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Old Guy Gets Lucky with Young Chick

By: SuperHeroRalph



This is a Summer Lovin' contest story. Too many readers don't vote. I need your vote. Please vote.

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Middle-aged man finally wins the heart of a beautiful woman half his age.

*

Better than 50 yard line seats at a football game, almost as good as watching two women stripping one another naked in a catfight, sitting front row center across from the net where all the mad action was, I watched eight bikini clad women playing volleyball on the beach. They were all oh, so young that they made me feel oh, so old. They were all oh, so hot that they made me feel oh, so horny. Afraid to miss something with the action so fast and so furious, sitting far enough back, so as to get all their asses, tits, and pussies in my line of sight without getting hit with the ball, I didn't know where to look. 

Because they were all wearing brightly colored barely there bikinis, even more exciting than watching cheerleaders bending, stretching, and jumping in their skimpy uniforms, I was mesmerized watching young, sexy women running, jumping, screaming, and sweating. I stared hoping that some part of their bikini would fall off or some part of their body would fall out. There was one twenty-something-year-old, pretty blonde who looked over at me and smiled every time I cheered, clapped, or commented on her good play. Now that I had her attention, no longer interested in the other volleyball players, I watched her exclusively. Since she was the prettiest one and the one with the best body, I was her number one fan, while imagining her being my one and only lover.

Already interested and sexually aroused thinking about her naked and in bed with me, I imagined kissing her soft, full lips, while gently touching her cheek with my fingertips, before feeling her and squeezing her firm ass and making sweet love to her beautiful body. Feeling the end of my life drawing near, sometimes feeling so fatalistically depressed by the thought of the end of me, I felt better thinking about the beginning of us in a purely sexual relationship. I imagined her on her knees and paying homage to my cock, as if it was my hard as stone grave marker.

The curious thing is that when I imagined myself with her, I imagined myself as a younger man and not as the sexagenarian that I am. Boy, they picked a good name calling people 60-69 sexagenarians, especially men, because, once I hit sixty-years-old, all I think about is sex. Only, instead of thinking about sex with women my age, I've been thinking about sex with women half my age and younger. What is that about?

I haven't thought as much about sex, since I was a teenager. Sadly, not having had much sex as a teenager, I'm not having much sex as a sexagenarian either. I guess I had all the sex I'm going to have in my twenties, thirties, and forties. Sadly, sex is over for me. Then, with the sound of squishing sand waking me up from my daydream, my beautiful, blonde volleyball player surprised me by running over to where I was sitting. 

"What did you think of that shot?" She asked me breathlessly and with a big smile, when she came running over to retrieve her ball that fell between my legs.

As if she was running towards me in an Irish Spring soap commercial, I watched her approaching with her tits bouncing and her hair flying. She made me wish I was her man, her one and only. Imagining her running to me every day, when I came home from work or while waiting for my arrival at the train station or the airport, I imagined her as flushed, as out of breath, and as excited seeing me and then having sex with me, as she was excited playing volleyball with her female friends and winning. After having four daughters, I imagined her holding the blonde baby boy that I gave her, Eric, the son that I never had.

Perhaps excited from playing her competitive volleyball game, her erect nipples made their appearance by pushing against the fabric of her thin bikini top and I couldn't help but notice, stare actually, how big they were. I imagined pounding her naked body, really giving her a good, hard fucking and, instead of returning my serve with her volley, she returned my action hump for hump. I imagined her asking me what I thought of that lay, instead of what I thought of that play.

"I think you're a great volleyball player. You should try out for the Olympics," I said returning her big smile, while wanting to pat her red Spandex clad ass, in the way they do with a baseball player, who just hit a homerun.

Even though I had visions of patting her round behind, before feeling and fucking her firm ass, I didn't dare touch her. It was one thing to think of groping her, but quite another thing to actually sexually assault her. With her strategically placed tattoos, one on her exposed ass cheek of the lips, teeth, and tongue of the Rolling Stone's logo and another of tiger paw prints that crawled across the top of her breasts, I wondered what other tattoos she had that were not as exposed and that were covered by her tiny bikini. Definitely looking the type who'd play, I couldn't help but wonder, if I were thirty years younger, how much I'd get away with her. 

Hoping to get her attention with a sports related line, unfortunately, unable to hit a homerun in the way my line fell foully flat, I struck out with her with that Olympic line. In my defense, unprepared to seduce her with my words, hoping for another chance, she surprised me by unexpectedly running over to me like that. One second she was at the net and the next instant, she was reaching for the ball that fell between my legs. Oh, my God, so close and yet so far. If only she was reaching for my balls, instead of for her volleyball ball.

Who knew the ball would be hit right to me? Who knew she'd be the one to retrieve it? Who knew she'd acknowledge me with a question and a big smile? I should have been prepared with something witty and something that she could have made a reply to allow me to further engage her in conversation, but if I had a line ready, the ball never would have been hit my way. 

"Thank you," she said walking away and catching me staring at her shapely, round ass, when she turned to give me another big smile, along with a sexy look.

Did she just give me the eye? Wow, wouldn't that be something if she gave me the eye? Nah, stuff like that never happens to me. Holy smokes, forever hopeful, it was fun to imagine that she did give me the eye. There was that young cashier in the supermarket that I thought had given me the eye and I thought was coming on to me, that is, until she called security. 

"Security!"

It's been a long while, at least 30 years, when I was a twenty-something-year-old, since a pretty, blonde twenty-something-year-old gave me the eye. I looked behind me to see if there was a younger man sitting there, but there were just couples and single women sitting behind me. Maybe she gave one of the women the eye. Maybe she's lesbian. Boy, that would be such a waste for her to prefer licking pussy, instead of sucking cock.

Accustomed to the fat asses of the women I've recently dated, she had the best ass I've ever seen. Firmly rounded as if she stuck two ripe melon halves down her bikini bottoms, I'd do anything to tap that ass. Encouraged by the big smile and sexy look she just gave me, maybe I didn't strikeout after all. Maybe I'll get one more at bat and one more chance to hit one out of the park. This time, I'll be ready. This time, after taking my best shot, I won't mind striking out with her. At least, I'll go down swinging. Batter up!

Impatiently and excitedly waiting, thinking of what all to say to get her attention, I sat through all three volleyball games watching her play. It was hot out and the one beer that I had from my cooler was making me sleepy. I should know by now not to drink liquor on a hot beach. Had I not been so excited over watching these volleyball women play and had I not been as focused on that one pretty, young blonde's face and beautiful body, I would have taken a nap. 

Only, with my luck, I'd have that reoccurring nightmare again, the one where I'm confined to a nursing home. Wondering if my dream was a bad premonition, I prayed to God that's not my soon to be reality. Drooling all over myself and peeing my diapers, I'd rather be dead than to be so confined. I was hoping my special, sexy volleyball player would visit me again, so that I could introduce myself, ask her name, and offer her a beer and hopefully more. Again not ready with a catchy line, probably missing my last opportunity and wasting another at bat by clamming up and not pitching her a homerun or even a foul ball, I was surprised, stunned, and mutely dumbfounded actually, when she returned for her own turn at bat.

"Whew. I'm sweating bullets," she said as if we knew one another. With her knee touching my knee, she sat down beside me on my blanket, as if we were already a couple. Old enough to be her older brother, okay, father, alright, grandfather, she looked over at me with a big smile and picked up my towel. "Do you mind?" 

Do I mind? Would I mind if Katherine Heigl invited me as her escort to the Oscars? Would I mind if the Miss America Pageant asked me to be a judge? Would I mind if Playboy Magazine asked me to watch a photo session of one of their monthly playmates? Would I mind if J Lo wanted me to be her fourth husband?

I shook my head and watched her use my towel to wipe the perspiration from her sexy body. Watching her dry her hot body was a sexy side show in and of itself and, silently, I swore that I'd never wash that towel again. Instead of washing it, I'd sleep on it tonight, while pretending I was on top of her sweating, naked body and making love to her. It was then that I wondered what her name was. If only I knew her name, I'd call her by name in my sleep.

"Please, be my guest," I said holding back my tongue with all the inappropriate thoughts that I was thinking. Even I was embarrassed by some of the things I thought.

Seeing her up close, she was as hot on the outside, as she was on the inside. Thinking as the dirty old man that I am, let me do that for you, I wanted to say, but didn't. I may have said that to her and a lot more, if I was 30 years younger. The suggestive things that I thought now and said then, when I was younger and better looking, somehow were never inappropriate.

I imagined feeling every part of her body on the pretense of wiping away her perspiration. With me being so much older than she was, not wanting her to perceive me as the lecherous degenerate that I have become from lusting over women half my age, I tried not to leer. I looked at her as if she was a timid forest creature, a fawn, more appropriately a sexy mermaid that just emerged from the sea, if only she were topless.

She had nice tits, a smallish rack, and I stared at her cleavage, while wondering what her tits looked like. Having grown accustomed to feeling soft, sagging breasts with down turned nipples, I imagined her breasts being as high up as they were firm. I couldn't help but wonder if she played nude volleyball. Now, there's a game that I'd buy season tickets to watch.

Even though I wear my sexual intentions on my sleeve or, in my case, in my bathing suit by my quickly emerging erection, I didn't want to startle her by revealing my sexual intentions, just yet. Instead of her thinking of me as the elderly lecher that I am, I wanted her to think that I was a kindly, worldly, and interesting, albeit mature man. I watched her wipe her face and pat dry her short, blonde hair, before wiping the sweat from her arms, chest, and legs. Damn, she had such a hot, sexy body. Looking Scandinavian, I imagined her being Dutch, Swedish, or Norwegian. Damn, she was so very sexy fine.

Oh, my God, you're so beautiful, I somehow stopped myself from blurting, while watching her touch every part of her bikini clad body with my towel. After she left me and I knew she would soon, I couldn't wait to immerse my face in my towel to implant the smell and fragrant aroma of her sweaty body in my nostrils and in my brain, so that I could dream about her naked body in my bed tonight, while I masturbated over the sexy thoughts of her fucking me silly. Still, I wondered what her name was. Do I dare ask? Would that be too boldly forward? She did use my towel and she is sitting beside me and close enough that our legs are touching.

With her sexy bikini and tattoos on display, she looked excitingly exotic and erotically enticing. Maybe her name was Jessica or Erica. In the way she had the confident poise of a supermodel, her name could be Veronica or Heidi. Wow.

