The Chemo Therapy Session
written by:
Joshua

This is a true tale of a sexual experience between a younger man and an older woman. Be forewarned, however: If you're looking for a tale about a teenager or twenty-something finding an older woman and discovering the joys of sex with older woman, well, this isn't the story for you. It is, though, the fact-is-stranger-than-fiction tale about a forty-six year old man and a seventy-four year old woman. And my friends, every word you're about to read is true.

Ten years ago, I'd been undergoing chemotherapy treatments after having endured cancer surgery four months earlier. The surgery went fine but to do everything possible at his disposal to ensure the cancer did not return, my physician made arrangements for me to undergo chemotherapy sessions every two weeks. The process was simple, really: I'd report to the cancer lab every other Friday just after lunch, and make my way to one of the private treatment rooms. The rooms had these large, comfortable recliners that could fold down to a completely flat position if I wanted. Usually, however, I simply reclined back enough to remain sitting. The nurses and staff connected the feed tube with the chemo solution into a port located in my upper left chest. For the next four hours, I was restricted to very little movement, but I could read or sleep, watch television, or simply chat with my wife who was there for the duration of the four hour treatment. From there, I spent the remainder of the weekend wearing a small fanny pack that contained a chemo pump which sent the cancer killing solution throughout my body. On Sunday morning, a home-health nurse arrived and disconnected me from the pump and for the next two weeks, I maintained a normal life. The process was simple and easy and allowed me, for the most part, to conduct a normal life while I recovered from the surgery.

The only real drawback to this bi-weekly chemo treatment was that it left me severely fatigued. By Sunday morning, I was drained and felt like doing little that required physical effort. The fatigue began, however, soon after the chemo drug began to enter my body on these Friday afternoon hookups. Within an hour after beginning the process, I was often asleep or finding myself too drowsy to even read. Still, I was thankful for the process and the prospect of becoming cancer free after the end of these treatments.

Each Friday was essentially the same in terms of who treated me and administered to my needs. The hospital had a contract with a home-health agency that allowed one of the agency's trained representatives to meet me when I arrived at the treatment facility and would then begin the process of cleaning the port, connecting me to the main chemo pump, then ensuring that everything was in working order. Usually, the entire startup process took no more than twenty to thirty minutes, at which point the home health nurse would leave and my wife and I would spend the next four hours chatting, reading, or whatever. There were times, however, when the hookup procedure took longer: the port needed cleaning, sometimes the chemo supply machine needed calibration, or whatever. You get the picture. But overall, the process was easy and quickly became a routine that my wife and I accepted because we were both eager for me to stay cancer-free.

The nurses who connected me to the pump were always in their early twenties or thirties. Most were pretty, but nothing untoward or risqué went on, especially with my wife nearby. But it was the owner of the home-health agency that drew my interest. Millie Brown owned the agency and made the assignments for my nurse every other Friday upon my arrival. I'd spoken with Millie several times and found her to be a likeable sort. She was always friendly and caring, always aware that it was me, the patient, who had to endure these treatments. She immediately gained my confidence and on those rare occasions when she was there upon my arrival, we always seemed to engage in conversation.

But let me tell you about Millie. Without the ever-present high heels she wore, she was still at least six feet tall in stocking feet. Her eyes were a vibrant, jade green that seemed to explode with color. She dressed in ways that reminded me of some sitcom from the 1950s: She always appeared in my treatment room dressed in a skirt, dark stockings, high heels, and a blouse or sweater that sometimes revealed a substantial line of cleavage. Despite her advanced age, on those days when I found my face close to her half-exposed tits, I found it difficult not to stare. Although she was older, her figure was trim, but please know that she did not resemble a woman in her forties. No, Millie resembled a woman in her later years. Yes, she had a slight paunch at her waist, but who doesn't anymore? And no, her skin was not milky-smooth as so many people describe older women sometimes. Her skin was soft, yes, but it was clear that Millie Brown was a woman on the other side of seventy. In fact, the last time I saw her before that special day, she informed me that she and her husband intended to sell the home-health agency as soon as she turned seventy-five, which she proudly stated "was next year." So, here I was, forty-six years old and undergoing cancer treatments from a woman almost thirty years older than me.

But the one physical feature that made Millie stand out to me was her hair. Although she was in her seventies, she seemed to have not one grey hair in the thick and long red hair she wore on her head. The color was unique as well: It was a mixture of auburn colored hair with an almost blood-red tint to it. I never knew what to expect when Millie entered the room: One day, she might have her vivid red hair hanging loose about her shoulders, but the next time we met, she'd have it arranged in a bun atop her head. Once, she even wore it in a long ponytail style, her long, graceful neck in clear sight for everyone to see. The color of Millie's hair made the green in her eyes more vivid, especially on the days Millie allowed her hair to hang loosely upon her shoulders. To add to this effect, Millie never entered the room without heavy makeup applied, as well as thick, bright red lipstick covering her lips. Thick, black eye liner outlined her eyes, and a large red spot of rouge adorned each cheek. Some might have snickered behind her back and compared her to a circus clown, but to me, she was just an older woman who wore heavy layers of makeup. I didn't find her repulsive in any way because it was either she or her nurses who were bringing me back to health. And for that, I was grateful.

In all respects, Millie was what those of an older generation might have called "an old floosie." She loved to tease me with the ever-present displays of cleavage, often bending over my chest as she connected the chemotherapy supply line to the port in my chest. More than once, Millie caught me staring at her tits, which were less than four inches from my face each time she bent over me. But each time she caught me, she simply smiled and would often ask, "What are you looking at, young man?" Then, as always we laughed together, each knowing for certain that nothing sexual or physical would happen between us. Other times, when my wife was temporarily away or out of the room for a short period, Millie would tell me a racy joke or make a semi-sexual comment. I took her comments in stride and enjoyed the fun. And each time she said something risqué, she always ended her comments with, "Now, don't tell your wife!" I didn't and enjoyed this minor secret Millie the nurse and I shared.

So, as you see, Millie was no beauty queen, but that is in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? I'm sure there are men who would be turned off by the way Millie presented herself, but to be honest, I found her sexy as hell. Since I was eighteen years old, when I had an affair with a forty-four year old woman, I've always had an interest in older women. Even now, here in my late forties, I am still attracted to older women, especially if they do at least a decent job keeping themselves in shape and try to remain sexy. To me, sexual appeal doesn't stop at age fifty: no, it carries on across the years. And Millie had that: pure sexual appeal, and it killed me and caused my cock to flutter every time I was around her.

But it was when I was nearing the end of the prescribed number of chemo treatments that something strange yet exciting happened. Normally, after Millie connected me to the chemo supply tube, she'd linger in the room for several moments chatting with me or my wife while making sure the pump was working properly. After that, she'd go about attending to other patients, and I would not see her for another two weeks. But the closer I got to the end of treatments, the more I realized Millie's presence. As I said, I usually arrived at the clinic alone, and my wife would arrive about an hour later. That way, she wasn't in the way while the hookup process went on, and she could question the nurses about my progress while I napped. But, with only three treatment sessions to go, however, Millie began to stay longer in my room, or returned several times throughout the afternoon to check on me. And then, one Friday, she asked when my wife might be arriving. I responded that she'd be at the clinic momentarily, and noticed that Millie displayed an obvious expression of sadness. Later, when Millie returned to check on my progress, my wife informed her that she'd be out of town for the next session in two weeks. Millie smiled brightly and informed my wife, "Well, then, we'll just have to take extra special care of him since you won't be here!"

