Old Betty

He called a towing company and was able to have the car towed to a local mechanic. They'd drop off the car, put the keys in an overnight drop box with Betty's information and a mechanic would take a look at it the next morning.

"C'mon, I'll take you home and I can pick you up tomorrow to take you to work if you want," he said, looking into her magnified blue eyes.

"I couldn't possibly ask you to do that. Don't worry yourself, I'll call a taxi," she said dismissively. "I've took a taxi to get to work a few weeks ago when my silly car didn't want to start in the morning. My oldest nephew drives a taxi. He was born in the 70s, I think. Last I talked to him, he said he enjoyed meeting all the new people. I don't like meeting new people, they tend to be rude to me..."

Adam felt a sudden sharp anger and frustration at her rambling one-way conversation. He interrupted her.

"Betty, I'm giving you a ride home," he said harshly and commandingly, cutting into her steady word flow. "Now, follow me to my car."

He'd talked to her the way he talked to his little brother or sister when he needed them to do something and they had no choice but to obey.

Betty cut short her rambling talk, nodded, strangely silent and somber, followed meekly behind him and waited patiently as he opened the door for her.

As she slid in to the seat, he snuck a peek down her blouse and saw a pair of soft white mounds bulging from a too-small skin-colored lacy bra. He felt himself harden and hurried over to the driver's side. He avoided looking at her, extremely conscious of his once again bulging trousers.

Betty caught him looking down her shirt and watched him as he slid into his seat and turned the key in the ignition, noticing his obvious excitement. She looked down at her lap again, flushed and wondered if she could get this young man into her bed. It had been sooooo long... too long... and she wasn't dead yet. She was nervous and fidgety.

She'd bought the skin-colored lacy bra ages ago and had started wearing it after her encounter with the dark-haired young man sitting in the driver's seat. She might be old, but there was nothing wrong with wearing unmentionables that made her feel naughty and sexy.

She decided to push things and see how far the young man would go. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

He was sorry he'd been so harsh and glanced over at her. She was staring meekly down at her wringing hands. Her face, neck and chest were flushed a pretty pink and there was a line of consternation between her brows. Her mouth was working as if she was still speaking but no audible words came out.

"I'm sorry I was rude, grandma," he said apologetically, still looking into her old face. "I just didn't want you to spend money you didn't have to or have to stand around waiting for a taxi you don't need when I offered to take you home."

She looked up at him, the meek look disappeared, and the floodgates opened. She continued the one-way conversation she'd been holding back.

He stared at her, confused. He heard her, watched her mouth move, but didn't pay attention to the words. He was too busy thinking. What the hell happened there? Her entire personality changed when he talked harshly and authoritatively. It had been as if a switch had been flipped. One minute she'd been talking loudly, harshly extolling the problems associated with meeting new people, the next she quietly and docilely followed him to his car, then she went back to harsh when he apologized.

He decided he needed to explore the possibilities of this strange phenomenon.

"Be quiet, Betty," he said harshly. It felt strange and unnatural to talk in such a manner to a grandmotherly old woman.

Her teeth clicked together, she flushed bright pink, and docilely looked down at her wringing hands again.

He looked down at her hands. They were small, slender and arthritic. The knuckles were swollen and several of the slender fingers were slightly crooked.

"Keep your hands still."

The hand wringing stopped.

He had to test this out more. Just to make sure.

"Unbutton the top three buttons of your shirt and put your seatbelt on," he said in the same harsh tone of voice. He watched her unbutton the top three buttons of her yellow shirt, pull the seatbelt across her breasts and click it into place.

He could see a corner of her mouth was curved up slightly. She was faintly smiling.

Apparently, the old woman liked being told what to do.

Adam looked past the seatbelt strap at the top of the old woman's large sagging breasts bunched and stuffed into a too-small bra. To his eyes, the soft white bulging female flesh looked absolutely amazing and incredibly arousing.

His eyes bulged and he reached down to adjust his erection, something was pinching.

He put the idling car in reverse, pulled out of the parking lot and drove to her house, occasionally glancing over to watch her soft breasts bounce as he drove over every pothole he could find.