I couldn't help but imagine her in my apartment stepping from the shower naked and asking me to towel her dry, after we had sex. She was so wet with sweat that she was slippery and I watched her pick away at the specks of sand that had kicked up and collected on her shapely, sweaty legs. Looking so fit, so firm, and so healthy, she had such a beautiful body, especially with it glistening with sweat in the hot sun, as if she was sprinkled with diamond dust. Then, when she looked at me out the corner of her eye, I was bewitched. That's funny, always a bit psychic, maybe her name is the same as that witch on Bewitched, Samantha.

Samantha, oh, yeah, I could see that being her name. Someone as beautiful as she was needed a multi-syllable name. Too short and without imagination, Joan or Jane would never do for her.

In the way that she had a permanent tongue tattooed on her ass, I wanted to volunteer her my tongue to lick her clean. Let me lick you, I wanted to say but, somehow holding my tongue, I didn't dare say what I was thinking. Perhaps, some sand has found its way in your bikini top or bottom. I'd be happy to lick every grain off your beautiful body, but I didn't dare volunteer that either. Only in my dreams would I dare say those things to her. I may have said those things to her now, if only I were a younger man and a better looking man more her age.

"I didn't realize how hot it is out and how much I was sweating, until I stopped," she said smiling, looking down at her chest, and wiping her hand across the top of her breasts, before looking over at me staring at her bikini bra clad breasts.

When she gave me that smile it made me happy just to be sitting there with her. I wished it was my hand that traced her tiger paw tattoos that decorated her breasts, instead of her hand. For sure, if nothing else was to transpire from this chance meeting and quick exchange of innocent dialogue, when alone in my bedroom with my hand excitedly around my cock, I'll be dreaming about her tonight sweating all over me.

"Have some water," I said handing her a bottle from my cooler.

"Thanks," she said accepting the bottle with the same eagerness as I imagined her grabbing for a volleyball and/or taking my cock in her hot hand.

As if I had hired a prostitute to do something kinky, as if she was holding a banana, instead of a water bottle, I watched her twist open the water bottle and put it to her lips in the way that I imagined her taking my cock to her mouth. Flick out your tongue and lick it, I wanted to say. Let me watch your tongue circumnavigate the top of the bottle, while licking it. Suck it, I wanted to say. Take the bottle in your mouth and suck it, as if you're sucking my cock. Thinking of all those inappropriate things to say to her, instead of trying to come up with a line to win her heart, still stunned that she was sitting there beside me, I didn't say anything, but for my introduction.

"I'm Ralph," I said unable to think of anything else to say and unable to remove my stare from her beautiful face and sexy body, while watching her drink.

"Samantha," she said removing the bottle from her mouth to offer me her hand.

"Samantha? Pleased to meet you, Samantha," I said shaking her hot hand.

Her name is Samantha. I couldn't believe it. God is smiling down at me. I didn't dare tell her that I was psychic and had already guessed her name. I only wished I had blurted her name out before she told me her name. Perhaps that would have impressed her as much as if I was a wealthy older man but, just older, I wasn't rich.

Imagining it was my cum, while watching her drink the water, I watched the water that collected on her lip dribble down her chin and onto her chest. She had such a soft, warm hand that I couldn't help but imagine it holding my big, hard prick. Stroke my cock, Samantha. Make me good and hard, before sticking my cock in your mouth and sucking it and before sticking my cock in your warm, wet pussy.

"Sam. Everyone calls me Sam," she said with a smile, while nodding her head, as if I wouldn't have believed that everyone called her Sam, unless she nodded her head.

If Charlie Sheen was looking for a new, young, sexy girlfriend, he wouldn't have to look any further than Sam. Better looking than Denise Richards, she had big, blue eyes that flashed the color of the Mediterranean Sea with the sun. As if she was electrified, her smile and her eyes made her appear that she was plugged into life.

A visual and virtual fountain of youth, just as I wanted to be part of her life, too, and to feel the energy that she was exuding and feeling, I wanted to know her, experience her, and have sex with her. Alas, just as I was much too old for her, she was much too young for me. Then, just as I thought that, just as I imagined her naked breasts and her naked body getting ready to shower away the perspiration that still dotted her skin and dripped from her body to dot the hot sand with tiny mud puddles, she reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, and removed her bikini top.

Oh, my God! I was stunned by the surprise visit of her twin girls. Hello, I wanted to say, while staring at her tits. It's nice to meet you, both of you. And what are your names? May I greet you with a touch, a kiss, and a suckle?

Knowing full well that they'd never come true, there are things in my life that I routinely dream about, when wishing my life was somehow instantly better. I dream that I was younger, fitter, thinner, and better looking with more hair, of course. I dream about winning the lottery and being filthy rich. I dream about a job that pays me twice as much for half the hours. I dream about standing in a checkout line at a supermarket, buying gas at a gas station, and getting ready to write the check to pay for my prescription medication, when the cashiers tell me that it's all free.

Along with all my other dreams, had Samantha not removed her bikini top, had she not been sitting there beside me topless, I would have been dreaming about her tonight doing just that, no doubt. Now that she's sitting beside me topless, I'll have to suffice dreaming about her doing something else, perhaps, fucking me or blowing me. Only, a dream come true with her having done something so unexpected, she satisfied an old man's wish to instantly have a better life by showing me her tits, and what beautiful breasts they were. 

Doing my best not to stare, even when looking over at her naked breasts, I couldn't believe this young, beautiful woman was sitting beside me topless. Charting new ground, taking a plunge over my head into deep water, thinking that my life had suddenly taken a turn for the better, thinking about running to the store later to buy a lottery ticket, I pondered my next move. What do I say? What do I do? Damn, I wish I were younger. If only I were more her age, would she allow me to kiss her, touch her, feel her, and fuck her? Would she take me home to meet her father, a man young enough to be my (gulp) son?

With my heart beating as if I had played three games of naked volleyball with this women, figuring I was about to die and go to Heaven, I imagined hearing the ambulance in the distance responding to my sudden heart attack. No not yet. Surely, I can't die now. Somehow coming alive and feeling younger, I was filled with a sudden surge of testosterone that I didn't know I even had. As if an imaginary doctor had given me an instant shot of adrenaline to the heart, I felt invigorated by the mere sight of her breasts.


Old Guy Gets Lucky with Young Chick



I came alive with her sitting next to me. After having watched her play three games of intense volleyball, her surprise striptease show made me feel as if she were undressing in slow motion just for my benefit. Suddenly, I felt younger, taller, and fitter. Over and again, as if watching a recorded loop in my mind, I watched her peel her bikini bra cups from her beautiful breasts, first one and then the other.

The woman of my lust through three volleyball matches, I still couldn't believe she was sitting beside me topless. Dear God in Heaven, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Even though her tits weren't the biggest breasts I've seen, a full B cup, they weren't the smallest either. Nonetheless, they were nicely roundly, cone shaped, and perfectly symmetrical, and easily could fit nicely in my hand and/or mouth. Besides, much like women soccer players and marathon runners, it's a rarity to see women volleyball players with big tits. Between watching her play, watching her drying herself with my towel, and seeing her topless, I had an erection, along with my fantasy of having wild sex with her.

"Wow." I couldn't stop myself from blurting an involuntary positive reaction to seeing her breasts and her erect nipples.

"Sorry, but I'm so hot," she said fanning herself with her hand and giving me an unembarrassed laugh, while resting back on her hands, as is she was impersonating an Adirondack chair. She arched her back and curved up her torso, as if offering me her breasts on an altar. "Do you mind me sitting here topless?" She looked down at her breasts, before looking up at me with a sexy smile and a look that told me that she loved showing me her tits. "If it bothers you, I can--"

Do I mind? Do I mind seeing the naked breasts of a young, pretty, blonde woman, who I've been lusting over for the past hour and a half? If I don't mind watching nudity on television and in the movies, now that a young topless beauty is sitting beside me in real life on my beach blanket, why would I mind? I'd have to be out of my mind to mind my volleyball playing mermaid sitting next to me topless.

Bothers me? Why would it bother me to see her tits? It bothers me that I dare not touch, feel, and caress her breasts and suck her nipples. It bothers me that I can't push her down in the hot sand, stick my cock in her mouth, and force her to blow me, before ripping off her bikini bottoms and making sweet love to her, while everyone on the beach watches.

"Don't be silly. I don't mind at all," I said staring at her erect nipples, while feeling my lips move in the shape of a goldfish wanting and expecting food. Got milk?

"I'm glad you like my breasts," she said looking to where I was staring, before looking up at me with those big, beautiful, blue eyes and her electric smile and looking as if she wanted to ask me a question. In the way she said she was glad that I liked her breasts and in the way she looked at me with wonder, I thought she was going to invite me to touch them and to feel them. Only, she asked me something else, something better, and something that I may have asked her, if I were a younger man. "Did you ever have sex on the beach?" 

Preoccupied with her naked breasts, imagining touching them, feeling them, and caressing them, before sucking her nipples, it took me a few seconds to understand her question. Much in the way of a long, slow, comfortable screw up against the wall, I thought she was talking about the cocktail, that is, until she reached her hand over and grabbed hold of my erection that tented my bathing suit. Then, as if she was claiming ownership of a volleyball that had tangled itself in the net, she reached beneath my bathing suit and touched my cock and my balls through the mesh lining.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. If there is a God, he or she was sitting there on my beach blanket with me and orchestrating her movements. Just as I couldn't believe she was fondling my cock through my bathing suit, I couldn't believe she asked me if I ever had sex on the beach. Even with all the free sex that went on in the sixties, unless they were high on drugs and/or college coeds a long way from home, or prostitutes, women weren't this unabashedly and sexually forward as was this young, sexy vixen.

"No," I said now excited by the anticipation of her next question.

She gave me a look that made me want to sell every possession that I owned to have enough money to run away with her to some tropical island, where she could play volleyball all day, every day. I imagined us traveling the world, her playing professional volleyball, me watching, and us having hot sex after every game. Needing to be hit with a baseball bat to the back of the head for me to understand her true intention of her question, she reiterated her question again, this time directing it more personally.

"Would you like to have sex on the beach?"

Sex on the Beach? Even then, being that this woman was so young and so beautiful, and I was so old and so decrepit, I wasn't sure of her meaning. Was she propositioning me or offering me a cocktail? Thinking that this was a joke that her friends put her up to, I looked around for her friends, before looking back at her in shock. I hoped she was asking me if I wanted to have sex with her and not with someone else, her mother or her grandmother. Short of that, be it a Long, Slow, Comfortable Screw Against the Wall or Sex on the Beach, I could use a stiff drink right about now, before even contemplating answering her question.