Throughout the entire chemo process, my wife had asked her company to refrain from asking her to travel for work. But I was feeling better now, and the likelihood of the dreaded disease returning was almost nil. I was also at that point where I could drive again rather than have my wife escort me from place to place. Because of my improved health status, my wife informed her company that she could return to occasional travel, but only for short durations. Through it all, since the time of my surgery, my wife and I had also refrained from having sex: I was ready, and truly eager to have sex again, but my wife was adamant that we would not return to that activity until after the final chemo therapy session. In the meantime, when she wasn't home, I'd view pornographic websites on the internet, get my cock hard, and jack off until I spewed a load of hot crème into my hand. I eagerly watched the calendar for that day when my wife and I could finally engage in sexual activity.

Now, however, my wife was away on the short trip and would be out of town for the next-to last chemo session. As usual, I arrived at the prescribed hour and was escorted to the private treatment room by a young nurse. I dropped my bags to the floor, and loosened the top buttons on my shirt in order to make it easier to connect the chemo supply line to the surgically installed port in my upper left chest. I began to read a magazine and waited for whoever was going to connect me to the pump to arrive. In just a few moments, I heard the door behind me open and close gently.

And then, I heard the sound I'd become so familiar with: the click-click-click tapping sound of Millie's high heels as she entered the room. Because my chair faced away from the door, I always found myself eager to see Millie as she rounded the back of the treatment recliner and made her presence known. Three more steps, and there she was. On this day, when I was alone in the treatment room for the first and probably last time, Millie had chosen to wear a black blouse with dark red buttons on the front, a red, yellow, and black tartan patterned skirt, black stockings and black, leather pumps with three-inch, pencil thin heels. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders again, giving her the appearance of a regal, sophisticated older woman. Millie offered her greetings, then turned away from me and directed her attention to the counter where she began to lay out the items needed for my treatment. My eyes were plastered to Millie's ass, which, I must admit, was rather shapely for a woman her age. Before she turned and caught me, I also allowed my eyes to gaze at her legs, encased in the black stockings, and her weight supported by the high heels. Damn, Millie, I said to myself: Your husband is one lucky man if the two of you are still engaging in fucking.

For some reason, Millie began doing something strange. With her back still to me, she began a series of side to side motions with her ass. Every few seconds, she extended either her right or left arm and grasped the skirt where it covered her ass. From there, she'd tug on the skirt before releasing the material and returning to her unseen task. I could hear her mumbling, but had no idea what it was she was saying. Unable to understand her words, I asked, "Did you say something, Millie?"

Still facing away from me, Millie asked, "Isn't this the weekend your wife is out of town, Bill?" When I responded that yes, my wife was traveling and that today I'd be alone during my treatments, Millie said, "Well, that's interesting. I was just checking." Again, she began to fidget with her skirt-covered ass, seeming growing increasingly frustrated with whatever it was that was bothering her.

"Millie," I asked, "is everything okay? You seem distressed with something." Millie turned and looked down at me, a wide grin framing her bright red lips. It was easy to see that the lipstick covering Millie's lips had just been applied, and so far, was still thick upon her mouth. If I'd paid closer attention, I might have noticed that the topmost button of her blouse had somehow come open. But I was more interested in the situation causing Millie to continue to grab at her ass.

"Oh, you noticed, did you?" she asked, a huge smile on her face. "Well, leave it to a man to notice when a woman has problems with her ass!" A loud laugh escaped Millie's lips as she stared down at me, those bright red lips framing a set of incredibly white teeth. Millie turned to her right, exposing her left side to me. She placed her left hand on my upper right thigh and said, "It's these damn pantyhose, Bill." Turning her head downward and backward, she said, "I just can't seem to get them on straight today." Again, she extended her left hand and tugged at the material of her skirt, but did not seem satisfied with her efforts. Finally, in an act of exasperation, Mille said, "This is driving me crazy, Bill. It is so uncomfortable."

Now, I've been in some unpredicted, incredible sexual situations, but what happened next caused my cock to stir and my heart to beat faster. Without warning, Millie grasped the hem of her skirt, and lifted the garment high enough that the hem rested just under her ass cheeks. She turned her back to me and suddenly, less than two feet from me, and well within my reach, stood two of the best looking, stocking covered legs I've ever had the pleasure to view. Neither leg was skinny, but, rather, well-toned. I allowed my eyes to feast on Millie's legs, amazed that a woman her age could still have such a set of legs.

"Well, what do you see?" I heard her ask, suddenly brought back to reality by her request. Before I could respond, Millie turned her head slightly to the right, looked over her shoulder and asked, "Can you see what's going on back there?" Things were moving very quickly now, and again, before I could respond, Millie shifted her right foot twelve inches to the right, widening her stance, while simultaneously lifting the hem of the skirt until it was now bunched around her lower waist but still covering the top half of her shapely ass. Although she wore black pantyhose, the material was transparent enough that I easily detected that my sexy, older nurse had absolutely nothing on underneath the pantyhose.

There was no way I could believe what was going on at that moment, but I was grateful my wife was out of town. In silent awe, I watched as Millie's right hand wove its way around her waist, grasped a small bit of pantyhose between her fingers and shifted the material to the right. She repeated the action with her left hand, and finally the seam running up the back of the pantyhose ran the length of the crack of her ass. "How does that look?" Millie asked.

Now, there were a million ways I could have answered Millie's question. I wanted to tell her that from where I sat, I was staring at one incredibly sexy ass. I wanted to tell her she could remove the pantyhose and that would be even better for me. I wanted to ask if she needed further assistance in adjusting her pantyhose, but I wasn't sure what type of response I'd get: either she would yell at me, or perhaps slap me in the face. Most of all, I wanted to extend my hand and grasp Millie's incredibly fine ass in my hands, cup the cheeks, and see where doing so would lead me. Instead, I allowed common sense to prevail and simply said, "That looks good, Millie." When she turned around part way, I repeated my statement. "Yes, Millie, I think you got it."

Millie responded by letting the skirt fall free to once again cover her well-shaped but elderly ass. And, amazingly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, as if lifting her skirt for a man in a hospital room was a common thing to do, Millie returned her attention to the medical devices lying on the counter. Glad that Millie's back was to me now, I quickly adjusted the position of my seven inch cock. Still at the counter, Millie continued to lay out the medical utensils she always used for my chemotherapy sessions.

I watched in silence until Millie finally turned to face me. There was something different about the expression on her face, but I could not quite pinpoint what it was I was reading in her eyes. Millie smiled pleasantly, and said, "Well, then, I should get started, shouldn't I?" When I responded that I too was ready to begin the treatment, to my surprise, Millie walked behind me again, her high heels clicking on the tiled floor. I heard the distinct sound of the door lock being turned. Not once during any of my previous treatments had the door been locked. Closed, yes, but never locked.

Before she arrived back at my seat, I heard Millie say, "Now, we won't be bothered." Once more, the click, click, click of her high heels filled the small room. As she passed where I reclined in the chair, Millie traced a path with her left index finger along my right shoulder, down my arm, the finger coming to a stop less than an inch above my beltline. Millie never looked back, she simply made her way back to the counter where the normal needles, injections, and whatever else she needed lay in order to begin the chemotherapy process. Finally, seventy-four year old Millie turned to face me with a silver medical tray in her hands. She stepped forward, bent at the waist, her tits now brushing my chest, and attached the tray to the left side of my recliner. For one long second, Millie's face was so close to mine that I could easily inhale her perfume. Her long red hair brushed my face, but I made no move to swipe it away. Millie's face was very, very close to mine, but her eyes were focused on attaching the tray to the recliner. And then it happened.

