Weird Waldo, Mom Edna, & Sexy Susan

Within hours, Waldo had a dozen responses from lonely, plain appearing women. Within the day, he had a hundred responses from lonely, plain appearing women. By the end of the week he was inundated by e-mails with pictures most of them fully clothed and some topless, even naked, Waldo had hundreds of responses to his ad from available women willing to clean, cook, do his laundry and even give him a baby.

Looking at all of them as prospective love interests, eliminating those who didn't send him a picture, he slowly read their e-mails while masturbating over their photos. The ones who aroused him the most were the ones that he picked to meet. He met with a dozen unattractive women who fit the bill. Every women who applied for the job, whether it was homemade cookies, a pie, or a main dish, brought him food to tempt him to hire her.

The last one to answer his add was the one he chose. Forgetting and forsaking all the others who responded to his ad, against his mother's better judgment and a disappointment to her if she was still alive, he chose a tall, good looking, blue-eyed blonde woman with big tits and a tramp stamp on her lower back. She rocketed her first on the list, when she sent him a topless photo of her big breasts and another photo of her naked, round ass. Her tattoo looked as if it was of a pane of glass beside a no entry sign that read, outgoing only. Puzzled by the sign he asked her what the tattoo meant.

"I do have a few questions to ask you," he said staring at Susan's blonde hair?"

"Are you a natural blonde or a bleached blonde."

"I'm a natural blonde," she said.

"That's good," he said checking his box.

"Do you have breast implants," he said staring at her big tits along with the huge nickel sized impressions her nipples made in her blouse.

"These 36D's are all mine and not some plastic surgeons creation," she said.

"That's good," he said checking off another box.

"Now about your tramp stamp, sorry, I mean, tattoo. Being that you sent me a photo of your naked, round ass, I couldn't help but notice your tattoo Susan when you were leaning forward. Is that a pane of glass and a no entry sign?"

"Yes," she said with a smile.

"I couldn't help but wonder, what does the tattoo mean?"

She looked at him and smiled again.

"It means that I don't do anal and I don't do windows," said Susan.

"Perfect. Two out of three isn't bad, natural blonde, check, no breast implants, check, check, and you don't do anal or windows, check, check, check," he said. I don't do anal either, but I'll do the windows," said Waldo with a smile. "You're hired."

Susan cooked well enough to please Waldo, marginally cleaned, and took most of his laundry to the dry cleaners. Being that she knew he had money and being that his clothes were so old and raggedly, she used his money to buy him and her new clothes. Their first trip together was to the mall.

"Here, you drive," said Waldo handing her the keys to his mother's car.

"Try this on for size Wally," she said taking him to a men's clothing store for clothes and standing there with him in the men's dressing room while he changed.

"Waldo. My name is Waldo."

"I know but Waldo sounds like a name that I need to find your picture in a book or add the words The Great before it. Wally sounds hip, cool, and young," she said with a smile that melted his heart and hardened his cock.

She was so beautiful. She was so blonde. She was so busty. She was so sexy. Where his mother, Edna, left off, albeit for the sex that he wished he had with his mother, Susan took over, even with the sex, especially with the sex.

"Do you mind?" He pointed to the door when Susan barged in on him just as he removed his pants. "May I have a bit of privacy to try on these pants?"

"What are you shy?" She laughed. "At your age, I'd figured you'd love to have a hot, young woman ogle you in your underwear, which reminds me, you need new underwear. Those underpants look more like women's bloomers than they do men's briefs. There's nothing brief about those," she said with a laugh. "Now try those pants on so that I can see how they fit," she said watching him trying on the pants.

"Gees, Wally, you dirty, old man. I didn't think you had it in you. You have an erection," she said laughing while staring at the impression his cock made in his underwear.

"Oh, I do," he said looking down at the big, stiff bulge his big cock made in his baggy underwear.

"Did I do that to you? And you have such a big cock too," she said brushing back her blonde hair with a laugh.

"Sorry," he said covering his erection with his hand.

"Don't be embarrassed Wally. And never be sorry for something as big as that. Be proud, stand tall, and never be afraid to show and share that monster. Only, being that you look a bit like Jack Lemon, I never would have suspected you for having a big cock. Too bad you never married or fooled around, you could have made a lot of woman very happy," she said smiling.

