Old Betty

~Adam~

Adam started working at the age of 14, first in a family friend's landscape business, mowing lawns, edging, pulling weeds. You name it, he did it. At 16 he got a job at a local fancy restaurant, busing tables, washing dishes, pretty much doing whatever was needed. The owners were impressed with his strong work ethic and competence. So impressed in fact, they promoted him through the ranks quickly, putting him in charge of much older, more experienced people, who of course complained. Somehow he won them over and got them to do their jobs.

He was tall and athletic, about six feet tall, one hundred and seventy pounds... above average. His light brown stylishly tousled hair was faded close on the sides and back and allowed to grow slightly longer on top.

He'd made good grades and played soccer in high school. He was smart and fit. He was also a good-looking kid, but he'd been a late bloomer and was too shy to talk to girls. Not that he didn't like them... he just didn't know how to talk to them. Instead, he focused on getting good grades, helping his mom with his little brother and sister and making money to help with the bills. He hated seeing his mother stressed out.

Adam's father left a few weeks before his 14th birthday and he'd had to become the man of the house. He'd felt it his responsibility to help his mother make ends meet, so he got work whenever and wherever he could.

When he turned 18, the restaurant owners promoted him yet again. They had several other successful business ventures and decided to send him to their corporate office. They wanted to train him and give him the experience he needed to manage their special projects. They were so impressed by him, they were also willing to pay for his college, as long as he took night classes.

It was his first time working in an office. He had a decent sized cubicle on the ground floor of a three-story building. He had no idea what any of the other businesses in the building did. He was curious but too shy to ask.

He'd been there for maybe a month when he met her. She handled basic logistics for an office on the building's third floor.

He was rushing out to lunch and pushed open the main lobby door just as she was pulling it open from the other side. The expected resistance wasn't there when she pulled on the handle, and the unexpected impetus sent her stumbling backwards on wobbly legs.

Adam saw what happened and leaped forward to catch her just as her body lost its fight for balance. He wrapped his arms around her, just as she was about to topple onto her side on the concrete walkway. He had an arm around shoulders and another around her waist clutching something soft and intimately female.

She was facing to his right and when he felt something harden in his hand he knew his hand wasn't on her belly. He had a surprisingly large soft breast in his right hand. It was so soft and malleable that he couldn't tell it was her breast until he felt her nipple harden against his palm.

He carefully lifted her and set her on her feet, she weighed next to nothing. His face was flaming red with embarrassment at where his hand had landed. Just as he was about to snatch it away, her tiny twisted arthritic hands reached up and held it there. He could feel her heart fluttering wildly in her chest like caged bird under his hand.

"Are you alright, grandma?" Adam asked, once he'd set her carefully back on her feet, his hand loosening its grip on her large soft breast.

"I'll be fine honey, I just need to catch my breath," she said quaveringly in a high gravelly voice.

Her attitude changed all of a sudden, from sweet and grandmotherly to angry and shrewish.

"What's the damn hurry, young man?" she graveled hoarsely, still holding his hand against her. "I could've broken a hip, you know."

Adam gently tried to draw his hand away but the old lady held onto it, keeping it in place.

He couldn't help himself, he squeezed it lightly. He'd never touched a woman's breast before. He could feel her nipple harden against his palm. He felt himself begin to swell.

He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since throwing open the door. She was OLD and tiny, maybe an inch under five feet, and her back was hunched with age. She seemed frail, though he could tell from having held her so tight that there was strength in the old woman yet.

She wore a loose yellow buttoned blouse tucked into a pair of jean pants, a size too large, pulled high up her waist. Her combed not quite shoulder-length shiny silver hair was parted to the side and held in place by a hairpin decorated with a small yellow plastic flower. It should've looked out of place on the old lady but it didn't. Such a small thing but it made her a look sweet, wholesome and grandmotherly.