Millie completed the task of attaching the implement tray to the recliner but before she returned to a standing position, she turned her head to the left and our eyes, our noses, and most importantly, our lips, were within millimeters of each other. My heart was pounding and the voice inside my brain was screaming for me to extend my neck and kiss Millie. The door's locked, Bill, I said to myself: No one will know but you and Millie. But instead, despite my desires, I refrained from placing my lips upon Millie's heavily lipstick covered lips. I just wasn't sure that was what she wanted me to do. Perhaps the same voice was screaming in Millie's head as well, and for what seemed an eternity, we simply stared at each other. If Millie had turned her head to the right, she'd have easily seen the growing bulge in my jeans where my cock was going crazy. She'd have seen the mountain under my trousers that would have indicated to this seventy-four year old woman that she had caused my body to react in a way that clearly showed I was sexually stimulated.

And perhaps if I'd slid my hand up her skirt and found her pussy, I'd have found two very wet cunt lips, and a clit, begging to be stimulated. Perhaps I'd have found the evidence that Millie wanted to fuck, right there in the hospital room behind a locked door. Perhaps I'd have found her willing to fuck me, because by now, I was certainly in the mood to fuck this old lady who for several weeks now had administered a drug to make me feel better. Perhaps.

A sudden realization entered my brain that here I was, forty-six years old, and I was burning to fuck a woman nearly thirty years older than me. Now, if I was eighteen or twenty-one again, fucking a forty-eight year old woman or even a fifty-one year old woman would not be that big of a deal. But Millie was a grandmother, someone who'd shown me photos of her grandchildren. For all I knew, she might even be a great-grandmother. She was on the verge of retiring with her husband who was already seventy-five years old. I mean, Millie was already a grown woman on the day I was born. But it was the fact that I'd already entered middle-age and had the insatiable desire to fuck a woman older than my mother. Bill, what is wrong with you, I asked myself. But before I could answer my own question, Millie continued to behave in a way that convinced me that she had other plans in store for me, in addition to the chemotherapy.

Now, you might ask at this point how I missed all the obvious signs that Millie was seducing me. Well, be informed that I knew exactly what was going on. I knew Millie's actions were designed to get me to open my trousers, and I suspected, but did not know, that she wanted to fuck me. I also knew that if I assumed incorrectly, I'd open myself for a lawsuit I did not want. Still, all the signs were there of a woman whose body heat had transformed her into a woman with intense sexual needs, a woman who wanted to fuck as soon as possible. But before making a decision that might come back to haunt me, I decided to be very, very careful and to proceed slowly. If she wants to fuck, Bill, I said to myself, she'll let you know. Go slow, go slow.

When Millie completed the task of attaching the tray to the recliner's arm rest, she stood, but rested her right hand on my upper thigh, mere millimeters from my now thundering cock. Unable to control the shaft growing thick and long under my jeans, my cock did what it always does when it's excited: it flutters and moves under my clothing. I felt the slight tremor, and I was certain Millie felt it too. Hell, she might have even seen the bulge in my trousers move. I saw Millie smile, certain she'd felt the unseen cock movement under hand.

But she made no comment about my cock, and instead, as she always did, asked me to unbutton my shirt. Now, normally I'd open the first three buttons, which gave whomever the nurse was attending to me ample room to attach the chemotherapy tubes to the port located just below my left collar bone. I'd already opened the top three buttons and waited while Millie stared down at me. I looked up at Millie, my cock growing harder, and my heart beating rapidly in my chest. "Oh, Bill, I'm sorry," Millie said when she saw my semi-opened shirt. "But it's time for us to clean your port: It's been several weeks and if we don't clean it today, you could run the risk of it clogging." She stared down at me in silence, perhaps asking herself if she could continue with the obvious game of seduction she seemed to be enjoying. "So, I'm afraid you'll have to remove your shirt entirely," she said.

For another short silence, I looked up at Millie, asking myself if I could go as far as she wanted me to. I hesitated, but when my cock fluttered again and reminded me that I was, indeed, very much enjoying Millie's game of semi-obvious seduction, I knew I was all in. With my eyes pasted to Millie's, I opened the shirt front, making sure to tug the shirttails up and outward from my jeans. I discarded the shirt, handing it to Millie who placed it on a small chair located by the wall. I now lay bare-chested in the recliner, my upper body open to Millie's eyes. She sat beside me on the recliner, her skirt-covered ass pressed against my right leg. As she sat beside me, the garment concealing her ass from me rode up her legs several inches, revealing more of the pantyhose I'd seen earlier. When I lifted my eyes, I saw that Millie had been watching me, watching me stare at her legs. More fluttering now from my cock.

Without a word, Millie bent again at the waist and once more placed her left index finger on the long surgical scar running the length of my chest and into my trousers. Overall, the scar ran for a length of almost twenty inches, ending just above that spot where a forest of cock hairs grew. Next, she placed her index finger on the small surgical port where the feed lines for the chemo therapy connected. All the time, she seemed to be making a soft humming sound. Finally, she stood and said, "Well, you seem to be healing nicely."

Millie placed her finger gently on the long scar again and with her eyes locked onto mine, began to trace the path of the surgical reminder. The silence in the room was overwhelming as her soft fingertip cruised slowly downward, down toward the waistband of my jeans. Just above the waistband, I have a tuft of hair that is somewhat thick. It signals the beginning of a small line of pubic hair that leads to the thick covering at the base of my cock. But unless I open my trousers, anyone looking at the small tuft of hair sees only that it leads inside my pants. Closer and closer, Millie's red-tipped finger neared the visible end of the hair line as she continued to trace the scar down my chest, across my stomach, and through the small patch of hair. She ceased her movement when her fingertip made contact with the denim fabric of my jeans. For what seemed an eternity, Millie's finger swished side to side, one second mingled in the tuft of hair, the next beside it. Regardless of where Millie's finger rested, her eyes never left that spot located just above my beltline.

Suddenly, to my surprise, Millie hooked the tip of her index finger just inside my jeans waistband, her red-painted fingernail smooth and cool on my sexually heated skin. Here I was, lying in a hospital chair, my shirt completely gone, and a seventy-four year old woman with her finger inserted just inside my jeans up to her first knuckle. I remained silent, but there was no way I could stop the heavy up and down heaving of my chest as I entered one progressively higher state of sexual stimulation after another. Millie's finger remained inside my jeans, and while I was ready to open the trousers and expose my now raging hard cock, I refrained, and waited for Millie's next move. I didn't have to wait long.

But before anything could or did happen, my right hand slid downward from my waist and became wedged between my jeans-covered right leg and Millie's pantyhose-covered left leg. The material from her stocking caressed my hand, but to let her know that I was at least semi-aware of her game, I allowed my fingers to roam over a small patch of her leg. Millie dipped her chin to watch my fingers, but did not ask me to cease what I was doing. It was confirmed then: Millie and I both knew the point of what she had started, but she was intent on carrying it out step by step.

