Mrs. Tenholder Loses It

It was a cool night with no moon. There was a decent crowd in the lot but it wasn't full by any means. I moved closer to Gretchen and put my arm around her. She acknowledged the gesture with a brief touch of her head on my shoulder, then it was back to the movie. She seemed to be all business tonight.

I couldn't get into the picture. There were too many flashbacks and characters I didn't care about. Although Gretchen seemed interested, I was bored. Bored to tears.

Her face was glued to the screen and when I took my arm away to get a drink, she didn't seem to mind. But then I noticed something.

Gretchen was wearing a simple one-piece green and white dress buttoned up the front. It came just below her knees as most of her dresses did and I could see the outline of her full thighs beneath the light fabric. As I stared at her chest, I could see in the thin light a dim outline of a naked, mature breast beneath that fabric. Gretchen Tenholder was not wearing a bra! This realization hit me like a jolt. I took some popcorn and moved closer to her. I held a piece of buttered popcorn to her lips and at first she seemed irritated that I was trying to get her to eat it, but then she finally did. Then another. And another.

I could smell that floral scent she always had about her. My heart was racing. Her eyes were still glued to the screen. I put my buttered fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth in anticipation of another piece of popcorn and I stuck the fingers in. She made no move except to take the fingers in her mouth, lick them with her lips and tongue and close her eyes as she did so. I moved my hand to her right breast and put my mouth to her lips.

She had the now-familiar taste of butter and salt and her tongue wrestled with mine with an enthusiasm that was quite unexpected. I gently massaged her breast, feeling its firm warmth between my trembling hand until I sensed a hardened nipple beneath my palm. I slid my hand into the dress and for the first time, felt that great bulk of Gretchen Tenholder's entire tit, flesh to flesh. I was amazed at how far it hung down onto her chest and how soft and firm it was.

Gretchen was breathing harder and her expression was serious and full of an aching lust that I understood all too well. My fingers flicked at her long nipple, then prowled the expanse of her chunky belly. She kissed me again, holding my head with both her hands as I moved to caress her left breast. With an unexpected start, she twisted my head so my ear was before her mouth. She nipped my ear briefly, lovingly with her teeth and whispered in a way that was more erotic than anything I've ever heard: "Do you want to suck on momma's boobies, Johnny?" Then she flicked a tongue in my ear and moved my head down to her chest.

I quickly unbuttoned five or six buttons and the two great tits were finally in my sight, their whiteness reflecting the dim light. I dove on them, slobbering both, then focusing on one at a time, taunting the nipples with my teeth then suckling like the small child I had become. She held my head to her chest as I slurped. I could smell the floral perfume, baby powder and a suggestion of the womanly arousal scent I had experienced at the movie theater last week.

"Ahhh, yes, that's my good baby," she was mewing. "That's my Johnny."

I felt like I was in some mother-child Twilight Zone. I wrapped my arms around her torso inside her dress until I could feel her fleshy back beneath my fingers as I sucked and sucked and sucked. A few times I pulled my hands back to reach down to recover each of the huge dugs that were flopped onto her belly and I licked underneath them, chewed and then returned to sucking on the hard and aroused nipples.

Gretchen had taken to rocking back and forth a little as I sucked, as though she was indeed rocking a feeding child. But I soon realized that she also had her free right hand under her skirt. I reached inside the dress to find her hand and discovered two things. She was diddling herself while I chomped on her titties. And she was wearing no underwear.

I lifted up from the tits which hung from her chest on the outside of the dress and reached down to grab her right hand. She seemed most reluctant to pull it from her twat but I muscled it free and plunged the sopping fingers in my mouth while staring into her panting face, her lustful blue eyes. Then I used my whole hand to massage her cunt which she deliciously pushed into my palm. The scene was incredibly erotic. Her chest heaving and falling, heaving and falling, faster and faster so that even her tremendous tits were beginning to swing a little and she was grunting in a previously unheard animal staccato while I toyed with her elderly womanhood and felt my erection growing.

Somewhat to my surprise, even amidst the feral groans, Gretchen Tenholder again pulled my head to her ear. I could feel her hot breath. I pistoned two fingers into her cunt and she groaned even louder then said: "I want you in me, Johnny. I didn't think I could -- ohhh-hh -- but I think I can do it. I need you."

"I want to fuck your sweet old pussy, Gretchen. I want my cock in you. Is that what you want?"

She gasped. Nodded. "Fuck momma, Johnny. Ahh-hh. Yes. Fuck momma."

I didn't know from what strange other world this came, but I didn't care. I wanted so badly to plunge my cock in her that nothing else mattered.

"Let me straddle you," she said. "Let me straddle you. I think I can do it . . . yes, yes -- ohh-hh, yes," and with agility remarkable in an old woman, she had hiked up her skirt in the back seat and settled onto my now untethered cock like the lunar module landing on the moon.

We were face to face, although her head was thrown back. Thank god for the big old Lincoln. I placed my hands on the tops of her old thighs and probed with my prick until I found her hole. It was wet, but tight and I went slowly. Every jerk seemed to increase her ecstasy even more as I painted her crotch with my pre-cum. Then I was in. She bit her lip for a moment, but now I was in up to the hilt. The entire length of my cock was in Gretchen Tenholder's elderly cunt and I could begin fucking her in earnest.

She rose and fell from the top while I pumped from the bottom. She was unashamedly grunting now, louder and louder. I didn't care. Her tits were flopping back and forth, making an audible slap as they swung back to her chest. "Johnny, Johnny. Fuck momma, Johnny . . . oh-hhh."

I was doing my best. I could feel the cum welling up. Gretchen was biting her lip, running her hand threw her hair, pressing against my chest, sticking a finger in my mouth, all while bouncing up and down like a cowboy on a bronco.

"Ohh, GEEE-zus gawdd-dd...Johnny . . ." and she shook violently for a few seconds , then I spilled my seed in her in 5, 6, 7 spurts and tried my best to jam all of my cock, my balls, my entire crotch inside her while I did it . Her old ass cheeks shivered as I pumped my jism rocket into her elderly womb and I honest-to-god thought she briefly ascended from my cum explosion before finally settling down as my spend dripped slowly from the ravaged and aged pussy. The film was almost over. "The snack bar," the speaker solemnly intoned. "Is now closed."

**************************

They say you can never get too much sex. I've found that mostly true because the urge always returns, but after my experience with Gretchen Tenholder I'm reconsidering.

It was such a cataclysmic sexual release that I just didn't think it could be repeated, or that I would try to. Gretchen, apparently, felt the same way.

We still spoke when passing each other outside. We talked about flowers, the bus schedule, the lousy weather -- but never about movies. Over time she stopped calling me Johnny. It was simply 'John' now and for me, that was okay. She seemed to be putting on weight and I stopped thinking about her as a sexual being in any way.

I even found a pretty new girlfriend. Tess was younger than I but had a certain something that appealed to me. It was shortly after she moved in with me that the two of us ran into Gretchen sweeping the sidewalk outside her house.

As always, there was the big smile and the sparkling eyes. I introduced Tess, and Gretchen shook her hand warmly. "She's such a pretty girl, John."

"Has anyone ever told you," Mrs. Tenholder said, turning to Tess, "that you have the most beautiful blue eyes?"