Grey Haired Pussy

The Sullivans had lived just a few doors down from my family for as long as I had been around. They were an 'older couple', at least that was how I always knew them since they were old enough to be my grandparents. They had come to our house for our special occasions but never seemed to stay long. Mr. Sullivan had been a bus driver for the city before he retired and Mrs. Sullivan seemed to always be at home. She had been my baby sitter when I was little and, in return, my parents would send me to their house to cut grass, shovel snow, or just to help Mr. Sullivan with whatever project he might need a hand with. He would slip me a few dollars for helping so I was usually eager to help out when asked. As the years went by, Mr. Sullivan became less able to do the yard work and other more physical chores so most of the harder tasks fell to me. I had begun to worry about him in the last several years because he would get out of breath easily and ended up supervising me as I worked. Apparently my concern was justified when he suddenly died of a heart attack three years ago. After he died, Mrs. Sullivan turned to me even more to help her with a lot of the home maintenance work that I used to do with Mr. Sullivan.

She was the sweetest 'little old lady' you could ever meet, with her ever-present smile and the snowball of white hair on her head. Her house almost always smelled of ginger snaps, chocolate chip cookies, or any number of pie flavors. A trip to her house was its own reward in the form of delicious baked treats.

I was home for the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college and, for once, my parents were not pushing me to get a summer job. Being the youngest child did have some advantages, including making my parents sympathetic to me having some time off between college years. The other side of that coin was that I was expected to help Mrs. Sullivan whenever she asked. Unbeknownst to me, helping Mrs. Sullivan was to take quite a different path from past years.

It was a hot and sticky Friday in early May and I had been at Mrs. Sullivan's almost all day. After cutting the grass, cleaning up her planting beds, and applying what seemed like a ton of mulch, the sweat was dripping from me. Even stripped down to just my old jean shorts and work boots, I still felt like I was melting. When I finished and put the tools away, Mrs. Sullivan brought out a pitcher of icy lemonade and several glasses. We sat at a small table in the shade of a large tree in her back yard. I greatly welcomed the refreshing drink and chugged down two glasses before slowing down on the third.

"My goodness Chris, you were really dry."

"Sure was Mrs. S, and your lemonade tastes really great."

She smiled at me as I sat there recuperating, the sweat still dripping from me. "What a strong young man you have become, so tall and all those muscles. I'll bet the girls are just lining up to meet you."

I chuckled. "Not really Mrs. S, I don't really have much luck with the girls."

"Oh that's hard to believe." She stood up and took a towel from the table. I was surprised when she walked over and stood behind me, wiping the sweat from my shoulders and chest. In an instant, the nearness of her and the touch of her hands on my body electrified my senses. It was so unusual and even confusing to me. I loved her touch yet my suddenly erotic thoughts seemed completely out of place. I struggled to appear in control and oblivious to her.

"There, I hope you feel better."

"Yes, thank you."

She moved back to her chair and sat across from me. After having been drained by the work and the heat, I suddenly felt energized. Looking across the table, it was as if I was seeing her for the first time. This was a woman in her seventies, but I began to notice things I had never seen before. She had blue eyes, a deep blue that caught and held my attention. Her body was slender, her legs long and graceful. Her smile was so perfect and so inviting. The wrinkles of her face were no longer about her age, but rather became symbols of her maturity, blending in with her still-soft skin. My eyes slipped from her face to her chest. Her sleeveless top fit snugly on her small frame, outlining the shape of her breasts, each capped by a nipple that pushed against the fabric.

She has no bra on. I felt myself reacting to her. It was so unexpected and inappropriate, yet I could not keep my eyes from her nipples. Fantasies ran wild through my head, thoughts of rushing to her and cupping those breasts with my hands. I longed to kiss her lips and run my fingers through her puffy white hair. My cock began to swell. I fought to resist the sexual thoughts. This was a kindly neighbor lady who had been my baby sitter and may have changed my diapers for all I knew.

"Such a handsome young man, why if I was 50 years younger, I'd be all over you."

Her smile teased me. I wanted to stand up and walk to her, kissing her full on the lips. My hands longed to hold her breasts while my fingers flicked those perky nipples. It's wrong! It's just SO wrong! Stop it!

