Obsessed with Youth

Mid-morning I went to Henry's office and knocked. "Hi," I said.

We both grinned ear-to-ear simply because we were in each others presence again.

I shut the door behind me and we rushed into an embrace. Our lips met in a voracious kiss.

"I missed you," he muttered.

"It's only been a week," I teased.

"It felt longer. How did it go at home?"

"Um, okay, I guess."

He could tell something was off. "What happened?" he inquired.

"Well, my husband is still a fat, lazy slob and didn't show all that much interest in the new me actually," I answered. I'd decided that I had to tell Henry about Fred, but it wasn't easy. "But... um... my neighbor's son had an eighteenth birthday and... um... he's kind of a nerdy kid but very nice and I felt sorry for him and gave him his first kiss. Then I went out with him to help him become more confident with women, but things got kind of out of hand and..."

"You fucked him?"

I blushed red and nodded. "I'm so sorry, Henry."

"Eighteen?" he asked, then laughed.

"Don't laugh," I scolded but I couldn't hold back my laughter either because it was ridiculous for a 60 year old woman to fuck an 18 year old. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Eliza," he dismissed the notion. "You've changed enormously and you're spreading your wings. It's fascinating actually. We should discuss this with your psychiatrist..."

"No, Henry," I stopped him. "It's private. Very private. Promise me you won't tell anyone or write about it like I'm a lab rat."

"Of course. I promise."

"Thank you. I'm surprised you aren't mad. Aren't you jealous?"

"Should I be?"

I shook my head. "No. Fred is wonderful but he's just a boy."

Henry abruptly spun me around and bent me over his desk. His big hands pushed up my dress and dragged down my lace panties. I heard his zipper go down and I bit my lower lip in anticipation.

His cock wedged in and I moaned, "Oh. So thick!"

"Your teen lover isn't as big as me?" he asked.

I shook my head. "He's long but thinner."

"Good," he grumbled, letting me know that he was at least a little jealous.

Henry thrust in hard and proceeded to fuck me senseless.

==

I went on my first marketing trip. Galatea held informational events around the country to sell the process to rich people who could afford it. Henry and I shared a large and ornately furnished suite in the hotel. "It's beautiful, Henry," I said.

"Only the best for you, Eliza."

I hugged him and looked up into his eyes. "While we're here, I want us to go out in public together, like a real couple. It's the one thing we can't do back home and I want it badly."

"Of course. I want that too."

"You won't be embarrassed to be seen with an old woman?" I teased.

"How could I be embarrassed by the most amazing old woman ever?" he countered. His strong hands groped my butt. "Your ass keeps getting better and better," he observed.

"My trainers have become fanatics about squats and lunges to build and shape my glutes."

"It's working."

The event was held in the hotel's ballroom. "Wow," our marketing rep Wendy said when she saw me. "That is some dress." I was wearing a red bandage dress by Herve Leger. It hugged my curves and was short to show off my long legs.

I grinned. "Henry bought it for me yesterday."

She returned my grin. "You have the doctor wrapped around your little finger!"

As Galatea's lead doctor, Henry was the official "star" of the reception for potential clients. But I got most of the attention. "Before" and "After" posters of me were prominently displayed around the room.

All eyes followed me in my skin-tight little red dress. Surprisingly I didn't feel self-conscious. I was happy that I looked youthful and fit. I wanted to share Henry's artistry with the world.

An obviously wealthy couple approached me. I'd been told the man was Richard Bachmann, a bonafide billionaire. He looked like he was in his mid-sixties. He was bald and had a sizable belly. His wife looked about forty. She was still beautiful but had some wrinkles and was becoming a bit thick around the middle. An aging trophy wife I guessed, and probably worried that her sugar-daddy might dump her for a younger woman.

She looked closely at the skin of my face, neck and hands. All of the places that usually showed the most age. "You're really 60?" she asked.

"I'm really 60. I wasn't aging very gracefully before the Galatea treatments," I answered, pointing to the "before" posters.

"Your skin is so smooth and clear," the wife commented with wonder. "How long does it last?"

"The full effect lasts for five years and fades over the next five years," I explained. "But you can go back for refresher treatments that maintain the skin and subcutaneous fat in top shape indefinitely." The company expected refresher treatments to be a major profit generator.

"The treatments can promise a body like that?" her billionaire husband inquired. Bachmann's eyes hungrily raked over my tight curves.