So, with my fingers stimulating her stocking covered leg, and Millie's index finger still inserted inside the waistband of my jeans, we entered a stage of the seduction game where each succeeding step became one that pushed us closer to the ultimate goal. I felt movement at my waistline and watched as Millie removed her red-tipped finger. In a reverse motion, Millie retraced her original finger path, now upward, again following the scar line in the same fashion as when she'd made the downward trace. She stopped at mid-chest, but continued to apply pressure to my skin. "Yes, I'd say your scar has healed nicely, Bill," Millie said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Has it also healed where the eye cannot see?" I simply nodded my head, letting this elderly nurse know that the scar had healed below my beltline. "Well, then, we better get on with what I came for, shouldn't we?" she said.

Millie placed her left hand flat upon the right side of my chest and moved it to my left, her skin in full contact with my flesh. But it was here that she did something unexpected. As her hand traversed across my chest, her palm passed over and made contact with my right nipple. I gasped at the sensation of one of the most erotically sensitive spots on my body being stimulated. Whenever I fuck, I always ask the woman to suck on my nipples while my cock slides between her cunt lips: The sexual stimulation of having my nipples sucked while my cock batters a pussy always increases the power of my orgasm. Millie's eyes were locked onto mine again as her hand continued across my chest and she repeated the same move on the left nipple. Again, I gasped, a sharp intake of breath the only sound in the room. When her hand covered the left nipple, Millie stopped, her skin hot against my tit button.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bill," Millie said, bent forward enough now that her face was once again on the same level as mine. "Have I hurt you? Is that sensitive?" When I responded that no, her actions had not caused pain, Millie smiled, lifted her hand, and stood again, looking down at me. "Is there something you'd like to say, Bill?" Millie asked. I decided I need to slow matters down temporarily so I could think, so I could try to get ahead of Millie's thoughts. When I explained to Millie that the cool air on the room had given me a slight chill, Millie laughed softly, and said, "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Bill, believe me." I laughed to relieve the tension, but Millie said, "Besides, I won't bite them." Suddenly, her hand was on my right arm, her eyes locked onto mine. She said then, "That is, unless you want me to."

And there it was: the opening either Millie or myself had been waiting for. Looking at Millie and pointing to the left nipple - the most sensitive of the two - I said, "It's just that they're very sensitive, that's all." I dropped my chin and saw the tell-tale sign that my nipples were reacting to the cold air and the hot lust filling the small room. And I also took a quick glance at my cock. Yes, there it was: the bulge larger now, and the shaft screaming to be released from the confines of my jeans. I was ready to fuck now, ready to slam my rock-hard cock into Millie's mouth, her cunt, her ass: whatever, I simply didn't care.

But as ready as I was to fuck, and as aware Millie was that I wanted to fuck her and I knew she wanted to fuck me, this seventy-four year old woman was not yet finished playing her game of seduction with me. Evidently, Millie had a plan, and whether I was ready now or later to fuck her, she seemed intent on ensuring she carried out every step of her plan of seduction. I explained that I'd never had my shirt fully removed during any of the earlier treatments. That statement was the final opening Millie had been waiting for.

Slowly, as if she were moving in slow motion, Millie lifted both hands to her chest and slowly, one by one, opened each button holding her blouse together. I remained silent, amazed at the amount of tit flesh that slowly came into view. First, there was the upper limit of her cleavage, that long, tight line dividing her tits. With the next button came the lacy edges of a black bra. Another opened button revealed the upper mounds of her tits. Moving agonizingly slow, Millie released another button to provide me with a view of her full, well-packed bra. One final button and her entire upper torso was exposed, the blouse hanging open, the black bra staring at me, the cups like two pointed missiles, the tits underneath stretching the lacy material to its limits. Two small mounds appeared, one at the end of each bra cup, the clear sign that Millie was as sexually stimulated as she was trying - and succeeding - at making me. Millie grasped the blouse and tugged upward, removing it from under her skirt. She stood now, and in one final move, opened the blouse so that I had a view of her upper body, her tits revealing a tan line, her chest heaving.

"There, does that make you feel more comfortable, Bill?" Millie asked. I could do no more than simply nod my head. I so desperately wanted to extend my arms upward and grasp each bra-encased titty in my hand, rip them from the protective cups, and suck the nipples while I fingered her cunt. But as I said, it was Millie who was in charge of this game, and I decided to allow her to proceed at her own pace. Still in charge, Millie leaned forward so far that her bra-encased tits brushed against my face. By now, my cock was harder than it had ever been in my entire life and I desperately wanted to expose it, and to fuck Millie until I came in her cunt. Just to make sure Millie knew I was aware of the game she was playing, as she leaned over my face and her cleavage made contact with my mouth, I extended my tongue and let it ride between her gigantic tits. I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard Millie moan softly. But what surprised me about licking Millie's cleavage was how firm her tits were. I mean, for a seventy-four year old woman, Millie's tits reminded me of two small bricks encased in lacy bra cups.

Millie responded to my move by straightening at the waist and looking down at me. "You know, Bill, I believe you're embarrassed by lying there with no shirt on." Again, as she had so many times since her arrival, she simply stared at me, as if she were formulating another part of her plan, or adapting it to fit the situation. Finally, she spoke. "Well, I am a nurse, and it is my duty to make the patient comfortable." Slowly, as if she were a stripper, Millie removed her blouse, her white skin coming slowly into view, her huge tits now before me, but hidden by the black lace bra. I suppose Millie took my staring at her tits as a question because she said, "They're 38DD, love," before giggling out loud.

Once more, however, Millie bent over my chest, her right hand now placed flatly against my skin. She slid the palm over the left nipple, but rather than rest her palm over the small eraser-sized button, she slid it between two of her fingers, and began to softly stimulate the small bud. Without looking at me, she said, her voice just above a whisper, "I've never seen such large and responsive nipples on a man, baby." Now turning her head to face me, our mouths so close together I could smell a hint of the mint gum she had obviously chewed before arriving, Millie asked, "Are they as sensitive as mine?" Slowly, Millie lowered her head until her eyes were close - very close - to mine. Her face was in such close proximity to mine that I could easily see the pores in her skin, the thick black eyeliner, the red lipstick that covered her lips. The tip of Millie's nose brushed against mine, and I realized that I very desperately wanted to kiss this seventy-four year old woman, despite the extreme age difference between us.

But how does a man answer a question such as Millie's? Although my eyes were locked onto hers, I could feel the sensual buildup that always occurred whenever my nipples are being stimulated. Our eyes remained locked, but below my chin, I felt the now sensual teasings as Millie continued to stimulate my nipple with her hand and fingers. Of course, the only question I could ask was, "I don't know, Millie: I guess we'll have to see," my voice barely audible. Once more, the tips of our noses met, our lips mere millimeters apart, the intense sexual heat between us so prominent it warmed my face.

I watched in silent awe as Millie turned her face away from me and deliberately placed her mouth over the left nipple, lowered her neck, and sucked the thimble-sized bud between her heavily lipstick covered mouth. I felt the old girl swirl her tongue around the titty bud, her saliva soft and sensual. When she clamped her lips tighter and sucked the eraser-sized button deeper into her mouth, I moaned loudly, feeling the precum from my cock beginning to ooze from my dick. "Oh, Millie, baby," I whispered, sinking faster and faster into the erotic sensations caused by Millie's oral actions. "Yes, baby, yes," I moaned, massaging my cock now through the trouser material. When Millie shifted her wet mouth to the right nipple, I moaned again, deep in lust, but deeper in desire.