"Do you have any plans for dinner tomorrow night?"

"No, not really."

"Join me. You have been such a help to me, just as you were to George. Let me make you a nice dinner. I haven't cooked for a man since George died and it will make me feel good to do it. "

"Well...yea, okay. Thanks Mrs. S, when should I come over?"

"About six, is that all right?"

"Sure Mrs. S, I'll be here."

"Chris, one other thing."

"Yes Mrs. S?"

"Please call me Beverly. 'Mrs. S' makes me feel so ancient."

"Uh...sure...Beverly." It felt so awkward to call her that. She had always been Mrs. Sullivan or 'Mrs. S', so 'Beverly' seemed disrespectful. But if that was what she wanted, then Beverly it would be.

"Thank you dear. I've known you since you were born so we can lose the formality."

We sat chatting while I finished my drink. My mind churned with the new and sudden attraction for a woman who was nearly four times my age. It seemed perverse and yet I could not deny that it was there.

We had to walk through the house to the front door. As we approached the front door, she suddenly turned and I almost ran into her. Her hands went onto my chest casually trailing around.

"Such a handsome young man with a strong young body. I had forgotten what a beautiful thing that can be. Please forgive a foolish, doting old lady." Before I could answer, she turned again and opened the door. "I'll see you tomorrow at six, come hungry."

I smiled as I held open the screen door. "You can bet on it."

She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. It was such a simple and nondescript kiss, yet the feeling of her lips stayed with me on the short walk home. Wow, this is SO strange.

****

"Chris, I think it's very nice of you to have dinner with Mrs. Sullivan. Just be prepared to listen to her tell a lot of stories about when she and Mr. Sullivan were young and about the 'good old days'. She has been very good to you as you were growing up, so remember that and be patient with her, all right?"

"Yea mom, she's a nice old lady and I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings."

"I'll see you when you get home."

"Okay, bye mom."

What my mom could not know was my strange new attraction to Mrs. Sullivan. She could not know that I had sprung a major boner in the shower while thinking about those saggy old boobies with the hard little nipples. Just the thought of my hands on them while she smiled that perfect smile had me stroking until I released abundant surges of my swimmers to be washed down the drain.

I felt oddly nervous while I walked the short distance to Mrs. Sullivan's house. I was nervous and excited, like going out with a new girl, uncertain if we would be attracted to each other or not. My heart was pounding when I finally stood at her front door and knocked softly. The door swung open and she stood before me.

"Hello Chris, come on in." She opened her arms and hugged me, then she again kissed my cheek. I followed her into the dining room.

She looked so different from the bland and ordinary Mrs. Sullivan I had known for years. She wore a pale blue sundress that was cut low enough to show just a bit of cleavage and high enough to reveal that her legs were still slender and attractive. The wrinkles in her face and neck seemed natural and appropriate, not detracting at all to her appearance. She even wore high heeled shoes, not the four inch spikes that younger women totter on, but a nice solid heel that allowed her to walk comfortably and even elegantly. I had never seen Mrs. Sullivan dressed up like that. Usually she was 'pants in the winter and shorts in the summer', very basic and utilitarian. This look was flirty and feminine. My thoughts wandered to coming up behind her and running my hand up under her skirt but I quickly snapped myself back to reality.

"Why don't you sit down and let me bring everything out?"

"Let me help you please. I can carry stuff also."

"If you wish."

I followed her into the kitchen where several platters and bowls sat on the counter. In just a couple of trips everything was moved to the dining room table. The last thing she brought was an open bottle of wine.

"I know that I shouldn't do this since you're not twenty-one yet, but I figured that this occasion deserved a nice glass of wine." We sat at the table and she filled both tall glasses with wine. "If you would rather not, I can get you something else."

"No, that's fine. We sometimes have wine with dinner at home."

"Then here's to a wonderful evening." She raised her glass and touched it to mine.

The wine tingled my mouth and tasted just a bit sour to a tongue used to sweet sodas. Across the table she smiled at me.

"You never know, I may decide to act like a predatory old woman who gets you drunk and tries to take advantage of you." Her eyes sparkled and her smile was captivating.

I tried to come back with a witty reply but all that came out was, "Yes...please."

