tagMatureVery Senior Sex

Very Senior Sex

byainu©

This story is a result of feedback from a reader of an earlier story of mine about seniors. He suggested this one about an elderly white lady having sex with her even older long-time black employee. As most stories on Literotica it's completely fiction, this time told from the male's viewpoint.

I'm black. Negro. Nigger. African American. Whatever some one wants to call it. That's a defining part of my life. I mean, all things supposedly being equal, if you're black you aren't equal. Fact. Don't bother arguing because I've lived through it. It was even worse for my parents. My father spent most of his life in jail. He wasn't evil or particularly mean, he just did what he had to, to make a living. Which means much of it was illegal. I left school after eighth grade because I had to earn a living. So I've always worked. Not behind a desk or in an air conditioned office, I mean worked. At the end of a shovel or hammer or whatever. Yet, when all is said and done, I've had a pretty nice life. I've no serious complaints. And I'm now eighty one.

In my forties, almost forty years ago, I started working for a family. At first it was just maintenance around the property. Part time. But it evolved into a full time job. Taxes, Social Security and everything. Now, I don't kid myself that I'm part of the family because I'm not. I had my own family. But I almost am. I might have had almost as much to do with raising their kids as they did. And my work made sure that they could live comfortably and not worry about the house or yard or cars or appliances. I kept everything working. And have for years.

Of course, their kids are grown and gone. With families of their own. So are mine. Then three years ago, the mister died. Four years earlier my wife, Martha, died. So there's just me and the mistress now. Miss Ally. She's seventy now, at least. Maybe seventy one or two. On the one hand, she doesn't need me much anymore. On the other, she needs me more than ever. I mean, there's just her so there's not as much work for me. But she's depended on me for so long, that alone, she's more dependent than ever.


We've always got along. She's Miss Ally. I'm Harry. She's usually indirect. Doesn't issue orders. "What about the pear tree Harry, it looks sort of shaggy, doesn't it?" Or, "Last time we went into town it sounded as if the car needed something, didn't it, Harry?"

I had a good life with Martha. Our children turned out well. I'm actually a great grandfather now. People seem to think that black people are some sort of sex machines. We are, I guess. In that every one is basically a sex machine. Propagation of the species and all that. So, yes, Martha and I had our moments, lots of them. But the Mister and Miss did, too. I've seen a lot more over the years than I was supposed to. I think white people sometimes don't even remember that servants are there. Whatever, the Mister and Miss got along together fine, too. I've seen her getting after him more than him getting after her. That's fine with me, I think women should be just as interested in sex as men and she sure was. It's obvious that she misses him. A lot.

Well, I've talked with her a little about it. It took me quite a while to get over Martha's passing. Never have really. But after a while, life goes on. That's sort of what I tell her. That over time, while she'll never forget him or totally get over it, she'll still have to live her life. Look after her children and grandchildren, her clubs, her church, her friends. I think she's just about moved on by now from what she says and does. But lately, it's been a little odd. She's always been indirect so it's hard to tell exactly what she means at times.

She said, "I certainly miss Will (that was her husband)." I understand that. "It's difficult sleeping alone. All I get to do is sleep." Well, that's all I do now, too, is sleep. Does she mean she misses the sex with him like I miss the sex with Martha? Or does it mean something else? Maybe I'm thinking about sex too much. I actually have found one lady that lets me alleviate some pressure occasionally. People think that if you're old you're done with sex. I'll be done with sex only when I die. Then, I'm driving Miss Ally into town (She never learned to drive. Never had to.) and she says, "Harry, is it true that black men have larger penises than white men?" I stare at her in the rear view mirror a moment. This is something new. "I don't think so, Miss Ally. I think people are pretty much the same that way regardless of their color." Her only reply was a sort of unhappy "Oh." I wonder what brought that on?

Let me say here, that Miss Ally has always been handsome. Nice build. Sort of tall and slim. Although not really tall, just looks like she is. Both Martha and I are, or were, more solid. We were workers, not lookers. Miss Ally is and was a looker. That is, she always looked great. Still looks great. Definitely older, so looks great for her age. My boys were linemen on the school football team, Miss Ally's only son was a quarterback. Her daughters were Prom Queens. Mine were on the softball team. Great athletes. All good in there own ways but definitely different.

