Hired
written by:
Otazel

HIRED.

Constance Sutton is a near neighbour of mine, living a just few doors away and around a corner, but up until my wife left me, running off with great originality with a pizza delivery guy, I'd hardly been aware of her existence and I don't think I'd ever spoken to her once. But then as she was a widow who was knocking on a bit and I was a married man in his twenties that's not really surprising, because we certainly didn't move in the same circles. Not only that, but she was wealthy and I was broke, very broke. I'd taken so much time off work since my wife had gone that my employer had decided to make my absence official and permanent.

But then one afternoon when I was mooching around, wandering past her house with nothing to do except feel sorry for myself, she called me over and asked if I would give her a hand put some boxes into the loft. For a moment I hesitated, wondering if I could actually be bothered to do anything at all, let alone help some old dear tidy her house up.

‘I've got some beer if you'd like one afterwards.' She tempted. ‘You see, I'm not quite as nimble as I used to be.'

I could well believe she wasn't, looking at her, but it was the prospect of a free cold drink in the heat of summer swung it for me and I did a smart right wheel and set about my good deed of that day, that week even. It wasn't a big job, just half a dozen grocery boxes full of assorted junk that needed stacking in the loft, but the temperature in the roof space was close to cooking and I came down with a hefty shine of sweat on my skin, and that didn't happen very often.

‘Good gracious me.' She said, looking astonished at my red face. ‘You've really earned that beer, haven't you?'

I smiled to myself at her turn of phrase and followed her into the kitchen, sitting at the big old pine kitchen table and waiting respectfully for my reward. She passed me a towel to wipe the sweat off of my face and disappeared through another door to return a moment or two later with a bottle of beer and a glass.

‘I won't join you, if you don't mind. I'm afraid I'm not much of a beer drinker, I only keep it for guests, and in any case I had tea a short while ago.'

I didn't mind, in fact the thought of her drinking beer seemed quietly absurd anyway. I levered the cap from the bottle with my teeth and poured the lovely amber liquid into the glass.

‘Oh, I'm so sorry.' Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I completely forgot to bring the bottle opener.'

‘It's no problem.' I assured her, taking a long swallow of beer. ‘I'm used to doing it like that.'

‘Oh, you young people.' She waved a dismissive hand in my direction and then, perhaps realising just how clichéd that must have sounded, she burst out laughing at herself, a full blooded, unrestrained laugh that soon had me joining in. When the laughter died away we sat at opposite sides of the kitchen table, she watching me closely as I drank her beer and me studying her in return. It was the first time I'd really taken a look at her as a person, rather than as the elderly lady who lived in the big house around the corner.

The first thing I realised was that she wasn't quite as old as I'd first thought. Because of the old-fashioned and very conservative way she dressed and acted I'd mentally tagged her as somewhere in her seventies or even older, but now I was seeing her close up I could see that she was only mid, maybe late, sixties. She was around five six or so tall, but quite skinny with it, with a shrunken bust and the beginnings of a pot belly, both of which added to the impression of age, although for all that her face carried the remnants of great beauty. She must have been quite a looker in her day, but her day was well in the past now and drooping eyelids and deep lines around her mouth had wiped most of her good looks away. I suddenly realised that she'd had her heyday long before I was even born and before my folks had done more than begin to explore the possibilities. It seemed a shame really, but I suppose it comes to us all. She'd had her hair died blonde and permed within an inch of its life, or otherwise I guess it would have been grey. Slightly darker eyebrows over her clear hazel eyes suggested that it would once have been a kind of mid brown.

‘Do you know?' She said suddenly. ‘Talking with you makes a very pleasant change from always talking to other old women. This is the first time I've been alone in the company of a man since my husband died, and that's eleven years ago'

‘Really?' I said, unsure how to reply to that and wondering if the fact that she obviously felt safe in my company was a compliment or an insult. ‘I'm glad.'

I suddenly realised that my reply could have been interpreted as being glad her husband was dead. ‘I mean I'm glad you like me being here.'

She laughed again, amused by my embarrassment. ‘No need to explain, and I do like you being here.'

