The Lady of Bathe Street

But I had said I'd do whatever she wanted, so I helped her lie back on the couch. I kissed her stomach, then pushed that long skirt of hers up and bunched it around her waist just like it was after I'd hit her with my car. She was wearing lacy panties again, this time purple, and I stopped to admire them for a minute.

She really was hot, I decided, not even just for an older woman. She was legitimately sexy, to be honest. I licked my lips as I peeled those little panties off her and revealed a beautiful bare pussy underneath. As soon as I'd gotten her panties off and spread her legs a little wider, I kissed her exactly where she wanted me to.

The first couple licks weren't great, I've gotta be honest about that. Musty wasn't really the right word, and neither was stale. It just tasted kind of... old. Like, everyone compares pussy to eating a peach or something, but it was more like if the peaches had been canned and then maybe sat in a basement for a couple years longer than they should've. Like it wasn't bad, but something was a little off, you know?

Still, I didn't gag or anything, just set to work because that's what Fiona wanted me to do. She moaned when I started licking along her slit and flattening my tongue against her clit. I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing—I'd tried eating pussy a couple times before, but my girlfriend at the time hadn't been super into it—but Fiona seemed to like it. She held mostly still, but I could feel little pulses beneath my chin as I nuzzled my face against her.

Then it got weird again, because like I said, it wasn't exactly the freshest peach I'd ever tried, but suddenly it was like I couldn't stop. I'd started licking her dutifully, but as her fingers wrapped in my hair, I got almost eager about it. My chin and cheeks were soaked with her juice and I couldn't get enough, I wanted more of her. My cock got even harder and I had to fumble with my jeans a bit because it was starting to hurt, which was crazy because I don't think I'd ever been so hard that it hurt like that before.

When she started to shake, I got a bit worried. I tried to pull back and ask if she was okay, but she tightened her grip on my hair and pushed my head against her pussy hard. I took that to mean that I really shouldn't stop, so sucked on her clit as she kept moaning. She got louder and louder, and her thighs were pressing hard against the sides of my head, and suddenly she was pushing down on my head even harder and her legs were clamped against my ears. I could barely breathe, but I hardly cared; I was completely captivated by the way Fiona moved beneath me.

It was like magic, like I'd made a volcano erupt or started a tidal wave. My cock throbbed as I felt her come, and I really, really hoped she wouldn't want me to go home just yet. I kept working her pussy with my mouth as she shivered and quaked beneath me, only stopping when her legs finally loosened and she tugged my hair gently.

"That was excellent," she panted. "Henry, that was just wonderful."

"Thanks," I said cheerfully. "You sounded pretty fuckin' hot, not gonna lie."

I helped her sit up again and she surprised me by kissing me heatedly.

"Stand up," she ordered.

I obeyed eagerly. Fiona sat on the couch, completely topless, and her hands trembled just a bit as she tried to unbutton my jeans. I didn't say anything, just reached down and unbuttoned them for her. She smiled up at me and slid my jeans down my hips, followed by my boxers.

Her hand shook as she wrapped her fingers around my cock and I gotta say, I felt a little guilty. I mean, she was hot for her age and all that, but she looked a little flushed and I was worried she might be tired. Still, a woman had her hand on my cock, and it might've been a wrinkled hand but it was still a hand other than my own. I stopped feeling guilty when she stroked me firmly.

My cock was dripping at that point. She looked up at me with those bizarre purple eyes and brought the head to her parted lips, her tongue flicking out and licking up my pre-cum. I couldn't stop staring at her as she started licking me and I groaned pretty loudly as she took my cock into her warm mouth.

And that's when things got really, really fucking weird.

See, I kinda started to feel really bad because she was so much older and it was just a little weird that an old lady was sucking my cock. Like, not because she was doing it—that felt great, not weird at all—but because, like, it's not like it felt good for her, and she had just been in a car accident the day before, and I didn't want to hurt her or something. But I also really, really didn't want her to stop what she was doing. I also didn't want to go soft in her mouth and that was a real threat if I started thinking too much.

Just for a moment, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, focusing just on the way her mouth felt and how good it was. I listened to the sloppy sounds of her sucking my cock and decided it was still pretty fucking hot.

She bobbed her head a little bit and then stopped stroking. The sudden change made me open my eyes and I looked down to see Fiona moving her mouth further down my shaft. When the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat, my knees almost buckled.

"Oh, I fuckin' love you," I breathed.

She glanced up at me, her violet eyes wide, and I felt my face go red. I slammed my eyes shut and tilted my head back, hoping she'd let the fact that I'd just said I loved her slide. It was embarrassing, right, and super fucking weird to tell anyone you loved them when they were sucking your cock for the first time, but especially when I barely even knew her. And, of course, when she was old enough to be... well, something.

I was getting close by then, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I came. I wasn't quite sure what she did, but there was a sudden strange sensation. The air in the room had been hot and stuffy, but it suddenly felt almost crisp. On top of that, it was like her mouth grew wetter and warmer, and when she stopped trying to swallow my cock and started stroking it again, her hand felt softer. I opened my eyes and looked down to see a different woman sucking my cock.

No, seriously.

Fiona was gone. The woman who now had my cock in her mouth was beautiful, incredibly beautiful. She had curly hair like Fiona's, but it was long and black instead of grey. The hand wrapped around my cock wasn't wrinkled; it was smooth. She was topless, too, but her tits were perky and round, her nipples puffy and pink. Her skin was flawless and pale, and there wasn't a single wrinkle on her face when she looked up at me with those strange, violet eyes.

Fiona.

My mouth dropped open and before I could really process what was happening, I came.