I smiled. "Fitness is wholly dependent on the amount of work put in. Galatea's trainers exercise clients hard to obtain quick results. It's up to the client to continue the recommended workouts after leaving the facility."

The wife hugged her husband and looked up into his eyes. "I want it," she told him in no uncertain terms. "I want to look the way I did when we first met."

The smoldering heat in Bachmann's eyes indicated he wanted the same thing. He shifted his eyes to me and asked, "Can you make her look like a 20-year-old intern again?"

I smiled, knowing we'd hooked another customer for the very expensive and profitable treatments. "Our preliminary test will determine how compatible your wife is with our treatments. If all goes well, we should be able to obtain results that will make you happy."

That night in our hotel room, Henry began undressing and griped, "That billionaire bastard wants you. I'm surprised he didn't send his wife home and buy you a yacht or something."

"Hmm, I'd like to have a yacht," I teased my lover. I unzipped the back of my little red dress and shimmied out of it.

"You could have it. You could have anything," he told me, clearly jealous of the wealth and power of men like Bachmann.

"Anything?" I asked. I dropped my panties to the floor. "Then I want you."

He grabbed me and tossed me on the bed. I giggled like a girl. He levered my legs up and leaned forward on them until my knees were close to my breasts. I thanked God for all of my stretching exercises. He pushed a couple of fingers in my pussy and observed, "You're wet and ready."

"Always wet around you," I admitted. "You made me that way."

He chuckled as he lined up his cock with my opening. "I may have overdone the restoration of your natural lubrication response."

"Uhhh!" I grunted when his fat cock speared me. It's thickness always stretched me and it took a little while to get used to it, so Henry usually was gentle at the start, but that night he wasn't. He was domineering and nearly frantic.

He plugged me hard, forcing air from my lungs. I liked to join in the rhythm of sex, but I couldn't because I was doubled-over and pinned beneath his weight. I was an inanimate object. A hot, wet pussy to fuck.

To my surprise, I liked it. I liked giving myself over to him. I liked making him crazy with lust. I liked pleasing my young man.

The fuck was fast and furious. He pistoned that cock like a high-speed machine. He muttered and swore under his breath. I was thoroughly screwed to the hotel mattress.

He slammed in and held it. His ass flexed and cum spewed into me. He groaned and shuddered.

Then Henry rolled off and laid by my side, panting. "Fuck," he moaned. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt your legs?"

I smiled. "I'm fine, Henry. My trainers made me very flexible."

"Good. I don't like getting out of control like that."

I softly told him, "Don't be jealous of the stupid clients, Henry."

"Those rich fuckers drooling over you just made me nuts. I wanted to take a swing at a couple of them."

"I'm glad you didn't punch our potential customers, honey," I told him and gave him a kiss. "Are you going to fuck me like an animal after every meeting with customers?"

"Maybe," he grumbled. He grabbed me and pulled me on top of him.

"Henry!" I yelped, surprised that he was hard again. "You're insatiable!"

A minute later, I was straddling Henry and riding him like a cowgirl. My thighs and glutes powered me up and down. My boobs bounced and my chest heaved. I twisted my hips at the bottom of my plunges, with his girth fully stretching me.

"Aww, fuck that's good," he exclaimed.

The glow of streetlights leaked around the hotel room curtains and faintly illuminated us. Henry's expression was rapt. His eyes flicked from my pussy swallowing his big dick to the big bouncing tits that he'd created.

After several long, hot, sweaty minutes of rutting, I picked up the pace. My nipples stiffened to steel-hard points. Henry seemed to know exactly when to reach up and tug them. Pelvis quaking and back arching, I came all over the big cock I loved so much.

I felt him pump me full of hot seed, and I wished I was 30 years younger and fertile. I flopped forward, resting on him with his cock still sheathed in my sore pussy. I was worn-out and a bit sad that I was incapable of breeding with my sexy, smart, loving man.

==

Two nights after I returned from my business trip, Clara tapped on her son's bedroom door and called out, "It's nearly midnight, Eliza."

"Oh, crap," I groaned. "Sorry Clara. Lost track of time. Only a few more minutes," I replied. It was so weird talking to her while Fred had his dick in my ass. I listened to her walk away from the door, then told my young lover, "Hard and fast, Fred. Cum for me, honey."