He knew where she lived but asked her for directions anyways. He didn't want her to know he'd creepily driven by her place a few times in the early days of his obsession.

She gave him directions to her house meekly, still looking down at her still hands, still smiling faintly.

Less than ten minutes later he parked in her driveway. She owned a small house, well off the beaten path at the end of a cul-de-sac. The nearest neighbor was blocked off by a line of tall shrubs and young trees. It was quiet, private and well-shaded.

He put the car in park and turned to face her.

"Take off your seatbelt," he commanded.

She clicked it off. He clicked his off as well.

"Look at me."

She turned her old wrinkled face and looked into his eyes.

Her enormous cornflower blue eyes were filled with barely concealed excitement. They seemed to dance with an intense emotion he couldn't define. He didn't have the base of experience to realize the old woman was turned on as hell.

He could see her chest rise and fall rapidly, her neck pulsed with the rapid beat of her heart and her soft skin was flushed and moist.

Betty was excited. Her husband had been a selfish lover, but one thing she'd loved about him was the way he'd take charge, the way he dominated her. She enjoyed being submissive, being told what to do, submitting to his will. It had usually led to sexual relations.

All the old feelings came flooding back as the young man ordered her around. She found herself obeying his every command willingly and felt the familiar intense arousal.

"Are you hungry? Would you like to stay for dinner?" she asked him plaintively, hoping against hope that he'd say yes.

She was going to seduce this tall handsome boy. She'd seen the way he'd looked at her, at her breasts and hoped he wouldn't shy away once he saw the rest of her age-ravaged body.

Adam looked into her eyes but couldn't help letting his eyes wonder down to her unbuttoned shirt to take in the quivering white flesh of her breasts as they seemed to spill over her bra. They WERE quivering. She was shaking uncontrollably.

He looked back into her eyes. There was a pleading, helpless look in them he couldn't resist.

He noticed the deep lines on her forehead, the creases between her eyes, the sagging wrinkled cheeks, the drooping jowls quivering under her chin, the mottled age-spotted skin, the long thin neck. He knew she was 80 years old and she looked every bit of it, but every imperfection, every sign of her age just turned him on more.

"Yes, I'll stay for dinner," he said. He was nervous but stayed in character. "Afterwards, you're going to give me anything I want."

It wasn't a question.

Not stopping to consider the possible consequences, he reached out a trembling hand, slipped his fingers into her cleavage and squeezed one of her soft breasts. It was as soft and perfect as he remembered. He felt his cock throb at the contact and was so excited he almost came in his pants.

"Right? Say it."

She lowered her eyes and nodded.

"I'm going to give you anything you want," she said looking up into his eyes again, putting every ounce of sincerity she could into her words and into her eyes.

"Good. Let's go. I'm hungry..." he paused, gathering up the courage, "... and I'm horny."

She shivered in anticipation and at the connotations of that one word, the possibilities that word signified.

Fascinated, he watched her breasts quiver even harder for a brief moment as her body shook in reaction to his words.

He got out of the car, rushed to the passenger side and offered her a hand.

She took his hand, grateful for the help, but she didn't let it go and leaned on him as she had the day they'd met and shuffled slowly to the front door.

He held her tiny frail hand in his, noting the swollen joints and crooked fingers, but her grip was strong and dry in his. It felt right.

Still strangely quiet, she released his hand and dug around for the keys in her oversized purse. She unlocked the door, took his large hand in hers again, opened the door, and turned on a light switch, pulling him inside.

The house was crowded with vintage and antique furniture, doily covered tables, old pictures and frames of strange people on the mantles and walls. It was clean and neat and smelled faintly of lavender and incense. It was surprising. For some reason he'd expected a musty-smelling messy house.

She escorted him to a small but comfortable-looking couch facing a TV that must've been at least 30 years old.

She tried to push him onto the couch but he resisted. They were standing very close together. He could feel the warmth of her body on the skin of his chest and thighs. They were close enough that his erection pressed against her soft upper belly, just below her breasts.

She could feel his erection pulse against her. She shivered again and looked up into his face, her hand still in his.

