Jan - 'Tart of Gold'

"She was with me for a little over ten years, then her Mum got ill and she stayed at home to look after her. We kept in touch, and when her Mum died about five years later I offered to re-employ her. By then she thought that the travelling to and from home would become hard to justify, as there were now a lot more jobs near home. She is now the manager of a care home, and I should think a very good one, like your Mum was."

"Did you replace her?"

"Not exactly. I found a lady of my own age locally to do the housekeeping. As the business got more stable, and I got good people to delegate to, I wanted to do more for myself at home, so I didn't need so much doing for me. I hadn't thought of her in terms of sex being included in the deal, but one day she came to me and announced 'I really feel as if I could do with a good fucking Mr Harwood. I wondered if you'd be interested in helping me out?' I was startled but she was not unattractive so I did my best! She wasn't after any 'lovey-dovey' stuff as she put it, and we kept it as raunchy and light-hearted as possible. She'd come up to me after she'd done the housework and stand in front of me and give me a certain look. 'Can I help you Mrs. Sharp?' 'Ooh, yes please Mr Harwood, if you've the strength I'd like to have use of your special tool.' It amused her that my business was all about tools. At this point I'd get up and clear my desk, she'd lean over and support herself on it and ask me if I could have a look and see if everything was in order round the back. This meant I was supposed to lift her dress and examine the fairly large-but-firm white bottom - she'd discarded her knickers somewhere along the way - and proceed with hands and cock to try to satisfy her needs. Sometimes when I'd got her to the winning post she'd say 'I've really been quite naughty this week Mr. Harwood, I think you ought to give me a proper punishment?' You can probably imagine the resulting quivering mass of pink flesh on which my hand had inflicted 'the proper punishment'. I'm ashamed to say that I relished this at least as much as the fucking, and I soon got to asking her if she'd been naughty before we got to the fucking, and this suited us both. "

"Whow! sounds like a lady after my own heart. Did you enjoy it?" I was trying to be cool and calm, but I had noticed a dampening of knickers which indicated that care was needed.

"Mostly, yes. Sometimes it was a bit of a nuisance, because I was still doing some work from home and then I had to tell her that I was afraid that the 'special tool' was not functioning that day. But usually it was a turn-on just because it was so artless: she wanted a cock in her cunt, and being fucked and massaged to orgasm, and that was it. It's probably every man's dream, and it certainly provided a far better way of getting off than porn and a solitary wank."

His massage of my feet had become rather more intense while he was recounting this bit of his saga. I was surprised and delighted that my 'dear old man' was not the decrepit wrinkly that he might have been.

I moved myself to sit on his lap again, straddling his thighs and hitching up my skirt.

"Do you want to know how turned on I've been by your story this evening?" I asked rather wickedly.

"I suppose I'd better say 'yes'. I guess I'm going to find out anyway."

"You probably didn't notice that your little game with my feet got quite saucy at points in the tale." I took his right hand and introduced it to my pussy, or rather its cotton covering, which was somewhere between damp and sopping wet.

"You're a very naughty girl, and probably deserve a good spanking..." I got myself up and lay face down across his lap, bottom positioned conveniently for his right hand, skirt hitched further up..."which you aren't going to get."

"Ohh, why not?"

"Because I'm not that easily tricked! However, I will make you an offer: if you come to my place next week I'll give you a massage. I haven't come to that bit of my story yet, but you'll begin to see how much we have in common."

"How lovely. Will I be able to take all my clothes off?"

"That will be essential. Under strict control of course."

*****

I got really excited over the next week. I can't explain why I wanted to do it: sex to me was almost an everyday thing, and anyway he wasn't even suggesting that he wanted to fuck me. Perhaps it was the novelty of not being responsible for ensuring someone else's pleasure: I'd just have to lie there and enjoy it, and I had a suspicion that he would be really good at it.

The day came. He was very relaxed, wearing navy trainer pants and a grey sweatshirt with the slogan MASSEURS do it BY HAND in orange. I'd worked out his age from various things he'd said, and he must be 80. God willing that I'm in as good shape at 80! I had a bit of a chuckle and dug him gently in the ribs.

