The Dreaded Mrs. Crowley

The music slowed down, and we kept dancing. While we danced, something began happenning and although I wasn't sure whether Agnes could notice it at first, it soon became very obvious.

Agnes kept her body against me, continuing to dance, which indicated that she wasn't offended by my erection pressing against her hip. Then the music stopped, and while the needle made that clicking sound for a bit as it waited for the mechanism to lift it up and away, Agnes spoke.

"What we - I - did today to you?" Agnes said. "If you would like, I could..."

"I had something else in mind," I said, looking into her eyes intensely.

Agnes seemed confused for a minute, and then when she realized what I was suggesting, her lips moved. No sound came out, but I recognized the words and the question she asked, "You mean?"

I nodded, and followed Agnes as she wobbled over to the chair and sat down before she fell down. She seemed to have been blindsided by what I wanted, but I wasn't kidding. It wasn't out of pity, or any kind of desperation on my part. I wanted her and I told her that.

"I've never," Agnes said. "Only with my Walter."

"I know," I told her.

"But why me?" Agnes exclaimed, "You're a handsome young man. You can have any number of girls."

"It's you I want," I said, my hand on her shoulder, and Agnes right at eye-level with my boner, which was bulging my khakis as it arched over to my right hip. "I understand if you don't want me, but I want you."

...

Chapter Six: Pictures down.

Agnes went over to the bedroom windows, closing the blinds and pulling the curtains tightly together, and then went over to the dresser and took a couple of pictures from their places and placed them face down on the wood.

She walked toward me nervously, turning the light down to the dimmest setting possible, but I could still see her well enough. I kissed Agnes and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, wondering what I was going to be uncovering. Would I be able to stay hard after seeing a woman 50 years older than I was? What would she look like.

"I don't even know if I can. Please don't hurt me," Agnes whispered, and as I smiled and shook my head to reassure her, I figured out that she wasn't speaking about hurting her physically, but more of a fear than I would say something about what I was about to see.

Her skin was ghostly pale, and I took her blouse off of her bony shoulders I was shocked at how very slender she was. Setting the blouse aside, I moved behind Agnes and worked on the bra hooks of the old harness.

Looking over at our reflection in the mirror, I could see Agnes had her eyes shut, almost dreading the moment when that last hook would come free. The bra eased off of her, and when I pulled the cups away I saw her breasts sag down.

Her breasts were small and pear shaped, and when I saw them I smiled when I realized that I had seen breasts very similiar to these before. Sue Cerniglia. She was a half-century younger than Agnes, but her constantly bra-less breasts had sagged just as much as these when I had enjoyed them last summer. Banana boobs. I loved them.

"Nice," I whispered to Agnes as my hands replaced the bra cups, and as I kneaded her very spongy teats, Agnes gasped and leaned back into me, her eyes now open and rolling back in her head as she reacted to the sensation of hands caressing her breasts. "So nice."

Her nipples - enormously thick and long pegs to begin with - blossomed under my touch, and as Agnes moaned she raised her slender arms up and held my head right against the back of her neck, where I was nibbling and kissing her skin.

A soft floral scent accompanied the raising of her arms, and when I peeked around I saw a tiny cluster of light brown hairs in the hollows of her armpits. Again Sue Cerniglia, I fondly recalled, although Agnes had nothing like the wild jungles of fur that adorned Sue's underarms.

I stroked the sparse hairs briefly, which Agnes seemed to enjoy, before returning to her breasts once more. The pliant breasts, which filled my hands nicely, were irresistible, and it took a lot for me to move downward to pull her slacks down.

Her stomach was a little soft, and her hips and butt were a bit fuller than the rest of her torso would have suggested, but after the matronly panties came down, she was naked.

Agnes quickly turned around and embraced me, almost to deprive me of seeing her nude, seemingly unaware that I had seen everything in the mirror. The dim light wasn't as dim to me as it was for Agnes, and I had seen everything of her that there was to see.

I would never pretend that she was a supermodel or anything like that, but the fact remained that she was a decent looking woman. The fact that she was so modest, and was giving me something that she had only given to one other man in her entire life, added to the excitement.

Agnes helped my pull my shirt up over my head, her hands sliding effortlessly over my hairless chest, and after she undid my belt my khakis fell to the ground. The boner that was stretching out my fruit of the looms seemed to shock Agnes, even though she knew what was under the cotton.