That seemed to open the flood gates and all of a sudden she was telling me about her life. At one point she stopped to fetch me another beer, but I think that was only to make sure I didn't run off before she'd finished, otherwise she just carried on, never really giving me the chance to even comment.

It seemed that she had been married to a wealthy and much older businessman who had been the head of his own company. That had meant that, although her life was materially very comfortable, his circle of friends had tended to be of his social standing rather than hers and mainly of his age group too, and so she had lost touch with her childhood friends. It also probably accounted for her very old-fashioned outlook. Now, because he was dead and most of her acquaintances had also either followed suit or become so aged as to be gaga, she had found herself very much on her own. There were maybe half a dozen people that she could count as friends, and they were all around her own age, give or take half a dozen years, and they tended to talk only about who'd died this week and who was likely to go next. She admitted that she had reached the point when the time for starting again and developing a new social circle was passed, but she felt that she was too young yet to just - in her words - curl up and wait for the reaper. She didn't say it, but she was clearly desperately lonely.

I felt sorry for her, but more than that I found myself actually liking the old bat, especially as she displayed a wry sense of humour. I found myself looking on her as a person and not just as a member of the alien species that anyone that much older than me had always seemed to be before. To my own surprise I found myself asking if she would mind if I called again another day for a chat.

‘Of course not, I've already said I enjoy your company. But don't expect a beer every time.'

After that admonishment I hardly dare not call again, and so I found myself ringing her bell two or three times as week. And don't get me wrong, I did it willingly because I found I enjoyed her company too. She might have dressed and spoken as if she'd just escaped from the nineteen fifties, but she was actually quite modern in her outlook. To my surprise I found that she was more than comfortable with her computer and she knew her way around her smartphone better than I did mine. I had to do a rapid reappraisal of my assumptions about the older generation. Even so, I still wasn't ready for what she asked me one day about a month after I had first heaved her boxes into the loft. We were in her lounge drinking coffee when she shook off the preoccupied look she had been wearing and looked across as if having made a sudden decision.

‘Scott.' She began. ‘What do you know about Craigslist personals?'

The genuine answer was not a lot. I'd looked at them a couple of times out of curiosity, but I'd never used them and I hadn't had very good reports from the couple of people I knew who had. They seemed to be a kind of sexual shopping mall for the desperate.

‘Why do you ask?' I countered, not quite sure if she knew just what it was.

‘If I tell you, can you promise me that this conversation will stay between the two of us?' She asked.

‘Of course.' I promised her, puzzled.

‘It must, because I'd be so embarrassed if anybody ever knew.' She looked at me hard, and then continued. ‘You know that I don't get out much, and so I don't have very many friends?'

It was mainly a rhetorical question, and so I just nodded.

She paused for what seemed like ages. ‘The point is that I don't get the chance to meet many men who are... how can I put it... still in working order.'

It took a few seconds, but when I got what she meant my mouth dropped open and my eyes shot wide. Most of my shock was finding out that she was in working - and wanting - order herself.

‘I can see you understand.' She smiled dryly. ‘Now you know why what we say must stay confidential. I'm sixty-six and women of my age aren't supposed to think about that sort of thing.'

I nodded again.

‘But I do think about that sort of thing, and more and more often.' She told me. ‘My fires haven't quite gone out yet and to put it bluntly, I need a man. I'm sick of having to induce my own orgasms.'

I almost laughed at her admission of masturbation, only my complete surprise prevented me. I was beginning to see where she was heading though, or so I thought. ‘But why Craigslist?'

‘Look at me.' She instructed.

I looked. She wasn't that bad. I mean, she was old to me, but for her age she was actually quite well preserved.

‘I'm a good bit past my sell-by date and there's no point in denying it.' She shrugged. ‘So I'm not going to be able to attract a virile young man into my bed with my looks alone, and I know that too.'

She paused again.

‘So if I'm going to get what I'm missing out on, I've decided I'm going to have to pay for it. I've done a little research and Craigslist seems to be the best bet. What do you think?'

I didn't know what to think. It's not the sort of thing you get asked every day.

‘You're looking to find a gigolo?' I asked finally, astounded.

