Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

I'm sixty five years old, and I look it. I have wrinkles on my face and my body isn't as firm as it once was. In my prime I was slender, now I'm fatter, though not excessively so. All of that I have accepted. It doesn't worry me. But don't get me wrong, I'm not an old hag. Occasionally, a man will give me a second look because he finds me attractive. However, when I'm ignored I don't lose sleep over it.

When I was younger, especially in my twenties and thirties, I wore clothes that would show off my body. Now I don't. It's not that I'm ashamed of it, it's just that it's more dignified to dress according to my age. You won't see me walking down the street in a short skirt or revealing top. That would be silly.

I look, and act, my age. I'm a Grandma, and you can tell that straight away when you see me for the first time. When you're with me you might even smile because I remind you of someone that you love dearly. Your own Grandma.

-

As I was leaving the house I gave a little chuckle. I was excited, and I would become even more so when I got there. It wasn't going to take me long, just a twenty minute walk. In my hand was a large handbag, that like me, had seen better days. It was my favourite one, and it contained all the things that you would expect an old woman to have in a handbag. There were tissues, safety pins, a needle and thread, and lots more useful things that you might need in an emergency.

I was almost there when a young man bumped into me. It was really my fault, but because he was a gentleman he took the blame, and so he apologised. I wasn't hurt, but my handbag ended up on the pavement. When he picked it up and handed it to me, I gave him a big smile, and then I thanked him. It was difficult, but somehow I managed to suppress the laughter until he'd gone. If it had opened, and some of the contents had spilled out, and they were my special things, items that you definitely wouldn't expect a Grandma to have, then it would have been embarrassing for both of us!

I was late, only by five minutes, but Elvis wasn't happy.

"What time do you call this?"

I looked at my watch, the one that Albert, my late husband, had given me for our silver wedding anniversary, and then, in my sweetest voice I calmly said, "It's time for you to go fuck yourself."

That made the girls laugh. Elvis was in charge, but I wasn't going to take any crap from him. This was a place that if you didn't stand up for yourself, then you were going to get picked on.

There was somebody waiting, and that's why Elvis had been agitated. But it was Connor, a regular, so I wasn't rushing. It was me, and only me, that he'd come to see, and so I knew that he'd be happy to wait.

I took my time, only leaving the common room when my appearance was as it should be. I was wearing all the things that I'd brought with me in my handbag. A tight low-cut red bra and matching panties that weren't much more than a thong. Covering them was a white silk nightdress with a lace trim. My makeup was that of a much younger woman. Red lipstick, generously applied, to make my lips look fuller, and purple eyeshadow to contrast with my dark brown eyes.

It was almost midnight when I got home. I was tired, but I was having difficulty getting to sleep. That was understandable because of the day that I'd had. My body was exhausted but my mind was still active, reliving what had happened at the club. Then I started to think about that fateful encounter two years ago. The day that changed my life. It was when I first met John.

I was sixty three, widowed for four years, when I met him. It was a chance encounter in a bar. I was with some friends, but he was drinking alone. He was on the next table near to me. When he started a conversation I assumed he was just being polite, but to my surprise, it soon became apparent that he was interested in me. He was chatting me up!

At first, it amused me. A man in his twenties, somebody who was less than half my age, was actually doing this to me. Then I got suspicious. He was handsome, with a charming personality. This was a man that would be successful with most women, so why me? However, despite being wary of his attention, I was enjoying myself, and so I allowed the conversation to continue. I even let him buy me a drink, and then another.

It was supposed to end with me going home with my friends, and him finding another woman, someone that was willing to go to bed with him. But it ended up with me being that woman!

In the taxi, that was taking us to his apartment, I was having second thoughts. What I was doing was reckless, and I might end up regretting it. However, being with him was exciting. This was an adventure. I was now living rather than just existing.

When he suddenly held my hand, and then squeezed it tenderly, it helped to calm my nerves.

"We should be there in about ten minutes."

That got my pulse racing again. I wasn't naive. I knew what was going to happen when we got there, and now I was worried that I was going to disappoint him.