I was on my hands and knees. Fred held my hips and proceeded to fuck my ass with gusto. His long, slim cock became a blur of motion plunging in and out. I reached back with one hand to diddle my clit.

My low, throaty moans turned to whimpers.

He let go of my hips, leaned forward and grabbed my hanging tits. His fingers roughly squeezed my fleshy globes and my sensitive nipples sent shock waves directly to my clit.

Fred finally released the orgasm he'd held back all evening. His stamina and self-control were improving really fast. He shoved his dick fully in and cum streamed from his balls.

My dancing fingers made me cum too and I wiggled on his dick in delight. My orgasm made my ass clench, squeezing him hard until I relaxed and he dragged out of me.

Fred flopped on the mattress, exhausted. I pounced on him and planted a kiss on his lips. "Your dick is the perfect butt-sticker," I praised.

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding proud. His hands massaged my butt cheeks.

"Yeah. Long and not too thick. And you take your time and don't hurt me. It's perfect."

"Maybe I'll be the buttfucking king of the university," Fred joked.

Jealousy surged through me, but I shook my head to clear it. I wanted the boy all to myself, but I knew it was good for him to be with girls his own age.

We hurried in and out of the shower, then dressed. Clara was waiting for us in the living room. "I apologize for staying so late, Clara," I told her.

She smirked. "I understand how you could lose track of time, but Will is going to be suspicious."

"Will hardly notices anything I do," I assured my friend.

I grabbed Fred's hand and pulled him to the door. "Goodnight, lover," I softly said.

"Goodnight," he answered with a husky voice.

We kissed. Every fiber in my being wanted to return to his bedroom and spend the night. Totally frustrated, I broke the kiss and walked next door to my house.

Before I made it to my front door, I decided it was time.

In the morning I told Will I wanted a divorce. He wasn't surprised and didn't argue or fight it.

I didn't want to move and I was making a lot of money, so I offered to pay Will for his half of the ownership of our house. He agreed and moved his stuff out the next day.

==

Clara was worried about me after I told her that Will and I were divorcing, which was odd because she knew I was boinking her son and my doctor. The marriage hadn't amounted to much for a long time so I wasn't emotional about it. Anyway Clara invited me over for dinner.

Clara, Fred and I had a nice meal and then we relaxed on the screened porch and chatted. "If you two want some alone time, don't worry about keeping me company," Clara said.

Fred and I exchanged a look and shrugged. "We're good, Mom," he told her. "It's nice out here tonight."

Clara looked surprised. "Really, it's okay," she insisted.

I guessed what this was about. "Clara, Fred and I don't spend every minute we're together having sex, you know. Sometimes we just hang out, like this."

Clara blushed. "Sorry," she said, "it just seems like you're always going at it like bunnies."

I laughed and Fred groaned, "Mommmmm!"

Then Clara laughed too. Poor Fred was so embarrassed.

I took Fred home with me that night and we did in fact go at it like bunnies.

==

My days and nights were quite busy for a while, sexually speaking. At work, almost every day Henry got me alone in his office and bent me over his desk. At home, Fred was basically living with me. That boy grew in confidence and maturity and became a delight to be with. In addition to frequent sex, we went to movies, concerts, hikes in the woods and bike rides around town.

But all good things come to an end. Fred's first day of college classes at the University of Tennessee arrived. I'd promised his mother that I'd break up with Fred when that day came, and I kept my promise.

Early that morning I helped Fred choose what to wear on his first day. For sentimental reasons he chose the outfit I bought for him on our first "practice date". I agreed it was a good choice.

The boy pulled me into an embrace and looked in my eyes. "Don't break up with me, Eliza," he pleaded.

I shook my head. "We agreed, Fred," I reminded him. "When you start college, we're done."

"But it's stupid," he argued. The hurt was obvious in his voice. "We're great together. You know we are."

Tears formed in my eyes but I stood firm. "You need to go out with girls your own age."

"I don't want any other girls." He was adamant about that.

I didn't answer. I just gave him one last wild goodbye kiss. His mother hugged him and we sent him on his way.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes as I watched him go.

Clara wrapped me up in a comforting hug. "You're doing the right thing," she assured me.

"I shouldn't have let him get so attached to me," I sighed.

"And you shouldn't have gotten so attached to him," she added.

"Yeah. That too."