‘In a nutshell, yes.' She told me, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. ‘I want some enjoyment before it's too late, and I want someone who will give me pleasure without worrying too much about his own, because I'm not in a physical condition to give much in return, and so the best option seems to me to pay someone for it.'

I was still trying to come to terms with the conversation I was having with her. If anyone had told me I would be discussing where such a mature lady could find a cock for hire, I would have laughed them out of town.

‘Yes Connie, I can see where you're coming from.' I told her, still attempting to take things seriously. ‘But I would have thought that hiring a stranger would be a bit risky. I mean, you could get robbed, or hurt, or pick up something nasty.'

‘Or I could carry on wearing batteries out.' She countered. ‘It's either take the risk or go without, it seems to me.'

Another pause. I could tell she was not finding this easy. ‘So is Craigslist a viable option? Or can you think of anything else?'

‘Oh, it'll work.' I replied. ‘I mean, people use it for just that purpose. But that doesn't make it entirely safe. As for any alternative, don't you know anyone who might help you out?' Even as I was saying that I realised how stupid it would sound, and how unlikely.

‘Well, let me see. Who do I know' She replied sardonically. ‘There's the gardener, but he's got a bad back and he's nearly my age anyway. There's the window cleaner, but he's got teenage spots and probably wouldn't know an orgasm from an organ. And there's you. And that's all the men I know.'

There was an absolutely deafening silence while what she had said percolated through our separate brains, and then she looked at me from under her eyebrows as if silently weighing the chances of surviving after saying what she was thinking.

Right up until that point I had not even thought about myself as a candidate, I really hadn't. I mean, how different from my usual preference could any woman be? And in any case, I've always thought that if you took the bra off of any woman over sixty her nipples would be banging on her kneecaps, and that's not an attractive picture. The trouble was that an unexpected twitch in my pants informed me that a certain part of my anatomy was not entirely ruling itself out.

‘I'd pay you.' She finally ended the silence. ‘I know that you wouldn't want to do it by choice, so I would pay you.'

I shook my head, commonsense trying to persuade my cock to lie down. ‘I couldn't. I mean it would spoil our friendship, wouldn't it.'

‘I think it's a little too late to worry about that.' She said sorrowfully. ‘Just knowing we spoke about it would get in the way now anyway.'

There was another silence. Now I was actually thinking about it, egged on by my rebellious libido. Then she told me what she had in mind, naming quite a generous figure.

‘I'd pay you that for just doing it with me, and then a bit more for each time you make me climax.' She could see me wavering. ‘If that doesn't sound all that much I must tell you that I'm still multi-orgasmic. I badly need to be brought to a climax, you have no idea how much I miss it.'

Into my mind there immediately jumped a rather disturbing picture of her masturbating with a vibrator. My cock reacted to the image and my brain responded to the prospect of earning much needed money for doing what comes naturally.

‘When?' I asked, capitulating. ‘Are you thinking of just one time, or more than once?'

I listened to myself in wonder. There I was negotiating terms for going to bed with a much older woman as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It wasn't.

‘Let's try it once and see how we get on.' She said, actually smiling with relief. ‘But it would be very nice if it could become a regular arrangement.'

‘When?' I asked again.

‘Not today I'm afraid.' She sounded as though she really meant that. ‘I've got Rita calling round soon and it wouldn't due for her to catch us, and I don't want us to have to rush things.'

She stopped and consulted a mental diary, whilst I wondered who Rita was.

‘How about Thursday evening? That will give us both the time to prepare ourselves.'

I would certainly need to prepare myself. Thursday was the day after tomorrow, and I would need all of that time to get my head around what I had just committed myself to.

‘That would be nice.' I mumbled, still trying to deal with it. ‘About seven-thirty.'

‘That sounds fine. I'll look forward to seeing you then.'

That was both a statement of fact and my dismissal for that day. I went home with my head in such a whirl that I almost completely ignored a friend who called to me across the street, only vaguely acknowledging his presence when he hollered his complaint at my ignorance. I wasn't much better when I found myself knocking on her door again a couple of days later. By then my libido had calmed down and I had begun to question my decision. Why had I agreed to go to bed with an old woman?