One day, I'm cutting the grass. Use an old fashioned push mower. It's not that big a lawn anyway. But it's fairly warm so I have my shirt off. Usually do when working outside on sweaty jobs. I realize that Miss Ally is watching me from a window. She's often done that. When I finish and am pushing the mower back to the garage, she comes out with two glasses in her hand. "Harry, how about a lemonade?" She sits on the porch step and sips hers and watches me as I stand there and drink it. "Refreshing on a hot day, isn't it?" she asks.

"Sure is," I say.

She looks at me. It was years ago when I remember girls looking at me like that and I might be misinterpreting her but I think she was checking me out, looking at my body. I won't win any prizes but I'm still in good shape for an old man. Not fat at all, never have been. Solid, thicker than some, but not fat. I've always watched what I eat and I've never used hard liquor. "You look healthy, Harry," she says. "Always have. Will used to say 'That Harry probably keeps his wife contented.' Did you?"

"Did I keep my wife contented?"

"Yes," she answers and grins a little like she's teasing me.

"I think so. She sure kept me contented."

"Yes," she says and just sits there as if she's thinking. "So did Will." Then she looks up at me, "I mean kept me contented." She looked like she was going to say something more. I could see her mouth start to form a word but then she didn't. She stands up quickly and reaches toward me, "Well, the lemonade was refreshing," she says and takes my glass and hers, smiles and goes back inside. It all makes me think a little but I just push the mower back into the garage.

It was almost a week later when I'm pruning a tree, as usual with my shirt off, when I hear a call, "Harry!" from inside the house. I hurry to the back door, just the screen door closed, the inside door open. "Miss Ally?" I call out.

"Come in Harry," I hear her, "I'm sitting on the stairs." I go in. I've been in the house a lot. Worked on just about every part of it over the years. She's sitting on the stairs, just up about three steps.

"I twisted my ankle," she says. "Stupid. I'm just walking down the stairs and all of a sudden almost fall down." She pushes one leg toward me. "It's this ankle," she says. I just stand there for a second, not sure what to do. "Feel it," she says, "Is anything broken?"

I take her ankle in both hands. I then hold her foot with one hand as I use the other to feel the ankle, move my fingers around trying to see if I can feel anything sticking out. I move the foot a little, she winces. "I'm no doctor," I tell her, "But I don't think anything is broken, just strained. A little ice would probably be best. I can get some in a baggy." I set her foot down and go into the kitchen, get a baggy that zips closed and put maybe a dozen ice cubes in it and go back to her.

She says, " I can't just sit here forever. Help me upstairs, I'll sit in my bedroom with that ice on me." I help her stand and she tries to sort of hop up one step and it's obvious that it won't work.

So I say, "I better carry you, you can't get up these steps." And I get my one arm at her knees and the other her back and pick her up and carry her up the stairs and into her bedroom. She has her arm around my bare shoulder.

"You're really strong, Harry," she says as I get her in a chair, kneel down and get the ice on her ankle.

"I better get a towel and tie this on, it won't stay there otherwise," I tell her and that's what I do. She sits there with the ice on a moment. I watch her, waiting to hear what she says next. I probably can't just walk away and leave her there like that. "Anything else I can do?" I finally ask.

"I don't know," she says, looking at me. "I can't spend the rest of my life sitting her with ice on my ankle. I have to get dinner later, take a bath, get to bed. How long is this going to be like this?"

"Well, from my experience, it might feel better tomorrow but the chances are, it's going to take several days to feel good enough to walk on it much."

"Damn!" she says. Then she looks at me. "Harry, I have no one else. At least not close. Can you stay here and help me?"

"Well, sure, Miss Ally. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'll be glad to help."

She smiles. "You may be sorry you offered that much," she says. "Will used to tell me that I was a very demanding woman. Sometimes he'd say it exasperated, sometimes with a smile. Depending upon what I was demanding."

"Well, I don't know about that," I reply. "But I'm alone, too, and know what it's like. It's obvious you can't move much on your own, so you're going to need a lot of assistance and I'm glad to do anything that I can for you."