I yanked down the briefs and my cock sprang around wildly as a result of being freed. Agnes looked like she was about to faint as the reality of the situation hit her again, and so I took the opportunity to ease her down onto the bedding.

"I haven't," Agnes started to say, but I knew what she was going to say.

She hadn't been with another man besides her husband, and that meant she hadn't been intimate with anybody in almost a decade. Since Agnes didn't seem the type to be using a vibrator or a dildo, I was going to have to do a lot of prep work.

Lucky for me, I love to eat pussy, and the sight of Agnes with her slim thighs parted, and those puffy pussy lips clearly visible through a thin dusting of golden hair made me forget all about age.

My face fell into that delicious channel, and as my tongue started to dance around her clit, her pungent aroma of her sex overwhelmed me. Strong and mossy in scent, it sent chills down my spine as I tongued her deeply.

I worked my thumb around her opening, and when I tried to slip it inside of Agnes, I learned that she was a tight as a virgin. Why didn't I bring some kind of lubricant?

No sense asking Agnes if she had anything. I had a tube of Chap Stick in my pants, but that wouldn't work, although the thought of standing there rubbing that on my dick make me chuckle inside.

Instead, I kept licking, my tongue working furiously up and down that long neglected pussy. Her thighs were twitching nervously as my hands stroked the smooth skin of her hips. Agnes must have had a really hairy pussy at one time, I noticed. The hair had thinned considerably over the years, but the bush covered the entire wide triangle of her delta.

My thumb gradually gained entry, and when I was able to get it inside of her, Agnes began to move her thighs in response. I wasted no more time. Not giving her a chance to change her mind, I climbed up on my knees and moved up between her legs.

Agnes looked down, her face reflecting her fear at the sight of my cock waving menacingly as I positioned myself. Working the tip of my dick into the opening that was dripping with my saliva, I watched Agnes, her chest heaving rapidly as she braced herself.

...

Chapter Seven: Inside Agnes.

If I was built like a lot of guys, what eventually happened in that bedroom would never have taken place. As soon as began to penetrate Agnes, I realized that this was one tight pussy. Partly through nerves, I sure, as well as lack of use and the aging process, her pussy had become incredibly tight.

Although my cock is pretty long, it's also more slender than most. If it were not for that, I don't think I would ever have been able to finally get inside of her, but I was determined and persistent.

I took my time, working slowly and as tenderly as possible, and while it took several minutes, I finally managed to get about half of my cock into her. We exchanged looks of relief, and as I began to move in and out of her, she smiled and gripped my arms.

"You feel so big," Agnes whispered as I leaned down and kissed her, and while it wasn't really true I liked to hear it.

It was around that moment that I made a decision. I had enjoyed sex prior to this, but it was usually about pleasing myself. Oh sure, I tried my best to get the girl off too, but it was mostly about me. This time was going to be different.

This was going to be the last time Agnes Crowley made love to anyone, or at least this was the way I saw it. Knowing that, I became determined to make it something she would remember, so instead of rooting away like I usually did until I got off, I tried to actually make love to Agnes.

For what seemed like hours, I calmly stayed on top of her, slowly moving my cock in and out of her tight pussy while enjoying her reactions. After a while, I began to get deeper and deeper into Agnes, but wasn't able to actually get all of my cock into her for quite a while.

This kept me from changing positions, because while I would have love to have seen Agnes on top of me with those banana titties drooping down at me, I didn't think that she could take it so I stayed on top.

I only sped my thrusting up once, when I sensed she was coming the first time. As our sweaty bodies clapped together, I fought to keep my own orgasm in check as I watched Agnes squirm underneath me, clawing at my shoulders while she came.

What a glorious sight, I thought to myself while I watched this silver-haired woman's head jerking from side to side while she made the most marvelous noises. Her pussy, which was still as tight as a vice, practically crushed my cock as it convulsed with the force of her orgasm.

Her eyes were glazed when she finally stopped cumming, and she had a delirious look on her face when she saw that I had not cum yet. I smiled when I felt her skinny legs wrap themselves around my butt for a moment, suggesting that she was telling me that she wasn't done either.