If I'd had the vague idea that she might try and at least look the slightest bit seductive, I was wrong. She answered the door wearing her usual fifties style floral dress and cardigan and hair that looked to have spent the intervening time in curlers. I began to wonder if a difficult job was in fact possible at all, or if my optimistic cock had bitten off more than it could chew. But, in the words of the sage, I needed the money.

‘Come in, Scott.' She stood back for me to go past, probably intending to lock the door behind me and prevent my escape. ‘Let's have a drink first. Beer or coffee?'

‘Coffee please, Connie.' The stimulant effect of caffeine might yet be needed.

We sat facing each other across the kitchen table once more, silently drinking coffee and trying to decipher each others thoughts. I was looking her over, mostly wondering what I was going to find under those outdated clothes, although what she was thinking I had no idea.

‘I shan't pay you until afterwards.' She said suddenly. ‘Because we don't know how much it will be. But I promise I won't cheat you.'

‘That's okay.' I told her, thinking that I couldn't guarantee that I'd actually be able to earn it.' I never thought you would.'

‘But I must remind you of the old saying. She who pays the piper calls the tune.' She informed me. ‘So I will expect you to do what I want.'

Please God, I thought, don't let her be a closet Dominatrix.

But all I actually said was. ‘Of course.'

‘Let's go to my bedroom then, if you're ready.'

‘As I'll ever be.' I told her, meaning something different to what she probably thought. There was no sign of activity inside my jeans yet. I was just hoping that something living down there hadn't misled me as to its intentions.

Her bedroom was just as I might have expected. It showed a man's influence in the solid dark oak furniture, but it had been softened and feminised by the over use of pink and white in the soft furnishings, and by a collection of teddy bears that sat on the top of a cupboard and gazed out of the window.

‘I'm glad they're not watching the bed.' I commented, trying to lighten the moment.

‘Yes, but I'm afraid you're not going to be watching anything, are you my little ones.' She addressed them as she went across to close the blinds, keeping the fact that she had a man in her room for once from any neighbours who might possibly care. Mind you, I didn't really want anyone to see who I was with either, but for reasons of pride rather than privacy.

‘Shall we undress?' She asked, meaning it as an instruction.

I nodded and turned my back, though why I'm not sure. Maybe it was because I thought she'd prefer it, or maybe it was because I just didn't want to see someone of her age taking their clothes off, or maybe because I was scared I was going to flunk it.

‘Turn around, let me have a look at you.' That also meant that I would have to have a look at her.

It must be said that what I saw wasn't as bad as what I had imagined. I suppose everyone my age thinks of everyone her age as being on their last legs, with every inch of skin covered in wrinkles and everything a good fifty percent further south than it ought to be. Yes, of course she showed her years, but even that seemed mostly in the bits that showed, such as her hands or around her neck. Otherwise most of her skin was fairly smooth, just showing a few creases as she moved, and her breasts were far better than the two empty pouches that I'd pictured. They'd sagged a bit, but they were relatively full and firm and her nipples still faced forward. As for the rest of her, well her legs were a bit thin, her stomach was far from flat and with a few assorted lines, but I've enjoyed worse. One thing I did notice was that her bush was a mousy brown, so at least that hadn't gone grey. My cock finally twitched once to say that all was forgiven. It was going to be possible if not easy.

‘I must say you look rather good, but I suppose it must be difficult to make love to order.' She added charitably as she surveyed my pitiable erection. ‘Never mind, we won't need that at first.' She climbed onto the bed and patted the space beside her. The command was clear.

I climbed on and lay beside her staring at the ceiling, waiting for her to speak and wondering quietly what exactly she wanted me to do first. She said nothing, and then some more nothing, and I eventually turned on my side to look at her to find out why. She heard me move and turned on her side to face me too, still without saying a word. The silence was becoming awkward.

‘This is more difficult than I thought.' She said finally.

‘There's no rush.' I assured her; certainly I was in no hurry. Normally I would have been reaching out and pulling my partner to me, hands and lips exploring, but two things stopped me. Firstly, she'd already said I had to do as she wanted, which meant not taking the lead, and secondly, I didn't want to take the lead in the first place. I was beginning to wonder again why I'd agreed to do it, although the answer to that was still obvious - an empty wallet.