'Anything?" she says and her smile isn't just a normal smile. As a black man in a white world, I've got used to being wary, careful. If a black woman gave me that smile, I'd slide my hand up her leg from that ankle and we'd move to satisfying each other. But with Miss Ally? She's very nice and we've known each other for over half our lives. I know I can trust her and I'm sure she can trust me. So I'm not really concerned but I sure am going to be careful.

So my answer is careful. "I can't imagine anything that you'd need that I can't help with." I say to her.

"Well," she says, "I guess I'm going to spend a few days sitting somewhere or another or else in bed. So I might as well get used to it." With that, she stands up and starts hopping on one foot towards the bed. But she can't do it and I reach out and grab her body as she starts to fall and steady her on her feet. "Damn!" she says. "Years ago, I could do that easily and now my body just won't cooperate. I guess you're going to have to carry me anywhere I need to go. Which could get embarrassing at times. So we might as well face it. You're going to get at more of this old body than you'd like."

"That won't hurt me, Miss Ally, if it doesn't bother you."

"Well, we might as well face it now as later. I've spent all day in the heat and I need a bath. I also need to pee. We can play whatever games we want but might as well get it over with. I can't stand hardly or move with this ankle so even if you get me into the bathroom, I can't get my clothes off on my own and get onto the toilet and into the bath on my own. So you might ass well help me get naked here and then help me into there. O.k, Harry?"

"If that's what you want Miss Ally."

"Well, it is," she says and standing there starts to unbutton her blouse. She gets it undone and sort of shrugs it off and hands it to me. "Put this in that hamper over there," she says, "and the rest as we get to them. When I can, I'll wash them." So I take the blouse and go to the hamper. When I turn back, she's reached behind her and unfastened her bra and is sliding it down off her arms and her bare breasts show. They're suprisingly nice breasts. Much smaller than Martha's but very nice looking and not drooping at all. She reaches out with the bra and I take it. She's unfastening her skirt. "Damn, Harry, I can't do this standing here. Help me to the bed." So I put one arm around her waist and the other on her back and help her hop over to the bed. She sits down and sort of lifts her butt and slides the skirt from under her and down her legs. She bends her legs to get it off and grimaces as it catches on the one foot below the hurt ankle. "Damn," she says and hands me the skirt. She's bare legged but still has on panties. But not for long and soon I'm putting them in the hamper and she's completely nude. I can see that her pubic hair is gray, darker than her head hair, but gray. I can also see that she has the body of someone younger. A little pooch at the stomach but not a lot and really nice legs, shapely. She holds out a hand. "O.k., Harry, If I haven't scared you off with this old body yet, help me to the toilet."

She has her hand over my shoulder and I have both my hands holding her. She tries to hope and really can't manage, so I pick her up as I did before and carry her into the bathroom and sit her on the toilet. "I should probably leave you alone," I tell her.


"No," she says. "You must have seen people pee before and I can't do a damn thing and will need you again in a minute so you might as well put up with me. Sorry, Harry."

"That's o.k. Miss Ally," I say, "It's no problem at all seeing your body. You're in great shape." She just looks at me and I can hear the tinkle sound of her water hitting the water in the toilet. In a moment, she turns slightly and pulls off some toilet tissue and wipes herself.

"Start some water in the tub, please, Harry. I need a bath. Hot but not real hot." So that's what I do. As the water runs into the tub she talks to me. "Isn't this the damnedest thing. Here you are with me naked and you partly so. I feel so foolish and yet I sort of like it. If we're going to have to put up with this, you should be naked, too."

"Well I don't know, Miss Ally."

"C'mon Harry, take your clothes off. You can be as embarrassed as me then. Besides, Will and I always used to take baths together. We can, too. You've been out working and need one."

"Well, I don't know Miss Ally."

"Well do me a favor then will you? Just get those clothes off."

This really bothers me. It sure wouldn't if she was black. I'd really love to get at that body of hers. But this is odd. Well, it's what she wants. So I step out of my shoes, slide my pants down and step out of them. I bend over and take off my socks and then stand up and start pushing my boxers down and finally step out of them. She watches me all through this.

"You lied to me Harry," she says.

"What? I don't think I ever did," I answer her.