She had soft cornflower blue eyes, unclouded and clear, magnified by a pair of thick horn-rim glasses decades out of style. The wrinkles at the outer corners of her eyes and below her wide mouth were thin and deep, and the lined skin of her cheeks and forehead was soft and pale, with the occasional darker age spot. Her skin seemed paper thin but looked surprisingly soft, as did the skin of her upper chest. He instantly quelled the sudden urge to reach out with his other hand to feel how soft the old lady's skin really was.

The old woman continued to press his hand against her soft flesh then pushed and prodded him until he stood next to her with his arm around her back and leaned on him as she forced him to walk her to the front entrance. The loose-fitting blouse and her forward-hunched posture concealed a pair of very large breasts that drooped nearly down to her waist. They were both long and full.

"Would you mind giving me a hand to my office, young man?" the mysterious old woman asked him, not giving him a chance to reply.

He nodded dumbly. His entire being was laser-focused on the hand holding the old woman's large soft breast. It felt hot and heavy and filled his hand like nothing else he had ever experienced. His heart felt as if it was ready to burst out of his chest, it was beating so hard and fast, and his knees felt weak and wobbly.

He tried twisting and turning in an attempt to hide the enormous tent his erection had created in his new black work slacks. They were thin and loose-fitting, meant to be worn in warm weather, but were at this moment bulging obscenely.

The old woman glanced down at his tented pants as they walked, pausing briefly in her endless dialogue to cackle in mirth but didn't comment about it. She was too busy talking and talking and talking... one thought leading to another in a seemingly unending chain.

"You know, if I'd fallen I would've broken a hip for sure. My uncle Vinny broke his hip when I was a girl. He was my mother's brother. I remember he had a black car. MY car keeps breaking down and I don't know why. I hate driving. Sometimes I have a hard time driving between the lines," she said, pausing to take a breath.

She continued to hold his hand firmly on her breast as she climbed the stairs, bracing herself against him instead of using the hand rail. The nearest thing with which he could compare the feel of that breast was cupping a filled water balloon from beneath while holding it by the knot. It was soft, squishy and heavy.

"I like to take the stairs. I work two floors up so I always take the stairs. It's good exercise," she said breathlessly then stopped talking, the exertion from climbing two flights of stairs drove her to silence.

Adam stayed hard the whole time. He couldn't control his body's reaction to the feel of the old woman's heavy breast in his hand. He found the whole situation erotic and surreal. He usually masturbated every night before bed, one of his daily rituals. He knew he'd be reliving this experience for nights to come.

They eventually reached the third floor and the old lady, still continuously talking, led him through a long hallway to a little cubicle tucked out of the way in a large office. It was far from any other walled office or cubicle. It almost seemed as if she'd been isolated on purpose.

Thankfully, everyone in the building was out to lunch and wouldn't see his humiliating boner.

"Thank you so much for walking me to my office, young man," the old lady said, smiling broadly at him. He noticed a lower tooth on the left side of her jaw was missing and the tooth next to the gap was larger than the others and angled outward.

She finally let go of his hand and walked around him to get to her desk. His tented pants bounced as her withered arm bumped his hard-on as she walked by. He wanted to turn away but he felt an intense thrill when he saw her look down at his bulging trousers.

"You're welcome, ma'am," he said, disappointed that the huge soft breast was no longer in his hand. "Glad I could help."

She paused briefly and then continued her dialogue.

"For some reason they put me way back here in the corner. I don't think they like old people. Mrs. O'Neal said I should probably retire. I don't want to retire. I still got a lot to do. If I stop working I'll get bored and wither away, so I keep coming and they keep paying me. It's good to stay busy. I like to stay busy all the time. What's your name young man?"

She plopped down with a sigh of relief in her large black office chair and looked at him expectantly, silent since they'd gotten to the third floor.

It didn't register that she'd asked him a question at first. He'd been listening but not really paying attention and had to take a second to scrounge up her words form his memory.

"Oh, I'm Adam. It's nice to meet you," he said stepping closer to her and extending a hand, no longer caring about his bulging trousers.