For a minute or so we lay on our sides looking at each other and then, without a word and without her eyes leaving mine, her hand reached out and fumbled for my cock. It was a strange sensation. Because we were still looking into each others eyes it was as if a disembodied hand was playing with me and I could disconnect myself from it, almost pretending it wasn't Connie's aging fingers that were coaxing it into life. She was successful too, it was only a matter of seconds before I felt it begin to uncoil and swell in her grip, sending a smile of delight over her face.

‘It's been a long time.' She whispered. ‘Such a long time.'

It was a long time for me too, although my "long time" and hers were not in the same league. It felt nice though, having someone's hand stroking my shaft, and if I was getting paid for it too, then bonus. I just closed my eyes and let her do it, making appropriate appreciative noises from time to time.

It got to the point where if she'd carried on there's a good chance that she would have made me come, but she abruptly reminded me that wasn't what I was there for. All of a sudden she stopped and rolled on her back, bringing my eyes back open with a jolt.

‘Your turn.' She told me, opening her legs. ‘You feel nice and I like doing that, but it won't give me what I need. So now it's your turn. You can do it how you want, but don't stop until you get me there.'

I smiled at her words, the closest she had ever got to a slang term. I wondered mischievously if I could get her to say "come".

‘You mean you want me to make you come?' I asked. ‘You can tell me.'

‘Yes. However you want.' Well, at least she knew what it meant.

I rolled back onto my side and reached out a little reluctantly towards her. Once again I kept my eyes fastened on hers so that I didn't need to look where my hand was headed, but her flesh felt surprisingly nice, just as smooth and warm as any other woman's. I let my fingers drag over her stomach, watching her eyes take on a faraway look as the back of my nails made her skin ripple in response to their touch.

My fingertips trailed up and down her stomach several times, each time venturing a little further down than the time before, until I found my fingertips brushing through her profuse curly pubes. As they did so I felt her tense up slightly, reminding me that it wasn't all that easy for her either. Strangely enough, that helped me relax a little more. I cupped my fingers and placed them over Connie's mound, my palm on her pubes and my fingertips just at the top of her slit.

‘I didn't think this would ever happen again.' She murmured.

‘Just enjoy it.' I told her, sliding my hand a little further down between her legs.

‘I have every intention.' She smiled and closed her eyes as my fingertip found her clitoris.

Her little button was quite a big little button. It was engorged and standing up for itself with her arousal, and that was something I really hadn't expected. Sounds stupid now, but I was genuinely surprised at her body's response. But surprised or not, I was pleased by what I had found, and I extended my first two fingers to play with her, rubbing gently back and forth over the head of her clit. I felt, rather than heard, her sigh with pleasure and her hand suddenly reached around my back and gripped my shoulder. She spread herself wider, her thigh coming to rest against my bent legs so that the tip of my cock just brushed against her skin.

‘Mmm, we mustn't forget him, must we?' She murmured, more to herself than to me.

I carried on with what I was doing in the absence of any further instructions, rubbing her clit with the tips of my two fingers, changing rhythm, sometimes light and quick, sometimes slow and sensual, listening to her breathing and the little gasps she kept making. Then her breathing became more ragged and urgent and I began to rub harder and faster until I was strumming at her clit as if it were a banjo. It sounds a bit crude put like that, especially as Connie was quite a classy lady really, but that's how it seemed, and she clearly didn't mind for her fingers tightened on my shoulder and her hips started to give those little twitches that are usually the sign of an impending climax. I kept going, harder and faster, feeling her arm holding me more tightly and her nails digging harder into me, and hearing her making little grunts that became louder and more frequent until finally she cried out, a long incoherent sound, and her hips lifted from the bed, jerking and thrusting at my fingers.

Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, long enough for me to start to become concerned for her wellbeing, though I kept my fingertips playing with her until she finally slumped back on the bed, spent and panting. Then I just let my hand lie cupped over her pussy as she gasped for air, her heart hammering so hard I could actually feel it where our bodies touched.

