Madness

I'm getting old. I don't like it one bit. Everything in my life is changing, slowly, one day at a time. For example, physically I'm no longer able to lift or push the things that I used to lift or push without thought or consequence. Once, I could do fifty pushups. Now, I can barely do a half push up, the down part. And forget about sit ups or pull ups. Recently, I moved the living room sofa from one wall to another wall and I spent the rest of the day recovering.

My memory seems intact but how would I know what I've forgotten if I've forgotten it? My memory is intact about one aspect of my life however, sex. I've always been a fan of sex. Almost any kind of sex as long as it involved a woman. My wife was very understanding and accommodating. I was never sure if she was accommodating because she loved me or if she loved the sex. Either way, she was an enthusiastic partner when I was younger and adaptable as I got older.

Getting older was a major factor in our changing sex life. I don't know if my diminished strength contributed to my loss of sexual function but it doesn't matter. Whatever the cause, as I aged, I lost the ability to have an erection. It occurred slowly, like everything else. My recovery time increased until it limited our sexual activity to once a day and eventually once a week. The length and stiffness of my erections diminished at the same time until I was unable to have any kind of an erection at all. I tried numerous remedies, cock rings, vacuum chambers, pharmaceuticals and injections without success. I was done experiencing the joy of feeling myself inside of a woman in heat.

Marjorie, my wife, was very understanding and adaptable. She was experiencing similar problems of her own that threatened our sexual experiences although her's were solved with copious amounts of lubricant while mine had no solution at all.

With her leadership, we resorted to oral and lubricated digital solutions. They were very effective. We had wonderful times together experimenting with activities and orifices we had previously ignored but I never really came to terms with my loss of erectile function.

Majorie's age caught up with her sooner than mine and she passed away quietly in her sleep about a year ago with a smile on her face. I fantasized that her final smile was caused by her remembering our long sexual history in her last moments.

Other aspects of my life also changed as I aged. In my youth, I was a fanatical sports fan, the more violent the better. I would attend or watch as many contests as I could fit in my schedule. I only avoided sports where the result was known in advance, like wrestling. As I aged, I became less enthusiastic about the violence and more devoted to the skill.

I lost interest in professional sports as the players seemed to be more about "me," celebrating their own accomplishments over the team's success. I focused more on college sports, especially basketball. I attended multiple home games of the local university and dedicated three weeks every year to watching the NCAA men's basketball tournament. Majorie and I attended several final four weekends, traveling to remote cities to watch contests between teams we couldn't have known in advance would be playing.

This year, the local university's basketball team had an unusually successful season. They were seeded into the annual "March Madness" tournament. A number of round one and round two games were scheduled for an arena nearby. Not the university's field house, where they played their home games but a larger arena in a city only twenty miles away.

I got on line, looking for tickets. I found a number of tickets available for round two. I looked at the round one opponent and determined that our local team would progress to round two. I found a single ticket in the middle of the student section and grabbed it. It wasn't inexpensive but I wanted to see the local team in action against premier opponents. I would also see another round two game at the same time.

Saturday, the day of the game, I drove the short distance to the arena and parked in a nearby lot. My team was scheduled for an early evening start time. I arrived in plenty of time to have an early supper and find my seat in the arena. The arena was close enough to the university that it was almost a home game. The seats in my section quickly filled up and I was delighted to see that most were students of the nearby university.

I was seated between two astonishingly attractive coeds. My experience of them, like everything else in my life, was affected by my age. Over time, my definition of beautiful had morphed from "out of my league" to "girl next door" to "I could do her." These girls, they were probably nineteen or twenty, were definitely closer to my younger definitions. Not "out of my league" but better than the "girl next door." Just sitting next to them stirred ancient memories and rekindled my disappointment with my erectile difficulties.

We watched the warm ups and the introduction of the players. We engaged in meaningless talk, introducing ourselves and sharing our enthusiasm for the local team. They correctly concluded that I wasn't a student and assumed I was an alumnus. I was but not from the local university, a fact that I withheld from them. When they asked why I wasn't seated in the alumni section, I simply answered, "What's the fun in that?"