"Yes," I said, just in case she was propositioning me, when she looked at me with her big, blue eyes, while awaiting my answer. 

Even though there were plenty of people around, as if we were alone and just talking, oblivious to everyone as to what we were doing, she reached over and took hold of my bathing suit waistband.

"Lift up your hips, so that I can pull down your swim trunks and get at your cock," she said pulling my bathing suit down to my ankles, when I obeyed her.

What? Are you kidding me? Is she nuts? Am I nuts for going along with her? Delivering immoral and immodest sex to an even a higher level, where have I been that this younger generation has taken off with free love and public sex?

Stunned that she removed my bathing suit on a public beach, I was just as stunned that I was going along with her. Not caring or even thinking about the beach patrol arresting me for public indecency and lewd and lascivious behavior, my embarrassment of having my cock so exposed in public wasn't enough for me to protest too much. Fortunately, secluded and surrounded within a small conclave of adults, there were no children close by watching us. Fearing she'd rescind her offer for sex, if I didn't I obey her by lifting my hips, when she tugged down on my waistband, and fearing she'd rescind her offer for sex, once she saw my limp, little cock, I allowed her to strip me naked, nonetheless.

Normally a slow, floppy mover without a dose of Viagra, I was so proud when my cock sprung to life on its own and was ready for some hard, probing action. No doubt, even Ralph, Jr. was tired of his steady diet of elderly women and, ready for action, was prepared to show me and her that he still had what it takes in him to have sex with a hot chick who was a third his age. With an experienced hand, she grabbed hold of my cock with a tight grip, as if it was a joystick or a stick shift. Suddenly, I was conspicuously nervous.

"Do you think we should do this here?" I sat up to watch her stare at my cock, take a firmer hold of it, and stroke me. Her small, soft hand felt so good on my big, hard cock. "Maybe we can find somewhere more private," I said looking around the crowded beach for someplace to go. Suddenly feeling so awkwardly embarrassed by being so exposed, I looked to see if anyone was watching us. 

"Shh," she said pushing me back down on my blanket with a strong, stiff arm to my chest, as if repelling a hard serve or slamming home a volley, while still stroking me with her other hand. "I've done this plenty of times before," she said with a sexy laugh. "No one cares and I really need to suck your cock," she said in a sexy voice, while looking deeply in my eyes, before lowering her body and getting comfortable between my legs. "I love sucking a big, stiff prick, after winning a hard fought game," she said while kissing and licking the head of my cock.

Definitely figuring that I had died and gone to Heaven, if I wasn't so sexually excited, I would have thought I was dreaming. At that point, I didn't care how many games she won or how many cocks she sucked, so long as she was sucking mine. Not caring where I was and who saw us having sex, if I died right now, although I'd prefer the Grim Reaper wait just a few more minutes, until I ejaculated my aged cum in her sweet young mouth, dying right now would be okay. Trying to remember so far back, the last time a twenty-something-year-old had my sixty-something-year-old cock in her mouth was, well, more than thirty years ago, when I was a twenty-something-year-old, too.

"Oh, my God, Samantha."

"Sam," she said saying it forcefully enough and obviously important enough for her to remove my cock from her mouth to speak. "Call me Sam. I like being called Sam. It makes me hot being called Sam."

If being called Sam makes her hot, who am I to deny her to be so sexually aroused? Literally and figuratively, it would be my pleasure to call her Sam.

"Your mouth feels so good, Sam. Suck my cock, Sam. Suck it, Sam. Stroke me Sam. Stroke me while sucking me, Sam," I said reaching a hand down to fondle her breast and finger her nipple, while looking around to see if anyone was watching what we were doing but, strangely enough, no one was.

"I like it rough," she said removing my cock from her mouth again to speak to me in a husky voice that was filled with sexual arousal, while looking up at me with those electric blue eyes. "Fuck my face, Ralph. Give it to me good and hard, real good and hard. Really hump my mouth hard and pull my hair, as if I was your nasty bitch and you were forcing me to blow you. I need you to cum in my mouth. I need to feel your warm, oozy load splash against the back of my throat. I need to taste your salty sperm. The protein that comes from cum makes me a better volleyball player," she said with a sexy laugh.

As if we were of one mind, she said all the things that I was thinking.

"Fuck my face, Ralph. Give it to me good and hard, real good and hard. Really hump my mouth hard and pull my hair, as if I was your nasty bitch and you were forcing me to blow you. I need you to cum in my mouth. I need to feel your warm, oozy load splash against the back of my throat. I need to taste your salty sperm. The protein that comes from cum makes me a better volleyball player."

Wow, a match made in Heaven with her being so young and me being so old, with me loving my cock sucked and her loving to suck cock, I couldn't believe how much we had in common that we actually think alike.

A devotee of the game, dedicated to the sport of women's volleyball, even as a mere spectator, willing to take one for the team, the least that I could do was to cum in her oh, so sweet and oh, so young mouth. Just as she requested and not caring or even looking who was watching us, I put a hand to the back of her pretty, blonde head and gently pushed down, before pushing down harder and really fucking her face and humping her mouth more forcefully, while she stroked me faster. With most of the length of my cock in her mouth, she was really sucking my cock now and I couldn't wait to explode my warm load against the back of her throat. How someone so young can become such a great volleyball player and a talented cocksucker amazed me. A very talented volleyball player and cocksucker by winning so very many games, no doubt, she must have had lots of practice sucking cock.

Oh, yeah, if this sexy bitch likes it rough, I could definitely accommodate her. If it takes my protein for her to win at volleyball, who am I to deny her that privilege of excelling in her chosen sport? A patron of the sport, a win/win for both of us, I was giving her what she wanted and what I so needed.

I couldn't help but wonder if the Williams sisters, Venus and Serena, needed to suck cock for a steady diet of cum to win so very many tennis matches. I always imagined having hot sex with them, but they'd definitely kill me. Only, what a way to die. 

"Suck it, Sam. Suck my cock, Sam. Blow me, Sam. Yeah, that's right Sam, suck it. Suck my big prick, Sam. Make me cum, Sam. Oh, yeah, Sam. Don't stop. I'm right there. Suck it, suck it, suck it!"

Oh, my God, as soon as she told me to cum in her mouth, I was so ready to explode all that I had. Maybe because she was so young and uninhibited, but never have I had such an exciting blowjob before. Never have I had sex with someone so young and so wild. Never have I felt such sexual excitement. So close to cumming, just one minute, a few deep sucks, and a few hard strokes more...

I must have been humping the air in my sleep because people were looking over at me. Wiping open my eyes with my fingers, I sat up on my blanket acting as if nothing was wrong. I looked at my watch and with a snap of my fingers, just like that, I was twenty minutes older and twenty minutes closer to death. In a blink of two closed eyes during a twenty minute nap, one thousand two hundred seconds of my life disappeared for good. Such a waste of time sleeping, when I have so little precious time left, I'll never get that part of my life back again. I must have dozed off from the heat of the hot sun and from the one beer that I had, while watching the volleyball game.

"Wow, what a sexy dream that was. It felt real enough, if only it was real."

It's a good thing I was wearing plenty of sunscreen. It's a good thing I dozed off for only twenty minutes. I checked my pant pockets and it's a good thing no one stole my wallet, my cell phone, my car keys, and/or my money, while I was basking on the shore, as if a beached walrus, and dreaming about my young, pretty, blonde volleyball player blowing me.

I've been having a lot of those types of dreams lately. My most recent reoccurring dream, a real nightmare actually, is that I wake up in a nursing home as a patient. I figure the dream is a foreboding thought and a real warning that I need to take seriously. Maybe I should stop drinking. Maybe I should start exercising more or go on a diet to lose a few pounds. At the very least, maybe I should start walking more.

If a nursing home is going to be my reality soon, then I'd like to have one last fling with a woman half my age now. Oh, yeah, I'd love to have sex with a nice 30-year-old or 35-year-old. I wouldn't kick a 40-year-old or a 45-year-old out of my bed for eating crackers either, so long as she looked younger. Only, just as I no longer give older women a second look, younger women don't even give me a first look.

Now that I'm older, it's funny how I think about the time that I have left differently, as more of a finite amount, something that younger people wouldn't do or even understand. It used to be that I so impatiently waited for time to pass, especially when standing in line waiting at the bank, at the hospital, or at a restaurant. Now, while taking in my surroundings, I'm aware of every tick of my watch and use whatever time I have left to make new friends and/or enjoy new experiences. A change in philosophy and internal dialogue, thinking about aging more positively than negatively, I view the waiting in line part of my life, just as important as any other part of my life. Whatever I'm doing, even if it's something small and unimportant, it's still my life and that's what living life large is all about.

Taking a few seconds for me to get my bearings, I woke up a bit woozy, disoriented, and with an erection, before realizing that I was at the beach and dreaming about having sex with a female volleyball player that I had been watching, okay leering at and lusting over. Feeling horny, after my divorce and after dating a bevy of women my age and older, and giving up on trying to begin a new relationship at my age, I couldn't remember the last time I had sex, other than with my hairy hand. After watching all those, oh, so young and oh, so hot, women playing volleyball, I remembered now that I had a dream of one of them coming over and talking to me, before stripping topless, stripping me naked, and sucking my cock. 

A dream so real, if I didn't know it was a dream, I would have imagined that I had almost ejaculated in the mouth of a twenty-something-year-old. Never having had a girlfriend even three years younger than me, mostly attracted to women my age for the benefit of having a conversation without having to explain who Howdy Doody, Captain Kangaroo, Ozzie Nelson, and Kukla, Fran, and Ollie were, I've even had girlfriends a few years older than me, but never one so shockingly young. Yet, now that I'm older, for some inexplicable reason, I've been thinking more about having sex with a much younger women. Then, after having such an erotic dream, I had an epiphany why so many older men want younger women.

Maybe, just as I do, they fear that death is looming just around the corner or that they'll be forever confined to a nursing home, until the day they die, and they don't want to die before experiencing the wilder side of life. As if I were Adam taking a bite of the forbidden apple, I longed for a taste of some just ripened fruit from the vine, instead of serving my palette a constant diet of aged wine with an Ensure chaser. Nonetheless, it's still a little scary weird that I should suddenly be so focused on youth, especially when every time a woman half my age catches me looking, actually, staring, okay leering, she scolds me with a look of violation, before nudging her boyfriend or husband.