We lay silently for a few minutes, Connie getting over her climax and me marvelling at the responses of older women. Now I knew that fun in bed does not have to expire with the ability to get pregnant.

‘You have no idea.' She gasped finally. ‘Just how much I've needed that.'

I just looked at her and smiled.

‘Just let me get my breath back, and then will you do it again?'

I nodded and smiled again. Of course I would. I could say that I had a financial incentive to make her come as often as possible, and that would be true, but I'd also enjoyed seeing her pleasure and I was more than willing to see it again.

‘As many times as you can stand it.' I told her.

‘Then I'm not quite sure who will wear out first.' She giggled self-consciously.

She didn't tell me when to start again; I just sort of began to gently move my hand on her pussy as I saw her regain her composure. At first it was not very erotic, just a gentle cupping of her flesh, but slowly I started to concentrate more on her clit again, using the same two fingers as before to massage her button.

It didn't take her very long at all to come the second time, and the result was at least as strong as the one before. In fact the only difference this time was in my response. Just as she had before her the arm that she had wrapped around my back had tightened and her fingers had gripped tightly into my shoulder. During her first orgasm I had simply held firm as she squeezed me, but for some reason this time I didn't. I allowed her to draw me closer, pulling me over her so that my face was just above her breast. Then I did something that I'm not sure if she had intended me to do or if I just wanted to, but while I was rubbing her pussy and while she was in the middle of her climax, I leaned down and took her nipple into my mouth and sucked it hard. Even after her climax had subsided and she lay again recovering her breath I still suckled at it, gently massaging her pussy at the same time to keep her going.

‘I like that.' She said, her hand landing on the back of my head and pushing me more firmly onto her breast.

‘Me too.' I mumbled around her nipple.

Just as before, there was no real beginning to my next attempt to make her come, I just started playing with her again. This time I had moved a little down the bed to suck her nipple, and my hand could now comfortably reach all of her, touching and enjoying the soft puffiness of her flesh. I used two fingers to part her hairy labia and the other two to investigate between them, finding the soft inner folds and seeking her entrance.

‘Put your fingers inside me.' Her instruction sounded more like an entreaty than an order.

I found her opening, wet and gaping ready, and gently slid the two fingers inside before moving around a little so that my thumb could reach her clitoris.

‘Yes please, Scott.'

It was the first time she had used my name whilst we'd been in bed. She didn't use it often anyway, but this time it sounded strangely nice, as if we were real lovers rather than employer and employee. I smiled to myself and began to thrust into her, making my thumb bump against her clit each time. Her hand moved and gripped the back of my shoulder again and she gasped quietly with each thrust. I was obviously having the right effect to earn another bonus. This job was getting to be a lot better than I had expected.

When she came this time it was so hard that her nails on my shoulder were actually painful. I was surprised once more at the strength of her responses, the power of her orgasms seemed to increase rather than decrease, but I'll readily admit that I was pleased by this, even if my shoulder wasn't. I was pleased both for the financial side of things because she was more likely to want a repeat if it was good for her, and I could use the cash, but also from personal pride, it's nice to know that you are pleasing your partner, old or young, paid or not. I get enjoyment from giving pleasure, as well as receiving it.

This time when she finally slumped back, out of breath again and with a nice sheen of post-orgasmic sweat on her skin, I lifted my face from her breast and looked at her, smiling with satisfaction.

‘You're very good, aren't you?' She complimented me and I couldn't help but grin broadly.

We lay looking at each other for a few minutes while she got over her climax and got her breath back, just smiling contentedly, and then she asked me ‘Would you mind kissing me?'

Of course I wouldn't. I lowered my lips to hers, feeling her open her mouth suddenly as if expecting me to refuse, but I was no longer seeing her just as an old woman, but as a sexually active partner with more experience than I'd had. Her other arm came up and round me and we kissed passionately, our tongues probing and exploring. I was sorry when we broke for air, but she was still a little out of breath from her orgasm.

‘That was very nice.' She told me, and then giggled girlishly. ‘But that wasn't what I meant.'

I looked at her mystified.

