She slid her body on top of mine and started kissing me. I responded right away, running my hands over her back, touching her in the places she liked to be touched. She opened her legs and started grinding her crotch against mine. My stiff cock pressed against her belly, she humped me slow and hard. I heard her breathing quicken and she rubbed faster. In just a minute, she came, screaming and pulling my hair. I smiled. She untied the tiny panty-thing and opened herself up, taking me easily into her wetness. Life was good.
A few months back, a while after the night I described above, Cheryl came to me with a proposition. She wanted to kick up our sex life. I asked her what she meant and she told me she wanted to do it with me and another man. She whispered her fantasy to me, described in detail how she would move from one of us to the other, using her hands, mouth, and body to keep us aroused until she finally satisfied us both. She said she was turned on by the idea of one of us watching while she was playing with the other. As she described the fantasy, she got more and more excited until she finally came. When we woke up the next morning and I asked her about it, she denied it. That happened more than once, and with more than one fantasy. Her forgetfulness was starting to worry me.
She was showing some other signs of mental deterioration as well. She couldn't remember which artist performed her favorite songs. She would start to cook dinner but mix up the ingredients until she produced something totally inedible. Several times, she'd get lost on the way home and have to call me for directions.
At the same time, she was getting wilder and wilder in the sack. Her body was more limber than before, her stamina incredible, and her appetite enormous. We'd have sex every day and most days I'd find her masturbating at least once. Her body was sexier than every, she looked younger and firmer than when we'd met, the few wrinkles in her face were gone and her hair color was more vibrant.
One night stands out in my mind particularly clearly. I came home from work and the house was dark and quiet. When I opened the front door, I immediately smelled vanilla incense in the air. And the front room was bathed in the soft glow of candles. I made my way through the house, the smell getting stronger as I came toward the kitchen, the soft light of the candles everywhere.
Cheryl was in the kitchen, laying on her back on the table. There were stripes of whipped cream running up her legs from her knees to her belly, meeting in a large circle that spiraled out from her navel. Her breasts were piled high with whipped cream, a cherry at the top of each tower. Her eyes were closed, her face covered over with strips of dried fruit roll ups. Her lips were puckered and held a single cherry high in the air.
I walked around and stood in front of her, just looking. There was a small mountain of whipped cream covering her mound, another single cherry at the top. Without saying a word, I stripped off my clothes, then started licking the whipped cream from her left leg. She moaned and I felt the table shudder. I smiled. I wondered how long she'd been there, if she'd been anticipating this, if she'd already cum from just that touch.
I took my time moving up her leg. I alternated licking with just pressing my lips into the cream and sucking it, tugging gently at her skin as I moved my head upward. She rolled slightly to the side but caught herself and stopped, shuddering as she came again.
When I'd licked both legs clean, I stood up and went to the refrigerator. I took out a bottle of white wine and poured myself a glass. I stood next to her and watched her as I sipped slowly. I could tell from the way she was breathing that she knew I was toying with her and that it was turning her on. I looked at the pile between her legs. It had largely slid downward, much of it melting into a runny river of cream between her lips and cheeks. I reached and scooped some of it off with two fingers, licking and sucking them loudly. Then, I put my hand between her legs again and pushed a finger between her lips. She moaned, loud this time, and shook the table. I scooped more cream and licked my fingers off.
After a few more sips of wine, I put the glass down on the table next to her head and lifted one of the pieces of fruit strip, the one that was across the bridge of her nose. I tasted it, chewed slowly and swallowed. Strawberry. My favorite. Then, I leaned over and took the cherry from her lips with mine. She tried to kiss me but I backed away.
I found the whipped cream in the refrigerator and shook the can. "Open your mouth," I told her. She did and I stuck the nozzle between her open lips, filled her mouth to overflowing, let it pile up high. I pushed a finger into her mouth, gushing whipped cream over her lips and down the side of her face. She moaned when I put my mouth on hers and started sucking the cream out of her. I could tell how anxious she was now and slid my hand between her legs, this time going straight for the little bud. She came again, this time gasping and struggling hard to keep her arms flat on the table.
I spent the next twenty minutes licking slowly, terribly slowly, the rest of the whipped cream off of her. She came and came, her body was more sensitive than I'd ever remembered. When I was finished, I sat in the chair next to the table and slid her off and into my lap. We kissed for a while, my hands fondling her, keeping her aroused but not too much. I pulled my head back and looked at her.
"So, what prompted that?" She stared at me puzzled and leaned in to kiss me again. I let her, feeling her tongue probing my mouth, my cock getting stiff again. After a few minutes, I pulled back and smiled. "That was amazing. *You* are amazing." Cheryl looked at me as if she didn't understand. Then, she slid her hand across my belly and lightly tweaked my right nipple. "Fuck Sherrie, fuck?" She leaned closer and licked my neck, sucked at the soft skin just above the collarbone. "Sherrie fuck, Sherrie fuck," she muttered, then fell asleep.
I carried her upstairs to the bedroom and lay her on the bed. I got a washcloth and cleaned her up, then covered her and went downstairs to make dinner. She came down later that night and acted like nothing had happened. I played along but I was getting a little worried.
