Muffins with Micky

It was my husband Pete's idea that I should go and visit Micky. Micky and Dawn were our neighbours at Canning Place. And then Dawn died. Suddenly. Just like that. Just about in the time that it takes to snap your fingers. One moment she was the neighbourhood busybody, organising us all, chairing the Neighbourhood Watch and the Garden Society, and the next moment she was gone.

Micky and Dawn were both a lot older than everyone else in our street. They were both in their seventies, so I suppose they had done their three score years and ten. But still....

'Should I take him some books or something?' I said.

'Micky already has heaps of books,' Pete pointed out. 'More than us, I'd say. No, do something nice for him. Maybe make him a cake. He could probably just do with a bit of company.'

'Perhaps I could make some muffins,' I suggested.

'Yeah. Muffins would be good. Make him some muffins. Go and have a bit of a chat. Let him know that the world hasn't forgotten about him.'

'Cheese? Or chocolate?' I said.

'Muffins? Hell, does it have to be one or the other? Why not make a few of each?'

And so that's what I did. I didn't work on Tuesdays, and so, after Pete had gone off to work, I made a batch of cheese muffins and another batch of chocolate muffins, and I arranged them in an airtight tin so that they would stay fresh for a few days. And then I tarted myself up a bit, put on a bit of lippy and a bit or perfume, and headed next door.

At first, Micky seemed a bit surprised to see me -- although far from unhappy.

'I hope that I'm not interrupting anything,' I said. 'I just thought that if you weren't too busy, we could have elevenses together.'

'Elevenses?' Micky said. 'Oh. Umm... yes. Why not? Come on in. Gosh. Yes. Why not?'

'I've made you a few muffins,' I told him. 'I hope that you haven't already done your baking for the week.'

Micky laughed. 'Me? Ha ha. Toast is about the limit of my baking. And I can't always get that right.'

'Well, today we have some cheese muffins and we have some chocolate muffins.'

'Ooh. We're spoiled,' he said. 'I'd better put the kettle on.'

'I can do that,' I told him. 'What do you normally like? Tea? Or coffee?'

'In the morning, I normally like coffee. Just instant. Nothing fancy. Dawn bought one of those fancy machines, but it just sits in the back of the cupboard.'

'Instant sounds fine to me,' I said.

I filled the kettle and switched it on. 'So... how have you been managing?' I asked.

'Well, it's certainly different,' Micky said. 'But I'm managing. Just about. The girl from the agency comes in in the morning and does a few chores. She's from The Philippines or somewhere. I'm never quite sure if she understands anything I say. But we seem to get by.'

I made the coffee and put a few muffins onto a plate. (Micky insisted that we use the best china.) And then we sat side by side on the couch with the muffins and our coffee mugs on the low table in front of us.

'Well... this is nice,' Micky said. 'I get a bit fed up having my coffee all by myself. It's just not the same, is it? You know... on your own.'

'Not when you're used to a bit of company,' I said. 'No.'

We chatted for a while and I asked Micky if there was anything that he needed. 'Any shopping or anything like that. You know you just have to ask,' I said.

'That's all more or less under control,' he said. 'I get my groceries delivered. And Meals on Wheels, of course.' And then he said: 'The only thing that I can't get delivered is a cuddle. Although I suppose that I could if I....' And he laughed a naughty laugh. 'Yes. I really miss having a bit of a cuddle. With Dawn. You know. Just having someone else.'

He had a point. And, without even really thinking about it, I reached out and put my arm around him. 'Yes. I know what you mean. People need other people,' I said. 'That's just the way we are, isn't it? Just as fish are swimming creatures and birds are flying creatures, we're cuddling creatures.'

Micky nodded and placed a hand on my boob. At first, I thought that he probably hadn't actually realised what he had done. But then, when he started moving his fingers, caressing my boob, I realised that he did know what he had done. And what he was still doing. But what the heck? People need other people. That's just the way we are.

'Dawn had lovely boobs,' I said.

'Yes, she did,' Micky said. 'Even when they were getting a bit... well... droopy, they were still nice. I miss having them here. I miss their feel, their shape, their softness.'

It made sense. And, again, almost without thinking, I undid another button on my shirt and Micky slipped his hand inside.

'You two were together for a long time,' I said.

'Fifty-one years.'

'Well, that's certainly a long time,' I said.

'I suppose so. Although it didn't seem that long.'

And then Micky took his hand off my boob and placed it on my bare thigh, just above my knee. And then he began to gently stroke my thigh, his hand getting a little higher with each stroke.

'You're a bit of a naughty boy, aren't you?' I said.

'I suppose so,' he said. 'Sorry. I forget myself sometimes.' And he took his hand away.

'No, it's OK,' I said. 'But if we are going to do this, I think it might be easier in the bedroom. Don't you?'

Micky nodded. 'I think you might be right,' he said.