I was a virgin when I met Albert, as was he. We stayed like that until our wedding night. Unsurprisingly, doing it for the first time was disappointing for both of us. It didn't last long. Eventually it got better, but sex was never the cornerstone of our marriage. I did enjoy it, but I always had the feeling that other women were enjoying it even more than me.

The taxi stopped outside an impressive building in the poshest part of town. We had arrived. The inside of it was even more spectacular. I couldn't wait to see what his place was like. When we were outside it he quickly unlocked the door, and then after opening it, with his hand he gestured for me to go inside.

"Welcome to my little apartment."

That made me laugh, it was anything but little. It was the whole of the top floor of a high-rise. He was obviously very wealthy. This man had it all, so why was I now with him, rather than a gorgeous woman in her twenties? I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was all his charm really just superficial? After getting what he wanted was he going to quickly discard me? I should leave now. However, despite being apprehensive, I stayed.

I thought that we would go straight to his bedroom, but instead he took me to the kitchen.

"I'm going to make you one of my special coffees."

For another half an hour we just talked. Then, when the conversation dried up, he took my hand and led me to the bedroom. I was as nervous as I'd been on my wedding night.

When he kissed me, to my surprise, I found myself responding with equal passion. Soon we were exploring each other's mouth with our tongues. I hadn't kissed like this for a long time, and now I realized what I'd been missing. Then his hand was on my breast, and it was where I wanted it to be.

At first he was gentle, but then his hand was rougher. His fondling had become groping. I liked that. It showed how eager he was to have my tits. When he started to unbutton my top I helped him to take it off.

My outer clothes were stylish, but my underwear had been chosen for comfort rather than appearance. Now that he was seeing it I wished that I'd worn something more revealing. Then I almost laughed, bras like this one were all that I had. But I needn't have worried, despite it being only functional, he was looking at it as if it was sexy french lingerie.

As soon as I was topless he was all over my breasts. His hand on one of them and his mouth on the other. At first it made me gasp, now I was moaning. There was a nice warm feeling between my legs. My juices were starting to flow.

While switching nipples he said, "I love your big tits, especially your plump nipples. They're magnificent."

And I loved what he was doing to them. He was sucking hard, and that was giving me tingling sensations deep inside my pussy. He wasn't neglecting the other one, it was getting the expert attention of his fingers. It was as if he was showing off, demonstrating to me that he knew all there was to know about exciting a nipple. That's when I realized something, and it shocked me.

In all my long married life, during the countless times that I'd had sex with Albert, our foreplay had never excited me as much as this was. And we'd only just started!

When his hand went under my skirt, I shuddered, in anticipation of his fingers entering me. My large comfortable panties weren't an obstacle to him. He easily got his hand inside them. Then his fingers were searching for my opening. As soon as he found it he was pushing two fingers into me. I was wet, as wet as I'd ever been, so they slid in easily. When they were deep inside me I gasped. Then to my amazement, I heard myself saying, "Fuck my cunt with them."

I quickly got what I'd asked for, and within seconds I was reaching it. And it wasn't the nice climax that I'd had with Albert, it was a great one. More intense and it lasted longer.

One is always enough for me, but not today. I was as eager to fuck as John was. He didn't undress, he just unzipped himself and then he pulled out his cock. Albert would have taken all his clothes off and neatly folded them before starting. This way was more exciting.

With my skirt still on, and my panties pulled to the side, he pushed his cock into me. He was bigger than Albert, not by much, perhaps only half an inch, but I was enjoying that extra bit of cock.

From the off it was frantic. I wasn't a spring chicken, I was sixty three years old, but he was treating me like a woman of his own age. As he pounded into me he lifted my legs higher. They were now almost over my shoulders. After making me come, I begged him to stop, but he just carried on. Then I didn't want him to stop. I wanted another climax.

I screamed out, "Make my cunt come again."

He quickly did, and as it started to surge through my whole body, I heard him grunt, and then he emptied his balls into me.