Their mutual giggle reinforced my erotic memories.

It proved to be a close contest. During the game, my seat mates, leapt to their feet hundreds of times, cheering and shouting encouragement to their school mates or disparaging the opponents. The breeze they created wafted stimulating aromas of their cologne and shampoo in my direction. I sat, unwilling to expend the energy of repeated standing, and applauded the team's efforts and offered an occasional vocal encouragement. The game went into overtime and when our team emerged victorious, the student section went berserk. We were all standing as time ran out, screaming our approval of the result, even me. In the chaos, Janice, the coed on my right, grabbed my face and kissed me. Casey, my other seat mate, turned me around, gave me a hug and doubled down on the kiss.

Startled, and incredibly aroused, I sat down and watched the students leave. When she reached the aisle, Janice turned and yelled, "Hey Pops. Aren't you coming?"

I stood. "Where are we going?"

"To Alpha house," Janice answered.

I had no idea what or where Alpha house was but, what the hell, I was invited so I'd go. I caught up to the girls at the bottom of the stairs. "I have no idea where we're going," I admitted.

"That's okay," soothed Janice. I'll ride with you."

"I'll come too," echoed Casey.

The three of us walked to my car. Janice got in the passenger seat and Casey sat behind her. Together, they directed me back to the university campus and to a fraternity house on a side street. I parked the car at the curb and the three of us walked, arm in arm, to the three story, colonial fraternity house.

The front door was open. The front room was huge. Sofas and chairs lined the walls and a large screen television dominated one wall. A recording of the game was already playing on the screen. The crowd of at least fifty students was cheering every move by their team and booing the opponent on every play as if they hadn't just seen the game in person.

Janice and Casey led me to a sofa in the back of the room where we could see the television and sat on either side of me as they were in the arena. I felt as if they were somehow taking responsibility for me, protecting me from some unseen threat.

Feeling empowered by their attention, I took advantage of the situation. I leaned back and put my arms up on either side of me on the back of the sofa, dangling over the girl's shoulders. Janice noticed. She moved tighter against me and pulled my arm down, behind her neck and over her shoulder, dangling over her breast. Casey did the same thing.

I sat with my arms around each of them, imagining where this could go despite the realities of my condition. Janice turned her body slightly in my direction. My arm fell behind her and curled around her waist where my hand came to rest on her thigh. Casey was more direct. She took my hand from behind her and placed it directly on her thigh.

Comfortable, I began to softly stroke each of their thighs. With Casey, each stroke brought me closer to junction between her thighs. Each time I got too close to her privates for her comfort, she politely moved my hand back on her thigh where I started my advance again. Each time I got closer before she moved my hand. When my fingers finally contacted the gusset of her jeans, she looked at me confused. When I smiled at her, she settled more closely against me and allowed me to continue to slowly rub the space between her legs directly over her clitoris.

Janice followed a more direct approach. I rubbed her thigh stretching to reach closer to her center. Each time I reached as far as I could, she turned in my arm to assist me in reaching further until she was almost lying against my body and my fingers were softy rubbing her clitoris through her skirt. Based on how she felt, I concluded that she was completely shaved, a trend I'd read about but never personally experienced.

The game on the television ended to loud cheering from the crowd. By that time, a number of players from the team had arrived and were immediately surrounded my coeds anticipating celebrating the victory with them.

Someone turned off the TV, put on some music and dimmed the lights. The tone of the party changed from celebration to anticipation. One of the players who hadn't had a starring role in the win, approached Casey and invited her to dance. She accepted immediately, hopped off the sofa and walked away with him. My arm fell to the surface of the sofa.

With only one coed to focus my attention, I turned my body, wrapped my free arm around her waist and continued to gently rub her clitoris through her skirt in the dim room. I took courage from the fact that no one seemed to be paying any attention to us.

I had rubbed her clitoris a hundred times when her body began to react.

"Oh," she moaned.

I continued to rub her body with my fingers, always slowly, never changing pace or pressure. Her hips shifted and her legs squeezed together. I moved my hand from around her waist and held her left breast. "Relax," I whispered.