"Come on, we've got a busy evening: eat first then some more of my life history, then a bit of massage," Colin said.

We had another lovely meal and a glass of wine. I can't remember what we had because I'd got all excited again, and I was relieved when we settled down on the sofa with me one end, feet up on his lap at the other end.

"We left it at the point when you retired, having had your wicked way with various housekeepers. To think that I was around at the time and it could have been me looking after your home and your lovely cock. I'd have been extra good at both."

"I've no doubt about that, but I didn't live around here then, and you obviously weren't looking in the small adds for people wanting housekeepers. Anyway I found what I wanted, and you continued building your evil empire."

I dug my heels into his groin. He grabbed a cushion for his lap and put my feet on it.

"After I retired I did a lot of travelling. The furthest I went was Japan and South Korea, both countries with highly developed science and engineering. I found them both fascinating."

"What were you doing there?" I was puzzled.

"Because of my background I was allowed to talk to leading engineers in the universities, and in private companies, arranged by the British Embassies, and I wrote a paper when I came back, which was published in Engineering Magazine and discussed different approaches to engineering education and the promotion of innovation."

"I don't have you down as an academic type: more hands on, but I suppose you'd done a lot of that and it was interesting to look at it from a more theoretical point of view?"

"Yes, I've always had a passionate interest in the subject and how to improve it in this country. But I mustn't get on my hobby-horse or you'll drop off to sleep."

"No way. I'm all ears. I'm lucky to be able to listen to such an interesting, talented, successful guy."

"Come on now, you don't have to butter me up."

"I'm not. I'm just trying to protect my chances of getting a decent massage."

"Anyway, I'm telling you about my 'retirement'. Aged 65 I still had quite a lot of energy left. I helped organise a jazz festival, particularly fund raising and concert management. But my main interest was in creating the garden round this house, which had never been properly designed and planted, and had been neglected for ten years. That took me about four years to get close to where I wanted it, and then continuing to care for it was really time consuming."

"So how does this massage come into it?"

"Well I had plenty to do because I spent time walking and reading too. But I needed a bit more human interaction. I'd always felt more comfortable with women than men. Never been a man's man except in the workplace, and even then I did my best to encourage women into significant engineering jobs. I had also been led to believe that I was potentially quite good at massage."

"By who?" I asked.

"People."

"Hmmm! One of your string of mistresses, I suppose."

"Maybe. Anyway I decided to enrol for an online course, which I completed and learnt basic anatomy and physiology, and various forms of massage techniques for different area of the body. I found it more interesting than I had expected. I used my housekeeper of the time as a willing guinea pig, and I talked to her about how I was going to get my clients."

"Just how much of this was a real need to make people feel better, and how much was you just being a dirty old man?" It seemed a good time to have a little poke at him.

"I would need psychoanalysis to answer that one. It was never my intention to fuck them: in fact I asked them to sign a form of agreement which specifically excluded intercourse from 'services offered'. But this agreement also gave me permission to touch any part of the body unless the client excluded it. But I must admit that women's bodies have always fascinated and often delighted me. I didn't need the money, and I really wanted to make people feel better about themselves. Does that answer your question?"

"No, but I'll accept that you probably don't know the answer. So how did the business go?"

"I asked my housekeeper if she knew anyone who might be interested in my 'service'. I was lucky enough to have a spare downstairs room for my new practice, and I set it up as a comfortable lounge with massage table and there was a small en-suite shower room. I got a couple of clients through the housekeeper, and then I remembered the wife of one of my jazz friends who had once said that what she needed was a good massage. I told my friend that I was starting to give therapeutic massage and perhaps his wife might like to try it. He seemed a bit suspicious to start with but I reassured him that I had already started and the ladies seemed happy with the service. He said he'd ask her."

"He must have trusted you!"

"The lady came, and liked it. After that I never had to look for clients. Word of mouth was enough to get me as many clients as I wanted. In fact I started a waiting list as a way of slowing things down."