Adam leaned down and kissed her. His body was shaking with excitement and need. The feel of his cock pressing against her soft belly was driving him insane with lust. He wanted to fuck this old grandma so bad he felt about ready to explode.

Betty felt his soft inexperienced lips press against hers. His kiss was closemouthed but filled with a coiled passion he seemed uncertain how to express. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close against her, pressing his erection against the lower part of her breasts, and opened her mouth to put her tongue at his lips, demanding entry.

She felt his knees nearly buckle at the touch of his cock against her breasts and opened his mouth, touching her tongue uncertainly with his. Their breaths mingled. His hard penis pressed against her and she knew she had to do something. He was a young man.

He broke away from her kiss.

"Please," he said, not really knowing what he was asking, but he pressed down on her shoulders.

Her own need demanded she do something and the feel of the young man's throbbing penis pressing against her demanded it.

She wanted to be possessed, to be dominated so she went to her knees, aching joints forgotten, and watched as he unbuttoned, unzipped and pulled his pants and underwear down his hips enough to reveal his hard young penis. It wasn't enormous but it was above average. To her, it was beautiful. She never thought she'd see another one while still living.

She adjusted her thick glasses with a trembling hand and watched the hard vibrant member throb powerfully before her eyes. She'd never sucked a man's penis before. Her husband had thought it demeaning to himself and never asked her to do it. She'd wanted to try it but never had the chance, and now she knelt before a beautiful young man who towered over her, offering her his thick pulsing penis... she shivered... his cock.

It glistened wetly from a patch of dark brown wiry pubic hair. His body exuded a powerful musky scent she was immediately addicted to. Saliva gathered at the thought of putting his thick tool in her mouth, at the thought of pleasuring him with her mouth, at the thought of her mouth filling with his seed. She squirmed, her old body burning with an arousal and need that matched his.

She gripped the base of his cock with one hand, cupping his balls in her palm, and pulled down his foreskin with the other, bringing the wide purple cockhead down to her mouth. She kissed the glistening wet tip and drew back in surprise as jet after jet of hot thick cum sprayed her wrinkled old face, propelled so powerfully it almost hurt. He gripped her hair, tilting her head back and holding it in place as he grunted and thrust his pelvis at her, unable to control himself.

He'd been watching her intently as she kneeled in front of him, such a very old woman... wrinkled and ancient, grandmotherly and sweet... and she was holding his cock in her tiny wrinkled hand, unable to grip even halfway around it. He'd quivered and shook and was able to control himself, but when he saw her old lips pucker and kiss the tip of his cockhead, all control was lost.

His wide-open eyes stared down, saw the soft white mounds of her breasts bulging from her lacy bra, and his hand reached down to grip the thin gray hair at the back of her head, tilting her head back to catch the thick white cum spraying her wrinkled old face.

It was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen in his life and would be imprinted in his memory for the rest of his days. No other sexual encounter would ever compare to it.

Her tiny hands continued to grip and unconsciously stroke his member, pulling the tip down and aiming it at her face.

Rope after stringy rope of cum sprayed her face and hair. One thick lens of her glasses was covered completely. Globs of it dripped down to her shirt and onto the tops of the soft round saggy breasts peeking from between the open top three buttons. There was a lot of it. The hard penis in her hands had pulsed maybe ten times. She'd lost count after six.

She could taste his salty essence on her lips and its acrid smell filled her nostrils.

She'd never experienced anything like it. She squeezed her old thighs together, felt an electric tingle in at her clit at the action and writhed at the pleasure. She didn't cum. She'd never cum before. Maybe he'd be the one to take her there. If he wasn't done with her, that is.

Her old face was still raised up to him. He watched her sit back on her heels, brace her arms behind her and close her eyes. He dug into his pocket for his phone. He quickly took half a dozen pictures and maybe 20 seconds of video. If he never had another chance to have her, he wanted something to remember this moment, something to beat off to in the future. Images of the old woman covered in his cum would feed his fantasies for years to come.

She was breathing hard, her shirt wide open at the top revealing her quivering pale breasts. They quivered and shook to the rapid beat of her heart.

He put his phone away right before she opened her eyes. She was none the wiser.