"Mother disapproved of every woman I was interested in dating," he said.

"I figured as much," she said. "By the looks of you, I bet you're a virgin too," she said.

"I am," he said, "and I'm not ashamed of having saved myself for the right woman."

"Had you saved yourself any longer and you'd be pushing up daisies with that big boner Wally."

"Mother must be rolling over in her grave if she can hear you talk like that," he said.

"Your mother is dead Wally," she said giving in a long look while reading him. "And by the looks of you, I bet you're a pervert too."

He gave her a look that told her he was.

"Must you report my entire personal life in this dressing room? It's embarrassing," he said in a whisper. "Someone may hear."

"Get over it Wally. You're too old to care about stuff like embarrasses you. After being homeless and out on the streets, nothing embarrasses me anymore," she said with a laugh. "The pants look good. How do they fit in the crotch?" She grabbed a whole handful of him.

"Hey! Watch it," he said recoiling from the touch of her hand.

"What? Has no woman ever felt your package before?"

"No. Just my mother?"

"You're mother? Eww."

"It wasn't like that. It wasn't anything sexual, I can assure you. She used to bathe me."

"When you were a little boy?"

"No, up until she died a few months ago."

"Eww," said Susan. "And did you bathe your mother too?"

"I washed her back. Yes."

"And you don't think that was sexual?"

"No, not at all. It was more of a loving mother and son sponging, if you will."

"If I will? No I won't if you were my son," she said with a laugh. "Let me ask you this, Wally."

"What?"

"After your mother bathe you and ogled your cock and after you bathe your mother and ogled her tits, how many times did you drop the soap in the tub? How many times did she retrieve the soap from in between your legs? And how many times did you return the favor and retrieve the soap from in between her legs while she stroked you and sucked your cock as you played with her titties and fingered her nipples."

"We did no such thing. I can assure you bath time was nothing like that Susan. How dare you accuse my mother of being an incestuous slut."

"Okay, okay Wally. Calm down. Answer me this then. How many times did you masturbate while thinking of your mother touching you, stroking you, and sucking you while you fondled her tits?"

"Okay, maybe it was a little sexual on my part," he said turning red and looking uncomfortable with the conversation.

"My, my, Wally, you have a lot to learn. It's a good thing you hired me for the job because I can teach you. I'm one Hell of a good teacher," she said with a laugh. "Being that those pants fit you so well, I suggest you buy one in each color, black, brown, and blue. You're going to need shirts, sweaters, and shoes too, not to mention new underwear and socks. Susan doesn't darn socks," she said referring to herself in the third person while laughing.

"Yeah, well, that's not tattooed on your ass that you don't darn socks," he said with a laugh.

"Look at you. A real comedian. Was that your attempt at making a joke? You actually made a joke Wally. Good for you. We'll have to work on your humor," she said looking at her tattooed ass in the mirror. "I don't have to tattoo my ass with everything I do or don't do Wally. Suffice to say that I've done and will do most things that most other women won't," she said with a wink and a sexy smile.

Since Susan allowed Wally in the dressing room to help her try on clothes too, intent on seeing her in her underwear, he bought her whatever she wanted to show him, so long as he could watch her changing.

"How do you like this top?" She turned from side to the other side while looking at herself in the mirror.

"Try on the blue one again," he said watching her remove the green top to try on the blue top.

"Both tops are the same Wally but for color," she said with a laugh. "You just want to see me in bra again, didn't you, you dirty, old man."

"Yes," he said fingering his cock through his pants.

"Don't do that Wally," she said slapping his hand away. "I'll do that for you later when we get home."

He looked at her stunned. She'll do what for me? Masturbate me? Then he remembered that she didn't have that she doesn't give hand jobs to older men tattooed on her ass either. Oh, boy, he has a wild one here, a real winner. If only his mother could have met Susan, surely, she would have changed her opinion about not trusting anyone, especially women. She's been so good to him helping him to buy things and spend his money. He'd trust Susan with anything and everything, even his money.

"Wait here one second Susan. I'll be right back," he said returning with a handful of bras in different sizes. "I didn't know your size so I brought one in each size."

Susan quickly looked through the bras to find her size.

"This is my size, 36D and my favorite color, blue," she said with a smile.

"Try it on," he said.

