Amanda and Old Mr. Sanders

Six months have passed since myself and my lovely boyfriend Simon gained the keys to our first house. We met three years ago after I completed a two year university course in financial planning and matinence. I landed a deputy manager's position in my local branch of a very large bank, all by the age of 23. We live in a quiet little cul-de-sac. A family of four lives on one side and an elderly couple lives on the other. The Sanders are lovely and helpful. Mr. Sanders is a spritely seventy two and still runs his own hardware shop in town.

One morning, I head for the bus stop, catching the number 42 into the town centre, a variety of retail workers, office workers and the odd misfit. I love people watching. I notice people watching me sometimes; mostly men. My business outfit consists of a blue skirt that drops just above the knee but rides up when I sit, white blouse, blue blazer with the bank's logo sitting on the lapel and of course a thick heel. I am very good looking with ample bosoms and strong legs from cycling 50 miles at the weekend. My dad was Italian so I have that naturally tanned olive skin and big hazel brown eyes.

The day is full of the usual credit card and mortgage applications, Irate customers but you do get lovely old people bringing in their loose change, trying to explain to them that they are 10p short of ten pound. I leave the bank at five thirty and head for the bus station in the pouring rain.

I get to the bus station, due to flooding there are no buses running.

"Shit what am I going to do?"

I ring Simon who is at the hospital with his dad. He offers to pick me up but I tell him to stay with his dad. I walk about half a mile to the taxi rank but the queue is enormous. My clothes are already soaked so I decide to walk home, about a two and half mile walk. 'Why don't I just cycle to work' I thought to myself. A mile up the road the weather worsens. A car splashes through a large puddle, soaking me even more. As I am about to give up hope, I hear a car horn and a van pulls up.

"Do you want a lift, Amanda?"

It was old Mr. Sanders.

"Oh thank you so much, Mr. Sanders." I said as I climbed in his van.

He didn't speak, he was just staring at my legs. My skirt was so wet it was stuck to my thighs, my blue panties were on clear view. I slip my blazer off shaking it. My white blouse stuck to my ample chest. my nipples poked through my bra and blouse.

"Let's dry you off, Amanda."

He opens a new pack of handkerchiefs.

He pats my legs down with a clean handkerchief. He starts at my calves moving up to my knees. I could tell he was starting to enjoy it. As his handkerchief dried my thighs he lingered, moving the handkerchief in a circular motion, every rub of his hand ended with a tighter grip until he had a full grip of my thigh. I was starting to feel aroused. He goes to stop, but I grab his wrist. I don't say anything, just look at him, guiding his handkerchief over my panties. my nipples grew but not from the wet cold rain. His handkerchief moved up wiping the water from my fringe, my eyes just stared deep into his. He leant towards me to wipe water droplets from my cheek which dripped from my hair. I took this as an act to kiss me, I leant towards him and planted a kiss on his lips. Our puckered lips linger on each other, I open my mouth he responds and slides his tongue into my mouth. I could taste coffee on his tongue. We are still sitting at the side of the road in his van. I grip his hand, loosening his grip on his handkerchief and guiding his empty bony hand back onto my knickers. He rubs over my vagina through my wet knickers.

"These knickers are soaking wet from the rain, Amanda."

"Better take them off then. There is some wasteland about a mile up the road."

Mr. Sanders drives on to the wasteland with some derelict warehouses situated on it. He switches off the engine. We both unclip our seat belts.

"Let's get those wet panties off."

I lift my butt slightly off my seat as he peels my panties down, sliding them off my one foot leaving them hanging on the other.

"You better get that wet blouse off, Gorgeous."

"Why don't you unbutton me, my hands are cold."

"Why don't you put them in here to warm up?"

He points down to his crotch. He has some dark brown elasticated waist trousers on, I pull them down as far as I can, exposing a large pair of white pants. I can see his semi erect penis stretching the fabric. My blouse is now open, he undoes the cuff buttons and slides the white blouse off my back. He reaches around and unclips my bra first time. He drops it in the footwell of the passenger side. My hand runs under the band of his huge white pants, stroking a thick silvery bush of pubic hair.

"Mr. Sanders, why don't we climb in the back."

"Okay, Amanda."

"You got me going, old man."

I climbed between the front seats and threw down an old dust sheet. I lay on my back, my legs wide open. The dust sheet irritates and scratches my back. Mr. Sanders' long gangly frame climbs through the gap. He pulls down his pants, releasing his cock. My eyes widen at the thick girth of his penis of at least seven inches of length. He climbs between my firm legs. His lips connect with my erect nipples, he sucks them as I reach down guiding his thick phallus into my welcoming pussy hole. He suddenly stops to pull the top set of his teeth out of his mouth, placing them in a clean handkerchief and placing his gummy mouth back on my breasts. His hips move back and forth, my vagina muscles grip his old cock twitching around it.

"I knew you were a filthy bitch, when you moved in."

"Fuck me, Mr. Sanders. Fuck me."

He quickens up, bashing his hips against my pubic bone. My heeled legs grip around his waist, my knickers hang from my ankle. My arms grip his neck pulling him towards my face.

"FUCCKKK YESS! Come on you old bastard."

The van rocks from side to side as Old Mr. Sanders really sticks it to my young body.

"Oh my god, Amanda. You're so gorgeous."

"That's it you old bastard. Screw me."

My legs grip tighter. My hips and his gyrate in perfect harmony engineering the best fuck I've ever had. Unfortunately it was over far too soon as Mr.Sanders shoots up inside my vaginal passage which signals an orgasm of my own. He climbs off me, he looks back at my naked body apart from my skirt which is rolled up around my waist.

"Oh my god, Amanda what have we done?"

"Shit, what about if Simon finds out."

He suddenly went very shy and handed me my blouse. It suddenly dawned on me that I'm naked in the back of my old neighbours work van. I put my blouse on and pushed my skirt back down. He drove me home, not speaking a word to each other. He pulls his van up outside my house.

"Please, Mr. Sanders, we must never speak of what happened."

"Okay, but it was hot. I don't think I did myself credit but If Elsie found out it would be devastating."

"No! Never again."

I ran to my house and shut the door, I stepped into the shower. After drying myself and slipping on a robe, I wait for Simon to come home. What happened in Mr. Sanders van plays back in my mind, my pussy twinged, my stomach knotted. Had I always harboured some feelings for him, all those times when we spoke in the street, was I sending him signals, all these things ran through my mind. There was a knock at the door, it was Mr. Sanders.

"You left this in my van." He handed me my bra. Within seconds, his hands were untying my robe, it fell open and he had me up the wall, his fingers teasing my labia. Only the lights of Simon's car pulling into the driveway stopped us and he left. 'I have to Control myself. I love my boyfriend,' I thought.

I cycled to work the next day. I had to reduce the chances of meeting Mr. Sanders but living in such close proximity, what are the chances of that? On my lunch hour I sat and ate a sandwich,my mind again turned to the van romp. The only thought being about how amazing it was and how it didn't last as long as I wanted.