Chapter 6: An Unexpected Turn of Events

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder and to back up the truth of that old adage one need look no further than Amateur's Home Page or Private Voyeur. I like to make a Net pit stop there occasionally, but more for a bit of a laugh than for titillation.

I mean, is the guy serious when he writes something like: "My darling wife Godzilla, the most beautiful being ever to have been created in this universe and beyond, believes that at 50 she can no longer turn every man who sets eyes on her into a lustful, quivering sex slave. I seldom disagree with Godzie, that most perfect specimen of womankind, but I cannot allow her to demean herself by modestly espousing this blatant untruth."

He goes on to say that it is his duty, with the goal of uplifting all mankind, to share Godzie in all her wondrous glory, and invites rapturous comment from all red-blooded, discerning males out there who are sure to recognise perfection when they feast their eyes upon it.

Then unveiled is a series of fuzzy, shaky (probably the result of one-handed action while the Instamatic is feverishly manipulated) happy snaps of a 70-year-old-looking harridan, with looks that would reverse the flow of the Zambezi river.

In the first photographic masterpiece, Godzie is draped coyly around a couch, with rolls of fat boiling out of her grey looking, industrial-strength granny bra like lava from an active volcano.

Further action should be viewed by only the most resolute of men. For the vast majority of us out there it is safer at this point to back off -- discretion being the better part of valour -- for what follows is stomach-churning beaver shots (a whole beaver seems to have been used) that are accentuated by the backdrop of maggoty-white thighs which have received enough hail damage to flatten a field of corn.

And as more of this eye candy is unpacked, pendulous, flaccid, sacs, released from the imprisoning strait-jacket of a bra, make an erection-destroying appearance, topped by huge wart-like protuberances that appear to double as nipples.

And that's it. The show's over. Eat your hearts out, boys, you with mundane and dowdy little women. If the response is overwhelming, as expected, says Mr Godzilla in the message field, there will be more treats for us.

There was one viewer response: "Way to go, Godzie, you are a goddess."

I pray that he was joking.

Got a bit sidetracked there. I mean, what has that got to do with Ruth and Zelda? Well, it's really to make the point that my Accommodating Ladies were nothing like Godzie. They were truly beautiful. Trust me, I'm a journalist.

The three of us, satiated with booze, food and sex, slept until it was dark. I woke up to hear Ruth and Sue talking. Sue was inviting us to dinner with her maiden aunt, a longstanding arrangement that she wouldn't like to break. Her aunt was fun, Sue said, and more would be merrier.

It sounded good to me. I yawned, stretched and happily allowed Ruth to fondle my balls as we watched Sue dress. "I'd like to stay but I must get showered and changed. Save some for me, Ruth," she laughed and went up to her own flat.

Ruth languidly tongued my cock, her mouth warm and wet, but I didn't want to cum. "Women are lucky," I mused as I ran my fingers through her hair and rolled her over onto her back. "You just keep on cumming, I wonder why it is that men have to do some serious recharging in between."

"If you didn't have to you would fuck all day and night and nothing would ever get done, the human race would just fuck itself to death," said Ruth and I felt there was a lot of truth in her flip comment.

Enough philosophising, I thought as I turned my concentration to the little furry thing in front of my nose. "Just a quick lick and then we'll get ready," I said. As I inhaled her fragrance my tongue nibbled and prodded her clit and almost in a flash she was groaning and holding my head close to her as she bucked towards her climax.

"That was short and sweet. Thank you kind sir, and now lets get ready," she said and padded off to the bathroom.

I showered in the guest bathroom so that we wouldn't get sidetracked and by 8pm we were on our way in Sue's car to her aunt's house in the posh suburb of Houghton, laughing and chattering like a trio of magpies.

"My aunt was a woman before her time. She never conformed to society's rules, never got married, never had kids, has a brilliant well-paying job, has kept her independence, and has had a ball. She must be 60 now but she looks like a very well preserved 50.

"I had better warn you, she likes young men."

"What a coincidence, I like older women."

We were met at the door of the mansion-like dwelling by a statuesque grey-haired beauty - yes, beautiful, almost heart-stoppingly so. Her classically shaped face was stunningly enhanced by the deepest of blue eyes that coolly regarded me while she welcomed me with smile that revealed small, white even teeth.

"I'm Hortense," she breathed sexily, "but call me Hor for short and if you give me half a chance, you scrumptious young man, I'll live up to my name! Sue, wherever did you find him? He is just my type, over 16, with no visible deformities!"

"Pay no attention to her, Gordon. She is just trying to shock you," Sue laughed as the four of us entered Hor's beautiful home.

As she led the way I was mesmerised by auntie's swaying posterior. An hour-glass figure with a bosom to die for. This was one well-preserved lady.

Often, during the small talk and drinks before dinner, my attention would return to Hor's fascinating face. If it had been touched by a surgeon's knife I saw no evidence of it. Beautiful, I was smitten!