Even though the beach was crowded with families, there were still plenty of knuckleheads playing football and Frisbee, while doing their best to get noticed by the skinny, blonde, young things wearing bikinis that were smaller than my handkerchief. Just as the men were acting goofy and silly, the women were mercilessly teasing the men by showing oh, so much skin. Can they show so much of their tits and asses on a public beach? Boy, times have changed. With so much to see, sitting amid an arcade of young, sexy, hot women, as if I was at the aquarium enjoying all the fish, I didn't know where to look.

Reading into what I was seeing, I remembered how I was like them back then, so very long ago. Testosterone filled dummies that think with their cocks and think that they knew everything but know nothing, I watched them all strut and pose around the beach, while making fools of themselves. If only I could have their slim, muscular body with the wisdom I have now, I'd possess all the answers to life. If only they still had drive-in movies, hot rod night, and car hops, older now but so much wiser, I'd be the cat's meow.

Tired of being alone and lonely, watching them flirt made me wish I were younger and had someone younger in my life, too. Only, old enough to be their much older brother, okay, father, alright, grandfather, what chance would I have with any one of those bikini clad, young beauties? Now with cougars coming of age and to their own and bedding men half their age, even women my age don't want an old guy like me. What's an old guy like me to do but to hope for lightning in a bottle and to get naked with a young cutie for one last fling?

Wishing I had a second chance to correct all the mistakes that I made in romantic relationships, wishing I could start over again with a younger and more energetic lover, I wondered how men my age attracted much younger women. Michael Douglas with Catherine Zeta Jones, Billy Bob Thornton with Angelina Jolie and a bevy of others, the late Tony Randall with Heather Harlan, fifty years his junior, Donald Trump and Hugh Heffner with everyone, and my hero, the late J. Howard Marshall II with Anna Nicole Smith, other than money and Viagra, what's their secret?




Old Guy Gets Lucky with Young Chick



Always attracted to women my age, now I wondered what it would feel like to have sex with a woman young enough to be my daughter. Instead of feeling weathered leather like skin, I imagined feeling skin as soft, as supple, and as smooth as a piece of ripe fruit. I imagined looking into healthy eyes and seeing a face free of wrinkles, while kissing full lips that hide white, perfect teeth.

I imagined a woman dying her hair for the sake of changing the color, instead of hiding the grey. I imagined a woman with hands that didn't have age spots. Just as Hemingway saw the topless native girl with perfect natural breasts walking towards him, I imagined breasts so full, so high, and so supple to the touch that I'd think I was on a white, sandy beach in Africa's Garden of Eden beneath the snow capped Mount Kilimanjaro.

Unable to have sex or maybe it was her excuse, but one woman I recently dated just had hip replacement surgery. Offering to hold my hand, instead of stroking my cock, another woman I dated told me she couldn't have sex with me because she had a bad heart. She wouldn't even allow me to see her breasts, because of the surgery scars she had. Then there was the last woman I dated who had a voice like Gabby Hayes, Roy Rogers' bearded, old sidekick. A chain smoker, who smoked for forty-years and coughed through dinner, she'd dash outside between every course for a cigarette. Although she did give me a blowjob in the car and allowed me to cum in her mouth, maybe because it kept her mouth busy between butts, kissing her was akin to making out with an ashtray.

Then, there were the older women, the widows, who were hot for me, but not so much for sex. All show and no go, they were terrible in bed. Wanting to sexually do what they were forbidden to do by a Puritanical society when they were younger, only too old, too unhealthy, and/or too inhibited to do what they wanted to do, they had no idea what to do now that they were older and could do whatever they wanted to do. Inexperienced in the way of a virgin on her wedding night, too many older women didn't suck cock and those that did suck cock just dabbled, wouldn't allow me to cum in their mouths and if they did allow me to cum in their mouths, they refused to swallow and were spitters. Ah, I'd sell my soul for a chance to be with a woman half my age. Only what young woman would want an old guy like me?

Typically, used by older women to impress their friends that they were still hot enough to attract a younger boyfriend, the women that I hooked up with online lied about their age and about their weight. Don't they know that relationships don't work when started with a lie? Don't they know, as soon as I meet them in person, I'll know that they're older and heavier than they professed to be online?

Maybe they figured, we'll never meet. Maybe their good time was just corresponding and flirting with me online. Maybe sending photos of how they looked 10 years ago made them feel that their aging clock stopped. Maybe, pretending they still looked like that now allowed them to escape the reality that they no longer did. Maybe they figured, by the time I met them, they'd have lost weight and/or had plastic surgery. Maybe they figured, by then, we would have started a correspondence that would transcend whatever lies they told to attract me. Maybe they thought that I was just as desperate for love and companionship as they were.

While surveying the beach, I watched a busty blonde nearly fall out of her bikini top, when emerging from the water and scream her need for attention. Annoyed by the young mother sitting next to me, who took a crying baby to a hot beach, I watched the rest of humanity parade by my blanket, while leaving their temporary footprints in the hot, soft sand. Feeling so boringly ordinary, there were so many people doing the same thing at the same time that I didn't feel uniquely special. I felt like one of them, one of the herd on a beach, while waiting for something exciting to happen but nothing ever did. 

Then, as if she had a spotlight of brilliant sunshine over her head, as if she was someone that I needed to know, unable to take my eyes off of her, I couldn't help but notice a young, big, beautiful redhead. Taken by her, I thought of the late, great Frank Sinatra swooning his love song, Strangers in the Night...exchanging glances. Only, she wasn't glancing over at me, in the way that I was looking, staring, actually, okay, leering at her.

Captivated by her, I watched her. Just as I wondered what her story was, for the time being, she was my story. With the hundreds of people on the beach, maybe even thousands, she was the one who maintained my interest and I wanted to know more about her, so that I could write about her. For some inexplicable reason, not understanding the attraction to her that I felt, I was drawn enough to her to want to know everything about her.

What was her name? Was she married, single, or divorced? Does she have any children? If she doesn't have children, does she want children? More importantly, would she have my baby? Then, I was saddened to think that maybe she's lesbian. 

When it seemed that everyone else had someone, a friend, a girlfriend, a boyfriend, a significant other, or a screaming baby, she was sitting there alone on her beach blanket reading her book, a romance novel, no doubt. I scanned the area around her to see if she was alone, while waiting to see if anyone was coming to join her and/or to claim her, but no one came and no one did. Just as I was alone, she was alone, too. 

I was alone because I was old and sitting on a beach surrounded by young people. Since she was so young, I wondered why she was alone. Was she alone because she was obviously obese or was she alone because she wanted to be alone? For sure, I didn't want to be alone. I was tired of being alone. It's no fun being alone and lonely. Curious why and what she preferred to read rather than to enjoy all that the beach had to offer on such a warm summer day, I picked up my compact binoculars and focused them on her for a closer look.

"Knight in Shining Armor, by Jude Devereaux."

I never read that book. The only romance that I was interested in was my own and with two failed marriages behind me, not very good at romance, I'm thinking that I'm done with romance but, hoping by the looks of her, not with one night stands. I remember having to suffer through reading Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet and Cleopatra and Mark Antony in high school, along with Chretien de Troyes's Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere. Then, in college, there was Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence, Gustave Flobere's Madam Bovary, and anything by D. H. Lawrence and Robert Browning, all of which I rather enjoyed. 

Of course, we all read and/or watched, Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind. Still rather than sitting in her house, on her porch, or in a park, I don't know why she'd go through all the trouble of packing up her car and sitting in gridlock traffic to drive to the shore, just to read a romance novel. Why was she here in her bathing suit clad body, when she wasn't here in mind and in spirit? Surely, she could read her romance novel anywhere, even sitting in her bathtub, while pretending she was at the beach.

I couldn't help but wonder about her. Maybe she just wants to be seen. Maybe she hopes that the beach is where she'll meet Mr. Right, fall in love, and live happily ever after. For sure, she looks like she'd be the type who'd believes in fairytales and in miracles. Maybe she's hoping for fate and to be swept away in a kiss of kismet. 

Maybe, hoping for love at first sight, she imagines her knight in shining armor with abs of steel, and with longer and thicker hair than she has, emerging from out of the water to pick her up and carry her away. By the size of her, maybe she more realistically imagines a larger man holding a gallon of melting fudge ripple ice cream and asking her to share. Again, by the size of her, having to face reality for the sake of bedding a much younger woman, maybe I'd have a better chance of getting with an obese woman than I'd have a chance with a young, skinny blonde thing. 

I took another look at her through my pocket Brushnells that I carry with me everywhere I go to look at those birds that have wings and those birds that have tits. She certainly had tits alright, big tits, along with everything else that was big about her, big thighs, big arms, big waist, and a big butt. I wondered if she had a big brain and a big heart, too.

When it comes to a woman, not that she made a bad appearance, but more important than appearance is intelligence, a sense of humor, and a loving kind spirit. I'd never want to be with a dumb, dull, woman who couldn't laugh at herself and at me, while making me feel that I was her one and only special man. Other than to fuck her, I'd never want to be with a young, pretty woman, who had nothing going on in the inside. Even though I lust for a younger lover, I still need someone to challenge my intellect.

Then, when I forced myself to look away from her tits to focus on her face, I noticed that she was pretty, very pretty. Looking again at her face, she was more than pretty. By every definition of beauty, with her eyes not too far apart or too close together and her small facial features, chin and nose, and with her full lips, she was beautiful and she had freckles, too. I'm a sucker for a woman with freckles. I wondered if she was Irish. To me, Irish women are among the most beautiful women in the world, especially when combined with another eastern European nationality, such as Italian, German, Polish, or my favorite, Czechoslovakian, in the way of those famous Czech models Eva Herzigova, Petra Nemcova, and Daniela, Pestova.

Strikingly pretty and stunningly beautiful, she looked like the kind of woman who may be, if she wasn't already, or should be, a plus sized model. I realize, of course, how so many full figured women justify their weight by reciting that big is beautiful, but this woman, for sure, would be more beautiful, if she wasn't so big. As I always do, I imagine myself with women that I see and I could see myself with her, that is, if she wasn't so young. If only she was more my age or ten, even twenty, years younger, I'd have a better chance of bedding her.

