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The Caregiver
"There, Grandma, how's that?" Pete asked,
fluffing the pillows behind Mrs. Willow's back.
"I'm not your grandmother, Peter, I am a
healthy, desirable woman. At least I was a few years ago."
"Hell, you are almost 80," Pete
scoffed.
"Ok, so it's been quite a few years ago.
It doesn't seem that long. I could still use a stiff dick
between my legs, if you are interested."
"I'm not. I want somebody who as born in
this century."
"Peter!" Emma pretended shock, "she would
be three years old?"
"Ok, last century," he said with a
reluctant laugh. They had been trying to shock each other since
they first met. It never worked. She was a slightly older
version of Peter himself, only in female form.
"I don't want to be old, Peter. I just
lived life one day at a time until I somehow got this way. I'm
still young on the inside. As the old joke goes, I'm getting
this 20 year old body all wrinkled."
"Even at your age, you are one hot babe,
Emma. Why don't you hook up with one of the guys in the complex.
I know several who would love to get into your pants, wrinkled or
not."
"I tried. I was shocked when I opened my
eyes and saw a face as old as mine staring back at me. It
sickened me, Peter. I don't want to be old," Emma sighed. "I
want to be young again."
"I can help with your aches and pains,
dress you, bathe you, I can change your diapers if you start
wearing one, but I can't make you young again, old girl."
"I know. Are there any blind male nurses
in the complex?"
"Not in any complex. Blind men can't do
this job."
"I'm sure they could."
"They can't."
"Oh. What about male whores."
"What?" Pete gasped.
"You know, those gigalors.
"Gigolos," he corrected.
"Yeah, one of them."
"I am not your pimp, I am your nurse.
Haul your ass out of here and look for one yourself, you're
healthy enough.'
"The world scares me, I don't know it any
more. It's all too fast."
"It's the same world, it just has more
assholes running around in it."
"I suppose. Peter, can you look at my
pussy?"
"Why," he said with a great deal of self-
control. It was his job, on a professional level. He knew she
was discussing something different.
"Tell me what you think," Emma said,
pulling up her night gown. She yanked down her cotton panties
and showed him her pussy. Pete glanced at it carelessly, then
gave it a careful look.
"It just looks like a pussy," he said in
wonder. "Except for a few gray hairs, it looks normal."
"That's what I tried to tell you. It's
just a pussy, not a flesh colored prune. Would you fuck that
Pete?" she asked slyly.
"If I was really hard up I might."
"Are you?"
"No, I have lot's of action," he said
defensively. She laughed, knowing that she was one up on him.
She had made him defend his male honor.
"Hey, fuck you," he said.
"Oh, I wish you would, Peter, I need it
so badly."
"Damit, stop talking like that. You've
got me horny and I have a full days work ahead of me."
"I could take care of that," she
laughed.
"Oh no you couldn't," he called, tying a
bag of trash and throwing it over his shoulder. "I will see you
tomorrow," he said with a fond smile.
"Oh, ok," she said in real
disappointment. "Stop by for lunch, if you like. I make a mean
grilled bologna sandwich."
"Hey, I loves those things," he
gasped.
"It's the most underrated sandwich on
earth. You take bread and stick some bologna in it and you have
cold meat and half cooked dough. You add some cheese, miracle
whip and a little heat, and you have the world's greatest
sandwich."
Pete nodded, smiling. "Ok, it's a date.
But no funny stuff," he pointed, then waved and left.
"You want to bet," she hissed, turning to
hurry to her kitchen unit. The only good thing which went
with grilled bologna was cold potato salad. She had to hurry or
it
wouldn't chill to the proper temperature.
She filled a decanter half full of gin,
filled it to the top with orange juice and slid it into the
refrigerator. She finished the potato salad at 10:00, wiped her
hands on her night gown, and slipped into something more
appropriate. Then she started her magic act. She arranged the
foundation, eye liner, lipstick and creams, then her secret weapon, Preparation H. After setting them in just the right order, she began
remodeling her face. With enough makeup...
The door opened at Pete's second knock.
He gave Emma a stunned look, then stepped inside. She was
different, somehow younger and more appealing. He didn't know if
he approved or not, it seemed... wrong.
"Nice look," he said airily. "Are the
sandwiches done?"
"Done and keeping warm in the oven. I
also have potato salad and cocktails."