When I left him it was dawn. The sun was coming up and the birds were singing. I was as happy as a schoolgirl that was in love for the first time. However, I wasn't stupid, I knew that this wasn't going to be a long-term relationship. Surprisingly though, it lasted for three months, which was longer than I expected. During our brief time together I learnt more about sex than I'd learnt in thirty five years of marriage. John introduced me to the joy of oral sex, giving and receiving. He was up for anything, and he was a great teacher. I'd been lucky, I'd met a young man that preferred older women. It was a pity that he wasn't interested in having a long-term relationship.

I was now a new woman. Not just eager for sex, I was hungry for it. I was adventurous. No more just making love in the missionary position with the lights out. I wanted to swing from the chandelier. I didn't have a pussy I had a cunt. And if a man was going to take me to bed then he needed to satisfy me.

That's why, only a week after splitting up with John, an opportunity arose that was too good to miss. A stranger approached me in a bar, asking me if I would be interested in a job. I said no even without knowing what it was. I wasn't well off, but I had just enough money so that I didn't need to work. However, when they said that they knew John, I listened to what they had to say.

And that's why I now work at the club!

-

I'd only just arrived when Elvis called me into his office.

"This is Lolita, explain to her what she has to do."

Then with a wave of his hand we were dismissed. That was Elvis, no please or thanks. I took her to the common room and then I made her a coffee. While the kettle was boiling I took a good look at her.

"How old are you?"

In a girly voice, she said, "Twenty two," and then she giggled. I rolled my eyes. She didn't just look like a schoolgirl, she sounded and acted like one.

"Elvis said you'd help me. So what do I have to do?"

"The jobs simple. You give the customer what they want, and in return they give you a big fat tip."

Her eyes lit up, and then she said enthusiastically, "I can do that."

I looked at her again. She was a petite woman with small tits. And her face was so angelic. She was definitely going to be a hit with the punters, especially if she was going to take my advice.

"If I was you I'd have pigtails and I'd wear a school uniform."

But I wasn't her. Most of our 'distinguished clientele' would prefer her to me. However, I was employed to cater for those that wanted a more mature woman. And you'd be surprised how many men that was!

I had to wait an hour before I was needed. I spent the time knitting. It was a pullover for my Grandson.

When I entered the room his head was down, he was looking at the floor. I smiled, another nervous teenager that was desperate to do it for the first time. Here, the use of condoms was obligatory, but if as I suspected, he was a virgin, I might break the rules and let him do it without.

As I opened my silk robe, revealing my skimpy underwear, he raised his head.

"I want..."

Then he stopped. I'd always known that it was possible that I might encounter someone that I knew, perhaps a neighbour, or even a former work colleague, However, it wasn't likely, and if it was to happen, then it would be in both our interests to keep quiet about it.

But never in a million years would I have expected to see my Grandson at the club!

Both of us were now staring at each other, not knowing what to say. My head was spinning. I knew that I should be the first to speak, but I couldn't find the words. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. He then tried and he was successful. I could hear the incredulity in his voice as he spoke.

"They said that you were one hot Mamma. A dirty bitch that was up for anything. And that you especially like..."

That's when I cut him off. Whoever had said that to my Grandson should wash their mouth out with soap. To him, I was a sweet old lady, and now he knew differently.

"I can explain."

But of course, I couldn't explain. The truth was that I was indeed one hot Mamma. A dirty bitch that was up for anything. And what I especially liked was to swallow cum, as much as I could get.

Then I had an idea.

"You can go and see Lolita. She's only twenty two, you'll love her."

"I came for a mature woman, not a girl."

I shook my head.

"There's only me, all the others are a lot younger."

"OK, so it will have to be you."

He was now leering at me. I quickly closed my robe. It had been a mistake to leave it open while we were talking. When he pointed to his crotch I was shocked. He was sporting an impressive bulge. It wasn't a gun in his pocket, it was a cannon!

That's when I should have asked him to leave, but instead, I just stood there with my arms folded across my chest, while I continued to look longingly at what was trying to burst out of his trousers.

"It would be our secret."