She took his hand with both of hers and pulled him down for a hug. He felt her wrap her frail arms around his shoulders and hugged her back, careful not to squeeze too hard.

"I'm Betty," she said loudly in his ear. "Don't worry boy, you won't break me. I'm tougher than I look."

When he straightened, she held onto his hands, keeping him in place. He noticed her eyes were gleaming with emotion. He suspected that maybe she hadn't been hugged in a long time.

She sat in her chair and let her eyes wonder from his face down to his still throbbing erection.

He didn't move, though a part of him wanted to snatch his hands out of hers to cover his humiliating boner.

He felt his face flaming red in embarrassment, shame and arousal.

He was 18 years old, hormonal, male and the old lady's boob in his hand had opened up the floodgates. It was as if a new window of possibilities had opened. After this day, he'd never be able to look at old women the same way again.

At this moment he'd give his left nut to fuck this old lady. He didn't bother to wonder why or to question his body's reaction in any way. His dick was doing all the thinking right now and it was telling him he wanted her.

He had no desire to leave, so he just stood there looking at her heavily wrinkled face as she held his large hands in her own small frail ones and eyed him up and down, shamelessly admiring the enormous bulge in his pants.

He wished she were holding his cock and not his hands and he wished he were holding her big soft boobs in his hands.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds, she looked up into his eyes and smiled widely at him again.

"Off with you boy," she said loudly, reaching out with one small hand to push his erection down, cackling as it bounced wildly when she released it.

She spun her chair to face her computer monitor, dismissing him.

He stood there a few seconds, watching the frail dried up old woman start to type something out on her keyboard.

Taking a deep breath, he turned away from her and found his way to a bathroom. He needed to either rub one out to get rid of the sexual tension or throw some cold water on himself to cool down his ardor.

He went into a stall, intent on rubbing out a quick one, but changed his mind as soon as people started to come in to use the bathroom after the lunch break.

He had to wait a few minutes before finally making his way back to his cubicle two floors down. He'd missed lunch... but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. He looked down at his hand, remembering the heft and softness of the old woman's breast.

As soon as he got home, he spent hours searching out granny porn. He tried to find women who looked like Old Betty but most of the women were younger and not as... worn. He was forced to use his imagination and jerked off fantasizing about Old Betty and her big soft tits until his balls ached.

That old woman really got into his head.

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~Betty~

Betty couldn't help herself. The tall handsome young man who caught her as she fell was just so tempting, so vibrantly young and beautiful. The large masculine hand clutching her breast had sparked a fire inside her she'd thought had gone out a long time ago.

She hadn't felt a man's arms around her in such a very, very long time. So she'd grabbed his hand and kept it on her breast. When he didn't seriously attempt to pull it out of her grasp she wrapped his arm around her and pulled him along up two flights of stairs, bracing herself against him until they got to her desk.

The whole situation made her giddily nervous and lightheaded. She HAD needed his help to get to her desk and hadn't been able to stop herself from rambling on and on, except when they climbed the stairs.

Her husband of nearly 40 years had died 25 years before and she hadn't been with a man since. The only intimate physical contact she'd had with anyone since was the occasional hug from her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, whom she only got to see for a few days maybe once a year. They all had their lives to live and she didn't want to be a burden on them so she didn't insist that they visit her.

Once at her cubicle, she'd noticed his erection right away. There was no way of avoiding it. His pants were tented lewdly in his excitement and he'd stood nervously shuffling from foot to foot in front of her, as if enjoying her eyes on him.

He sure was a handsome boy, couldn't be a day over 18, if she was any judge. He had tousled short brown hair and a long rangy body. He was lean and muscular, not yet in the full flush of manhood... close, but not yet. He still had some of the coltish awkwardness teenagers eventually grow out of.

Her body felt hot, she began to perspire. Having the young man's arm tight around her with his hand gripping such an intimate part of her body, all in plain view, was intensely exciting. Her own body responded to his heat and sexual excitement with arousal of her own.

