Aiding Ms. Bronson

"Pretty much?"

"Am I going to make it come a lot?"

"If you keep on."

Mrs. Bronson bent forward. Her tongue circled the swollen head. Her mouth formed a round, wet O and forced it over the crown and down until her lips brushed the hair at my groin.

As she withdrew, the saliva wetness shone on the rigid stalk, then became hidden beyond her warm, wet lips again. I don't know if she matched my rhythm or I matched hers. We became synchronized, sped up and slowed. In my excitement, I held her head between my hands, controlled its movement. I heard myself repeating a word I had never spoken aloud, uttered it in cadence with my thrusts. "Fuck, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck... until I came. The white stuff shot into her throat. With her lips pressed tightly against my groin. I hoped she would not choke but I could not back off until long after the final throb.

Slowly she pulled back. She licked her lips. "I wouldn't have believed it. A young man like you."

"I couldn't help it."

"Of course you couldn't. That's what that thing is for. What do you call it?"

"A cock."

"A fine name for something with a red crest."

"I didn't mean to say that word . It just felt so good."

"Course you meant it. It's a good old fashioned word. It's what people do. I don't say it myself but I understand its meaning and its power."

I knelt and rubbed her belly. "Is your mind off holding in those suds?"

"It was for a fact. Lordy, what an evening." She watched my fingers explore the bearded slot at the base of her belly. "You got a craving to play with pussy? Be careful, you'll be making this lady do what you done."

"Do you make white stuff?"

"I expect I can do everything but. Maybe scream some too. You know you gave me some mighty warm feelings down there when you smacked this old butt of mine."

I parted the hairy lips and probed the slippery crevice. Two fingers disappeared beyond the second knuckle.

Mrs. Bronson spread her fat thighs. "It's been so long," she sighed. "I wonder if this old lady's heart can handle the blessed feelings of it all." She took my fingers, moistened with her dewy slickness, and brought them to bear on the nub at the top of her inner lips. "That is what brings a woman jollies on."

Guided by her hand, I made small, circular motions. I could not tear my eyes from those parted, pink lips.

The more I rubbed the more restive Mrs. Bronson became. Her bare butt, overflowing the edges of the toilet seat, squirmed wickedly. Her rather small boobs rose and fell. She licked her lips. She closed her eyes. She moaned. "It feels so much better when somebody else does it."

I looked up. "Do women get themselves off?"

"What else have I done for eight years? Of course women do themselves. Always have. Always will. That don't mean it's not better with a man helping 'em." She guided three of my fingers into her and positioned my thumb on her fat little bud. "Now, in and out, keeping your thumb on that little man in the boat."

Moments later she bawled out, "Tickle that pussy! Harder!" She forced herself forward, driving my fingers into her as deep as she could. She shouted, "Shit-fuck, shit-fuck, shitfuckshitfuck." Her heavy thighs clamped my wrist. Her sweaty hams vibrated on the toilet seat. "Here it comes," she screamed, "SHIT-FUCKING-CHRIST-ALMIGHTY!"

First, there came a loud, wet fart. A torrent of water gushed with intermittent expulsions of solid matter propelled with great force. Mrs. Bronson shivered. "Oh God! I'm shitting and coming. And coming and shitting. And coming...GOD!"

She gripped my arm in both hands and squeezed. Her head fell to my shoulder. Water and crap spewed out of her. She would not allow my trapped hand to withdraw.

The acrid aroma of shit clouded the room. I flushed the toilet. She straightened, passed a bubbly fart, then another. Mrs. Bronson shook her head. "That can't have been pleasant for you."

"I've smelt shit before."

"Now you're talking dirty."

"No more than you."

"What did I say?"

"You said, shit-fuck."

"I didn't!"

"Yes Ma'am. You surely did."

"I never talked that dirty."

"I guess you didn't know what you were saying."

"It felt so good. I guess I let it all out and that's a fact." She bent forward, tore off a wad of toilet tissue and wiped herself. "I've got a powerful burning back there and I feel some tenderness. I'm weak as a cat and I don't know how I can ever thank you."

"Maybe you'll need another enema, sometime."

Mrs. Bronson laughed. "My Lord! I do believe you've taken a liking to fingering this old carcass."

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Bronson said, "Let me get off this pot. I got to clean myself."

I backed off and stood.

Mrs. Bronson brushed my renewed boner with her fingers. "My lord! Ain't you had enough?"

"Sometimes it takes two or three times."

Mrs. Bronson shook her head. "You're a gift dropped from heaven, I swear. I'll tell you what. You do me again with clear water to finish the clean out, then we'll do something with that sassy peter you got poking out there."

We filled the reservoir half full of warm water. She bent over the toilet with her hands on the seat and presented her rounded buns. I slicked her with more Vaseline and inserted the nozzle. This time she did not hold the water but sat and let it gush. She washed herself all over, calling it a whore's bath, and let me dry her.

"You said you wanted to pee. You never did."

"With things happening and you tickling my..." She hesitated.

"Your pussy?"

"With your fingering, my pussy puckered like I had to go when I didn't."

"But you have to go some now?"

"I think my back teeth are floating."

"I want to watch."

"Watch me pee?"

I nodded.

"Well, Jesus and Mother Mary! You've seen it all including me swallowing your ding-dong." She shrugged, "What's a little pissing between friends?"

"Yes Ma'am.

"Would you do the same for me?"

"I don't think I could when It's hard."