I was surprised, however, when Millie ceased sucking the nipple and instead stood, looking down at me. "Oh, my," she said, "Look at the mess I've made." Pointing with her left index finger, I followed the direction of the fingertip to see that Millie's heavily-frosted lips had left a red circle around the nipple. "Here, I better clean that up," she said. But before she could use a tissue to remove the smudge, I stopped her, grasping her wrist lightly, pushing the hand away. "Oh, so you don't mind it being there? Very well, then," she said.

The sexual tension in the small room was so thick it could have been sliced with a knife. Millie diverted her eyes from my nipple for a quick glance at the ever-increasing bulge in my trousers. A knowing smile crossed her red lips before she returned her gaze to me and said, "Here's something for you, baby." Lifting her hands to the front center of her bra, she unclasped the small device that held the cups together. "Tell me what you think of these." A quick flick of her hands, and the bra opened, and as Millie slowly removed the black, lace garment, more and more of her magnificent titties came into view. Finally, Millie held the bra in one hand, and allowed it to drop to the floor. Bare-chested now, she said "I'm glad that's gone." Bending over me just enough that her tits and nipples pressed against my naked chest, Millie said, "I bet you're glad the bra's gone too."

That was all I needed to shift the seduction game into my court. But you know, by now, the seduction had come to an end as both seventy-four year old Millie and me, a forty-six year old man, realized we'd reached a place we both wanted to be, yet neither wanted to leave. I lifted each hand and cupped Millie's tits in my palms, the nipples firmly and securely centered atop each palm. I wasn't surprised to discover that Millie's tits were firmer than any other woman her age - and if she'd had tit implants, that did not matter to me - but it was her nipples that gained my greatest focus. Each nipple was huge, the size of quarters, and as hard, it seemed, as steel. I bent each thumb to hold the tit in each hand, but also to use the thumb to flick at Millie's amazing nipples. By now, her face was pressed tightly against mine, her eyes closed, but our lips had not yet met. Short, almost silent moans escaped Millie's lips, and it was when her tongue flickered between her ruby red lips that I decided it was time to introduce her tongue to mine. Extending my neck, I pressed my hot lips against Millie's mouth and as she lifted her arms and assisted me in ensuring our lips did not separate, we kissed deeply and erotically. Millie began to moan a bit louder now, but not so loud that her cries of passion escaped the room and alerted anyone outside what was going on on a leather recliner just beyond the locked door.

I began to twist my fingers through Millie's thick, blood red hair while her right hand traveled the length of my stomach and began to tug at the metal zipper making sure my jeans remained closed. Although her lips remained sealed upon mine, her eyes opened, and together, this elderly grandmother and me, a soon to retire teacher,stared deeply at each other while Millie expertly opened my jeans without having to turn her head to do so. Was that a small, knowing grin I saw pass over her lips when the zipper tab finally reached its destination at the end of the small metal railroad of teeth? I don't know, and I surely did not care because here I was, having come for one type of treatment, yet receiving another type of therapy that was causing every fiber in my body to react in a sexual, sensual manner. Millie closed her eyes now, and pressed her mouth tighter against mine, our tongues resuming the inter-mouth wrestling game that seemed to heighten the sensuality of the moment.

It was then that I felt the warm, welcomed embrace of a woman's hand around my stiff, hard and hungry cock. Millie continued to kiss me deeply, but her hand began a journey that began at the base, traveled upward to the now, precum-soaked head, then downward again, until reaching the base of my cock and repeating the journey over and over again. By now, I'd started to lift my ass in unison with Millie's hand movements: Each time her hand traveled upward, I raised my naked ass from the leather recliner, then lowered it again as Millie's hand retreated south down the meaty, fleshy pole until it rested firmly in the thick hairy mass that covered the end of my cock. I too had started to moan as Millie jacked me off, but as with her, my cries of passion were muffled by the oral lock Millie and I still maintained. My hands worked furiously underneath me, stimulating her nipples, cupping them, the nipples seemingly larger now than when we'd started groping each other only a few moments ago.

But I wanted to do more than simply paw at Millie's tits. At that instant, as if our thoughts meshed, Millie broke the kiss, turned her head to watch as her right hand jacked my cock, and lowered her head so quickly that it was several seconds before I realized that she'd swallowed the entire length of my cock and was now sliding the seven-inch tube fully into her mouth until the ruby red, lipstick-covered lips engulfed every inch of my hard cock and it rested firmly in the moist, excessively wet cavern of her mouth. Millie lifted and dropped her head several times, sucking deeply and forcefully on my shaft, until once again, she surprised me. After one sensual uptake, Millie turned her head to me, smiled and said, "Baby, I like it hard, if you know what I mean." She opened her mouth wide again and began to repeat the process of sucking my cock while fondling my balls in her free hand.

For one instant, I thought that Millie was referring to the status of my cock. What did she mean by that, I asked myself? I mean, I could clearly see my cock each time Millie raised her chin to resuck the shaft into her wonderful sexy mouth. And I knew my cock had never been harder. The realization of what Millie had been referring to hit me immediately, and I prepared myself to assist this amazing, sexy, seventy-four year old woman who at present had my cock firmly secured between her heavy lipstick- covered lips: Millie wanted me to use my hand to assist her in sucking my cock.

Extending my right arm, I placed the palm flat against the top of Millie's tussled head and wound my fingers through her thick red hair again. With each downward motion of her head, I pushed as hard as I might, my cock disappearing in a flash as I slammed Millie's mouth downward upon the base of my dick. I assisted each upward movement of Millie's head by pulling roughly, bringing her still clamped mouth to the head of my cock in a flash before repeating the down-and-up motion again and again. By now, the recliner had started to voice its disapproval of being used in a manner its designers had never intended, my naked ass squeaking across the leather each time I lifted it to slam more cock into Millie's mouth, or dropped it to rest only momentarily for Millie to once more slide her red painted lips to the base and repeat the sucking of my cock. On and on and on, I slammed Millie's head downward, forcing my cock into her mouth, before forcefully pulling the red-hair covered head upward with enough force to cause her to softly scream out in pain. But if I was hurting Millie, she did not show it and instead, continued to suck my cock as if it were the last she might ever have again in her life.

It was just then that I realized I knew only half as much about sex - or, in this case, simple, raw fucking - than Millie. Whenever my wife and I fuck, she usually lays on her back while I hover over her, my cock sliding in and out of her cunt. On occasion, we'll change positions to where she's on her knees and I'm positioned behind her, slamming away at her pussy. But as I watched and assisted Millie in sucking my cock, and hoping we'd get to the fucking part very, very soon, it was when she released her right hand from my balls and placed the extended middle finger against my asshole that I learned something about myself that day I had not known before.

Without asking - as if she even had to - Millie pressed the tip of the middle finger into my asshole until at least two inches of finger rested inside the small opening. Now, I've had this done to me before by other women I know, and I can tell you that I simply love the sensation of my asshole being invaded by a woman's finger. "Yes, baby, push, push," I begged as I watched the back of Millie's head continue to lift and lower, her lips firmly wrapped around my cock as she continued to press her middle finger into my ass. I felt at least the second knuckle enter my tightly closed ass, but I wanted more. I mean, here I was, having my cock sucked by a seventy-four year old woman in a hospital chemotherapy room: Hell, I might as go for as much as I could get. "Finger fuck me, Millie, baby, yes!"