"I will if you'll wipe the drool from your mouth," she said.

Unabashedly, she removed her top and reached around behind her to unhook her bra and removed her bra while facing him while Wally wiped the drool from his mouth.

"Wow, you have big tits. May I touch them and feel them?"

"No," she said covering her breasts in the way that Jamie Curtis covered her big tits to the leering eyes of Dan Aykroyd in Trading Places, "you can't touch my breasts," she said with a slowly emerging smile. "Not now anyway but maybe later."

He watched her model her bra. He left and quickly returned with 36D bras in every style and color.

"Try these on too. Better you should try them on here," he said, "to make sure they all fit instead of buying them and having to return them."

Susan obliged him. Removing one bra to try on another, she continuously flashed him her bare, big tits.

"Are you buying me all of these bras Wally?"

"Yes," he said. "I'll be right back," he said returning with a dozen panties in every color and size. "Again, I didn't know your size. Try these on too."

"Unfortunately, they don't allow me to try on panties. It's a sanitary thing. You just wanted to see my naked ass and pussy, didn't you, you dirty, old man."

"Yes," he said drooling again.

"Maybe later, I'll give you a free lingerie show of all the sexy underwear you bought me," she said. "Bring me more in different colors in this size," she said.

"Okay," he said and returned with panties in her size in every style and color.

With her being so honest, open, and sexy, truly, she was a Godsend. Suddenly looking pensive, he wondered if she was of child bearing age.

"How old are you? He asked blurting out his question.

"How old are you?" She looked at him.

"I'm sixty," he said as if proud that he managed to live that long, a few years longer than his father had.

"Hmm, you're twenty years older than. I've never been interested in a man so much older than me," said Susan as if talking to herself.

"How old are you?" He asked again while staring at her as if trying to guess her age.

"How old am I?" She laughed. "You're not supposed to ask a woman her age," she said looking at him with a sexy smile. "How old do you think I am?"

"I haven't a clue."

"C'mon, how old do I look?"

"I don't know. I'm not good at guessing women's ages or weights. Except for my mother, I haven't had much experience with women," he said appearing uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Guess," she said.

"Well, judging by your unwrinkled face and how high up your breasts are, Mom's breasts sagged terrible, you're probably younger than I'd guess. I don't know, thirty-three maybe?"

"Thank you," she said. "I turned forty on July 26th and I'll be expecting a nice gift from you Wally, that is, if I'm still working for you."

"Do you have any children?"

"Me? No. It's a long story. I'm divorced."

"Can you still have kids?"

"What the Hell kind of question is that Wally?" She laughed. "Do you want to make me pregnant? Do you want me to have your baby?"

"No, I, um, I was just wondering is all, um, maybe, yeah actually."

"Being that I still get my period, yeah, I can still have children," she said looking at him as if he were potential husband material."

They loaded up the car with all their packages and drove out of the mall parking lot.

"I never spent so much money in one outing," he said.

"Seriously? You only spent a few hundred dollars," she said with a laugh. Suddenly Susan took a quick, hard, right hand turn into the parking lot of a Cadillac dealership.

"Why are you stopping here? Do you need to use the restroom?"

"No, silly, I need to buy you a new car," she said as they pulled into a new car dealership. "Long past its prime, this thing rides like a land yacht."

"A new car? My Mom's '57 Chevy is a classic."

"Precisely my point," said Susan. "Now is the time to unload this antique dinosaur."

"Wait. Hold on. Being that this car is fifty-five years old, nearly as old as I am, I agree that I need a new car Susan but this is a Cadillac dealership. Look, there's a Chevy dealership across the street. Maybe we should buy a new Chevy instead of a new Caddy. I'm sure if I bought another Chevy they'd give me a better trade-in deal on this car."

"Trade-in? Nonsense. You could sell this car at auction for six figures. Trust me. Leave it to me to get you the best deal," she said.

She strode in ahead of him as if she owned the place.

"May I help you?" The salesman immediately approached them. Being that Cadillac's average customer is a white male in his sixties, the salesman talked to Waldo instead of her.

"Look at me," she said. "I'm the one buying the car, not him. Actually," she said with a big smile while hanging onto Wally's arm, "he's buying the car for me."

"Certainly madam. I'm Rick," he said extending his hand, "the sales manager and you are?"