I felt her sink further back into my arms. I gently squeezed her breast and added a tiny more pressure with my fingers as I continued to rub her clitoris. Her breathing became irregular, coming in short, deep gasps.

"Slide your skirt up," I suggested.

"Here?" she asked.

"It's dark, nobody's looking and nobody other than us cares," I stated.

Using both hands, Janice bunched up her skirt one inch at a time until my fingers were rubbing her clitoris through her cotton, bikini briefs. I confirmed that she was devoid of pubic hair. I continued to rub and Janice continued to wiggle against my fingers and my body.

We reached a point of mutual satisfaction. I offered my next suggestion. "Take off your panties."

Shocked, Janice looked at me with concern. "Really?" she questioned.

"I'd really appreciate it," I offered.

She stared at me, turned away and settled back into my arms. I continued stroking her.

A minute later, Janice reached up under her skirt, grabbed the edge of her panties and pulled them down.

I helped her lift her hips so she could slide them under her ass. She pushed them down with her hands as far as she could. She used her feet to move them to the floor where she could move them off her feet. She used one foot to lift her panties high enough to reach them. Holding them in one hand, she asked, "What should I do with them?"

"Give them to me," I suggested.

I took her panties from her, put them in my pocket and returned my hand to her breast. With access to her naked pussy, I changed the routine. I spread my first and third fingers and glided them along the sides of her enlarged labia while continuing my attention on her clitoris with my thumb. I dragged my middle finger between her labia at the same time. Each fourth or fifth time I stroked her, I ran my fingers through her opening and curled my middle finger just slightly. Over time, my finger bent to the point, that after pulling my fingers forward, on the backward slide, it, instead of sliding along between her labia, it entered her.

Janice moaned quietly as she squeezed my finger inside her. I curled my finger further and rubbed against the front wall of her vagina with each push. Eventually, I was squeezing her clitoris between my thumb and middle finger. Janice moaned more loudly. I thought she was on the verge of an orgasm.

Between moans, Janice managed to ask, "Can we take this someplace else?"

"Where?" I asked.

"I know a place," she informed me.

Janice stood up on shaky legs, smoothed her skirt and held out her hand to help me up. She led me upstairs to the second floor. We walked down the hall and she opened the first door we passed. A sudden scream caused her the close the door quickly. She listened at the second door and we moved on. The third door was ajar. Janice led me inside, turned on the overhead light and closed the door. The room was sparsely furnished with a frameless bed against the wall and a simple chest of draws.

"Janice," I said. "We have to talk."

"You want to talk now?" Janice exclaimed. "You've just spent the last half hour working me to a state where I can hardly breathe or walk and you want to talk instead of fucking me?"

"That's why we have to talk. Believe me, it's important," I pleaded.

Janice walked over to the bed, sat down and patted the bed alongside her. I sat. "Talk," she insisted.

"Janice," I began, "I'm old."

"That's old news," she interrupted.

"But that's exactly why I need to talk to you," I responded.

I started over. "Janice, I'm old and things happen to men as they age. Most of the changes are obvious, visible to everyone like gray hair, slower pace and a tendency to nap more often."

"I can see that," Janice commented.

"Some of the changes are not so obvious. I my case, my sex drive is as strong as it's ever been but my ability to close the deal is severely compromised."

"What does that mean?" asked Janice.

"It means that I can't get an erection," I told her.

"Never?" she asked.

"Not for at least fifteen years," I admitted.

"So where does that leave us?" asked Janice.

"I'm concerned I went too far with you downstairs, knowing I couldn't finish what I started. I'm really sorry about that. Like I said, my sex drive is intact but my delivery system is non functional. I hope you can forgive me," I begged. "If not, I understand."

"That's not what I asked," said Janice. "I get it. You can't fuck me but what can you do?"

"Just about everything else," I said.

"You're not just saying that to keep me here," Janice challenged.

"I've had lots of practice. I managed to keep my wife happy and coming back for more for the entire time," I told her.

"Your wife?" questioned Janice.