There was an awkward moment as her smile faded and she quickly put down her wine glass to begin passing the food. I think we were both surprised by my reaction.

****

The dinner was lovely, filled with delicious food and lots of conversation. As my mother had warned me, Mrs. Sullivan was a fountain of stories about Mr. Sullivan and their life together; and, about their children and grandchildren who now lived so far away. Soon the photo books were out and many of the pictures had stories to go with them. She seemed to bubble as she talked, as if it had been years since she enjoyed an evening of conversation. For me, it was nice just to watch how her eyes would light up, and she would smile and laugh as the memories emerged. Occasionally my eyes would drift to the scooping neckline of her dress or the legs that she crossed and uncrossed as she talked.

We were on our third glass of the wine that now tasted sweet and was going down entirely too easily. I was beginning to feel 'buzzed' and, from the way she was laughing, Mrs. Sullivan was feeling the effects also. She excused herself for a trip to the bathroom.

I sat silently while I waited for her, looking around the house that I had visited so many times at the familiar objects on the walls and shelves had never had any meaning to me before. Now, for some reason, I would look at each one and wonder how it related to her life. Mrs. Sullivan had always been a neighbor, a friend of my parents, a grandmotherly figure in my life, but that seemed to be rapidly changing. I was seeing Mrs. Sullivan as a woman, an attractive and sensual mature woman who could potentially teach me the ways of physical love as I could never learn them with a girl my own age. I was beginning to get to that dry mouthed, intensely excited state usually reserved for long make out sessions while fondling some teen aged breasts. My hand crept between my legs to squeeze my half hard cock.

When she returned, she put the photo books away and sat on the couch next to me. "I've been doing all the talking, why don't you tell me about Christopher. How's school? How's the girlfriend? What's exciting in your life?" I could not help noticing that her skirt had ridden up to her thighs exposing even more leg.

"Oh I'm pretty boring Mrs....er...Beverly. I'm doing fine in school but I'm glad to be out for the summer. There really is no regular girlfriend. And as far as excitement..." I turned to face her and our eyes met. Her smile faded and her lips parted. I sat stunned for a moment before instinctively leaning toward her. To my surprise, she also leaned toward me. My body twisted toward her and I felt as if lightning shot down my spine. I found my lips on hers and felt her arms reach to surround me. Mine wrapped around her and pulled her against me. I heard a muffled sigh. Our lips ground together and I could feel her fingers in my hair. My cock instantly hardened.

Then came a moment of lucidity. Our lips separated and we stared at each other. I know that, in my insecurity, I must have looked like a frightened puppy to her. I started to mumble, "Are you sure...?"

She did not answer, instead she smiled and pulled me to her again. Her lips were so soft and warm. Her kiss was that of an experienced woman, entirely different from the girls I had kissed. My head was spinning from the closeness of her. I started to lay her down on the couch when she stopped me.

"Wait, please." Her hands pushed against me and she stood up. I began to prepare my apology speech thinking that I had crossed a line I should not have crossed. I was sure that I was about to be asked to leave. Instead, she walked to the front door and locked it before turning off the bright overhead lights. When she walked toward the staircase, she paused at the bottom and turned to me with a smile. "Are you coming?" In an instant I was up and following her up the stairs.

I had never been upstairs in her house. It was neat and orderly, as I had expected, with a few framed family photos on the wall. I followed her into the bedroom. She walked to the bed and stopped facing away from me. When she turned, I reached for her but she blocked my arms.

"Chris I want you to know something. George and I were married for over fifty years and he was the only man I ever slept with. Now that he's gone, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I want to do with the rest of my years. Recently my doctor suggested that I may not have that many more years so I've decided to make the most of whatever I have left. This can be a very special relationship for both of us, but what cannot happen is you telling anyone about us. I have to live my remaining years in this neighborhood and I don't want to be known as an old crone who goes around seducing young men. What I'm asking you is, can you keep your mouth shut?"

"Yes, of course."

"All right then, just don't forget that." She turned from me and faced the bed.

I stood silently not knowing what to do when she turned back around.

"Are you going to unzip me?"