I zoomed my binoculars closer in on her face looking for a clue to her age. Was she even thirty-years-old? I doubted it. Maybe she was in her late twenties. Maybe she was in her thirties but looked younger. No matter if she was in her late twenties or early thirties, she was just way too young for me. I have daughters older than her. Besides, what in the world, would a woman so young and so pretty, even an obese woman, who's alone and, no doubt, lonely, want with an old man like me?

Still, mesmerized by her beauty, unable to stop staring at her from across the crowded beach, just as I could only remember how much better looking I was when I was younger, I could only imagine what a redheaded knockout this woman would be, if only she lost some weight. She was better looking than all of those blonde scarecrows with their small tits and flat asses parading around the beach in their custom made bikinis that gave them more boobs than they had by lifting and shaping them, before receiving their breast implants, upon their college graduation. Without doubt, I'd take my BBW romance novel reader over any of them, any day. One in a million, the more that I looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time, she was exceptionally beautiful.

She reminded me of that Christina Hendricks from Mad Men, albeit an even larger version. Certainly, she had the beautiful face and the big boobs to be her, that's for sure. I suddenly imagined her with her hair up and in high heel shoes, while wearing something slenderizing, such as a designer wedding gown. Oh, yeah, love at first sight for me, never thinking that I'd want to marry again, I was already head over heels for this woman.

"Wow!"

It was then that I remembered an old friend who fought a losing battle with her weight. Her name was Natalie and she was a very pretty, busty blonde, but very overweight. She tired of her skinny, ugly friends, some friends they were, talking behind her back and making fun of her. She bought a bumper sticker for her car that read, "I may be fat, but you're ugly and I can always go on a diet and lose weight."

She was funny like that. She had a great sense of humor and was very intelligent. I wonder what happened to her. 

"Natalie, if you're out there, reading this story, call me."

Suddenly thinking of myself with my romance reading BBW, a woman half my age, romancing her, before sucking on her big tits, I could see myself with her. Definitely, I could see myself fucking her big breasts with my cock, before she leaned down and took me in her mouth. For sure, being with her would be better than being with a woman who just had hip and/or or heart surgery, who smoked like a chimney, who wasn't an elderly widow, and/or an Internet dating liar. Maybe she's a woman who may be lonely enough and/or desperate enough to be remotely interested in a man with a one foot in the grave. 

"Cough, hack, gasp, wheeze."

Regardless of her young age, hoping for some alone time with those fabulous breasts of hers, while thinking about inviting her to lunch, how could one luncheon date with her possibly be wrong? Yet, what would someone as young as she was want with an old geezer like me? I'll never know, unless I get up off my old ass and give her a try. Who knows, maybe I'm her knight in shining armor? Maybe I'm the kind of man she's be dreaming of meeting.

"Ha!"

Some knight in shining armor I am. With my armor wrinkled and definitely tarnished, worse for the wear, I'm not shiny at all, but rather dull, dusty, boring, and, admittedly, needing a bit of lubrication, squeaky. Too old and too tired to really care, truth be told, I just couldn't see myself beginning a love relationship by acting interested in her thoughts, dreams, and desires, when I was only interested in fucking her pretty mouth and sucking on her big tits.

Besides, adventure, kismet, and love at first sight, as well as sports, that is, except for women's beach volleyball, was never my calling. Writing has always been my big thing. Hiding myself away in my room, staying behind my drawn shade, while I watch the world go by on TV, on the Internet, and through movies, as I create my characters, the only reason why I'm at this God forsaken moonscape of a beach is, hopefully, to get some inspiration to write a story by watching people.

Oh, yeah, I'm a big people watcher, specifically, other than tits, people's faces are what interest me. Sometimes I'll just go to the mall or to the park and watch people walk by hoping for the one who will inspire a story, before being rousted by the mall security police for staring, leering, actually, or from the real police for stalking. Whether right or dead wrong, it doesn't really matter, I can write a whole story, just by reading a person's face and imagining the kind of life they've lived and all the things they've done to survive.

"A match made in Heaven, maybe with me being the writer and her being the reader, we'd hit it off," I said talking out loud to myself. Those around me turned to see who I was talking to and when they saw that I was alone and talking to myself, they moved away. "For sure, we'd have books in common. Nah. Either I'm too old for her or she's too young for me, no doubt, both applies."

Then, I thought, quietly this time and without verbalizing it out loud in public, maybe she's more mature than me. Everyone is. For sure, I never act my age. Maybe with me being so immature and her being more mature, we could meet somewhere in the middle, say around 45-years-old.

Moving slow, so as not to get dizzy, embarrass myself, and trip and fall on my face, I got up, brushed the sand from my ass, shook the cobwebs from my head, and slowly approached her. The closer I got, the more beautiful she was. Even though she was a plus sized woman, opposite in size to the women that most men my age or any age lust over, she was a true Goddess. Unable to see beyond the surface, just as younger women pass me by because I'm older, no doubt, men her age pass her by because she's obese. Nonetheless, she made me wish I was 30-years-old again.

She was wearing a slenderizing Chinese blue, one piece bathing suit that complimented and highlighted her long, lush, red hair. Then, when I got to the front of her, blocking the sun, as if I was her wished for shooting star, I stood over her and cast my shadow across her, as if making my claim that she was mine. Taking her all in, as if taking a sip of bubbly Dr. Pepper Cherry soda, instead of breathing aged French wine, I peered down at her. She had that long, Route 66 highway of mountainous cleavage that every man needs to get lost in, at least, once in a lifetime, especially during a cold winter night. Damn, she had big tits.

"Hi," I said forcing myself to look up at face, instead of down at her big boobs. "I'm Ralph."

Squinting up at me through her big, blue, beautiful eyes, I wondered if she was imagining someone else, Ryan Reynolds, Robert Pattison, or Taylor Lautner, perhaps. Then, as if to get a better look at me, she flipped down her shades from atop her red hair and surmised me from head to toe, as if I was a rejected markdown from Roman's plus size clothing store. Even though I was looking spiffy wearing my swim trunks, baseball cap, shades, and a designer tee shirt, she made me feel naked by her stern inspection.

"Do I know you?"

"No, but I'd like to know you," I said with a smile, while thinking that was a good line and an even better line than the one I imagined I said to the beautiful blonde in my dream, about her playing in the Olympics. Rolling the dice with nothing to lose, I took a leap of faith by pushing myself on her. "May I join you?"

The pause before she spoke was long, the silence unsettling, and the confidence hit embarrassing. I could feel my penis shrink with every long second that passed, before she spoke. Looking at me, no doubt, as if I may be trying to sell her something, a car, life insurance, or a cemetery plot, she thought for a long second, before inviting me to join her.

"Sure," she said closing her book and extending her hand with a reluctant smile. "I'm Maureen." 

Ah, top of the morning to you, Maureen, I wanted to say, but didn't. By her red hair, freckles, and name, surely she was Irish. If I were to write about her as a Irish character in a story, she looked how a woman named Maureen should look.

By the firm hold of her handshake, suddenly imagining her youthful hand pumping my cock, I liked that she had a strong grip. As if skinning a ripe and juicy oversized Georgia peach, I imagined peeling off that skin tight bathing suit to more closely examine her tan lines or, in the case of her fair complexion, her sunburn, when in reality, I just wanted to see her big tits.

"Please to meet you, Maureen," I said joining her on her blanket. Too busy looking at me to see what I was doing, I reached for her sunscreen, undid the cap, and squirted a glob on my fingers, before she could even answer. "May I?" 

"Sure," she said but, by the shocked look on her face, I surprised her, when I lowered the straps of her swimsuit and started applying the lotion to her back and to her shoulders, instead of to me.

Quick to claim the prize that she was, before she could stop me, just as I shocked myself in my boldness by lowering her bathing suit straps, I couldn't believe she allowed me to lower her swimsuit straps and expose more of her breasts. As if parting two huge mountains with the sudden descent of her bathing suit straps, her breasts separated enough to create a deep, wide valley of perceived sexual pleasure by exposing more of her cleavage. Good God. I wondered if I moved my mouth closer to her cleavage and uttered what I was thinking, if there'd be an echo.




Old Guy Gets Lucky with Young Chick



"Big tits! Tits! Tits! Tits!"

Only, for fear that I was being too aggressive, I didn't say what I was thinking. I just enjoyed the moment of massaging unwrinkled skin that was so young and so soft. A master of massage, I made sure that my delicate hands and experienced fingers made an impression on her soft, supple skin, before she could even voice her protest.

"Thank you," she said looking at me with a smile. "You have great hands. That feels so good."

Kneeling beside her, while looking down into the deep, glorious chasm created by her huge mammary glands, I wondered if she was imagining my hands massaging her breasts and my fingers fingering her nipples, as I was imagining my hands massaging her breasts and my fingers fingering her nipples. Just as I was imagining massaging the rest of her body, I wondered if she imagined me massaging her thighs, buttocks, and pussy.

"You're getting a bit of a burn," I said.

"Oh," she said looking down at herself, before looking at her watch. "Maybe it's time I get out of the sun."

Thinking I was going to lose my opportunity to make a love connection with my young, big, beautiful red flower, I watched her packing up her stuff.

"How about some lunch?"

"Lunch?" She looked at her watch again. "Sure, I could eat something."

How about me, I wanted to say? How about a foot long hot dog, I wanted to say, while thinking of her sucking my cock as I touched, felt, fondled, and caressed her magnificent melons, before lowering my head to suck her nipples? Yet, again, the gentleman that I have, unfortunately, grown to become, I controlled myself from being too forward too soon. Ah, if only I were younger, I'd be all over this beautiful, sexy bitch. Yet, then, again, if I were younger, I'd, no doubt, be wasting all my time chasing after that young, blonde, beautiful, tattooed, tight assed volleyball player.

"We can walk up to the boardwalk," I said. "There's a place that's air conditioned. We can sit inside, while still enjoying the view and looking out over the water."

"Oh, that would be nice," she said fanning herself with her book. "I'm so terribly hot," she said flashing me those baby blues with a smile that made me imagine waking up beside her naked.

I watched a bead of her perspiration collect at her neck and, as if the sweat was on a water park slide, I watched it glide down and disappear between her big boobs. I so wanted to reach out my finger and capture it, before it vanished between her big breasts. At first, thinking that I should suppress my first thought, instead of just blurting it out, against my better judgment, I let it fly.

"You have no idea how hot you are," I said with a big grin.

She gave me a look that confessed she wasn't sure if I was being sincere or making fun of her. I sensed, because of her weight, she was unaccustomed to compliments. Just as was my friend Natalie, I imagined she was made fun of a lot.