"She passed away about a year ago. I admit I've not had a lot of practice since although I have an excellent memory," I explained.

"Show me," said Janice and she leaned over to kiss me.

Relieved, I kissed her back, the first kiss since the joy of victory kiss in the arena when her team won. The kiss expanded and intensified. I put my hand on her breast and she squeezed my genitals through my trousers.

"Where were we downstairs?" asked Janice.

As an answer, I put my hand under her skirt and pushed it up until I palmed her still naked, still hairless and still overheated pussy.

"Hold that thought," Janice said.

"She stood in front of me and took off her skirt. Seeing her naked from the waist down stirred every ancient memory and every relevant hormone in my body without expanding my penis. I reached out and palmed her pubis in one hand. Janice closed her eyes and pushed her hips against my hand while removing her shirt and bra.

Totally naked, Janice was a gentleman's wet dream but, this night, I was no gentleman. If I understood Janice correctly, I was free to demonstrate every sexual activity with her that I could remember or create without an erection. She came close to me, separated her legs and sat on my knees facing me. Her breasts sat invitingly on her chest and I took advantage to hold them, one in each hand.

Without hesitation, Janice reached for the buttons on my shirt. "We have to do something about this," she stated. She removed my shirt and tank top undershirt and tossed them aside, somewhere on the floor. She slid off my knees and stood in front of me. "Stand up," she ordered.

I stood up and she began to open my belt. When she had my belt, waist button and fly open, she pushed my pants down. She knelt in front of me and pulled my pants down around my ankles. I lifted my leg and Janice removed my shoe, sock and pants. I lifted my other leg and she repeated removing my unnecessary attire.

She looked up at me, her face at the level of my genitals. She grabbed the sides of my boxer shorts. "Ready?" she asked.

"When you are," I responded.

Without ceremony she removed my shorts and they joined the rest of my clothing on the floor.

She reached out and held my unresponsive penis and heavy testicles.

"So this is the uncooperative cock," she commented.

"It is," I confirmed.

"How long has it been this way?" she asked.

"About fifteen years," I answered. "In reality, it was a long time coming. My erection got weaker every year until, one day, it wasn't there," I added.

"Nothing. Ever?" asked Janice.

"I've tried everything medicine can do except a transplant," I explained. Even Majorie tried everything she could think of without success," I added.

"Majorie was your wife?" asked Janice.

"She was. Together we tried every alternative we could think of. Most of it was very satisfying. I've had lots of practice," I crowed.

"How big did it get?" asked Janice.

"Average size, between five and a half and six inches," I estimated.

"Do you think I could help?" Janice asked.

Music to my ears. A wise man once told me. "ED can have some advantages," he said. "I've never met a woman that didn't think she could fix the problem and wasn't willing to go to extremes trying."

Apparently, Janice was one of those women. "I have no idea," I told her. "But you're welcome to try," I offered.

Janice spent the next several minutes examining my testicles and penis. She held my cock in one hand and stroked it between her thumb and fingers. When she leaned forward to add her mouth, I interrupted her and suggested we get on the bed to continue.

In the middle of the bed, Janice lay between my legs and began a shamanistic ritual using her hands, fingers and mouth. It didn't have the results Janice hoped it would but it felt damn good to me. Trying not to interrupt her concentration, I touched her shoulder and indicated that she should turn around so I could repeat my actions from downstairs. Willingly, and without pause, she got on her knees and moved clockwise until she was kneeling on the bed beside my shoulder.

I touched the back of her thigh, slid my hand up over her ass and then down until I could finger her vagina and clitoris again. I didn't sense that she had lost any of the progress we had achieved earlier. Within seconds, she was on the verge of an orgasm again. She went beyond the verge and shuttered violently as she came on my hand.

I lifted her leg and tried to slide between her legs. She adjusted herself to accommodate me and I ended up directly beneath her pussy and watched the drips from her orgasm landing on my lips. She tasted incredible, like a new Beaujolais versus an aged Burgundy. I pulled her down on my face and licked the excess fluids from her labia and vagina directly.