"Wow, the works, huh?"
"Yes, the works," she said, motioning him
to the table.
"He took a second, longer look at her
face, then shook his head."
"Never judge a woman before you've seen
her in makeup," Emma said as she loaded down the table. "It
makes a world of difference."
"Yeah, scary."
"And what's scary about it?"
"You look nice, if I didn't know it was
makeup..."
"Hey, young man, half the women you've
dated would look scary without makeup. I'm no different."
"No, I guess not. You look nice," he
repeated again.
"Does that mean you are interested?"
"Well yeah... I mean no. I don't think,"
he said in confusion.
"Here, drink this," she handed him a
glass of orange juice. He took a big gulp, then howled.
"Holy shit, what's in this?"
"Gin. It does wonders for the male...
lets say ego," she smiled.
"Let's say libido. I can feel where the
heat is going. You are one deceptive old woman," he accused
half joking and half in ernest.
"Shut up and eat."
Peter ate, but he couldn't help but stare
at Emma. If he didn't know that she was 77, he would have sworn
she was in her 40's. He wouldn't eat it, but he'd sure fuck it,
the thought crept into his head. His balls had been burning
since he drank the gin and orange juice. Successive sips kept
the fire burning. But it was a good burn, and his cock was as
hard as rock.
Peter had bathed Emma during her bad
times, right after her stroke. He knew every age spot, wrinkle,
and pimple on her ass. And still he was turned on. Part of it
was the gin, part was her disguise, but mostly it was knowing
that he could reach out and have her, it was that simple. All he
had to do was...
"I need that hand to eat," Emma said with
a smile.
"Let's eat afterwards," he whispered.
"Are you sure? I don't want to rush you
into anything," she smiled.
"The hell you don't. I am one of the
most rushed people on the face of this planet, and you dam well
know it."
"Ok. Well here are the ground rules. No
kissing below the chin, keep your hands on non-sexual areas, and
I don't do ass fucks. Never have and never will."
"Emma!" Pete was shocked.
"Just telling you how it is."
"Do you give blowjobs?" he said with some
of his old candor.
"Now why in the hell would I do that? I
want to get fucked, why would I suck you off and spoil it? I
know damned well, the minute you cum you will be outta her like
there's no tomorrow. It's your penis thinking now, your head
will want out."
"You are the most crude old..."
"Hey, none of that," she wagged a finger
in his face. "Bedroom's that way," she nodded toward the
bedroom.
"I know where it is."
He followed her to the bedroom. He
wasn't about to kiss her, but she began licking his ear as they
both took off his clothing. Emma ramained dressed.
By the time that Peter was naked, he
shivering with pent-up passion. Emma stood to take off her
panties. Peter noticed how much she was shaking, as she spread
her dress wide and sank down to sit straddle of his body. He
felt her moist pussy touch his cock. He hissed in appreciation.
She sank slowly, impaling herself on his rigid manhood. She sank
down until he was up to the hilt, inside her warm pussy. She
swiveled slightly to lubricate herself and encourage his cock to
slide in more. With her pussy tightly pressed against his
pelvis, she slowly rocked forward and back, then slid against his
pelvis as it grew wet, with his cock churning the hot juices
inside her. He was afraid she would break his penis off, but
after a few minutes of uneventful pleasure, he relaxed beneath
her. She certainly knew what she was doing.
It was a good fuck, a very good fuck.
She grew hot and wet around his cock. By sliding forward and
back, rather than rising and lowering, it was intensely
pleasurable for her, but less intensive for him. He would last a
long time.
"Oh fuck, this is good," Peter
gasped.
"It's heavenly. I've dreamed of this for
so long. I've had a crush on you since I first saw you, Peter,"
she said with her eyes closed, feeling her pussy heat up as it
hadn't for 15 years or more.
"I'm flattered," he gasped.
"I'm 57 years older than you and I knew I
didn't have a change in hell," she said, then gasped as pleasure
shot though her loins. She gasped a few more times, then
relaxed.
"I knew you did," he said with a grimace
of pleasure.
"Oh fuck, I'm coming," she gasped,
stiffening again and throwing her head back, while riding faster.
Peter was very worried about his cock now. He had heard that
some guys got their cocks dislocated this way.