"I think this is the point where I should try your service, don't you?" I won't lie - various parts of me were craving his attention.

"If that's what you want you'd better come this way."

He showed me into the room next to the one we were in. I should think it was once a dining room. It was as he had described it. The lighting made it feel comfortable, even cosy.

"I'll leave you to undress and put on the gown that's hanging over there. I'll be back shortly." He went out and closed the door behind him.

When he came back I had done as he asked, but I said to him "I'm not going to pussyfoot about with this thing if you don't mind," and shed the gown.

I saw him swallow hard, and then it seemed as if he was having difficulty holding back tears. I went up to him and put my arms round his neck. "Are you o.k.?" I asked.

He didn't answer but turned away and said I should get up on the massage table. "There are towels there in the unlikely event that you want to cover any bits up. Can you start by lying on your side facing away from the wall, with your knees bent?" I did as told. He put a thin pad between my knees.

He now stood beside the table on the side I was facing. He must have warmed his hands some way, as they didn't feel at all cold. He was massaging the lower part of my back, pulling towards him and releasing, his fingers all the while applying a rhythmic pressure, feeling the muscle and sorting out the knots and tangles. After several minutes he asked me to roll over and face the other way and he repeated the exercise on the other half of my back.

"Now lie on your back please. Rest your hands down beside you, legs out straight."

Now he stood behind me and started, with the gentlest of pressure, to massage my neck, stretching the muscles. His gentle touch moved to the scalp and he seemed to be using the same sort of motion that hairdressers use when shampooing your hair, but nothing like so vigorous. When he moved to the face it was to caress it and stroke it, moving tiny bits of muscle by millimetres. I desperately wanted to kiss him, but I was uncharacteristically restrained.

His next move was to stand at my feet. When he'd asked me to lie with my legs out straight he hadn't said anything about them being tight together, so I had my feet about 40 cm apart, giving him an excellent view... well use your imagination. His first act was to pick up my feet and move them together!

I have a thing about foot massage - a positive thing that is. This was one of the best; even better than the podiatrist I sometimes visited. I had each foot massaged individually, and then in unison, and this is the point when I almost fell asleep. Probably to wake me up he began to work on the thighs. Just as I had wanted to kiss him when he was touching my face, I was now almost desperate for him to advance to my vulva, but I suspected, rightly, that he wouldn't.

Then he turned me over and, hands under chin, I waited for further delights. They were not long coming. He started at the top, and working on the shoulders and neck from behind, his touch became a bit firmer. I knew he was working on those muscles that we all recognise as signals of how tense we are. So he was telling them to relax and not be silly. They seemed to understand, I let out a long sigh.

I was longing for him to get lower, which he did, but only after stretching and coaxing the long back muscles. He'd now got to the lowest part of the back, which had been the first part he'd worked on. I find that bit, just above the point where the buttock cleavage begins, to be particularly sensitive. He somehow knew it, and the mode changed from massaging to stroking. I wasn't going to sleep now! I raised my butt a few centimetres: no good: he quickly pushed it down again, quite firmly.

However, he obviously felt it was time for a little more vigour: standing at one side of the table it must be doing his back in, but I realised that having me adopt any position from which he could massage both buttocks at once would have been well...compromising. I decided to make the decision for him, and shuffled back until my knees were at the end of the table, with my feet and calves overhanging. Then I opened up my legs so that he could stand between them. Needless to say those bits coyly referred to as 'private parts' were on fine display. No shame! Still, hopefully it saved his back. Anyway, he grabbed a small pillow and placed it strategically between my thighs. Pity.

"Too distracting," he said, "But thank you anyway." He proceeded, much more comfortably for both of us, and I gained because he could work on my bottom well - I suppose I have to admit it - until I was dripping. Good job he'd put a nice soft towel under me. Once again I'd have loved him to go further and explore that valley between the buttocks, but I had to be content with the sexiest massage my little bottom had ever experienced. Whether it was because of his excellent technique, or whether it was because I loved the masseur, I didn't much care.

