Modern Science

Circumstances compelled me to spend a month at my mother's house. She lives alone in a small, quiet town on the Florida coast. The neighborhood sits across the street from the beach, but few of the residents actually enjoy the ocean--the average age of the neighbors is closer to my mother's seventy years than my own forty-five. The shuffling of walkers and the occasional whir of electric scooters are the usual sounds punctuating the gentle background music of waves crashing on the shore.

The first two nights of my visit were unremarkable. I spent the day at the hospital with my mother, and returned in the late evening for a solo dinner followed by solo television and a session of solo sex in front of my computer. The monotony was oppressive, but I was doing my duty as the diligent son.

On the third morning I awoke to a welcome surprise--a cold front had rolled in overnight, dropping the temperature by fifteen degrees. It would provide a welcome relief from the heat in my mother's fifty year old home that was fitted with air conditioning installed while Jimmy Carter was president.

It was still pleasant when I returned from the hospital that evening. Upon entering the house, I quickly raced through every room and opened every window. In less than one-half hour the house was cool and for the first time I looked forward to sleeping.

I went to bed a little after midnight. I undressed, opened my laptop, pulled up my favorite porn sites, and leaned back against the headboard. Thirty minutes later I closed the computer, wiped the juice off my belly, and laid down to rest.

With the windows open I was exposed to a new universe of sound--in the background I heard the steady rhythm of waves breaking on the beach; from two blocks away I heard a TV blaring the late night Sports Center; and just outside the window, the palm trees were rustling in the wind. I was sound asleep in minutes.

Sometime later I was awakened by the crashing of metal and wood against concrete. Grunting noises--both male and female--rounded out the cacophony. It took me a second to wake up and another second to realize what I was hearing. Someone is fucking right outside my bedroom.

I stood up and peeked through the front window. I saw nothing but an empty street. I looked out the side window. In the dim light I could see the wooden fence that separated my mother's yard from the neighbors'. I could see the shape of the bedroom window rising a few feet above the fence, but there were no lights on in the house. Nonetheless, I knew that the sexual symphony I was hearing originated from the open window on the other side of the fence.

Cloaked in darkness, I squinted and strained, searching for a glimpse of the couple whose lovemaking had disturbed my sleep. But no matter how hard I stared at the top half of that window, all I saw was darkness.

As the sounds of the bed springs stretching, the headboard banging into the wall, the woman's moans and the man's grunts rose to a crescendo, I found my hand wrapped around my fully erect cock, stroking it back and forth. I stood at the window and masturbated for several minutes, driven by the sound of the couple fucking next door.

After a few minutes I realized that no matter how hard I stared, I wasn't going to see anything; I could hear just as well from the bed as I could from the window. It made much more sense to lie down and make myself comfortable, rather than stand at the window jacking off and hoping I climaxed before I developed cramps in my legs.

Lying down was not only more comfortable, but it also freed my imagination. I could not recall ever having seen the neighbors, so I tried to picture the youngest, sexiest women in the neighborhood. There was a young mom on the corner--a little thin for my taste, but still pretty in a trailer trashy kind of way. There were two fifty-something sisters across the street; they were both heavy, but the younger of the two was a pretty redhead that I would fuck in a minute. There was a thick African-American woman two houses down with big breasts and an enormous ghetto booty; she would be one hell of a ride.

I was having a hard time thinking of anyone else who did not have silver hair and a walker, when I noticed that the two lovers were becoming much more vocal. She was urging him to push it deeper, and his grunts became louder and with every stroke. My rhythm matched theirs; I imagined that it was my cock pushing into the plump redhead from across the street. As her moans grew longer and more intense, my speed increased. When she started panting that she was cumming, I erupted--shooting my second load of the evening all over my belly.

I lay on the bed for a minute, and then got up and went to the bathroom to clean up. Without turning on any lights I grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper, wiped off the semen, and went back to sleep.