"Oh yes," she gasped, grabbing his chest
for support. Peter looked at her passion twisted-face, then down
at her rounded chest in the light material of her dress. He just
had to feel those breasts, even if they were gross. He reached
down and grabbed a cone in each hand. He mashed them lightly as
she continued to ride, paying no attention to him. In a moment
she gave a light squeal of pleasure, and jerked on his stiff
cock. Biting her lip, with her eyes tightly closed, she rode her
huge orgasm like a cowboy rides a horse. Swearing and gasping,
she jerked sporadically, completely unable to control her body.
Peter could feel her pussy clenching
around his cock. It felt awesome, but not strong enough to make
him cum yet. He wanted to keep her moving so he could cum, but
he knew she would have to rest. Her pussy would grow sensitive
when it stopped coming.
"Oh yes," she gasped, still jerking. She
suddenly looked down at his hands on her chest. She leaned down
and kissed the back of his arm, while slowly grinding to a
halt.
"I want to see them," Peter gasped.
"No you don't.
"I do."
"Well I don't want to show them."
"Let me lick your pussy," he said in the
throes of passion.
"No, I was never into that, especially
not with a young man. You would regret it afterwards. Just be
patient, it will be worth the wait."
"Oh God," he gasped, wishing she would
ride his cock again. He could feel the heat and juice around his
cock, but when he tried to move she held him down. Aching in
frustration, he waited helplessly until she slowly began sliding
forward and back again. He gasped in pleasure.
"You see, I told you it would be good,"
she smiled down at him.
"Oh yes, it's very good," he cried,
feeling the heat building in his balls. He was just minutes away
from a massive orgasm. Either the gin, or the forbidden aspect
of the situation, were creating a massive orgasm in his loins.
He was going to explode. He was going to cum so big, it would
blow her head off. He stiffened and jerked, trying to increase
his stimulation. She remained persistently slow and wonderful.
Peter knew he had been fucked by somebody who knew what they were
doing. He could teach the young girls a thing or two, if he
lived through the experience.
"Oh fuck me, I'm going to cum," he
gasped. She watched his face, gauged how close he was and
inserted a finger into her pussy. Rotating her finger on her
clit, she continued to ride while she stimulated herself. Her
timing was perfect.
Peter began moaning louder and louder, at
the same moment that Emma gasped and took her finger out of her
pussy. She leaned forward, supporting her weight with her hands
on Peter's chest. Her clit now rubbed against his pubic hair.
With her eyes screwed shut she began moaning ever louder, until
her cries of passion joined those of Pete.
He yelled and held onto Emma's hips, as
he came strongly, shooting hot cum into her pussy. She could
feel his offering entering her womb. She continued to rub as
long as she could stand it, then froze, hunching her sex against
his thick cock.
Grunting and gasping, Peter thrashed his
head from side to side, until he finished coming. He relaxed,
beaten and exhausted, even though Emma had done all the work.
She seemed happy, full of life. She smiled down at him like a
Madonna. He suddenly saw her as she must have looked 40 years
earlier.
When the glow of her orgasm slowly faded,
Emma was just Emma again. But the memory of how she looked
during her orgasm remained in Peter's mind.
"Oh shit, I have to get cleaned up and
go," Peter gasped.
"You see, it's always the same," she
said, shaking her head.
"Same hell, I should have finished three
more calls by now, and my head is still spinning from that gin. I
get first dibs on the shower," he said, pelting into the
bathroom. Emma relaxed on her bed. Her body was still enthused
by the warm glow of sex. It didn't matter now if Peter never
looked at her again, she had gotten what she desired so badly.
Now the object of her desires was about to disappear out that
door.
"Have you seen my underwear?" he asked as
he hurried back into the room. He lifted the blanket, then
surprise Emma with a quick kiss.
"Can I come back after I finish my
rounds?" he asked, stepping into his boxers.
"Com... sure," she said in complete
shock. "Are you???"
"Yeah, I'm still hungry," he said,
misunderstanding her question, "but I can wait. Be back soon,"
he called, rushing through the door.
Emma sat in shock, considering all that
had happened. Slowly a smile lit her face. She rubbed a finger
tip across her lips, where his kiss had smeared the lipstick,
then hurried into the bathroom. She needed to fix her makeup and
shower before he returned.
RETURNED! she thought in amazement. What
a wonderful word.
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