Adam leaned down, put his hands under her armpits and lifted her to her feet. Her wobbly legs refused to support her so he sat her down on the couch. He wanted to kiss her again, he was still hard as a rock, but her face was covered with thick globs of his cum. He snatched up an unused doily from the coffee table and carefully wiped her old wrinkled face as best as he could and dropped it back on the table.

"Did you enjoy that, honey?" she asked sweetly in her high old woman's raspy voice.

Her rapidly-blinking eyes looked up at him, unsure and pleading.

"That was the most amazing experience I've ever had in my life," he said sincerely. "I'm sorry I didn't last long."

Her concern wrinkles smoothed out and her smile wrinkles creased her face pleasantly.

"Oh, don't worry yourself dear. I enjoyed it too," she said, joyful and sweet.

He sat next to her and kissed her again. He took his time this time around, exploring, experimenting with his tongue, finding the old woman's eager response exciting and exhilarating. He felt her little hands wrap around his iron-hard cock and begin to pump him up and down, slow and sensual. She occasionally stopped to run her hands along the length of him, exploring him and discovering the sensitive areas based on his reactions.

Most women her age needed some sort of lubricant to take things to the next stage, apparently, she wasn't one of them. She could feel her wetness soaking her granny panties. She was so wet and ready to be filled.

As he kissed her, she felt his hands pull her shirt out of her pants and struggle to unbutton it. Finally, frustrated, he tore it open, sending buttons flying in every direction, exposing her saggy wrinkled body to his intense gaze.

She half expected him to make a quick exit, but all he did was break their kiss and stare down at her wizened upper body.

Adam was fascinated by the wrinkles, the stretch marks on the upper parts of her breasts, by the loose folds of skin, the age spots, and the soft pooch of a belly. He reached behind her and tried to unsnap her bra. He finally hooked his chin behind her shoulder and tried to look behind her to figure out the mystery of the bra hooks.

He heard her wheezing laugh at his inexperienced clumsiness. Frustrated, he turned back to her and kissed her open laughing mouth.

"Take off your bra," he commanded.

Betty instantly reached behind her, unsnapped the bra and held it tight against her sagging breasts. Concerned he wouldn't like how saggy they were, how her nipples nearly reached her waist.

"I said take off your bra," he said again, louder, brooking no resistance. He was getting used to this.

Betty immediately pulled off her bra, squared her old shoulders and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them together with her upper arms and up with her crossed forearms. She looked up and was reassured to see Adam's eyes just about ready to bulge out of his head.

Dark blue veins stood out starkly as they crisscrossed her pale translucent skin. They bulged just below the surface in places. He watched as bumps rose on her areolas and her nipples became swollen and flushed. Adam was fascinated. They were everything he'd hoped for.

He reached forward, put the thumb of each hand beneath the sweaty underside of each saggy boob, lifted them and pushed them together.

Her areolas were dark pink and about the size of the bottom of a drinking glass and her nipples were as thick and long as the last joint of is pinky finger. He kissed first one nipple then the other, and then pushed the soft pliant jugs together until he could take both hard pink nipples in his mouth and suck them at the same time.

She moaned and squirmed, surprised at the intense pleasure. Her husband had liked to squeeze and fondle her breasts but he'd never done that. He seemed to draw something out from deep inside her. Her need intensified. A need that had lain dormant for so long now woke with a vengeance.

He paused long enough to take off his shirt then sat naked on the couch. He pulled her on top of him, straddling his lap, rough in his eagerness to continue to fondle and suck on her saggy old breasts.

Betty felt his hard throbbing member rub against her groin, moistening her pants with his sticky precum.

She pushed him away, stood unsteadily, took off her pants and shoes and stood before him as naked as the day she'd been born. She didn't try to hide or cover any part of herself. She wanted him to see her as she was, wrinkled and old. She was giving him a way out.

She gasped as he pulled her on top of him again, wrapping his arms around her frail body, pressing her hard against him. He put a hand on the back of her head, grabbed a fistful of her silver hair and drew her face down to his. His kiss was hard and demanding. His tongue plunged into her mouth where she met it with hers just as eagerly and passionately.