"You're the best thing that ever happened to my boy," Clara sincerely told me. "Be happy about that, not sad."

"I'll try, Clara. Thanks. You're the best."

==

So I became a one-man woman. Dr Henry Higgins became the center of my world again, kind of like when I was undergoing the 3-month treatments.

Actually he wasn't as "center" as I'd wished. He ravished me a couple of times a week in his office, and we slept together a couple of times a week at either his house or mine. But I wanted more.

One evening when we were having dinner at my house, I asked, "Henry, why won't you live with me?" I'd asked him a couple of times before.

He groaned. "Eliza, not this again."

"I think it's a reasonable question."

"I'm just not ready," he replied.

"Are you seeing other women?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I wanted the answer to that one.

"This is not about other women," he answered, sort of sidestepping the question.

We went to bed angry that night, and I didn't bring up the subject again.

==

A year after my first treatments, I had a one-week refresher treatment at the Galatea facility. Henry went over every square inch of me, injecting rejuvenating serum and subcutaneous fat cells anywhere I showed even the tiniest signs of aging. My skin was as flawless, elastic and glowing as any 20-year-old's.

In the refresher treatment Henry paid particular attention to my breasts, reinvigorating the connective tissue to firm them up even more and adding some fat cells to swell them a little bit larger. "Henry, are you going to make them bigger every year?" I teased.

He grinned. "Maybe not every year. I don't want you to have to carry them around in a wheelbarrow."

We laughed.

"You know, if you get the refresher treatment every year your appearance will effectively never age," Henry explained, "That's contingent on your body continuing to react well to the treatments, but I don't see that as a problem in your case."

"So, in ten years I'll still look 25 and you'll be 45 and everyone will think you're too old for me even though I'll be 71?"

He smiled. "Yes. I guess they will."

My exercise regimen also continued to produce results. Month by month I became a little stronger, a little more defined, and gained a little more endurance. At 61 I was the physical equal of my 20-something trainers.

==

The company gave me a week off after the refresher treatment, but on Wednesday I decided to surprise Henry and take him to lunch. I turned the handle on his office door, but it didn't open. It was locked.

My jaw dropped. I'd been on the other side of that locked door often enough to know what it meant. I politely knocked and called out, "Open the door, Henry."

I heard quick scrambling and then the door opened. Henry's shirt was untucked and his belt wasn't fastened.

I recognized the woman in the room. She was nearly finished with her 3-month initial treatment. Her hair was mussed and her bra and panties were on the floor near her feet. "Hi, Stacy," I calmly greeted her. "Still haven't got rid of those crows feet?" She was obsessed with the wrinkles around her eyes and the treatments didn't work for her as well as they did for me.

Her eyes went wide and she dashed past me and disappeared down the hall.

Henry ushered me into his office and closed the door.

"Do you fuck all of the clients?" I simply asked.

He tried for a cute answer, "Only the most successful ones."

I shook my head. "You're an asshole," I told him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You're my creations and it makes you irresistible. I'm sorry."

Tears welled in my eyes and I wiped them away. "Well, now I'm really really glad you never moved in with me."

"You won't quit, will you?"

I shook my head. "Of course not. I like my job and the money. But don't expect to share my bed on sales trips anymore."

He nodded. "Understood."

I went home and cried for five hours.

==

A few months later I visited Clara at her house and nervously said, "Clara... um... Fred called me last night and asked me out. He wants to take me to a concert Friday night."

Clara gave me a long look. "And you want to accept," she correctly guessed. "Eliza, you promised to break it off with him when he went to college."

I looked down, ashamed of myself. "I know, but I'm lonely. Is it really so bad to go out with Fred?"

My friend shook her head. "You're gorgeous now. Gorgeous! You must have men falling all over you. Go out with them."

I frowned. "I've tried, but they only want one thing. They're pigs."

"Fred wants that same thing, Eliza."

I blushed. "That's not all he wants, Clara," I argued. "Fred and I have a great time together. We like spending time with each other." I paused for a moment, then pleaded, "Please, Clara? I know it's weird because of our ages but I was good for him, wasn't I?"

She sighed and admitted, "You were great for him. But I don't think this is good for either of you in the long run."

I hung my head again and bit my lower lip. "I'm jealous," I confessed.

"Jealous of what?"

"Fred. At college. With all those girls. Sometimes I want to go over there and scratch all their eyes out!"