"Thank you," she said flashing me her smile that lit up her face and eyes. 

"You're very beautiful," I said using that as an opportunity and, when she didn't turn away, as an invitation to stare at her longer.

"Oh, aren't you the charmer," she said in a fashioned flow of thick Irish brogue and giving me a big, bright smile. Instantly, I was in love.

"Shall we have lunch?" I offered her my arm. 

When, her hand took hold of my arm, I imagined her taking hold of me and directing my hard cock in her soft, warm, and wet pussy.

"Only," she said looking at me with worry, "will they let us go inside in our suits?"

"Unfortunately, no, we'd have to change out of them first," I said knowing full well that with this being a beach, swim attire was appropriate and welcome.

"Oh," she said looking around. "There's no place to change around here."

"Typically, people change behind a held up towel," I said with a devious smile that turned into a devilish grin.

"Oh," she said again, but this time biting her lip. Was she imagining herself stripping naked, while I held up a towel around her tits? Was she excited by that thought or embarrassed by it? I couldn't tell.

Allowing my imagination to get the better of me, I imagined her stripping out of her bathing suit and standing naked behind the thin layer of cotton that I was holding and that suddenly fell, darn. As if shadowed by twin full moons, I imagined my eyes filled with her massive breasts. Hoping she'd agree to change, hoping she'd strip out of her swimsuit, hoping she'd allow me to hold up the towel around her, I gave her my best shot, while trying not to reveal my hidden agenda and sexual intentions to her.

"I can hold up your towel, if you hold up my towel, and promise not to look, just as I promise not to look," I said with a silly grin.

"Me looking at you is not what I'm worried about," she said with a sly look, a fun grin, and a chuckle.

"Oh, you needn't worry about me trying to sneak a peek," I said with a serious look. "I have a brother who's a priest and another brother who's a doctor."

"I see," she said, "as if that makes a difference. And what do you do?"

"Me? I'm a writer."

"Oh? What do you write?"

"Erotic literature," I said with a laugh.

"Figures," she said returning my laugh, while, no doubt, surmising my agenda with a look. "Well, if you promise not to look, too much," she said pausing to give me an admonishing look, "maybe you can hold up my towel around me and I can stand behind my car and change out of my clothes."

"Just let me grab my clothes," I said leaving her for a moment to jog to my blanket and back. I couldn't believe she was going to allow me to hold up a towel around her, while she stripped naked. "Okay, I'm ready," I said returning and shaking the sand out of my blanket and rolling it up, before shaking the sand off my pants, briefs, socks, shirt, and shoes.

We walked about a quarter mile to her car and once there, she opened her car door and pulled out her clothes. Oh, my God. Her bra was the biggest bra I've seen in my life. Her brassiere looked like an oversized promotional item that they use when shooting a parody for Victoria Secret's lingerie commercial. Her bra cups were so big that an elephant could have worn them for earmuffs.

"Okay. No peeking now," she said shooting me a sexy look, handing me an oversized beach towel, and turning her back to me. "I'm ready."

Me, too, I wanted to say, but didn't, while watching her lower her bathing suit straps and wiggle out of her one piece swimsuit. In the sexy way she said she was ready told me that she was ready to play a game of exhibitionism and voyeurism. Alas, our sexy game of exhibitionism and voyeurism would have been so much more fun, if only she faced me and hadn't turned around. 

Being the horny, albeit older gentleman that I am, I held up the towel around her but, of course, because I was so much taller than she was and because her body was so full figured shapely, I had a clear down towel view of the top of naked Rubenesque ass, along with the rest of the back of her hourglass figure. From the down towel view that I had, I wished she was facing me, so that I could have gotten a good look of her monster sized breasts. Only, as soon as I thought that, I realized that I could see her reflection in the back window of her car, with additional glimpses of her tits , areolas, and nipple shots in the rearview mirror. 

"Wow! There is a God."

"Pardon?" She turned to face me, after covering her big breasts with her hands, and shooting me a look of violation.

"Sorry, I was just talking to myself," I said. "Now, there's a bit of smog," I said instead, while looking up to the sky, to cover my misspeak.

"Oh."

When she turned back the other way, I watched as she put on her giant bra and I could feel my cock stirring, pulsating actually, while enjoying the view. Then, she put on her blouse, but without buttoning it all the way and leaving it open enough to expose even more of her cleavage than when she was wearing her swimsuit. With her cleavage and shear bra cups so exposed and in plain sight, I so wanted to reach my hand inside her towel and inside her blouse and cup her immense bra clad breast. I couldn't wait to kiss her, while feeling her massive tits and fingering her huge nipples through her blouse and bra. Then, tit for cock, it was my turn to change out of my bathing suit. I couldn't wait.

Figuring she'd hold the towel up as high as I held the towel up for her, she held my towel waist high, while facing me. Being just as forward as she was, not even bothering to turn around, willing to give her a free show of my semi-erect penis, after she gave me a free show of her ass and her tits, I stayed facing her, while watching her stare down the towel. Just as she wasn't shy about looking at what I had, I wasn't shy about showing her what I so wanted her to see.

"Nice cock," she said looking up at me with a sexy smile.

Oh, God, she likes my old, shriveled, limp cock. I love this sexy playful woman.

"Thanks," I said with a shit eating smile. "Nice tits."

"You saw my tits?" As if angry that I peeked, she looked up at me with violation, before giggling, "How?"

"You were facing your rearview mirror. I tried my best not to look, I said putting my splayed fingered hand over my face."

"Oh," she said with a shrug and a laugh, before making eye contact. "Do you like big tits?"

Asking a man if he likes big tits is akin to asking a man if he likes beer, football, cheerleaders, and naked strippers on a pole.

"Do I like big tits?" I laughed. I looked down at her big tits, before peering in her eyes to make what I was about to say more personal. "I love your big tits."

"Thank you," she said with a blush, while cupping and lifting her bra clad breasts with both hands, in the way that Mae West would do. "My breasts are my best feature," she said so rehearsed, as if she had said that to a hundred men, who only wanted her for her big tits but rejected her because she was fat.

Did they not notice that she was beautiful? Did they not notice that she was fun and funny and had a brain in her head that was so much bigger than her body? Could they not see the person beneath the over abundance of skin? Beautiful inside and out, I was mesmerized by Maureen.

"Not hardly," I said.

"What do you mean?" She nearly dropped my towel and looked at me, as if I had just insulted her.

"Your big brain, sense of humor, kind spirit, and beauty dwarf the size of your big breasts. Your big breasts are hardly the biggest part of you."

"Thank you," she said with another blush, while making solid eye contact. There was a long pause, where she appeared that she was about to cry. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Actually, I can't remember the last time someone complimented me. No one ever compliments me," she said with a sad smile and a shrug. They just see that I'm--"

"Shh," I said putting a finger to her lips, before leaning down and following my finger with a kiss. I put an arm around her big back and parted her lips with my tongue. Just as I surprised her with a kiss, she surprised me by returning my kiss. Then, when we parted, she looked shocked that I kissed her.

"Wow, you took me by surprise. I wasn't expecting that."

"Sorry."

"Don't ruin that kiss with an apology. I enjoyed it," she said.

"If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?"

"You're not supposed to ask a woman her age," she said looking at me coyly, before looking at me with interest and asking me her question. "How old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?" Adjusting my stance and posing, as if I was doing a Captain Morgan commercial, I tilted up my head and smiled, while blinking my eyes.

"Seventy?"

"Very funny."

"Fifty?"

"Thank you," I said. "Actually, I just turned sixty."

"I'm twenty-five."

When she said that she was twenty-five, I couldn't help but feel that the dirty old man police were about to run out and arrest me for violating some obscure law that reads how wrong it must be for a man to have sex with a woman thirty-five years his junior.

"Twenty-five? Twenty-five? Oh, my God," I said with a nervous laugh, while figuring that was the end of my chances of bedding her.

I was shocked. I knew she was young, very young, but I was hoping she was, at least, older than my daughters, or at the very least, 30-years-old. Now I felt certain that there'd be no way a 25-year-old woman would want to have sex with a 60-year-old man. When I was out of college, out of the military, and working and married for ten years, she was just being born.

"Is my age a problem for you?"

"I have shoes older than you," I said with a laugh.

"Well, I won't hold your age against you for being so old, if you don't hold my age against me for being so young."

"I'd love to hold it against you," I said pushing my cock up against her big belly and slowly tracing her long line of exposed cleavage with my fingertip, before lightly running my open hand across the top of her exposed breasts. "Got milk?"

I was hoping she'd reach inside my towel and grab my cock. I was hoping she'd fall to her knees and take me in her mouth. Instead of going to lunch, I was hoping we'd have wanton sex right there, behind her parked car.

"Gallons," she said with a laugh, while allowing me and watching my hand explore more of the top of her breasts.

Accustomed to old, wrinkled breasts that sag lower than my testosterone, I couldn't believe what wonderful breasts she had. I so wanted to reached deeper inside her big bra to explore her nipple, but I didn't dare. Too soon in our relationship, that is, if there was to be one, hoping to just tease her and make her want more, I didn't want to ruin my chances of spending some intimate time with her.

"They're so soft, yet so firm," I said running my hand across the upper width of her chest. "Your skin feels like silk. I love it."

"Okay grandpa, that's enough. Get dressed so that we can have lunch," she said with a laugh. "Maybe we can save these for dessert later," she said looking down at her breasts, while watching my finger having sex with her cleavage, before removing my finger from her chest and buttoning her blouse.

Dessert? I couldn't believe she suggested that I could have her breasts for dessert. Who is this playful woman and why in the world would she be interested in an old codger like me?

As soon as we walked up to the boardwalk, there was a long line of people casually dressed waiting to get in the restaurant. No doubt, wanting to get out of the hot sun and into the air conditioned comfort of the restaurant, before heading home, it seemed that everyone had the same idea.

"It looks like we didn't have to change out of our swimsuits after all," she said shooting me a surmising look.

Oops, I wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, I quickly changed the subject for fear that she'd think that I was an old degenerate only after her big tits, which I wasn't, of course. I was not only hoping to see her tits, feel her tits, and suck her nipples but also to get a blowjob, too.

"I hope you don't mind a long wait," I said hoping she'd be willing to wait in line with me, instead of scurrying away and disappearing in the crowd, never to seen again.