The whole encounter had been exhilarating and unexpectedly sexually-charged, something she hadn't experienced since she was a teenager before she even met her Leonard.

Sighing with regret, she'd dropped his hands and, laughing, made the throbbing bulge in his pants bounce up and down before telling him to go. She wished she could've made the encounter last longer, without the possibility of interruption.

She'd spent an entire lifetime repressing her sexual desires, avoiding and rejecting anything that had to do with "intimate relations," and performing her "wifely duties" without enthusiasm or passion.

She'd never had an orgasm. Her husband had always just climbed on, done his business, grunted and climbed off, never entertaining any thought of her pleasure or her enjoyment or lack of enjoyment in what should've been a physical manifestation of their love and shared life together.

Betty thought that's just the way it was supposed to be, she didn't know any different.

She'd also never had oral sex or put a man's penis in her mouth. Her husband had considered it demeaning, not for her, but for him. It wasn't until after he'd been dead and buried for several years that she came to realize just how selfish and indifferent he'd been when it came to "intimate relations."

And now here she was, an old woman flirting with a boy young enough to be her great grandson, unashamedly letting him fondle her breast and touching his body inappropriately. What had gotten into her? Was she that lonely and repressed?

Apparently so.

After she'd spun her chair around, she'd felt him staring at her. She knew she'd upset him with her curt dismissal but she had to get back to reality. The beautiful boy was a fantasy and she didn't have time for fantasies, she'd always lived in the here and now.

Besides there was no way a beautiful boy like him would ever want an old hag like her, so why even dwell on it.

She started typing, trying to dismiss him from her thoughts but was conscious of his sigh and the sound of his retreating footsteps. She turned to admire his retreating form, her old eyes squinting, her body still flushed and hot.

That was fun, she thought, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

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Adam graduated from high school that week and now focused on his work, eager to make a good impression, to show his employers they'd made a good decision by promoting him.

Old Betty, however, had become his obsession.

Over the next week, he found out what kind of car she drove, what time she got to work and what time she left, he googled where she lived and how old she was. There wasn't anything else out there about her since she had no social media or internet presence of any kind.

He knew he was being "stalky" but his fixation with the grandmotherly old woman was all-consuming. The memory of that soft heavy breast in his hand and the look in her eyes as she eyed his erection were impossible to forget. He jerked off nightly at the memory.

Days then weeks passed. He decided to just let things ride. He rejected all his ideas of approaching her, asking her to lunch, hanging out with her, visiting her at her office. They seemed stupid and he'd already made a fool of himself around her already. That and he couldn't overcome his natural shyness.

Eventually, his obsession with the old woman faded and he went about living his life the way he always had.

Several months later, as he walked to his car after work, he happened to glance in the direction where Betty usually parked her big old luxury sedan and saw her standing next to its open hood wringing her small arthritic hands. She was staring at the engine, her wrinkled face scrunched up in an expression of anger and consternation.

She obviously needed help and everybody who walked by her on the way to their car avoided making eye contact with her. Nobody wanted to take the time to help her.

It was up to him then.

Adam's heart started beating faster. She was wearing the same outfit she'd worn the day they met, oversized blue jeans and loose yellow button blouse.

"Hi grandma," he said as he approached her. "What's going on?"

She looked up at him, relieved there was at least one person willing to help her and recognized the young man who'd manhandled her breast and stood in his bulging pants right in front of her.

She tried to dredge up his name from her memory.

"Hi Alan," she said motioning at the infernal machine. "Do you know anything about cars?"

"It's Adam. Sorry grandma, I don't know a thing about them," he said. "But I can give you a ride if you like or I can help you call a mechanic or a tow truck."

He looked down at his watch. It was just after 5 p.m. Not a one would be open. They could get a tow truck but where would they take the car if all the shops were closed?

"It'd probably be best to call them first thing tomorrow," he continued. "It's too late to get anything done today."

Betty stared up at him as he scrolled through his phone trying to find other options.