"After we take care of that, maybe I can peek." She sat and spread her thighs, wide. I watched the pink slit gape between the hairy lips. I stared into that magic place that tickled boy's imaginations and made us shoot the white stuff from our stiff dicks. Pussy, all us boys had dreamed of was pussy. Mrs. Bronson's was not a pretty thing but it was real. I had touched it, gazed upon it in all its hairy starkness. I held my breath. The golden flow gushed, an outpouring strangely different from the golden stream men spouted. It did not last as long either.

Mrs. Bronson patted herself dry. "What more is my young man curious about? You've done every opening this old woman's got.

I swallowed hard. "There's one thing."

"Oh ho. What now?"

I dared the forbidden word. "Fucking."

"My God! My precocious young man wants to climb these old bones. It that what you're wanting young man?"

I nodded.

"Never turned my back on my man nor wanted to." She patted my cheek. "I'm sorry honey. I got no protection. What you shot down my throat, in the right place, could knock up a mare and have some left over."

Mrs. Bronson took my hand in one of hers. She retrieved the Vaseline with the other. "Come on. We'll think of something."

Her small bedroom had a double bed, a dresser and a chair piled with clothes. She lit a small lamp. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me to her.

It felt strange, touching everywhere, her pressing her pliant nakedness against mine. Her soft boobs, with rubbery, brown nipples, poked my chest. The hair between her legs tickled my hard pecker. I thought it was about the nicest feeling I ever felt. Mrs. Bronson moaned. She said I was the best thing happening for her in all the time since her husband passed away.

I ran my hands over her big butt cheeks. I spread them apart and let them close. I wedged my fingers between those huge hams and tickled. She was all juicy. She said she wished we could do what married people did but besides being a sin, it might get her pregnant.

I said, "Maybe we could do what we done before."

She said I tasted real good but that maybe I could do what hadn't been done her in a long time. "You remember me saying how good that nozzle felt going up me?"

"You want to do that again?"

"Good Lord No! I said I wished I had something bigger and longer."

"You've got something?"

"No, but you have."

I rubbed against her. "You mean this?"

"That's what I was thinking."

"Will it go in there?"

"Slicked-up, I bet it slides right on in."

"It won't hurt?"

"There's things that hurt bad and things that hurt good. I'm betting you are going to hurt soooo good."

"I like smacking your butt." I gave her a crack with my open hand."

"Did you and your friends ever smack butt?"

"Sometimes. Boys don't have all that soft meat. Their cheeks don't jiggle."

"But you liked smacking asses.?"

"Un huh."

Cause it made your peters tingle. I can just see you boys with your things sticking out and whacking each other."

"Do girls ever do that?"

"I was a lonely little girl. What fun I had I did for myself."

"And you did yourself a lot?"

"I surely did. Rubbed against trees, slid down banisters and drainpipes, did the tickle, tickle, with my fingers working like crazy." Mrs. Bronson opened the Vaseline. She rubbed some on my pecker. "Now," she said, "you put more back there. Use a lot. I think I am going to get something put up me really hard."

She lay on her side. I brought a big dab to the furrow and separated those huge cheeks. I poked two fingers into the dark star.

Her hips moved in rhythm. "I can't wait."

I aimed, entered. Her sphincter clamped about me.

"Go slow, "begged Mrs. Bronson, "You make me so full."

I rocked my hips. Each stroke forced me deeper until I flattened those warm cheeks against my groin. I was inside a woman, screwing a woman in the wrong hole. I did not believe any pussy could feel better.

We lay still. Mrs. Bronson said she had to get used to all that hard prick going in her back door. She asked if I minded her saying, Prick.

I said, "I call it that, sometimes. And sometimes I call it a cock."

Mrs. Bronson said she liked calling it a cock too.

I said I liked calling her backside an ass.

"Big ass," she said. "Big ass with a tiny asshole full of big, hard cock."

"Does it feel funny with it up there?"

"Oh God! It's so good! And you haven't begun to fuck." The big woman giggled. "Aren't I terrible? Saying those bad words makes me feel terrible wicked."

"Maybe I should smack your big ass."

"Maybe you should move that big, bad cock in and out of my big fat ass."

With my arms around her and a soft boob in each hand, I slid almost out and then plunged into her. I picked up tempo until I was slamming into her. She matched stroke for stroke. Sweating the way we were, we made a slickness wherever we touched and that was almost everywhere.

Her hand between her legs rubbed her little lump. She murmured dirty words and I said some too. Her breathing came faster. I was welded to her backside with my hips pumping 60 miles a minute. My mouth brushed her ear. I whispered "Shitfuck. . . Shitfuck. . .Shitfuck. . ."

"Ass fuck assfuck fuckfuck ass... fuckfuck ass... "

Ethel Bronson clamped her asshole tight around me. Her body went rigid. As deep inside her as I could force myself, the throbbing began. I froze and pumped white stuff deep, deep into her gut. The harder she squeezed, the stronger the pulsations and the harder I came.

We lay panting, hearts pounding. She did not want me to pull out.

I toyed with a hard nipple and yawned.

Somehow, Mrs. Bronson got a hold of the sheet and pulled it over us. She turned off the lamp. "Let's just lay like this for a little."

"All right."

"God, you feel huge inside me."

"Did It hurt?"

She wiggled slightly. "There was nothing but good feelings, getting better."

"Me too," I murmured.

***

I awoke, wondering if I were dreaming. Mrs. Bronson's hips rocked in a gentle motion combined with a twist of circular movement. I was still inside her. As I came awake, I was content, letting her think I was sleeping.