Millie responded exactly as I hoped she would: She inserted the full length of her finger into my asshole and began a process where each time her head lifted on my cock, her finger dove deeply into my asshole. This in-and-out cock sucking, asshole finger fucking process caused more than an orgasm to stir inside me: it caused me to erupt without warning, my cock spewing an immense amount of hot, pearl-colored crème into Millie's hungry mouth. A fleeting thought passed through my mind that I'd failed because I wanted to come inside Millie's cunt rather than her mouth, but before the thought could linger very long, the erotic and wonderful sensations of my body being wracked with sexual pleasure overcame me and I focused on lifting my ass forcefully upward from the leather-covered recliner and making sure I did not break the contact between my cock and Millie's mouth. "TAKE IT, BITCH, TAKE MY COME," I softly screamed, aware that I had no desire for the nurses outside the room to discover what it was Millie and I were doing behind locked doors. ‘TAKE IT, GODAMND IT, TAKE IT!" I said as I used my hand to slam Millie's head downward so hard that her lips made a slapping sound as they came into contact with the shaft of my cock. "SUCK MY COCK, BITCH,!" I said, "SUCK MY COCK!"

I'd like to say that Millie continued to suck my cock until the orgasm ended, but I'd be wrong if I did. With come still spewing from the end of my cock and sexual tremors still wracking my body, I suddenly found my mouth once again pressed onto Millie's lips. Her tongue again snaked between my lips and I knew what was coming: A load of my own come, stored safely inside Millie's mouth. Without warning, she pushed a small mountain of still warm crème into my mouth, then, after releasing my cock and grasping the back of my head with both hands, she pressed her mouth so tightly against my mouth that I was concerned about my ability to breathe. The come was salty against my taste buds, but I didn't care that the first time I tasted my own come had been the result of a seventy-four year old woman sucking my cock in a hospital room. I sucked at Millie's tongue as if it were a chunk of meat and I was a starving man. I opened my eyes and saw that Millie had opened hers as well: In fact, despite our lips being pressed tightly together, despite her tongue still pressing what seemed like an endless supply of my come into my mouth, Millie was actually smiling at me as she force fed my come to me. When she decided that she'd completed her task to her satisfaction, Millie broke the kiss, then slammed her mouth over my now growing-limp cock again, and sucked what she could from the inside of my cock. Still not satisfied, Millie next, with a second load of come in her mouth, licked the outside cock shaft, cleaning any come-residue from the shaft with her lips and tongue. And, as you surely have guessed by now, returned to my mouth where she gave me another dose of hot sexual crème. And as before, I drank the salty-tasting fluid as if I'd been in a desert with no water. All the while, Millie's naked tits pressed against my naked chest while she fondled my cock, doing her best to revive my manhood, hoping, as I was as well, to bring it to life for what we both knew would be the grand finale of this unusual but unique sexual experience in a hospital treatment room.

But as you know, forty-six year old men are not quite as able to regain a hard cock after fucking as a man half my age. Despite Millie's fondling, my cock resisted and I knew I needed additional time to recover. By now, I'd completely forgotten about what was going on outside the treatment room door: In fact, I'm certain that if the thought crossed my mind that some nurse outside the locked door even suspected what Millie and I were doing, I really couldn't give a shit. I just wanted to fuck Millie, my seventy-four year old treatment specialist, and I wanted to fuck her there in the room.

Evidently, Millie had the same idea. When she realized that even her best hand moves would not produce a hard cock in a short time, she again took charge. Standing, she once again bent her body over mine while extending her right arm and hand downward beside me. I heard the sound of the chair's motor before I felt the seatback behind me reclining, my body following until I was perfectly horizontal. The more I reclined, the farther I traveled from Millie's tits and body, but she simply pushed me back against the recliner when I attempted to come to a sitting position and bring her half-naked body to me. "No, Bill, not yet," she said, her hand still on the chair control, her tits still semi-pressed against my naked chest. When she was satisfied with the position I lay in, she smiled and said, "That's it. Yes, that will do just fine."

Millie had reclined me to a little less than a horizontal position. In fact, my head was actually lower than the rest of my body, my feet slightly elevated several inches higher than my head. I resisted the feeling of sliding from the recliner by grasping tightly onto the recliner's arm rests. "Oh, no, honey," Millie said as she removed my hands from the armrests and placed each arm along the sides of my body. "I'm going to need those hands very, very soon."

I was intrigued by her comments as I watched this amazing grandmother-aged woman lift the hem of her skirt to expose the black pantyhose she still wore. Looking down, I noted she still wore the black, three-inch leather high heels she'd entered the room with. In an instant, the skirt was discarded and Millie stood at arm's length from me dressed only in black pantyhose and three inch high heeled pumps. "I need to make an adjustment, dear," she said.

Intrigued now, I watched in absolute awe as she brought both of her hands to the crotch of her pantyhose, quickly jammed the sharp-pointed fingernail of her right middle finger into the thin fabric, and created a small hole near her cunt. Millie repeated the action, her fingernail making another hole to the right of the first tear. "Almost there," Millie muttered quietly to herself as she placed the fingers of each hand in the two small, ragged holes and spread her hands so rapidly that the silk tore in a side-to-side direction, the gash following the seam that held the two halves of the pantyhose together. Understanding what she was doing now, I saw that her tearing action had created a hole at her cunt that was at least eight inches wide. Small threads of silk hung from the gash, but a greater number of cunt hairs, grey and black colored, emerged as well. To my surprise, Millie placed her right hand flat against her hair-covered pussy, and slid her fingers back and forth over her now exposed cunt lips, the juices from her pussy moistening her hand and fingertips. She removed her hands from her cunt, stepped toward me, and moving as quickly as a woman one third her age, straddled the end of the recliner where my head rested against the cool leather. The light in the room immediately went dim but there remained enough illumination that I was able to see clearly Millie's cunt lips, the muscles stretched taut on either side of her pussy, and the ragged edges of the torn silk where Millie had made an eating port for me through her hose.

Millie began to slither her ass forward and backward, her cunt lips hovering just millimeters above my nose and mouth. I could not see her, but I clearly heard her say, "It's your turn baby, to repay the compliment." Knowing exactly what she was referring to, I extended my neck upward less than an inch and my mouth came into contact with Millie's cunt. My nose was buried in a combination of cunt hairs and silk fibers, but my tongue was also buried between her wrinkled pussy lips. I needed very little effort to wedge my tongue between her cunt lips: They were loose from age and experience, I guess, but in no way were the nerve endings on her pussy lips deadened or changed by time. Millie began to moan loudly, and each time her cunt slid across my face, her moans grew louder and louder. Millie increased the speed of her cunt slides across my face until the recliner seemed on the verge of teetering over. But I knew Millie's high-heeled feet were preventing the chair from tottering over, and so, I pressed on, my tongue buried deeply inside the oldest pussy I'd ever encountered in my entire life.

Above me, Millie's incoherent moans turned to words. "Oh, yes, baby, eat that pussy," she said as she slid her hands alongside my head and entwined her fingers into my hair. Despite me giving her my best efforts, Millie wrapped both hands around the back of my head and lifted it as far upward as possible, my mouth now crushed against her age old cunt. "OH, FUCK, YES!" Millie cried out, and again, I worried that someone on the other side of the locked door might hear us and be able to determine what it was the oldest nurse in the building and I were doing. But Millie was so deeply engrossed and committed to me eating her cunt that she didn't seem to care that she was possibly making an excessive amount of noise.

Certainly, I was concerned, but Millie and I had come too far to be interrupted by some nosy-bitch nurse who had no idea how much I was enjoying eating this old woman's cunt. For that reason, I ceased swiping her cunt with my tongue, which then caused Millie to lift her ass from my face and question my move. When I explained that we might be making too much noise, Millie agreed. "I have the solution, baby," she said as she stood erect, swung her left leg up and over my half-naked body, and stood looking down at me. For one very quick instant, Millie shifted her eyes to my cock, still semi-limp, laying across my upper thighs. "Yes, I know exactly what we need, Bill."