Knowing she, no doubt, had better things to do than to stand out in the hot sun with me, I felt disappointment that I was pressuring her to wait with me because of my invitation to a free lunch. The chance that I had being with this young, busty beauty was quickly evaporating with the heat of the hot sun. My disappointment was short lived, however, with her reply.

"It's too hot to stand outside and wait. My cottage is not far from here. Why don't we go there? I don't mind cooking something, so long as you promise to behave," she said putting a hand across her exposed cleavage, as if closing the gate to the funbag playground.

Better than standing in line in the hot sun waiting to be seated, better than sitting in a restaurant, even with her request and with my potential promise that I behave, the invitation to her cottage was an open door that gave me more than a glimmer of hope of having an afternoon of some hot, sexy fun with her.

"I'll be good, that is, unless you want me to be bad," I said giving her my best Jack Nicholson raised eyebrow impression.

"We'll see," she said giggling and looking at me with those big baby blues.

Deciding to leave my car parked where it was, we walked back to her car and drove to her cottage. It was within walking distance of where we were at the beach, but with all she had to carry in this heat, she had driven to the beach.

Once inside her cottage, it was beach cozy, so long as each person didn't have too many possessions to clutter up the place. With only enough room for a very affectionate couple to live in loving comfort, so long as they didn't mind bumping into to one another, I imagined living here in blissful happiness with her.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Water. Thank you," I said.

"There's a water cooler in the corner. Help yourself."

"Thanks," I said grabbing a paper cup and downing a few, while contemplating my surroundings.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to shower. There's a bathroom to your right, if you'd like to freshen up a bit."

Shower? I wondered if that was my invitation to join her? Was that my cue to follow her upstairs, strip naked, and shower with her? I imagined her standing in the bathroom naked with the door wide open and giving me a full view of her naked, plus sized body, as I entered the room. I imagined lathering up her bigger than double D breasts, while she lathered my cock and balls in the shower. Or was she just taking a shower because she was sweaty and sandy from the beach? Not wanting to ruin my chances of a fun afternoon, I didn't know what to do. I decided to act the gentleman that I needed to be to not scare her away.

"Thank you," I said availing myself of the downstairs bathroom to make myself look more presentable, after lying out in the hot sun. "Damn, I look so frigging old," I said staring back at my reflection in the mirror. "Dad! What the Hell are you doing here? I thought you were dead," I said when realizing how much I looked like my father, when he was an old man, probably as old as or younger than I am now. 

Finally, when she returned, I was already sitting in the living room watching the ballgame. She was wearing a long flowing, colorful sundress and it was obvious that she wasn't wearing anything but panties underneath.

"How does an omelet sound to you?"

"That sounds great," I said turning off the ballgame and getting up from the chair. "Can I help you in the kitchen?"

"Well, if you're good with a knife, you can chop some onion, mushroom, and parsley."

The kitchen was small enough that we had to squeeze by one another. Instead of turning around the other way, I made sure that I faced her, so that she could inadvertently rub those two giant melons across the front of me.

"Sorry," I said purposely bumping into her. "Pardon me," I said grabbing her around the waist, as I squeezed by her with a chuckle.

"Somehow I don't think your apologies are sincere," she said with a laugh, when I gave her a hug, a kiss, and a tickle.

"The omelet is nearly ready. Go make yourself comfortable in the living room and I'll serve you. Would you like a beer?"

"Okay," I said.

Whether on purpose or accidental, I didn't care which, but when she came in the living carrying the two plates, she leaned down in front of me to give me a great down dress view of her breasts.

"How's that?" Staying in that position, until I noticed her and answered her question, she put the plate down on a tray table in front of me, while looking up and catching me looking down.

"Amazing," I said. 

"I was referring to the omelet, not my boobs," she said with a laugh. "You're incorrigible," she said with a giggle.




Old Guy Gets Lucky with Young Chick



"Aren't you hot in this thing," I said reaching out and pulling down her zipper enough to expose all of her cleavage and the front sides of her breasts. She stopped me just in time, before I unzipped her whole dress. Now, with all of her cleavage and so much of her breasts exposed, she looked like a woman from 17th century.

"Well, if it will make you happy," she said with a laugh and looking down at what she was showing. "I don't mind exposing part of my breasts to you. I don't even mind you ogling my breasts, so long as you respect me by not groping my tits," she said slapping my hand away, when I reached out and grabbed a handful of her breast and gently tugged on her nipple. "If you eat all your omelet, maybe I'll give you a surprise," she said making no effort to zip up her dress.

I couldn't believe she was sitting across from me on the couch, so unabashedly exposed and immorally immodest. God, this woman is not only beautiful but playfully sexy.

"Sorry," I said, "but I have a thing for breasts and you have the biggest breasts I've ever seen in my life."

"I'm glad you like them, Ralph," she said pulling down her zipper a little more and exposing just enough of them to keep them from falling out completely and without revealing her areolas and nipples. "Is that better?" She gave me a sexy look, while watching me stare at all that she was showing.

"Yes," I said quickly eating the rest of my omelet. "There. I've eaten all my omelet. I'm ready for my surprise. What's my surprise?"

I couldn't help but feel, as if I was a little boy waiting for mommy to give me something because I was good.

"A nap."

"A nap?"

"Yeah, after sitting out in the hot sun, I could use a nap," she said with a sexy smile.

"The last thing that I want to do is sleep, especially after having just eaten," I said not believing that I was rejecting my chance to take a nap with her.

"Who said anything about sleeping," she said giving me a wink, getting up from the couch, and walking in the bedroom.

Following behind her, as if a little puppy, I watched her pull her dress above her knees to get on the bed. As if this wasn't our first time being intimate, she took my hand and pulled me down beside her. Just as we did at the beach, by her car, we kissed, only this time, with more passion. To be kissed and wanted by someone so young and so beautiful was a fantasy come true.

"Touch me," she said. "Feel my tits, Ralph."

Oh, my God. She wants me to touch her. She wants me to feel her tits. She didn't have to ask me twice. Oh, my God. I'm going to have sex with a woman more than half my age.

I felt her breasts through her dress. Feeling her breasts that were so young, so full, and so big felt like nothing else I've felt in a very long time. Her nipples were already hard and ready for me to suck. I couldn't wait to see her big tits and take them in my mouth. Yet, wanting to take my time and not rush my first experience with a woman more than half my age, wanting to show her how much of a the better lover an older man can be, it was exciting fun just French kissing her, while feeling her tits through her sundress. Then, when I felt her hand feeling my cock through my pants, she blew my mind with what she asked me next.

"Would you like me to suck your cock, Ralph?"

What? Are you kidding me? Shocked, I couldn't believe she asked me that. No woman has ever asked my permission to suck my cock, even when I dated hot to trot Cynthia Scott back in the early 70's. Would I like Maureen to suck my cock? Gee, give me a nanosecond to think about that. When I die, do I want to go to Heaven? What man my age or any age would say no to a blowjob, especially from a woman so young and so beautiful? She didn't have to ask me twice.

"Yes, I'd love for you to suck my cock, Maureen."

"Take off your pants and your shirt, but not your underwear. I'd like to feel you up against me first and it arouses me to feel a man's cock through his underwear," she said unzipping her dress and allowing it to fall to the floor.

Quickly I stripped down to my briefs, while watching her stripping naked, but for her panties.

"Wow," I said grabbing two, big handfuls of her breasts.

"Do you like them?" She looked down at my hands having a field day with her big tits.

"Like them? I love your big tits, Maureen," I said running my thumbs across her big nipples, as if they were radio knobs and I was turning up the volume, after finding the right radio frequency.

"I bet you'd like to put my big tits in your mouth and suck my big nipples," she said with a look that melted me.

If I thought it was exciting seeing and feeling her tits, while fingering her nipples, it was even more exciting to have her talk so provocatively suggestive to me.

"Yes, I would, Maureen. May I?"

Now this was a sexy game that I was having fun playing. This is the kind of sexy game that I wish my older widows would play with me, especially the richer ones.

"Yes, you may suck my tits, Ralph, so long as I can suck your big, hard prick," she said feeling and grabbing my erection through my briefs, before sticking her hand inside and taking hold of my cock.

Not only was this woman young, beautiful, sexy, and fun, but she loved talking dirty in bed. I couldn't have imagined a better bed partner.

"Oh, yes, Maureen, you can suck my cock. Absolutely."

"Then, suck my tits, Ralph. Suck my nipples. Let me feel your mouth on my tits and your tongue on my nipples," she said removing her hand from my underwear to wrap her hand around my neck and pull my head to her breasts.

Let me tell you, you've never felt a tit, until you've had a bit tit in your hand. You've never sucked a tit, until you've had a big tit and a giant sized nipples in your mouth and Maureen had two of the biggest tits and nipples I've ever seen, felt, and sucked in my life.

"Suck my tits, Ralph. Suck them," she said wrapping two big hands around my neck and smothering me with her tits.

"I love your big tits, Maureen."

"Even though I could barely get out my words, even though I couldn't breathe for a second, I didn't care. Being in tit Heaven, if I died right now, I'd die happy.

"Pull, twist, and turn my nipples. Bite my nipples, Ralph. Bite them. I love having my tits felt and sucked. Suck them, Ralph. Suck my big tits."

Definitely on the same page, this woman was as vocally sexy, as I was sexually horny. As soon as I started sucking her big tits and fingered, sucked, bit, pulled, and twisted her nipples, she stuck her hand down my underwear again and cupped my balls, before taking a hold of my cock. Then, she pulled out my cock and pushed down my underwear. Seemingly getting excited with all the attention that I was giving her tits, the more I sucked her big nipples, the faster she stroked my cock. She leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"Would you like me to suck you now, Ralph?"

For her to actually ask me if I wanted her to suck my cock was such a sexual tease. I loved hearing her asking my permission for her to suck my cock.

"Yes. God yes. I'd love for you to suck my cock, Maureen."

I couldn't wait for this 25-year-old beautiful redhead to suck my cock. I couldn't wait to see her looking up at me with those two, big, beautiful blue eyes and with my hard, hairy cock buried in her mouth. I was so excited to think that I was about to receive a blowjob from her. Then, just before she sucked my cock, she blew my mind with her next question.

"Would you like to cum in my mouth, Ralph?"

Oh, God help me. I just found my perfect woman. Maybe this is a generational gap thing, but do the young women today actually invite men to cum in their mouths? She made me wish I had been born thirty years ago, in 1981, instead of 1951. I can count on one hand the number of women my age who even reluctantly allowed me to cum in their mouths, never mind invited me to cum in their mouths.

