Chapter 3

The torrid tale of Delores, part 4;

Decades after her affair with Ron, Delores seduces his great great grandson.

I wrote 2 long chapters about my life from 20 to 60 years old; my lovers, the child I lost, and some of the men I worked for and had sex with in San Francisco. Pretty ordinary stuff.

So let’s skip those years and get to the kinky part.

In a few sentences; I had relationships that lasted years without an orgasm, I even had one guy with a big cock. A beautiful man, creative and kind, he had everything a woman could want. I lived with him for a year, I think I even loved him, yet I never came once.

When my child died, Evon let me nurse and love her baby, Tommy, for a while. My tits became huge then, and mostly stayed that way afterwards.

Evon left for Mexico with some guy and I ended up back in our greasy home town again, working at Haas engineering for Henry’s son Bob. I never liked him much.

He was well hung, like his dad, and he got me off like his dad. We had great sex and worked well together, but he didn’t like me much either. We avoided talking about anything except work, because we’d just argue. We stopped for a while when he got married.

I gave up trying to figure out why I only have orgasms with Haas men.

I looked good on the outside, but inside something was rotten.

Tommy came back into my life like a hurricane. He was grown, and our love was sexual. I guess you read that story, so I won’t repeat it. I just want to say that Tommy makes me whole. I love Tommy like I’ve never loved before or since, and he gives me the greatest orgasms in the universe.

My affair with Tommy Haas lasted for 5 years. He was sort of my boss, he was a Haas, we were great together in bed and out. Business boomed; we weren’t millionaires, but we did well.

I loved him, he loved me too, he even asked me to marry him. I couldn’t do it; he’s like a son to me, Tommy is still my baby. I don’t need him in my bed, as long as he’s in my life.

I can’t give him children you see; I’ll be old while he’s still young, I won’t do that to him.

At the same time we can never manage to keep our hands off each other for long.

I told him everything. How I’d had affairs with his uncle, cousin, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather.

But there’s another chapter even Tommy doesn’t know about.

I had a period of celibacy. Tommy was with a nice girl, and after a while, I was feeling too lonely.

My skin is milky pale, because I don’t go in the sun. My tits are still big, a sort of miracle for a woman my age. I didn’t let them out, because they hang really low if not supported.

I’ve still got great legs, and a relatively narrow waist. My nose arced out some.

My hair is blond again, with some help from my hairdresser. It’s not as thick as it was, so I keep it cut shoulder length.

It’s harder to keep my figure now, being sexy after 60 is a lot of work. The rewards make it worth the effort though. It excites me when men half my age let their eyes rest on me, when they flirt. It makes life fun. I didn’t want to go to bed with anyone. I just really enjoyed the attention.

I began to use the internet to find young men who have a desire for an old woman. I don’t hide my age, I brag about it. I was having cyber-sex with several men in several countries. I got off on their orgasms, because I couldn’t have my own.

It was all meaningless. I only loved Tommy. He was single at one point, so I got together with him for a few months of bliss.

I set a date on the calendar, and told him that was our limit. Tommy accepted my conditions, but when the time came it ripped my heart in two. I was desperate, I needed to do something, I needed a lover. Not to have orgasms, just to feel against myself, a warm body, and maybe a penis that emitted tasty semen.

So I went online again. Not for a cyber boyfriend this time, someone local I could meet for real.

I’ve accepted that I don’t climax with other men, and it’s not really all that important. I want a guy for companionship, cuddling, and to lift heavy objects. To watch TV with and go for walks. I still like to make men come, and young men come a lot.

Thousands of men were filtered down to just a hundred or so by geography.

A picture caught my eye; my heart pounded, he looked just like Tommy. Young though, just 18.

As I stared at the picture of the beautiful boy, he saw I was online and pinged me. We texted a little.

Just flirtation by text, harmless fun. His preferences stated he was interested in women 30 to 45. Older than himself, but not my sort of age.

Daryl wanted to video chat; I hesitated, but there was no reason not to talk, so I agreed.

He had a great smile, open and honest. He was excited as he looked at me through the internet, and his excitement was a delight for me. We talked for quite a while, and agreed to talk again.

He was too young; he wouldn’t want the things I wanted. Probably he just wanted sex; I liked him anyway.

He even sounded like Tommy, but when I asked him about his family, they were from another town and didn’t seem to have anything to do with the Haas.

As we talked and flirted online, I wondered if he had an erection, if he was tickling himself like I was.

“On your profile you indicated you were looking for a women from 30 to 45.” I said, “I’m 60 years old.”

“Yours says 35 to 45, but I’m only 16.” He responded “I had to put 18 on my profile to use the site.”

Conflict; he could be all sorts of trouble. I was too old to be his mother. On the other hand, he excited me in a very exciting way. I hadn’t had a 16 year old since 1966.

It wasn’t illegal. Immoral maybe, but that had never stopped me.

“You’re a virgin, Daryl?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I felt something drop; my chest tightened and my old vagina clenched. No way, I thought; I’m not going to bed with a 16 year old boy!