Turning her back to me, Millie lifted her left leg up and over my head, and once more straddled my face. One stocking-covered knee rested on either side of my cunt-juice soaked face. "This will be much better, and we can do two things at one time," Millie said as she again lowered her cunt upon my face, bent forward at the waist, and as she had before, lowered her mouth toward my now growing cock. I heard her voice say to me, "Baby, what the fuck are you waiting for?" Feeling her laying upon me now, I also felt the tip of my cock being swallowed deeply into Millie's wet mouth again, followed by the entire shaft as Millie began to suck my cock in the same aggressive manner as she had before.

Because I was in a position to please her as well, I resumed the oral attention I'd been applying to Millie's hairy, seventy-four year old cunt. Again, my tongue and lips attacked her pussy, and again I slipped the tongue as deeply inside her cunt as possible. But now that I had a better view of her sexual operations, I was also in a better position to add something to the lips and tongue I was attacking her cunt with. Extending my right hand upward, I positioned the tip of my right index finger on Millie's asshole, intent now on performing the same sexual move on her ass as she had on mine. I heard Millie's moans begin to deepen in tone when she realized what I'd done, but I was in no way finished with this old lady. No, I planned to fuck her, for sure. But before that happened - which I hoped would be very soon - I also planned to show Millie that while I was not the same age as she, I too had learned a few sexual tricks along the way.

My mouth was sealed tightly on Millie's old pussy when I jammed the finger into her asshole. She flinched somewhat, but to her credit, remained atop me with my cock buried between her lips. I heard her grunt, and felt the vibrations of her voice through the nerve endings in my cock. Pushing again, the finger disappeared up to the second knuckle. Millie flinched and grunted again, but by now she had released my cock from her oral grip while keeping the shaft tightly wrapped in her right hand. She'd begin a series of up and down movements with her ass now, a move that actually allowed me to jam my finger in and out of her ass as if it were a small cock and I was in the midst of ass-fucking her. Which, in a sense, I was.

"Son of a bitch, baby," Millie moaned deeply. "Son of a bitch!" Millie cried each time I probed her asshole with my finger, clearly into being finger fucked in her ass. I was concerned that Millie was moving so much that she might actually cause the two of us to fall from the recliner. But we didn't and for several more moments, Millie sucked my cock while I ate her cunt and fingered her asshole. Throughout the entire episode of us lying face to cock or face to cunt, Millie stifled her moans by cramming as much cock as she could between her luscious lips.

I suppose Millie and I came upon the same thought simultaneously. Just as I feared that I might come again in her mouth, Millie suddenly lifted her cunt from my face. She stood again, looking down at me, and with a smile on her face, said, "Baby, it's time for something I've been wanting to do for a very, very long time." Taking my cock in her hand, she wrapped the shaft in her fist while she lifted her right leg over my waist. With her stocking covered knees now supporting her weight on the leather recliner, and with me secured tightly between those same knees, Millie, the seventy-four year old health-care nurse lowered her cunt down, down, down until the same pussy lips I'd sucked on only a few moments earlier made contact with the very hard, very spear-pointed head of my aching cock. Several inches of hard dick entered Millie's loose cunt lips as she used her hand to guide the shaft deeper into her aged body. When half the length of my cock rested inside her pussy, Millie stopped, opened her eyes and stared at me. A moment of silence passed between us, and I feared she was suddenly and unexpectedly having second thoughts about fucking me. But instead, to my delight, Millie smiled at me and said, "That cock of yours is heaven, Bill. Just pure fucking heaven."

Suddenly releasing my cock from her warm hand, Millie allowed her weight and gravity to work together to propel her body downward. Dropping my chin, I watched as inch after inch of my cock slid easily into Millie's grandmotherly, thick-hair covered cunt. When her ass cheeks made contact with my body, Millie waited, and she too dropped her chin to witness my cock buried to the hilt inside her. "Fuck me, Bill," she said, "Please fuck me." Lifting her ass, Millie allowed almost the entire length of my prick to slide from her pussy before dropping her ass again and the shaft disappeared between her cunt lips that had seen almost twice the amount of life as I had. Rising and falling now, Millie rode my cock while her tits bounced about her chest. I extended my arms and grasped each titty in my hungry, greedy hands, twisting the nipples again, watching her face for any sign that I might be hurting her.

But the only thing Millie was feeling at that instant was pure, raw sexual bliss. By now, her body was rising and falling so much that she was lost in everything that was happening to her as she sat on my cock behind a locked hospital room door, as people moved about the hallway, all within fifteen feet from where we fucked on the special recliner. Falling even deeper into the sexual frenzy, Millie placed her hands behind her on each of my naked thighs, arched her back, and provided me with an extra inch or two of pussy that I had yet to enjoy. "Oh, motherfucker, motherfucker, motherfucker," she moaned, "Oh, motherfucker."

Watching Millie, this seventy-four year old woman who most likely had not had sex for some time fuck me, I resolved to do everything I could to ensure Millie was enjoying this fuck session as much as possible. I moved my hands to her pantyhose-covered thighs and began to massage her skin through the silk. I've always enjoyed the sensual sensations silk created whenever I made contact with that special fabric while having sex, and here in the locked hospital room, there was no exception. Faster and faster, I massaged Millie's thighs through the silk pantyhose until she finally moved her hands from my lower calves, bent forward and placed her aged hands over mine. Together, Millie and I massaged her legs until I let her continue on her own. In the meantime, I made sure to move my right hand to her cunt, and after weaving my fingers through the thick mat covering her pussy, found the clit I'd had the pleasure to suck on when she straddled my chest and I ate her pussy. "Oh, god, oh, god," Millie moaned as I began to diddle the extended clit, as I pushed on it, pulled on it, and did everything I knew or could imagine to do to bring this unique woman to orgasm while a hard, long cock remained buried between her pussy lips.

"Oh, hell, Bill, please don't stop doing that," Millie begged as my hand moved at a furious pace over her clit with the occasional deep finger insertion between her cunt lips. Each time I jammed a finger inside her pussy and she experienced the unique pleasure of simultaneously having a cock and a probing finger inside her throbbing pussy, Millie moaned louder until she felt she was unable to stifle the sexual cries unless she did something about it. Thinking I should extend my unused hand upward and jam my fingers into her mouth in order to help muffle the cries that were growing louder by the second now, Millie actually slapped my hand away. "No, Bill, no," she cried. Thinking she wanted us to be discovered, I was soon proven blissfully wrong when Millie instead placed her right hand under her right titty, and to my ultimate surprise, pulled upward on the fleshy melon until the nipple rested securely between her red-lipstick covered lips. Yes, that's right, Millie had the ability to suck her own tits.

But the sexual surprises didn't stop there. Now, with Millie sucking her right tit and riding my cock like a wild horse, I knew I too was close to coming. Millie's moans were becoming louder still, and as I said, the surprises continued when she grasped the left tit, lifted it upward as well, and jammed the left nipple between her lips. Believe it or not, but Millie was sucking both of her nipples at the same time. Now, I'd seen the same move in an adult film some years ago, but I had no idea that other women could perform the same sexual move. Seeing Millie sucking her nipples and knowing that she was doing so because she not only wanted to muffle her cries but because she also received sexual pleasure from doing so pushed me over the edge. I was seconds away from coming for the second time, and there was nothing I could do about it. And to be honest, there was nothing I wanted to do about it.