Now I began lavishing my affection all over Agnes. Crouched over her, I kept using long and almost agonizingly slow strokes while leaning down and sucking on her breasts.

As Agnes ran her hands through my hair, my mouth was everywhere, showering her without boundaries. I nibbled on her collarbone and sucked on her neck while she writhed and sighed. I bit her shoulders and tongued her armpits, pasting the sweet and salty hairs to the pale skin of her underarms and reveling in her sharp intake of breath as she squirmed with pleasure. We kissed passionately, and practically devoured each other's mouths in the process.

After what seemed like forever, Agnes began panting and moaning, thrusting herself into me as best she could. She was on the verge of cumming, and when I sensed this I slowed my thrusting down until my movements were almost imperceptible.

Her body was trembling beneath me, her hands clutching and tearing at my back and shoulders as Agnes tried to speed me up. Soon her clutching became almost violent, as her little frail hands were slapping and clawing at me while she whimpered and wailed in my ear.

After she hung on the brink of orgasm for so long, she finally let out a scream, yelling out a name that she had admonished me for using earlier in the day. I didn't call her on it, but instead enjoyed watching Agnes quiver and shake, bridging her neck off of the mattress with her head while her pussy savagely convulsed around my cock.

I had wanted to cum when Agnes did, but she had me in such a tight vise-like hold that it wasn't possible. Now she was done, and I felt myself being squeezed out of her as her opening contracted.

"Let me," Agnes said when she realized that I hadn't cum, and although she was moving very slowly, she managed to get onto her hands and knees while I went onto my back.

"Poor baby," Agnes said, holding my cock tenderly, and when I looked at my swollen member, which was a purplish crimson in color, I winced.

Agnes was going to take care of me, just like she had earlier in the day, and she ended up teasing me much like I had done to her. Her mouth worked over my cock and balls with compassion and tenderness that left me grabbing at the bedding in search for release.

When I finally came, I came hard and fast, blowing a load right down her throat while her lips were almost in my pubes, and I kept cumming while Agnes used her fist to milk my balls until they were drained.

She seemed to love the taste of my cum, even licking the back of her hand to catch what she hadn't managed to swallow, and when she had finally gotten it all, she eased her petite body next to mine and cuddled up close.

I guess she fell asleep, and so did I, because when I opened my eyes again it was after one in the morning. Leaning over, I kissed the plump nipple that still looked delicious, and when Agnes squinted at me I told her I had to go.

"Don't want you to get in trouble," Agnes said. "That was so nice though. Especially the snuggling. I miss that so."

I dressed under her watchful eye while she put a robe on, and then let her escort me to the door, sharing a kiss before turning to go. The pat on my butt Agnes gave me was not annoying this time, and the smile I gave when I glanced back was not forced either.

...

Epilogue:

I delivered several more times To Agnes Crowley's house that summer, as well as the next year when I came back home to work during the summer. Every time I delivered I heard the familiar, "Sweetie, while you're here," and ended up doing some little chore.

I also listened to her stories, but I didn't have to force myself to stay and nod while she spoke. I grew to enjoy seeing her name on the order list, and saved my extra time to spend with her during the day.

Did we ever end up in her bedroom again? No. We never shared more than an occasional peck on the cheek, although I admit that if her hand had found my crotch again and she had offered me another kind of tip, I wouldn't have turned it down. To this day I can honestly say that, with apologies to my wonderful wife, in my life nobody has ever matched the incredible oral skills of Agnes Crowley.

Agnes eventually moved to Arizona to escape the New York winters, just like she had mentioned the last time I saw her. She had asked for my address that time, and I ended up on her Christmas card list. Although as a young guy I didn't bother with such things, in time I began sending her cards as well.

Soon the cards came from 'us' when I got married, and then from all of us when the card became a photo greeting with our kids on them. Agnes seemed delighted when I got married, writing on a card the next year that my wife is the luckiest girl in the world.

My wife might not have agreed with that all of the time, and didn't have a clue as to who the woman was, but would dutifully send her a card every year after I assured her with a laugh that we were only friends.

Agnes Crowley died a few years ago. There was an obituary in our local paper, stating that former area resident Agnes Crowley had died at the age of 99 in a nursing home, loved and mourned by her many friends and predeceased by the only man she had ever loved, Walter. Truer words were never written.

...

thanks for reading