Another event I remember vividly was the Victoria's Secret shopping expedition. Cheryl called me at work one day and told me she was close by and wanted to have lunch. I asked someone to cover the phones for a few hours and drove to our favorite restaurant. She ate lightly, ordered wine. I enjoyed my favorite corned beef sandwich with beer and we talked about nothing in particular. After the bill came and we paid it, she started acting strangely. I'd ask her a question and she'd answer in a word or two, and in a monotone voice. Maybe she was tired, I thought.
When the change came, she asked the waiter if there was a store that sold wire nearby. He gave her a puzzled look and she scrunched up her face and tried again. This time, she asked for a puzzle place, a secret place. The man got nervous and excused himself politely, went to get the manager. Cheryl looked a little dazed, she was trying to find a word or a thought and couldn't.
When the manager arrived, Cheryl asked him if he wore women's underwear. He laughed and tried to make a joke of it, but she asked him where he bought it. He said he shopped at Victoria's Secret down the road and maybe we should go there. I took the hint and packed Cheryl up and helped her out of the restaurant.
I thought she'd been joking and trying to get around the the subject of lingerie in a silly way, just to have some fun. We drove to Victoria's Secret and she immediately started chatting with one of the clerks. She was talking about basketball while she was fingering materials and holding up colors to see if they matched. I saw a change come over her when she held up a powder blue garter belt. Her eyes went wild and she turned to the clerk and asked if she would try it on. The clerk turned red and said she couldn't, it was against store policy. Cheryl looked upset then asked again, this time she asked if she could try it on. The woman smiled, "I'm sorry I must have misunderstood you. Of course."
Cheryl took the garter belt into the dressing room and the clerk gave me a wary look. Were we playing a game with her? She'd probably seen all kinds of things before. I just smiled.
Two minutes later, Cheryl came out of the dressing room wearing nothing but the garter belt. Ignoring the stunned faces around her, she sauntered casually to the clerk and tried to wrap her arms around her. The clerk pushed her away and stepped back. Cheryl stumbled but caught herself on one of the display racks. She turned and looked at the display. They were half-cup bras. She started going through them, holding them up to look at sizes.
I quickly stepped to her and pulled her back into the dressing room, told her to get dressed so we could get out of there before the police came. She argued with me but went ahead and put on her clothes.
In the car on the way home, she had her hand between her legs the entire time, stroking herself, moaning and keeping herself aroused but on edge. She never finished. I'd see her hand moving underneath her skirt, hear her breath get quicker, then she'd pull her hand away and hold her breath until she stopped trembling.
By the time we got home, she was asleep against the passenger side window. Something was going on and I had to find out what it was.
That night, Cheryl explained everything to me. She began by shaving three inches of hair upward from her neckline. She had me run my fingers along the edges of a two-inch square area near the top of the spine. Something had been implanted underneath her skin.
"This was the start of it all, Steven," she said. She dropped her hair down, covering the spot. We walked into the kitchen. She sat me on a chair then straddled my lap, facing me. She put her arms around my neck.
"How old do you think I am?"
I looked at her face. She was more beautiful than before, she could easily have passed for thirty. Her skin was flawless, radiant, eyes bright, lashes long, lips full and sexy.
"You told me you were in your fifties." She squirmed slightly and my cock stiffened. Her thighs were strong, her legs slim and muscular and I felt it through my clothes.
"I am ninety six," she said in a dead serious voice. I laughed. She put her finger to mouth. "Stop it. We need to talk while I still can." That stopped me. What did that mean?
Cheryl stood up and pulled the dress over her head. She was naked underneath and I looked at her body, amazed. She was firm, her skin toned and tight, she had the body of a twenty year old woman. She pushed one of her nipples into my mouth and told me to bite it. I did and she threw her head back, shot her right hand between her legs. She rubbed herself for a few seconds, then shook her head and sat back down in my lap. I saw her struggling with herself to regain control. When she stopped trembling, she leaned her head on my shoulder.
"Steven, I'm scared."
That's when the whole story came out. Cheryl had been in a nursing home on the East Coast for several years. She had no remaining family and she'd moved so many times she had no real friends. At ninety six, she was at the end of the line. A ward of the state living in a nursing home with only minimal care and no real contact with the world.
She'd met a man there and the two of them spent a lot of time together, reminiscing about their youth, their careers, their travels. Neither had spouse or children, both had been too ambitious, too driven. The conversation eventually turned to sex. Cheryl was surprised to find that her responses were still strong, even if Rob couldn't do anything about them.
Over a course of months, she'd found herself spending late nights on the internet, surfing for soft-core pornography. It excited her to no end, the idea that this old woman with one foot in the grave was masturbating behind the management's back to young, hot-bodied men and women making the beast with two backs. There was little chance of being spotted, there was only one nurse on staff for over a hundred residents and she never did rounds. Management was a polite term for the bottom-feeders who ran the place. No, there was little chance of being spotted.
Not from inside the place anyway. From outside was a different matter.
One fall afternoon, three men in black suits showed up at Cheryl's door. They confronted her with transaction logs, user profiles, passwords, and other evidence that proved she was spending a lot of time watching people "getting it on" as one of the men put it.
Rather than crumbing in embarrassment, she admitted it and asked them "so what?"