"You told me black men didn't have penises larger than white men. And yours is definitely larger." It isn't a big bathroom and she leans forward and reaches out and lifts my cock with one hand and stares at it. "Yes, definitely larger. And very nice, Harry," she adds as she looks up at me, her fingers curling around to grasp my cock. I can't help it, it starts to grow. "Now, help me into the tub." I do that, partly lifting her, partly helping her move on one foot. I then lift her and set her down into the tub. It's a larger tub that I've ever had in my house. Must have been ordered special. I had noticed that before when I worked on the plumbing a little.

"You're going to have to wash my back for me, Harry, so climb in and sit down behind me." I do that, my legs on either side of her, my almost fully stiff cock pushing against her butt. "Very nice, Harry." she says as she feels me against her. I get the soap and wash cloth and start on her back. I can't help myself, this is all pretty sexy, so I run my hands on around and start on her breasts. She just moans a little. So I drop the cloth and just feel her breasts with my bare hands. She leans back against me and I play with her breasts. "Lower," she says. I move my hands down onto her stomach. I can feel her legs spreading open, pushing against mine on either side of her. "Lower," she says. I slide my one hand down between her legs, feel her pubic hair and move down and barely get my fingers under her, against the bottom of the tub. I can feel her pussy lips. She just moans. As I slide my finger around, she leans back even more, raising her bottom just a little and I slide a finger into her. "Yes," she says. Her hand comes around her back, searching for my cock. She finally finds it and runs her fingers along it, feeling it.

"You're as ready as I am," she says. "Get me turned around, Harry." I pick up her main body with my arms and start twisting her around. She lifts her legs and she finally gets turned facing me, her legs between us. She then straightens out her legs, making a face when the sore ankle hits the tub, then slides towards me, her legs on either side of me. "Let me climb on that thing of yours, Harry. Let me feel it inside me. Well, I lean back a little to get my cock aimed up more and use one hand to hold it erect. It's fully hard. She sort of scoots a little and lifts herself up. using both arms and her one good leg and I can feel her bottom coming to my cock. I get my hand down between us to feel her pussy lips and get my cock aimed into her and she feels it too, I guess, because she sort of gives out a breath and sits on me, letting her weight push me partly up into her.

"You're big, Harry. Bigger than anything that's ever been there before. But my babies came out through there so I know I can stretch to fit, just let me work it in slowly." She leans forward and puts both hands on my shoulders and sort of lifts her body a fraction and then drops onto me, pushing me in another inch or so. "You can help, too, you know," she says, giving me a dirty grin. So I push with my hips and it takes several times of each of us pushing and she's fully down on me. I'm in her. It's tight. Like the first time with a girl almost. "My God, Harry, I've never felt this before. You truly fill me up. I used to tell Will that but you've got more than anything I've felt before. Now, how can we best do this?"

I lean forward a little, causing her to lean back some. I get my arms to her legs and lift them a little and lean even more, pushing her towards laying on her back. I get one leg back under me and then the other, so I'm kneeling and she's on her back, her bottom and legs up some, and I start pumping into her. With every thrust I get a noise from her. A grunt, a moan, every once in a while a "yes" and I just keep fucking. I'm fucking the mistress. I'm fucking Miss Ally. She gets her legs up around onto my back, her arms up around my body, her face turned, pressing against the inside of my shoulder. I feel like an animal, like I could keep pumping into her forever. She's almost squealing and then I can feel her insides gripping me, pulsing around my cock inside her. "Oh my God, Harry, this is perfect. I thought I was all over this but it's even better than ever."

Her legs drop off me, her arms move down and she seems as if she wants to sit up, so I slowly pull out of her. "You're still hard!" she almost yells. Bad ankle or not, she quickly pushes me away and moves to lean over me and grasp my cock. She's now kneeling there staring at my cock as I lay back in the bath water. "This will never fit," she says, almost to herself, and then leans down and starts licking up and down my cock. Her one hand grabs my balls as her other holds the base of my cock. She licks around the head and opens her mouth wide and gets her lips around the head and gets the whole head into her mouth but no more. I can feel her tongue licking. Her eyes flick up at me and then back down as she concentrates on tasting me.

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