I’ll just flirt a little more though, that’s ok.

I smiled; “Excellent. Now you tell me about yourself, and I’m going to listen.” I told him.

Normal shit; he had a younger sister, mom and dad. School, some sport, no girlfriend. He couldn’t see that I was stroking my groin as we talked. Tickling myself fruitlessly.

“I like talking to you.” I told him, “There must be a lot of girls your age that are more interesting than me.”

“Not that I’ve met.” He claimed gallantly, “I’m really attracted to older women.”

“But not as old as me.”

“Not until now.” He admitted.

“Have you video chatted with other women?” I asked.

“Yes.” He told me, “Not like this though.”

I was flirting with other men, so what could I say? One or two were far more likely to be satisfactory, fortyish, divorced, employed. Daryl was just 30 miles away. The other two were too far.

We talked on video almost daily for a couple of weeks. I let my hair down and wore a low cut top and a push up bra, and I was sure he was jerking off.

“You know how you’re not supposed to stare at a woman’s cleavage?” I asked him, “Well. You can stare at mine. I want you to, go on.”

And I pulled my blouse a little wider for him, almost to the nipples. He just grinned all happy and wide eyed.

“Are you jerking off?” I asked him.

“No!” he lied.

I laughed; he was a terrible liar. I was excited by his kinky lust, I could have asked him to tilt the camera down so I could watch, but I didn’t want to be trapped in cyber-sex again.

Impulsively, I asked to meet him for real the next day.

I almost stood him up. I was totally conflicted, I really liked him but now he’d want real sex. He deserved real sex. I wasn’t sure I wanted that with a kid his age.

I said I’d be there, so I went.

I pulled on my sexy knee high boots, and a little makeup. A green satin jumpsuit leftover from the ‘70s. And pearls, conservative yet sexy.

There he was, sitting and waiting for me at the park entrance; even more lovely in real life. His eyes looked up and down my long slender frame, my big breasts popping out of my tight outfit that covered everything yet hid nothing, and he smiled with appreciation, stopping short of lewdness.

He stood, and was only as tall as my nose. We both had a sort of shocked moment; then he laughed, and I laughed, and it was ok. What was I thinking putting on 4” heels, I knew he was barely my height.

The extra inequity only added to the kinky thrill of our meeting.

“Let’s go for a walk.” I suggested. There were trails through the woods, a single hiker went past, it was fairly private.

We sat in a private spot in the woods, talking quietly, sitting on a log, close. Very close, too close.

I reached out my hand, and put it in his. He smiled, shining with the thrill of the simple signal.

“You can stroke my hand and forearm if you want.” I told him.

Sunlight through the trees, quiet but for the hum of insects and birdsong. A boy and an old woman, getting together.

No, no, no; this was just too much. He was a child, I couldn’t do it. I turned my head and looked into his eyes, and fell into them. His eyes looked so familiar, they ate into my heart and tickled my clitoris.

Shit. I could do it.

He had a natural sensuality. And he seemed obedient. That was a fun idea.

“You’re all horny.” I told him, “You’re young and you need to do it, but maybe not with a woman as old as me.”

His mouth moved but he didn’t speak.

I moved closer. The log was uncomfortable and this would probably be the end of the vintage jumpsuit I was wearing. My old mouth was an inch from his lovely young face.

“Kiss me Daryl.” I whispered, “If you dare.”

Under a tree in the woods, the virgin 16 year old boy and the 62 year old pervert held hands and kissed gently.

“You can put your hand on my breast if you want.” I told him.

“Wow.” He remarked as he hefted one.

I put my hand on his groin and squeezed. It was in there, hard as anything.

He wasn’t big. I felt my heart sink a little. I still had this little fantasy that I could get off if I just found another big cock. I put that idea away, reminding myself that expectation leads to disappointment.

I wasn’t going to come, but he was.

I had an urge to suck him off right then and there; the thought of his hard young cock made my mouth water. It would be easy, quick, clean, and fun.

No.

If we were going to do it, then we should do it right.

I pulled away, stood up and closed the zipper up to my throat again.

“Should we go to a motel?” I asked him.

“Yes please.” He answered excitedly.

“Oh baby, this is wonderful and weird.” I said as we got to my car, “I hope we don’t regret it. Are you scared?”

“Yeah.” He admitted.

“Me too.” I said. “It’s fantastic.”

Thirty minutes later, we stood a few yards apart in an anonymous room, facing each other over a bed.

“The tension;” I said to him, “I love this part. So exciting, terrifying, I’m tingling right to my fingertips. My breasts feel tight, my mouth is watering a little.”

“Me too.” He said.

“Will you take off all your clothes for me?” I asked him, “Do you trust me enough?”

“Ok.” He agreed easily.

I stood against the wall as he took it all off, looking at me most of the time, happy, as thrilled as I was. He turned away and leaned over as he pulled down his boxers, showing me his tight round ass. Then he turned to face me again, holding his hands over his groin.

He grinned at me, and I grinned back; it was good, really good.