I followed Micky into the bedroom, removed my skirt, and placed it over the back of a handy chair. 'Now... where were we?' I said. 'Oh, yes.'

We sat on the edge of the bed, I spread my thighs a little, and Micky started stroking me again. This time he made it all the way up to where he had been heading when we had still been sitting on the sofa. 'I miss having a cunt to play with,' he said.

'Well, you have one to play with now,' I told him. 'Would you like me to take off my knickers?'

'Perhaps in a minute,' he said. 'I like just feeling you though the fabric first, imagining what you have in there. Imagining what will be waiting. I often used to rub Dawn's knicker-covered cunt. She used to like that.'

'I'm liking it too,' I told him. 'I can feel myself getting quite wet.'

'Yes. I can feel that too,' Micky said. 'I can feel your knickers getting wet.' And he laughed again.

'Perhaps we should take your trousers off,' I said.

At first, he seemed a bit hesitant. 'Sometimes I don't get very... well... you know,' he said.

'No. I understand,' I said. 'But let's see what we can do, shall we?'

Between us, we removed Micky's trousers. Micky's cock was of about average length (well, average in my experience, anyway), and it was rather thin, and pretty much just hanging there.

'There was a time,' Micky said, 'when the old chap would have just stood up without any provocation. Well, without much provocation, anyway. Just the thought of a bit of action and it would be pointing at the sky. Or at the horizon, at least.'

'That's OK,' I said. 'Let's see what we can do, shall we?' And I took Micky's cock in my hand and began gently squeezing and stretching it. It didn't suddenly turn into a policeman's truncheon. But it did fatten up a bit.

'Yes. That feels nice,' Micky said.

'It does,' I said. 'I like cocks. If I had a cock, I'd play with it all day. I don't know how you boys resist the temptation. If it was me, I'd never get anything done.' And I laughed. 'Why don't you lie down on the bed?' I said. 'And perhaps I can give your cock a little kiss.'

Micky didn't need a second invitation. And while Micky got into position on the bed, I took the opportunity to remove my knickers. And then, on an impulse, I wrapped them around Micky's cock.

'Nice knickers,' Micky said.

'Wet knickers,' I said. 'And that's your fault. You're a naughty boy.'

'Unfortunately, not as naughty as I used to be,' he said. And he stared, balefully, at his limp, knicker-wrapped cock.

I kissed the tip of Micky's cock. Just gently. And then I licked it with the tip of my tongue.

'Oh, yes, that's nice,' Micky said. And he peered down at it again. 'Is it...?'

'It's doing OK,' I said. 'Yes, it's doing OK.'

'It used to be like iron,' Micky said. 'Just the thought of a bit of cunt and it would be standing to attention and ready for action. These days... not so much.' And he shook his head.

'We're doing OK,' I told Micky. 'Don't you worry.' And I took his cock in my mouth and sucked it. Hard. And I felt it stiffen just a little bit more. It wasn't by any stretch of the imagination really hard, but it was something to work with.

'The cowgirl has arrived,' I said. 'And she's ready to go to work.'

'The cowgirl?'

'The ride 'em cowgirl,' I said. 'I'm afraid I seem to have left my spurs at home this morning, but I think we'll manage.' And I got onto my knees and straddled Micky. With one hand, I spread my slippery cunt lips. With the other hand I took Micky's now semi-hard cock and placed the tip at the entrance to my hot fuckhole.

'Oh, fuck, yes,' Micky said.

'We can do this,' I told him. And, little by little, I fed his fat worm into my slippery tunnel. 'And now... it's time for this cowgirl to ride. Hang in there, cowboy!' And I started to canter. I was careful not to bounce up too far. If Micky's cock came out, we would have had to start all over again. But we managed to get a bit of friction going. And I think Micky's cock stiffened a bit more.

'Oh, fuck, yes,' Micky said once more.

'Oh, yes indeed. Your big cock is filling my cunt,' I told him. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but still....

And then, after three or four minutes, and somewhat to the surprise of both of us, Micky announced that he thought that he was going to come.

'Way to go, cowboy!' I told him. 'Spunk away!' And spunk away he did. He managed two or three decent spurts. I think he must have been saving it up.

'Well... that was OK,' I said.

'Was it OK for you?' Micky asked.

'It was,' I told him. 'I'm always a starter for a bit of cock.'

* * *

'How was Micky?' Pete asked when he arrived home later that day. 'Did he enjoy the muffins?'

'I think so,' I said. 'But I think, even more than the muffins, he enjoyed having a bit of company.'

Pete nodded. 'Yes. You should probably make it a little project. Just until he gets his life settled. Just until he finds a new normal.' And then he said: 'Perhaps we should try and find a girlfriend for him. Or is he past all that?'

'Oh, no,' I said. 'I think he might still be interested in a bit of lady love. A bit of... you know....' And I mimed a bit of a handjob.

Pete smiled.