I felt kinda bad about that too; I should've warned Fiona, but in fairness, she didn't warn me before pulling that Benjamin Button shit. She didn't seem to mind too much; I watched her throat tense and release as she swallowed my load, her eyes never leaving mine as she did.

When I finished, panting, she finally let my cock fall from her mouth.

"What the fuck?" I gasped.

"Language," she said.

"No," I said firmly. "No way. I get to swear about this because you just fuckin'... you... how the fuck, what the fuck just happened?"

Fiona smiled, her face almost glowing. "You broke the curse. Look."

She stood and I took in her body, staring at her tits until she cleared her throat. She gestured around the living room and I gaped at it. The house itself had changed; no longer dusty and dim, it was brightly lit and clean, the furniture gleaming and the walls suddenly full of pictures and art.

"What the fuck?" I said again.

A curse, she explained, placed on her by an evil witch that was jealous of her beauty. Only love could break the curse, she said, and since I said I loved her...

"...even though you had to go and swear while you were doing it," she said. "Apparently it counted."

My face turned red. "Well, I mean... like, yeah, I guess I do... love you, but—"

"Oh, it's fine," said Fiona. "I don't think it had to be true love or anything. I'm a bit hazy on the details of the curse. I've been an old woman for like... I don't know, 50 years now? My memory wasn't so great to begin with. You seemed to have loved me just long enough to break the curse, and now I'm 19 again. I have my whole life ahead of me, Henry, and it's all thanks to you."

"No problem," I said uneasily. "Don't mind at all. Glad I could help."

She licked her lips and stood up, making me step back and almost trip on the coffee table.

"Let me show you my gratitude," she said huskily. "You loved me when I was wrinkly and old, now you can love me like this."

I might be dumb, but I'm not stupid. A half-naked chick with great tits was coming on to me, and if I thought I'd been hard when old-Fiona had been sucking me off, it was nothing compared to how hard I got thinking of young-Fiona doing it. So yeah, I took off the rest of my clothes and she got naked and pushed me down on her couch. And let me tell you, those tits? Fucking amazing. She rubbed them all over my face before riding my cock, and since I'd just come, she was working at it for quite a while. I think she came probably three times before I even got close, then she asked me if I'd take over so I got her to bend over the side of the couch and fucked her like that till I finished.

When we were done, I flopped back on the couch and she curled up next to me. I was tired, like really tired, and she kissed me and told me to relax with her for a bit.

"Thank you," she whispered as I was falling asleep. "I'll never forget you, Harry."

"Henry," I mumbled.

So that was it. I fell asleep and when I woke up, she was gone. I thought I must've been in shock or something. I don't really think it's unexpected that I was shocked; I mean, I was fucking an old lady, and that's shocking enough, but then she went and turned into a chick my age? It's enough to fuck anyone up, you know?

And I mean, who the fuck was going to believe me? The creepy old lady who lived down the street was really a 19-year-old girl cursed to be an old woman until she found love of some sort? Not even true love? The curse didn't even break with the kiss? Like, come on. You can't make this shit up because if you did, you'd make up a better fucking story than this half-assed fairy tale.

**

"The woman is still missing." Detective Chaucer switched off the recording and looked through the glass at the young man sitting at the interrogation table. "Fiona Ragnelle of 1405 Bathe Street has disappeared. This shithead Henry Gawain says it was a witch's curse."

"What are you thinking, then?" Detective Becket asked.

"He's insane," Chaucer said. "No doubt about it."

"Or a really good actor," replied Becket. "It's one hell of a tale. Though it was kind of weird. He didn't have to tell it like that, you know, with all the dialogue and shit. And those sex scenes? Far too detailed. I think he's a little fucked in the head."

"It's just that," Chaucer said. "A tale. I'd like to know what this little fucker is hiding."

"There's no evidence of foul play," Becket replied.

"You can't possibly believe him."

"I don't, but what can we charge him on? There's no evidence he did anything except wake up naked in some lady's house."

"And that, gentlemen, is not specifically against the law."

Both detectives turned as a tall woman in a sharp blue suit strode into the room.

"Not you," groaned Chaucer.

"Yes me," she said. "Good to see you, Detective." She turned to Becket and stuck out her hand. "You must be the new partner. Alyson Loathly. I'm Mr. Gawain's attorney."

"This kid works at the fucking Renaissance Faire," Chaucer said. "How the hell can he afford you as an attorney?"

Alyson smiled. "A very kind benefactor is paying my fee for Mr. Gawain. Here's a statement, actually. Miss Ragnelle was quite certain that should be enough evidence to let the poor boy go, but I said I'd come down myself just in case."

"What... Fiona Ragnelle?" Becket asked.

"Yes, Miss Fiona Ragnelle, of 1405 Bathe Street," Alyson said firmly. "She would've come herself, but she decided to take a last-minute trip to Canterbury. You know how impulsive young ladies can be."

Becket and Chaucer watched as Alyson collected Henry Gawain from the interrogation room, whispering something to him as they left. He grinned and waved at the two detectives.

"I told you it was a fuckin' weird story," he said, and strode off down the hallway.

"He's lucky," Becket said.

"Lucky?!" repeated Chaucer.

"That Loathly lady arrived just in time. I was about to suggest we call in a psychiatrist."

"That Loathly lady is a pain in the ass," muttered Chaucer.

He picked up the file and signed off on the paperwork, having wasted his entire night listening to some bullshit tale about the old lady of Bathe Street.

**

I owe a huge amount of gratitude to Bebop3, norafares, and OneAuthor for their assistance with this story. Special thanks goes to A, K, and Paul M, as well as my boy Geoff Chaucer for the inspiration. And as always, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story.