I shook my head. John had shown me how good sex could be, especially if you were willing to experiment. And my time at the club had given me the opportunity to do that. However, as much as I'd like to do it, fucking my Grandson was a step too far, even for me.

I was expecting him to say more, all the things that men say when they want to have sex. But no words were going to make me change my mind. He could say anything and I would still remain strong.

When he calmly said, "I have something for you," I thought it was in his pocket. I was wrong, it was in his underwear. As he slowly pulled the zip down, I watched, open-mouthed. Then his hand was inside his trousers. He struggled to get it out, and when he eventually managed it, and I saw it rapidly expanding to its full size, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. It was the biggest cock that I'd ever seen!

The old me, before my time with John, would have been horrified by my Grandson exposing himself. Now, because I was sexually liberated, I was just excited.

"Do you like it?"

What was there not to like? It was a magnificent specimen. It was long, perhaps nine inches, and it was also thick. It was a cock that would stretch even the largest pussy to its limit. Just looking at it was making my juices flow.

When I said, "Yes, it's magnificent," I knew that I was skating on thin ice. Praising it was dangerous, it would make him think that I was going to give in. And of course, that was never going to happen.

With as much authority as I could muster, I said, "Ethan, it's time for you to leave."

"No, and you can't make me."

He was eighteen, but he was acting like a petulant child. I loved him dearly, but at this moment in time I wanted to slap him.

"OK I'll go."

Now I wanted to hug him.

"But only after you've given me a handjob."

I groaned, and that made him laugh.

He then asked, "Yes or no?"

It should be a no, and without any hesitation. However, for me, it was a dilemma. A struggle between right and wrong. Eventually I gave in, the temptation to get my hands on his big cock was just too much for me.

"I'll do it, but you mustn't tell anybody."

He was now taking his trousers off. There was still time to change my mind, but that was never going to happen because I was as eager to do it as he was.

When my hand was on it I told myself that it wasn't a big deal. I'd done this lots of times before. It was just a cock, one of many. But my body was telling me differently. My heart was pounding in my chest, and there were butterflies in my stomach. More important though, was how my pussy was reacting. It was waking up. A tiny spark had ignited within it, that very soon would burst into flames. When that happened it was going to be very difficult for me to keep my self-control.

I knew that I should get this over and done with as quickly as possible. The longer it continued the more likely I was to open my legs for him. And that, even though I was desperate to do it, was a line that shouldn't be crossed. But I wasn't doing that. I was giving him long leisurely strokes. I was taking my time, I was savouring it.

When his hand reached for my tits I brushed it away. He tried again, and this time I let him touch it. At first, only on the outside, but when his hand went inside my robe I didn't stop him.

"I love your big nipples."

His touch was what you'd expect from an eighteen year old. It lacked the skill and subtlety of an older man. However, his enthusiasm was compensating for his inexperience. I was as excited as I'd been when John had first played with my tits. And that's why, when he put his hand on my thigh, I let him keep it there.

"Grandma, can I please touch your pussy?"

I was an indulgent Grandma, always giving him whatever he wanted. And I was never going to change.

"Yes, but only through my panties. I don't want your fingers inside me."

He'd been rough with my tits, but with my pussy he was gentle. His touch was tentative, as if he was in awe of it. I stopped stroking his cock. It was his turn to pleasure me. I wanted to come, but for that to happen he would need my help.

"Go higher."

He did.

"That's it, feel that little lump, it's my clit. If you rub it you're going to make Grandma very happy."

At first, I had to keep correcting him, but he was a quick learner. Now it was just how I like it. It was so good, that I let him take my panties off. When he was back to servicing my clit again, he pushed two fingers into my opening. That made it even better.

It was now a race to see who could come first. I was frantically stroking his cock, and his finger, that was on my clit, was a blur. I won, but only just. When I boiled over I shouted out, "Oh fuck." He just grunted, and then he shot wave after wave of his sticky mess into the air.

He left with a smile, that was so big, it made him look like the Joker. As he was leaving I'd given him a stern warning.

"This is our little secret, and also, I don't want to see you here again."