Watching Millie suck her tits while she rode my cock was the last straw. I wrapped my hands around Millie's ass, looked up at her and said, "Baby, I can't wait any longer." With both nipples still being sucked deeply into her mouth and held there by her red-fingernailed hands, Millie smiled through the two huge titties in her hand and nodded her head. To my dismay, she released her tits, leaned forward and with her face very, very close to mine while she continued to slide up and down on my cock, kissed me deeply before righting herself on my waist.

"Baby, that's all you had to say," Millie said. "Let yourself go, and I'll be right behind you." Suddenly, as if she knew exactly when I would come, my entire body erupted in an orgasm of such strength that I had never in my life experienced. Sexual tremor after sexual tremor wracked my body and I too began to moan loudly, now not caring if we were discovered by the nurses outside the door. I arched my back, driving, driving, driving my forty-six year old, rock-hard cock as deeply as possible into Millie's seventy-four year old pussy. When it became evident that my moans would lead to our discovery, Millie leaned forward and pressed her mouth against mine. I felt her body quaking atop me, her orgasm now taking over, her sexual explosion causing her to have the types of seizures that came because of pure, erotic pleasure and joy. Millie's tongue slammed into mine, and I tasted a hint of the salty come that had coated her tongue when she allowed me to come in her mouth. I felt her tits pressing into me, her nipples still concrete hard, pointed, as if they were small, fleshy darts in need of finding a target to embed themselves in.

By now, my hands were pressing so tightly against Millie's ass that we later saw the clear outline of two handprints. But for now, before that discovery, Millie and I continued to pump away at each other, my cock sliding so easily and so deeply into her pussy, and her cunt swallowing my dick easily and sucking it deeper and deeper into her body. Sexual seizure after sexual seizure enveloped Millie and I and although I was clearly focused on depositing another load of come into her body, I also realized that this orgasm had lasted several moments longer than any other in my life.

But as they will and must, my orgasm ended and I lay under Mille as she continued to slide her cunt up and down my cock, attempting to get the last full measure of her orgasm. Finally, she too ceased her cock riding and rested atop my sweat-covered chest, my heart pumping, my chest heaving despite Millie's weight atop it. She lifted her head to look at me and I again meshed my lips into hers. And again her tongue slipped into my mouth and rather than exchange a sexual, lust filled kiss, for the next several long moments, Millie, the seventy-four year old nurse, and me, the forty-six year old teacher, kissed passionately and tenderly. When the kiss ended, Millie lay her blood-red hair head on my shoulder, my cock still semi-buried in her pussy, growing more limp by the second.

Finally, Millie lifted her body from mine and sat beside me, her naked tits red with marks from my hands and her self-sucking lips. She massaged my naked chest tenderly, but with a slight grin on her face. "Well, that was something, don't you think," she asked. But I was certain she was up to something, and I was proven correct when she once more placed her red-tipped finger on my lips and it was covered with another glob of my spent come. "Hungry?" Millie asked, as she smeared the white crème upon her red lips and leaned forward again. And as she had done before, the seventy-four year old woman and I shared a come kiss, the salty taste replacing the pussy-juice laced taste from earlier. But I didn't care, not one bit, because I'd just had the most unique sexual experience of my life. With my heart rate finally returning to normal, I allowed Millie to bring me to a standing position, her weight still supported by the three inch heels, her lower body still encased in a pair of ripped, black pantyhose with a convenient hole where her pussy was located.

Millie and I wrapped each other in a tight embrace, our naked chests pressed together. Finally, Millie took a step back, and I understood the time had come for my "treatment" to come to an end. But before she allowed me to dress, she placed her mouth on my nipple and left a lipstick mark that matched the one she'd placed on the right nipple earlier. "There, that should give you something to remember me by," she said as she handed me my shirt.

We dressed, but ensured to give each other small, sensual kisses with each article of clothing that we returned to our bodies. Now dressed, Millie guided me down upon the recliner, and brought the leather seat to an upright position. In hardly any time at all, she had the chemotherapy tubes connected to my port, and the life-saving juice flowed through my veins. Before unlocking the door, she leaned over me, and opened her blouse wide enough for me to kiss her left nipple. "They'll always be there, whenever you want them," she said as she tucked the nipple back inside her blouse. Suddenly bending at the waist, Millie retrieved her bra from the floor, and after folding it in a tight ball, inserted the lacy garment inside my left jeans pocket. "Keep that to remember me by too, baby," Millie said.

It was obvious that our time had come to an end. Millie stood and unlocked the door, now allowing whoever wanted to enter the room and check on my progress. She rechecked the tubes and the flow of the drug into my system, then busied herself with arranging the items on the silver tray still attached to the chair armrest. As I watched Millie, this seventy-four year old woman who had just fucked me beyond my wildest dreams, I felt the inevitable fatigue beginning to settle upon me. Because cancer affects your ability to stay strong, I felt myself drifting off to sleep because I was exhausted from the sexual marathon Millie had just run me through. Slowly, slowly, slowly - and I'm sure with a satisfied smile on my face - I drifted to sleep, my tired body welcome for the rest. As my eyes closed, I felt the pressure of Millie's warm hand on my arm. And while I can't be sure if I was dreaming or if I actually heard her voice, words drifted softly to my ear, saying "You were wonderful, baby." A slight pressure on my arm and the voice - or the dream - said, "I can't wait for the next time."

I awoke some time later, groggy and fatigued as usual from the chemicals cruising through my system. I must have mumbled something in my sleep because I heard a female voice again, also as if it were from far away, calling my name. Struggling to break out of the fog, I shook my head until the items in the room finally and slowly came into sharp focus. I felt a hand on my arm, the touch warm and tender, and realized that Millie had stayed with me throughout the entire four hour process of having the chemo fluid enter my body. "It's time to go home," the voice said. "I'm glad I'm here." A pair of warm tender lips met mine, full of passion, full of caring and concern. Through the grogginess, I was aware enough to hope no one had peeked through the door while Millie kissed me lightly on the lips.

But something about the voice and the lips alarmed me. Something was out of place, and as I slowly returned to full consciousness, I realized neither the voice nor the lips belonged to Millie. Opening my eyes fully now, now completely awake, I saw the smiling face of my wife, her hand caressing my arm. "I was able to change my travel arrangements," she said, a wide smile crossing her face. "I could have been here hours ago, but there was a tie up in Chicago." I watched as my wife stood, and as she always did before we left the hospital for the weekend at home, she checked the connection between my fanny pack and the port located in my upper chest. I stood too, still groggy, but aware enough to recall the afternoon's events with great vividness and detail. Standing and looking for Millie, scanning the room quickly for an tell-tale signs that I'd fucked a seventy-four year old woman earlier and it had not been a dream, I leaned against my wife for support. Millie was nowhere to be found.

It's time to go home, dear," my wife said. As I stood and held onto her arm for support, the woman I'd been married to for many years said, "Your nurse Millie said you had an eventful afternoon." Squeezing my arm, my wife said, "I'd love to hear all about it when we get home."

Ten minutes later, as I folded myself into our car, I felt a small bulge in my right jeans pocket. While my wife crossed behind the car to enter the driver's side, I inserted my hand into the pocket and felt the familiar touch of black silk and lace sewn together to make a bra.

And I smiled.