An hour later I was awakened again by the sounds of sex floating through the window. I didn't masturbate this time; once is healthy, twice is self-indulgent, and three time is just a total lack of self-discipline, I told myself. Instead, I tried very hard to match the woman's voice to a face. Despite my best efforts, I could not identify the originator of those moans. After a while, I gave up on memory and let my imagination take over. By the time her pussy was filled with her partner's second load of cum, I was picturing a mid-thirties brunette, with wide hips, heavy breasts, and a shaved pussy. I imagined her the mother of two small children, descended from Eastern Europe, and perhaps a pre-school teacher or secretary. In my mind she was all innocence on the outside, and wanton whore on the inside. No matter how much of my creation turned out to be inaccurate, I knew I got at least one detail right.

The next morning I got up, showered, dressed, and put on some coffee. I opened the front door and walked to the road to pick up the morning paper. I realized that I did not pick up yesterday's mail, so I turned and started toward the mailbox. My mother's mailbox shares a post with the neighbors' box, which is located at the end of their driveway. Just as I stepped toward the post, the front door of the neighbors' house opened. An older woman in a knee-length pink robe emerged from the house and walked toward the end of the driveway. Most of her brassy blonde hair--with dark brown and grey roots--was piled on top of her head and held in place by a large plastic clip; several locks had escaped confinement and were blowing in the breeze. As she walked toward me I could see that she had a pretty face beneath the smear of last night's make up. I guessed her age to be around sixty-five, but it could easily have been five years in either direction.

"Beautiful morning," she called to me.

"I love this weather," I answered.

The woman stepped over her newspaper, turned to face me, and then bent over and reached for the bundle. The top of her robe opened, revealing almost all of her breasts. They were a nice size--probably a C-cup--but had long ago lost the war with gravity. Her brown nipples stood out in the cool morning air. She reached for the paper, lingering a little longer than necessary in the bent forward position. A second later she grasped the paper and stood up. Her robe closed as she returned to the upright position. Did that just happen?

She extended her right hand in my direction, while clutching the newspaper against her chest with her left hand . I took her palm and gave a gentle shake. Was this the woman I heard getting fucked last night? I felt my cock stirring in my jeans.

"You must be Joanna's boy. I'm Evelyn--nice to meet you."

"I'm William. I'm here for a few weeks to help my mom, once she gets out of the hospital."

"How's Joanna doing?"

"The doctor said the surgery went well. As soon as she can get up and walk around, they should be sending her home. A couple more days, I imagine."

"She's lucky to have you here. If you need anything, just ask. My husband and I will do anything we can."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"Anything for Joanna's boy."

"Is it just the two of you living here?"

"Yes, our children are all grown. We moved into this house two years ago when Roger retired."

It was her!

Before I knew what was happening, she pulled me toward her and gave me a quick hug. It was over in a second, but in that brief moment I caught a good whiff of her aroma. The scent of stale cum and rank pussy wafted to my nose, overwhelming my senses. No doubt about it--it was definitely her. I inhaled deeply, taking in as much of her funk as the morning breeze would allow, and then released her.

"Take care, honey," she said. "And give my best to Joanna."

I watched her walk away, and then I turned and went back into the house.

The rest of the day followed the familiar routine. A half hour drive to the hospital; sitting all day with my mother; flirting with the nurses; half hour return drive; culminating in another solo dinner. I did do one thing differently: Before going to bed I looked up some "over-sixties" porn. I was surprised not only by the sheer number of such videos, but also by how hot some of the women looked to me. I resisted the urge to masturbate; I just browsed the clips for an hour and then went to sleep with a raging erection.

I don't know how long I slept, but once again I was awakened by the sound of the neighbors fucking just outside my bedroom. Just as I did the night before, I went to the side window and peered over the fence at their house. But unlike the previous night, light was streaming from the master bedroom window and the blinds were fully open. Unfortunately, the privacy fence between the two houses was doing exactly what it was designed to do--keeping my prying eyes from seeing the activity occurring in the bedroom.

Emboldened by the darkness blanketing the house, I raced out of the bedroom and parked myself on the family room sofa. The sofa sat in front of another window facing east and overlooking the neighbor's house. I parted the curtains and peered in the direction of the illuminated window. The viewing angle was sharper, thereby allowing a peek at a different portion of the bedroom. Despite the altered vantage point, however, the view was still the same. All I saw was the upper portion of a pastel yellow wall. To make matters worse, the family room windows were closed, so I couldn't hear a thing.