Goodness, did I say 'loved'? I told you earlier that the only people I really loved were Mum and Maisie - M & M, as I liked to call them - and Tyler. It seems that Colin had slipped into that very select category.

All told I suppose I had been on the table for about 40 minutes. "You've definitely earned a rest." I told him. "Go and sit down. I'll put some clothes on and then I'll come and pour you a drink." I hopped down from the table and out of the corner of my eye I saw he was watching me. I went to him and put my arms round him and rested my head on his chest. To my surprise and pleasure he responded by putting his hands round to lay them on my bottom and oh-so-gently squeeze.

"You have a beautiful body," he murmured in my ear as he let go of me, unwrapped my arms and left the room.

When I came to him in the other room I thought for a moment he was praying: his hands were together and his head bowed to touch them. I poured us drinks.

"Thank you with all my heart for that," I said. "It was not like anything I've experienced before. Do you ever go further than that with your clients?"

"You mean stimulated them sexually?" I nodded. "A few of them have asked, and there are two women that I have tried it on. I knew both of them fairly well before it happened."

"Was it successful?" I asked.

"I think so. Both women were very matter-of-fact about it. They said it was much better than the alternative, which was DIY. From my point of view there is a satisfaction in bringing a woman to orgasm in a sensual and respectful way, and sometimes introducing them to new sensations."

"Such as?"

"For example women of my age were brought up to believe that the anus had no part to play in sexual relations between a man and a woman. That fed into and out of abhorrence of homosexuality. I was able to use a little subtle manipulation to convince them that bottoms had a worthwhile part to play!"

"Do you find it interesting that neither of us have had a lifelong sexual partnership, nor been monogamous for long, and yet we are still able to help people to get more enjoyment from their sex lives?" I was curious to know.

"I don't know if you feel as I do, but it seems like a great privilege." He smiled at me.

"I'm greedy: I want more from you, and I want to give as well as receive. Will we be able to do something about that?"

"Maybe. Now I must walk you home before I fall asleep."

*****

We walked home, arm in arm, and when we got there I asked him in. "Come in; come and spend the night with me," I almost pleaded.

"I promise it will happen one day, but not yet." He kissed me on the cheek and walked away.

Thinking about it later I wondered if he was just teasing me. But he didn't really seem the kind of person who would play games like that. He certainly wasn't shy, but then I realised that in recent times, with the housekeepers and his massage clients, he had kept things entirely under his own control. I was clearly different. He knew that I wanted control as much as him, so perhaps he was just sending a message that we both had to give up some of this need to be in charge - a message as much to himself as to me.

I had to recognise that my own feelings had changed. I started by enjoying the privilege of having a male friend who was just that - a friend, and not a potential seducer. I still wanted this to be a special and different kind of relationship, but I'd like to be able to show him in a physical way how much he meant to me. Although he was still a physically attractive man he was eighty, and I would be lying if I said I lusted for him. So what I was feeling was new for me: a complicated mix of body and heart.

*****

I felt quite pleased with the explanation of his behaviour I'd come up with, and next time we met up I was determined to talk about it. We were at my place, and I had just cooked a risotto, which I had taught myself to do after I'd eaten it at a local Italian restaurant with M & M+. We had no more life history to cover, so we were at leisure to talk about us.

"I'm sure you realise that I'm wanting to make love to you in one way or another. I want to try to explain why," I started a bit tentatively. "This is a new thing for me. You may find it difficult to believe after all the sex I've had in my life. There have been blokes that I've lusted for; some I've felt sorry for; some I've really liked without wanting sex with them. With you some of the feelings I have for M and M are involved. It's a warm, comforting feeling, and knowing that they are there is reassuring. I don't mean that I need them in a practical sense, but I feel they are part of what makes me who I am. It's the same with you, and there is the added thing that I want to show my feelings in the way I know best, with my body. I want to give that to you, and I want you to have the chance to give it back. Of course I don't know whether you feel anything like this, but I trust you enough to ask."