"Yes. God yes. I would love to cum in your mouth, Maureen."

She moved lower on the bed and took hold of my cock and stroked me, while staring at my erection.

"May I ask a favor of you, Ralph?"

"Sure, anything, Maureen, anything," I said willing to grant her any wish to see her and watch her blowing me. 

Then, I thought, what if this is a setup? Maybe this is the part where she asks me for money. For sure that would suck if she turned out to be a plus sized prostitute. A big blow to my ego, that would really suck thinking that I was having a good time with a woman more than half my age, only she wasn't sincere in her desire of wanting me but in wanting my money instead. Only she quelled my fears with her next question.

"Would it be okay if I swallowed your cum? It would make me so very happy, if you ejaculated in my mouth, Ralph, and allowed me to swallow."

Oh, fuck me. Such a sexy tease, this big, beautiful woman is determined to give me a heart attack, before she sucks my cock. Never have I ever been with such a sexual tease. Never have I ever been with a woman so comfortable with having explicit pillow talk.

"Yes, Maureen, not only do you have my permission to blow me but also you may swallow my cum," I said with a laugh.

Then, she giggled and looked up me with those big, blue eyes, while kissing and licking my erect prick. When she finally took me in her mouth, oh, my God, the realization that I was being blown by a twenty-five-year-old big, beautiful woman with enormous tits filled me with sexual excitement that I never knew I had. Better than the blowjob I received from my blonde volleyball player that I sexually fantasized about in my dream, I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming.

"Do you like watching me suck your cock, Ralph?" She removed my cock from her mouth to speak, while looking up at me with her beautiful eyes.

With such a willing and sexy lover, I now sensed that this was going to be the best sexual experience of my life and the best damn blowjob that I ever had.

"Yes, Maureen, I do. I love seeing my cock in your mouth," I said watching her lick, kiss, and stroke my cock, before taking me deeper in her mouth. After a few long sucks and a few fast strokes, she removed my cock from her mouth again to speak.

"Cum in my mouth, Ralph. Cum in my mouth. I can't wait for you to cum in my mouth," she said taking me in her mouth again and really sucking me, while stroking me faster this time. "I want you to cum in my mouth," she said pulling me out of her mouth again, before planting her face in my lap. "It's been a long time, since I've had sex. It's been a long time, since a man came off in my mouth."

Long time? She's twenty-five-years-old. Unless the last blowjob she gave was when she was 18-year-old, what she thinks is a long time and I think is a long time are ages apart on the chronological scale.

"Oh, my God, Maureen. This is the best blowjob I've ever had in my life, but wait." Fearing I'd fall asleep, as soon as she blew me and I exploded in her mouth, I wanted to satisfy her first. "Wouldn't you want me to make love to you first? Don't you want me to give you pleasure, first?"

"No, that's okay, Ralph. Blowing you is pleasure enough for me."

Blowing me is pleasure enough for her? Who is this woman and where has she been all my life, that is, after she graduated high school, several years ago?

"Why not?"

"I'm a virgin."

"Virgin?"

Virgin? As if I was standing atop of her mountainous tits and calling out to her, the word virgin echoed through my mind. How can this woman, a woman who changed out of her bathing suit practically in front of me and then allowed me to have my way with her tits, a woman so skilled in talking dirty, a woman who is such a good cocksucker, be a virgin? How can this sexy BBW siren be a virgin?

"Yes, I'm saving myself for my husband."

Suddenly, I imagined a man, a powerful man, a mountainous man, a man as big as she was a big woman, appearing from out of nowhere or perhaps from out of the closet. Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum. Oh, God. I'm dead. I looked to the closet to see if I could see anything and stayed quiet for a moment to hear any sound of him.

"Your husband?"

Figuring I was somehow setup and her husband was about to burst through the front door or jump out of the closet and beat the crap out of me for having sex with his wife, I was suddenly afraid.

"Are you married?"

"No," she said with a giggle.

That was a relief.

"Are you divorced?"

"No," she said with a laugh. "I've never been married."

"Are you engaged?"

"No," she said with another giggle. "I haven't found the right man."

Okay, so far so good.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Not until now," she said looking up at me.

We've been together ever since that day at the beach and I've never been happier.

"Ralph, wake up. Ralph," said the nurse, a rather large, young woman with long, flowing red hair, deep blue eyes, and freckles. "It's time for your medication."

"Aw, get the Hell away from me," I said swiping a hand in my sleep, before opening my eyes. "I was having a beautiful dream about having sex with a beautiful 25-year-old. Matter of fact, she looked a lot like you, Maureen, and was the same age as you are. Curiously, her name was Maureen, too," I said reaching up to cup her big breast in my hand through her uniform. "I must have been dreaming about you," I said with a laugh.

"Everyone dreams about me," she said with a laugh. "Go ahead, Ralph and have a feel. I don't mind. You're the sixth old man and one old woman this morning feeling my tits," she said with a hearty laugh. "Just don't touch my nipples."

"Why can't I touch your nipples?" I ran my index finger across where the impression of her big nipple bulged out her bra and uniform.

"Because my nipples are erotically sensitive, Ralph, and I'm not responsible for what I might do when aroused. Don't," she said moving my finger away from her nipple, when I continued fingering her nipple. "I don't mind you copping a cheap feel of my tit, if that will make you a less difficult patient by giving you some relief later, but please respect me as your nurse."

"Gees, Maureen, never have I felt tits as big as your tits. My wife, God rest her soul had A cup breasts," I said continuing to feel her big breasts, first one and then the other, while she leaned over me to make my bed more comfortable. "If you don't my me asking, what size bra do you wear?"

"I'm a forty-two double D, Ralph, but I suspect that I'm bigger than that, as my breasts overflow my bra and spill out at the top," she said with another laugh.

"I'd give anything to see your big tits, Maureen."

"You know I can't do that, Ralph. I'll be fired," she said still leaning over me to tuck in my sheet. At one point, her mouth was so close to my growing erection that I wished she'd lean closer down and take me in her mouth.

"C'mon, Maureen, give an old man a glimmer of happiness," I said reaching up my hand and pulling enough of the zipper down of her snow white, stiffly starched uniform to see her enormous cleavage. "Other than in men's magazines, never have I seen double D tits."

"Someone might come, Ralph," she said turning to look at the door, while I fondled her giant funbags. "Someone might see," she said looking down at all that she was showing and all that I was seeing, before looking back at me.

"No one will come in, Maureen, without knocking. It's a private room."

"I'm afraid I'll lose my license, Ralph, if someone catches me with my uniform unzipped."

"Don't worry, Maureen. If someone catches you, once I'm well enough to leave here, I'll hire you as my private nurse," I said giving her a wink and a tickle. "Ever since I was 25-years-old, I've always wanted a 25-year-old nurse."

"Okay," she said but make it quick.

Okay? Did she agree to show me her tits or did she agree to work of me as my private nurse or both?

"May I?"

She watched me stick a finger between her enormous breasts and I so wanted to fuck her with my cock, in the way that I was fucking her tits with my finger.

"Do you like big tits, Ralph?"

Do I like big tits? What man, unless his wife was flat-chested and in the room, when asked the question, would lie by saying that he didn't like big tits, especially when a big breasted woman with her uniform half unzipped was exposing her big tits to him?

"I love your big tits, Maureen," I said to her, just as I said to the Maureen in my dream.

Gradually, stealthily, I pulled down more of her zipper to expose more of her white see-through bra. As if I was pushing open a curtain to reveal a secret surprise, she allowed me to push open her uniform to expose most of her bra cups and I could clearly see the impressions her big nipples made in her shear bra.

"Just don't touch my nipples," she said again, as if she wanted me to touch her nipples and I did.

Running my palm slowly back and forth across her tits, feeling her nipples growing hard against my open hand, I fingered her left nipple, before tugging on it and twisting it erect. Then, I did the same to her right nipple.

"Gees, Maureen your nipples are huge. Let me see them. Let me touch them. Let me suck them," I said pulling down on the top left cup of her bra and exposing much of her areola.

"No Ralph, someone will catch us," she said grabbing her uniform and bunching it around her without zipping it.

"Go lock the door," I said kicking off the covers and pushing my hands down and my legs out of my pajama bottoms. Unbelievably, having not taken my morning medication, I had an erection and now wondered what the Hell it was they were giving me to keep me flaccid. My cock was the biggest I've seen it in a long time.

"Ralph! What are you doing?" Maureen walked back over to my bed and stared down at my erection. "I give you an inch and you want me to take six more," she said with a laugh.

I unzipped her uniform all the way down and reaching an arm around her waist, pulled her closer to reach my hand down to fondle her panty clad big ass.

"Show me your tits, Maureen. Let me see, touch, feel, caress, and suck those big monsters."

"Okay, but just for a minute, Ralph. I'm still making my morning rounds."

She lifted up the front of her bra and her breasts fell out, as if they were bowling balls falling out of a bowling ball bag.

"Oh, my God, Maureen. I love your big tits," I said attacking her breasts with both hands, while fingering her nipples with my fingers. "Come closer so that I can suck them."

"No, Ralph, if you suck my nipples, I swear, I'll suck your cock."

Suck my cock? Does she want to suck my cock? Is she promising to suck my cock, if I suck her nipples? There's only one way to find out what she meant by that.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Maureen. Lean over me, so that I can suck your nipples," I said shocked that she was doing everything I asked her to do. 

I couldn't believe I was feeling and sucking nurse Maureen's giant melons. 

"Oh, Ralph, that's enough. You're making me so very hot and horny," she said, as I put a hand between her legs and cupped her panty clad pussy, while lightly tracing her slit, before more forcefully applying more pressure to her bean. "Touch me. Stroke my cock, Maureen."

She grabbed hold of my cock and started stroking me. 

"For an older man, Ralph, you have a harder prick than some of the younger men I've been with," she said stroking me faster.

"Suck my cock, Maureen. Suck it. I need to cum in your pretty Irish mouth."

"Yeah, I bet you'd love for me to suck your cock," she said looking down at my prick, before looking up at me.

"I would, Maureen. I'd love for you to suck my cock."

"I bet you'd love to cum in my mouth, too."

"Are you kidding me? A dream come true, I'd love to cum in your mouth, Maureen."

"I suppose you'd want me to swallow your cum, too," she said looking at me with those big, blue eyes. "Do you want me to swallow your cum, Ralph?"