‘I meant would you mind kissing me down there.'

She pointed down her body with one hand. Understanding dawned and I felt myself go red with embarrassment.

‘I'm sorry, I misunderstood.' I stumbled over the words. ‘I thought you meant me to just kiss your mouth.'

‘I guessed that. You can kiss me wherever you like, but I would love you to go down on me, would you do that?'

‘Yes, no problem.' I told her, wriggling down the bed. I enjoy doing oral sex on a woman and I'd stopped making the young or old distinction, so naturally I would.

I got myself into position between her widespread legs and just stared at her pussy for a minute or so, taking in the erotic sight and scent of her arousal. It was clear how turned on she was by the way her clitoris stood out from its hood and by the invitation of her open vagina. She was wet too, her whole pussy shining with her juices where my rubbing her had spread them. I looked, almost wanting it to be my cock that was going there rather than my tongue. But she was paying and I was obeying. Instead I fixed the image in my mind with the intention of using it later for a wank.

I parted her bush with my thumbs, combing her rather exuberant growth out of the way, and lowered my mouth to her pussy, my tongue ready held to lick at her clitoris. She tasted as good as she promised to; her musky feminine, scent translated perfectly into that hot erotic taste of a woman's sex. My mouth closed over her pussy and my tongue tip lapped at her clit, licking and flicking that little button until her hips began to gyrate and she started to gasp again, both hands now entangling themselves in my hair and ready to hold me tight to her. I folded her legs back, wrapping my arms around her thighs, and pushed my face into her, licking and sucking her. I love doing that to a woman, any woman, but especially Connie because the sounds she was making told me how much she liked it.

My only problem was that of breathing and eventually I just had to pull away and take a couple of deep breaths. For a moment she resisted, but then she understood and released her hold on my hair.

‘Please do it again, if you can.' She pleaded.

I nodded and lowered my face again, but this time I aimed my tongue at her vagina, licking and probing around the entrance before pushing it into her as far as I could. I licked, thrust and probed her with my tongue, sometimes concentrating on her entrance, sometimes running my mouth the whole length of her slit, flicking her clit as I passed and making her body jolt from the sensation. Obviously her clit was the most sensitive, but she liked her hole played with too, so I pulled an arm back around, wriggling two fingers into her as I licked her.

‘Keep doing that and you'll make me come again.' She told me eagerly.

Just for a second I stopped from surprise. She'd actually said it. It was the first time I'd heard her say "come" instead of "climax" or "orgasm". Then I remembered that she already said that I should "go down" on her. Her arousal must have been stronger than I'd thought. I smiled with delight into her pussy and licked even harder.

I covered up my hesitation by adjusting my position, and then set about fingering and licking her to a climax, thrusting my two fingers into her quick and hard, and lapping at her clit as rapidly as I could, hoping that she would come before my actions made my already tired tongue ache.

I didn't quite make it. Eventually I just had to stop, my tongue just wouldn't take any more, but by then she was beginning to gasp and wriggle, showing all the signs of an imminent orgasm, and so I just sucked her swollen clit between my lips and nibbled gently at it with my teeth while still fingering her hard with my two fingers.

The effect was almost instantaneous. I'd hardly started before she came, bucking her hips so suddenly that she pulled her clit from my mouth, making me bite it harder than I intended. But she didn't seem to mind, her hips jerked and she shuddered, groaning loudly, her fingers scrabbling at the top of my head to try and help me stay in contact with her. Once again her new climax was at least as powerful as the one before, and I began to wonder how this could be, eventually putting it down to her long period of celibacy. Would it be like this every time, I wondered, always assuming she wanted me again?

‘I'm sorry if I bit you.' I said when her orgasm was finally over and her legs had finally dropped back down to either side of me.

She waved a hand in that dismissive gesture of hers. ‘You've no need to be. It didn't hurt, although I'm not sure I'd want you to do it much harder.'

I knew it must have hurt, but clearly she was too far gone to notice, maybe she'd like me to do it again. I was still sprawled between her legs, my face only inches from her pussy and so I looked at it and then at her and then back, trying to see what she wanted me to do next. Again the waved hand.