I felt so stupid. Nervously I fumbled with the long zipper at the back of her dress until finally it fell open. She stepped out of the dress and hung it on a tall bedpost, then she turned to me again.

"Do you need a written invitation?"

I had been so nervous and excited by everything that I had stood watching her instead of undressing. I began to unbutton my shirt.

"On second thought, I think I want to unwrap you like the lovely gift that you are to me." Her hands replaced mine, steadily unbuttoning my shirt. Once the sleeves were loose, she opened my belt and pulled out my shirt. I slid my shirt off and looked at Beverly's smiling face. She came close and began to run her hands over my chest and belly. "This is SO nice. I watched you outside working in the yard yesterday, the sweat glistening on your body. So firm, so solid, I had a sudden urge to rush out and lick the sweat from you. Do you know how many years it has been since I've had feelings like that?"

"I...er...no."

She interrupted me. "Let's just say it has been a while. It was nice to again feel those pangs of desire, to feel that tingle between my legs. I had honestly forgotten about feelings like that. I came up here and peeled off my bra and put on the tightest top I have just hoping to catch your attention."

"You sure did that."

"I didn't know if my saggy old titties were still even worth looking at, but when I saw you staring, ZING, right between my legs. It was great."

"You have such nice nipples, I couldn't help myself."

"Then maybe it's time for a closer exam." She reached behind her back and popped open the bra, sliding it off to join her dress on the bedpost. "For better or worse sweetheart, there they are."

Accustomed as I was to looking at the fully rounded and sometimes silicone supplemented breasts of magazine models, these were a delightful touch of reality. They were shrunken and saggy, but their nipples still stood as firm as those of a twenty-something. I reached out to take one in each hand, a modest handful to be sure, but nonetheless soft, smooth, and inviting. Just like I had dreamed. My fingers flicked and squeezed her hard little nipples. She moaned when I bent forward to lift each to my lips for some hard suckling.

I felt her hand at the front of my pants, opening the snap and lowering the zipper. When she let them go, my pants dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Then her hand was on my underwear, gripping my cock as it pushed relentlessly against the restraining fabric.

"You are SO hard. I remember when George was young, he would get so hard and I could feel him pushing and rubbing inside of me." Her hands gripped the waistband of my underwear and slid them down. Then I felt her cool, soft hand around me. My knees weakened and I let out a soft cry.

"Chris, this is lovely. So hard, and so hot it practically burns my hand. What a gift you have for any woman." I thought I was going to pass out. Her other hand softly lifted and fondled my balls. Her gentle touch felt so good.

Abruptly her hands were gone, leaving me still floating before jolting back to reality. I opened my eyes to see her sliding off her panties and folding back the covers before sliding into the bed. I quickly shed my underwear and slid in next to her.

"Now look, before we start this, I'm seventy-three years old so don't plan on throwing me around like one of your little cheerleader girlfriends. I tire out easily so there will be times that you're doing all the work, and no acrobatic stuff."

"Acrobatic stuff?"

"Never mind, George was big on that. He used to twist me up like a pretzel. I could barely do that years ago and I'm sure that I can't do it now."

"Beverly I've only had sex a few times in my life so you may have to guide me."

"Sweetheart, I didn't know that. Here I am prattling along like you're one of those guys in the pornographic films. Come here baby doll and kiss me."

Her body felt cool against mine, her arms wrapped around me and her legs rubbed against mine. Her hips methodically ground against my hard cock. I reached down to grasp her ass and push her against me. Her ass felt oddly small and even shrunken in my hand, but the movement of her hips continued to excite me.

I broke loose from her and pushed her onto her back. My eager lips alternated on her nipples while my hand explored her belly on its way downward. Finally I brushed against pubic hair, an unusual finding when so many women prefer to be close shaved. Her body squirmed beneath my touch and her hands held my head against her breasts. I had no idea what to expect. Beverly was seventy years old, a radical change from any of the few women I had ever touched. Would her pussy be dry? Or brittle with skin that cracks? As my fingers crept downward, I soon had my answer. Just a few strokes of my finger along her folds produced abundant wetness that I traced back to its source. My finger plunged into a warm, welcoming, and blissfully wet pussy that parted easily. Her hips thrust upward to meet my hand as a moan escaped her lips.