"Susan, the woman you need to make happy," she said.

"How may I help you?"

"I want a new Cadillac but not just any Cadillac. I want a CTS-V coupe."

"Excellent choice. Except for the Escalade, the CTS-V is our most expensive model. Just let me check my inventory," he said grabbing a box of index cards. "I have a black on black one on the floor and I may have a white one in stock out by the--"

"No, I want to special order one."

"I see. With the year end specials, you'd get a better deal buying off the lot than ordering a special order car," he said.

"No I won't," she said. "You salesman say the same sucker line to all the sappy customers. With all the financing fees you must pay to the manufacturer, it's never cheaper to buy off the lot and you know it. A direct pass through, as if it's a consignment, it's always cheaper to order the car from the factory. Moreover, I'll get exactly what I want."

"Let's go to my office," said Rick. "Have a seat. I'll be right back with my book."

"How much is this going to cost me Susan," said Wally looking a bit nervously pale.

"Nothing. Trust me Wally," she said putting her hand on the bulge his cock made in his pants. "The car won't cost you a dime."

"Okay," he said suddenly dazed and sexually excited while staring down at her hand.

All he could think about after she grabbed his crotch in the dressing room, after she scolded him for fingering his cock through his pants, and after flashing him her supersized breasts was her giving him a hand job. Definitely, whatever he had to pay for the car, so long as the car was in his name and not in her name, was worth the price to have Susan give him sex. Only, he didn't drive. He didn't even have a license. When his mother was alive, there wasn't any need for him to drive. When his mother was alive, chauffeuring him everywhere and with his mother vouching for him, there was no need for him to even have identification. He wondered if she had a license to drive.

"Do you have a driver's license Susan?"

"Of course. Everyone does," she said looking at him. "You don't have a driver's license?"

"No."

"Don't worry. I'll teach you how to drive," she said.

"Okay, shall we get started ordering you a car?" Rick opened his big book of options. "Two door coupe, four door sedan, or wagon?"

"Coupe."

"Color?"

"Silver Frost Matte," she said. "Oh, and I want the Recaro seats too."

"That's a $4,000 option just for the paint," he said looking up at her," and another $3,500 for the Recaro seat option."

"I know," she said.

"Susan, four thousand for optional paint and thirty-five hundred dollars for Recaro seats? That's a bit excessive isn't it?"

She looked at him and smiled while squeezing his cock through his pants.

"When you're mother bought the '57 Chevy, she bought the fuel injected convertible, the best model they had," she said, "and look what at that car is worth now."

"You're right," said Waldo.

"You have a '57 Chevy fuel injected convertible?"

"Yes."

"Are you trading that car?" The salesman's eyes widened as if he was high on drugs.

"No," she said with a smile, "I'm more hoping for a swap."

"A swap? I see. What condition is it in?"

"Pristine, one owner with 20,000 original miles."

"Wow. Let me get the owner. He may be interested in that car."

"Mr. Martin to the front. Mr. Martin to the front."

Mr. Martin walked onto the floor and Rick went over to apprise him of the situation while the two men looked out at the '57 Chevy convertible prominently parked out front with a half of dozen people surrounding it.

"Hi, I'm Tom Martin," he said to Susan offering her his hand.

"I'm Susan and that's Wally," she said while Tom shook hands with Wally.

"I hear you want to swap your old, used car for a brand new Cadillac," he said with the smile of a flimflam man about to sell rat poison to a victim as medicine. "Actually, we don't swap cars here, I would be able to give you a good trade-in value for your car however. How does $20,000 sound off of list price?"

"I'm not interested in trading in the car. If I took that car to auction, knowing the car could easily fetch more than one hundred fifty thousand dollars and more with the rare options that it has, rare Matador paint, automatic transmission, continental kit, vacuum ash tray, and Remington Electric razor," she said watching the owner's face light up as if she was Mrs. Santa Claus granting him his Christmas wish. "After all my discounts and rebates, I'd want your best price off on net and not list," she said with a smile that only a busty, blue-eyed, beautiful blonde can give.

"Well, I think we can do business after all. How does an even swap sound. I give you a new Cadillac," he said to Susan before turning to his salesman. "Which Cadillac are they ordering."

"The CTS-V, coupe in silver frost matte with the Recaro seat option," he said.