Introduction

Back in 2000 when I was sixty and just gone through a messy divorce. If that wasn’t bad enough, I’d also been made redundant from my job in the West Midlands and was finding hard to get a new job in the area so I decided I needed a change of scenery and moved up to North Wales, where I’d had some really nice holidays in the past. I quickly found a job as a caretaker / handyman on a small estate of sheltered accommodation properties called The Orchard. A bungalow went with the job so I didn’t have any rent to worry about and that, coupled with my redundancy pay, meant that I was on easy street and was looking forward to nice relaxing time in the twilight years of my life.

The estate consisted of thirty bungalows set around a small block of flats. The tenants were a mixture of retired and disabled single men and women with about a dozen married couples. As well as looking after the communal areas, which included a pool, hot tub and club house, part of my duties was to take care of minor repairs and maintenance in the properties, simple plumbing, electrical repairs and looking after the gardens of the less able tenants. Now I’ve always had a thing about older women and now being single myself it seemed like it was going to be a good hunting ground but it turned out to be even better than I could ever have imagined.

I soon found out that the women greatly outnumbered the men on the estate, something I wasn’t slow to take advantage of. As I’ve already said, the estate had it’s own pool and, as it was midsummer when I started work there my usual attire was shorts and a tee shirt, especially if I was working in the pool area. It wasn’t long before I noticed that I was the focus of attention among the ladies enjoying the sun loungers around the pool and I’d quite often get a half decent erection, eyeing them up as they lay sunbathing.

It was made worse by the outfits some of the ladies wore, quite revealing sun dresses, swimsuits and a couple even wore bikinis. I had a folder of files on the tenants in my bungalow which gave me their names, ages, marital status and if they had special needs. I soon found out that most of the tenants were sixty five plus with oldest being over eighty. There were a couple of younger ones though, who were there due to them having disabilities.

One thing I’ve always liked about older women is that usually what you see is what you get but, as I was to find out, that’s not always the case and the first lady to prove the exception to the rule was Mrs. Evans, Hazel, a seventy five year old lady who lived in one of the bungalows.

According to my files, Mrs. Evans had lived on the estate for five years. She was married when she first moved there but her husband had passed away not long after. She had shoulder length blonde hair, probably dyed, but still didn’t look a day over sixty five. She had the usual lumps, bumps and wrinkles that come with age but was still a very good looking and attractive lady and it was her that gave me the first hint of what my new life on The Orchard was going to be like.

The Orchard (Mrs. Evans---Hazel)

One afternoon, about a week into the job, I got a call from Mrs. Evans, she said that one of the drawers in her bedside cabinet was stuck fast and could I go round and have a look at it for her. As it was my first call out I gladly went round to see what the problem was.

When I got there, she showed me straight into the bedroom and when I checked the drawer she was right, it was well and truly stuck and I had to pull the cabinet away from the wall to see what the problem was. When I did, the cause of the problem was clear, the drawer was well overloaded and there was a loop of wire hanging over the side of the drawer, jamming the runner. After I’d wiggled the wire about a bit, I went back to the front of the cabinet and gave the drawer a good hard tug and the whole thing flew out, spilling the contents out onto the floor.

A selection of underwear spilled out of it and it definitely wasn’t the sort of things I’d associate with a lady of Mrs. Evans’s age. The floor was littered with a cock hardening selection of rather fetching bras, knickers and other sundry items of ladies underwear. What was even more surprising though was what the wire that had caused to problem was attached to. It was lead connecting a small control box to one of the biggest, most lifelike vibrators I’d ever seen. It was a good ten inches long and really thick and I felt my own eight inch cock start to harden as I bent down and picked it up. Not that a cock gets me hard, but the thought of this elderly lady owning and using such a monster certainly did. The sexy underwear surrounding it only made things even worse and I soon found myself with a full blown erection.

As I stood there, my mind filled with images of Mrs. Evans laying on the bed using the vibrator, I suddenly became aware that she was standing in the doorway watching me. Strangely though she didn’t seem at all phased that I’d discovered her secret and just smiled at me. “You look shocked Mike,” she said, “I might be getting on, but I’ve still got my needs you know. Don’t you ever, errr, you know?” This was one of the weirdest situations I’d ever been in. A lady well over ten years my senior and that I’d only met fifteen minutes before was openly asking me if I ever masturbated. She could obviously see I was uncomfortable and apologised. “I’m sorry Mike,” she said, “I’ve embarrassed you. I’ve just made coffee, why don’t you come through to the lounge and I’ll pour us one. I’ll pick this lot up later.”