I stumbled to my bed in the dark, made myself comfortable, and started stroking my cock. This time I had no difficulty picturing the woman taking a pounding on the other side of the fence. Evelyn made it even easier for me by talking more and moaning less.

"Mmm," she cooed. "Give it to me. Give it to me baby. Mmmm. Fuck me hard. Mmmm. Fuck me like a young stud."

I almost blew my load when I heard that one. Is she thinking about me? Is she imagining that I'm fucking her? She knows I'm listening. She wants me to hear.

I went to the bathroom and found a bottle of baby oil. I returned to bed, poured some oil in my palm, and started a slow stroke. Evelyn's serenade coaxed my erection to historic degrees of hardness as my hand glided up and down the shaft.

"Fuck me, stud. Fuck me hard. Give me that stiff, hard cock."

I imagined Evelyn on her back, her legs spread wide, her breasts flattened against her chest, and her nipples sticking straight up. Take it baby, take my cock. I thrust into her as she wrapped her legs around my back, pulling me in deeper. Take it all, baby, take it deep.

"Mmm, that's it honey, fuck me good. Fuck me hard."

Honey! She called me "honey" this morning. Oh, I'll fuck you hard. I'll fuck you so fucking hard. My hand slid up and down my throbbing shaft, slowly gliding over the glans and making it twitch. I'm going to cum, baby. Get ready for it.

"Fuck me, baby. Fuck me like a strong young stud. That's it. Fuck me good."

Oh, I'm fucking you, baby. I'm fucking you. Do you like this cock, baby? Do you like this younger cock?

The bedsprings continued to bounce at a pace with the headboard banging against the cinder block wall.

"Fuck me. Make me cum. I'm almost there. Fuck me, stud, fuck me."

Take it, baby, take it. Take it all. My hand was a blur on my cock. The baby oil had run down my shaft, past my balls, and was sure to leave a grease spot on the sheet. I didn't care. This was the best masturbation session of my life.

"Yes! That's it! Yes! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Yes!"

I'm cumming too! Take it baby, take my load! Oh, yes! Yes! A massive load of cum shot out of my balls, up my shaft, and erupted onto my belly. Some of it may have splashed off my face. I wasn't sure. I lay in bed for several minutes gasping for breath. Once my heart had slowed, I made my way to the bathroom and showered in the dark.

The next morning I sat by the front window, watching for Evelyn to retrieve her newspaper. I waited until it was time to leave for the hospital, but she never appeared. When I was out of time I left, more than a little disappointed. As I was backing out of the driveway, I saw Evelyn emerge from her house in that pink bathrobe. She waved to me as I pulled away.

That night I went to bed at the usual time. I awoke the next morning fully refreshed but disappointed by the fact that there was no repeat performance. I didn't see Evelyn before I left for the hospital, either. I didn't know if the game was over, or if I just didn't know all the rules. Maybe tonight.

Or maybe not. I sat in my room watching videos for nearly an hour before turning off the computer. I resisted the urge to squeeze one out, saving my load for another session with Evelyn. I awoke the next morning thoroughly refreshed, fully erect, and backed up to my eyeballs with cum. I showered, got dressed, and went to the road to pick up the newspaper. Just as I turned to walk back into the house, Evelyn appeared. She waved me over, meeting me at the mailbox. Once again she was naked under her robe, as evidenced by the nipples sticking through the pink cloth.

"How's Joanna?" she asked.

"Better," I answered. "Unless something goes wrong, she's coming home today."

I stared at her nipples in an attempt to open the front of her robe with my mind. Evelyn shook her head, causing her breasts to dance from side to side beneath the robe. My cock stirred in my pants.

"That's good to hear. I'll bet she's ready to come home."

"Oh, she is. She can't get any sleep in the hospital."

"I know what you mean. When I was hospitalized last year, the nurses were in all night checking on me and doing tests and whatever else they could do to wake me up. It's impossible to get any rest in there."

"Yeah, I expect she's going to come home and just sleep for a few days."

"What time are you going to get her?"

"In about an hour. I'm going to put on some coffee, maybe have a little breakfast, and then take off."

"Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you come in and join my husband and I for coffee. I just put on a pot. And I have some muffins I'm sure you'll enjoy."

Oh yeah, I definitely want to snack on your muffin. My erection must have been visible. I could feel it twitching.

"I'd love to."

"Are you sure you have time?'

"Definitely."

"Let's go."

I followed Evelyn to the front door. While walking behind her I admired her legs, which were toned and tanned. Her hair was as messy as the last time I saw her, but at least she wasn't wearing last night's make-up. She didn't reek of sex, either, so I was sure that I had not slept through another late night performance.

We walked through the front door and entered the living room. That room opened to the back of the house, where her husband was already walking on a treadmill. The room also contained a stationary bicycle and a Nautilus weight machine. These two are certainly into fitness.

"Honey!" Evelyn barked in her husband's direction, while tapping her ear.

"Yes?" he answered, pulling the earbuds from his head.

"This is William. He's Joanna's boy. He's bringing her home from the hospital today."

"Oh, pleased to meet you William. I'm Roger."

He continued walking on the treadmill, not missing a step.

"My pleasure, Roger. The two of you have a very lovely home."

"That's all her doing. This is my room." Roger waved his arm around, indicating the various exercise equipment. "I may be retired, but I intend to keep on living for a good long time."

You're doing a hell of a job of that, my friend. That's some amazing stamina for someone your age. Beneath his tank top and his too small running shorts, it was apparent that Roger kept himself in good shape. He was no Charles Atlas, but--like Evelyn--he was toned, tanned, and in much better shape than most people a decade or two younger.

"This is a nice set up. Do you work out every day?"

"We try to, at least an hour a day. My doctor lectured me for years to take better care of myself, and now that I have the time, I make it a point to do the best I can. I apologize, but I need to pick up the pace a little. Tell your mother we wish her the best."

"I'll do that. She'll appreciate hearing from you."

Roger put his earbuds back in, adjusted the speed on the treadmill, and went back to work. Evelyn led me to the front room and maneuvered me to a chair facing the back of the house. She went to the kitchen, and returned a second later carrying a tray loaded down with a pot of coffee, two cups, cream, sugar, and a plate of muffins.

"How do you like your coffee?" she asked, taking a seat across from me and with her back to Roger.

"Just cream."

Evelyn poured a cup, handed it to me, and then poured herself a cup. She picked up the plate of muffins and handed it to me.

"Would you like to try my muffin?"

My heart rate accelerated and my cock throbbed. Oh, hell yes!

"Sure, what kind is it?"

"It's a special recipe: Oat bran, dried cranberries and acai, nuts, safflower oil, and sweetened with pomegranate juice. It's a very healthy breakfast. Eating my muffin every morning is what keeps Roger in such good shape."

I nearly spit up my coffee. My cock strained against my underwear, fully loaded and ready to go off at any second.

"I'll bet," I managed to sputter out.

"How do you like it?" she asked.

"It's delicious," I lied.

It was awful, like eating sawdust and sour apples. But I'll say anything you want to hear if you show me another peek of your boobs.

"Roger and I both try to take care of our bodies. He wants to live a good long life, and he wants to enjoy all that it offers."

"And you?"

"Oh, that's certainly important."

"But...?"

"I'm a woman. Women like to be looked at and admired. We like attention. Young women take it for granted, but wrinkled up old ladies miss it before they even know its gone."

"I never thought of that. I always assumed that women get tired of being ogled all the time."

"No woman ever gets tired of being admired."

"I'm sure that Roger gives you plenty of attention."

I glanced over her shoulder and looked in Roger's direction. As I did, Evelyn's thighs parted a few inches, offering a brief glance at her crotch. Was that her bush? It was only there for a second, then her legs closed and it was gone. My erection started to ache.

"Oh he does, but that's not what I mean. It's one thing to have your spouse admire you. It's something completely different to have every eye in the room looking at you--to know that every head is turning in your direction when you enter, and to know that every man desires you. It's exhilarating. In some ways, its what I live for."

"I see."

"That's why women wear make up, stylish clothes, and fuss with our hair. We want men to pay attention to us. All men, not just our spouses."