‘Oh no. That's enough. I'm quite worn out.'

Her dated phrasing made me smile once again as I wriggled free and came to lie beside her, a little disappointed that I hadn't been able to have a climax. She turned to look at me and reached out, stroking my hair gently and affectionately.

‘You are quite something, aren't you?' She murmured.

I reached out and gathered her in my arms to pull her into a hug. She responded, but she wouldn't enter fully into my embrace.

‘No.' She stopped me. ‘We've got something else to do yet.'

I looked at her questioningly. She smiled at my confusion and reached down between us, taking hold my still erect and solid cock.

‘He's got to have his turn.' She told me.

‘But I thought you'd had enough?'

‘Not quite, I've just saved the best until last.'

‘Are you sure?' My concern for her years was showing through.

‘Very sure. I may not be able to come again, but I still want you to do it to me.'

She could see me hesitating, not because I didn't want to, but because I was worried for her.

‘Do me, Scott.' She looked at me anxiously, begging me. ‘Put it in me and do me. I want to feel you come inside me. I haven't felt that happen for such a long, long time.'

I promised myself I would take it easy, after all I was a fairly well built man and she was a fragile little woman. I rolled on top of her, feeling her hand dive between us to guide me into her. I must admit her passage felt fabulous, wet, warm and inviting.

‘Now do it, Scott. Do me good and hard.'

Again I promised myself to take it easy, but after only a few thrusts I felt her legs go around my back and her arms grip my shoulders, and she began whispering softly into my ear.

‘That's right. Push it right in hard. You can do it as fast as you want, I like it.'

There was no way I was going to hold back with her saying things like that, I began to fuck her faster, thrusting into her quicker and deeper.

‘Oh, that's lovely. Just right, good and hard. I like it pushed hard up me.'

Her rather refined version of talking dirty was something of a shock, but it was doing the trick, turning me on even more.

‘Don't stop. Finish inside me. I want it all up me.'

Now she whispered between the gasps caused by my plunging into her, but it had just the right effect on me, I felt my balls began tighten and that wonderful sensation that heralds a climax started to spread through my body.

‘I'm going to come.' I warned her.

‘I know, don't hold back. Let me feel you shoot it up me.'

I couldn't hold back if I tried, I felt my cum race along my cock and erupt into her, making me thrust as deep as I could and just grind myself into her, not pulling back but just pushing harder with each spurt, groaning in her ear as I did so.

Now it was my turn to slump, gasping for air and trembling from exertion. I tried, with only moderate success, to keep my weight from resting on her as she let her arms and legs drop back onto the bed.

‘If you enjoyed that half as much as I did.' She began eventually, sliding from beneath me. ‘Then the whole experience is bound for the Guinness book of records.'

I burst out laughing at that expression, and after a moment so did she, so that we lay in each other's arms chuckling and giggling like a couple of teenagers.

‘I wonder.' I asked, still giggling. ‘What section it would belong in?'

‘Sport, obviously.'

I couldn't argue with that. I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, not a long passionate snog, the time for that had gone, but just a quick peck of affection.

‘Now, I have to apologise.' She said pulling away. ‘I'm afraid my behaviour has been less than ladylike, and some of the things I said just now were a little on the coarse side. I hope you'll forgive me.'

I looked at her thinking she was joking, but she was perfectly serious.

‘My husband used to like me to say things like that to him when we were doing it, and it just came back to me.'

‘There is nothing to forgive.' I told her, also meaning it. ‘You can say anything you like, as dirty as you like, I like it too.' Then I realised I was taking for granted that we'd do it again. ‘If you want me again, that is.'

‘Every day if I could afford it.' She told me in all seriousness. ‘So let's just make it each Thursday.'

I very nearly offered to call every day for nothing, it was tempting but I couldn't afford it either. My attitude to having sex with an older woman had altered completely. I'd felt it changing as things went along, and now I didn't care what our age gap was, I'd have her any day of the week. In fact if anyone gets the chance to take an older woman to bed, then jump at it. You'll get all of the pleasure with none of the behaviour. And if you can get paid as well, then you've hit the jackpot.