My job was to be like a regional manager; overseeing the four stores who had experienced managers. In addition, I would call on wholesalers to make sure our stores' shelves were always full.
I found an apartment in Chicago a few miles from our original store. No, I didn't want to live at home.
One of the first wholesalers I called on was Pratt's Plumbing Supply. I was supposed to meet with the owner Marty Pratt.
I walked into the warehouse where I asked a woman where I might find Marty. "I'm Marty, actually Martha. My dad wanted a boy so I was always called Marty."
"I'm Greg Phillips from Phillips Hardware."
"Come on in, your dad said I should expect you." Marty was about fifty years old and as I walked behind her, I couldn't help but notice that she was a little wide in the beam. If you know what I mean. I think her ass looked bigger because she was short.
I called on other suppliers, too. But I suspect you want to know about my love life. In the beginning there wasn't much to tell.
I dated a few different girls my age. It was disappointing until one Friday night when I was in a bar less than a mile from my house watching the Cubs baseball game.
With the Cubs losing 8-0 in the seventh inning to the Dodgers in Los Angeles, I decided it was time to go home.
It was a warm September night, and I'd walked to the bar. Half way home I heard loud noises from a bar across the street. I thought I'd stop in for just one more beer and see what was happening.
Everyone was cheering and there was a buzz in the bar. "What's going on?" I asked a guy standing at the bar. "Banks hit a grand slam in the eighth, and then in the ninth, Billy Williams hit another grand slam. We've tied up the game."
I got the bartender's attention and ordered a beer. When he brought it, I reached over the people sitting at the bar to pay. "Marty?"
"Hi Greg, what brings you here?"
"I live right around the corner. What about you?"
It turns out that Marty Pratt also lived just around the corner, but in the opposite direction. We chatted while watching the end of the game and then I said good-by and started to leave."
"Just a second, let me settle up with the bartender; I'll walk out with you," Marty said.
Outside: "Greg, I know you might find this awkward or strange given that I'm old enough to be your mother, but can I interest you in a nightcap? Like I said, I live right around the corner."
I'm not naïve. As you'll see, I had some experience with women her age. Right away, I sensed that Marty Pratt had more than a nightcap in mind. I looked at her again. Short, chunky but attractive for a woman her age. It flashed through my mind how great it was being with older women like Mrs. Tremont and Marlene who I'd seen just two weeks ago. You'll hear more about them later. "Sure."
In her apartment, and I have to say, I'd heard this before, "Greg, beers are in the frig. I need to get into something more comfortable."
What she meant was sexy lingerie, and by that, I mean lingerie that emphasized her tits. When I first met her, I hadn't noticed. Now, I couldn't help it. The nightgown was so low cut, that everything but her nipples were exposed. "Wow!!!!"
"Did you think I was just some old lady that sold toilets?"
"No, but . . ."
"Of course, you did, but that's okay. At work that's how I present myself."
For a few minutes we sipped our beers and made small talk. Then, "Greg, I don't know much about young men; it's been ages, but I've never met one who wasn't fascinated by titties."
Marty lowered the shoulder straps on her nightgown. "Are you fascinated?"
"Well . . ." They were like two big balloons sitting on her chest.
"Sure, you are but you don't want to just look at them. Give me your hand."
Marty guided my hand to her tits. I'd seen how big they were, but now I felt how soft they were and how big her nipples were. "Greg, I'd be more comfortable in bed, wouldn't you?"
"I think that's a good idea." Marty held up her negligee as she led me to her bedroom.
On the bed, her lingerie was bunched around her waist. "They're beautiful, but you know I'm going to want to do more than just touch them."
"I hope so, and Greg, wouldn't you be as comfortable as I am?" I understood that to mean, I should get undressed, too. In minutes, I was down to my briefs, and while my hands and mouth were enjoying those enormous tits, her hand was playing with my cock; at first through my underwear and then her hand was inside.
"I forgot that just playing with titties excites a young man. I'm glad you're excited Greg. Why don't you take them off?"
Once my briefs were on the floor, Marty didn't hesitate to go down on me. "I'm so glad my titties excite your cock and it's so hard."
Marty sucked for a long time. Well, actually she didn't just suck; she licked, teased, nibbled. "Your cock is so much fun and so big."
"Marty, don't you think it's my turn?"
"Greg, do you really want to? I'm an old lady with an old lady's pussy."
"I won't know that until I try."
Somewhat reluctantly Marty got off her knees and on to her back, while I maneuvered between her legs. By this time my eyes had adjusted to the light. If possible, my cock got harder as for the first time I saw her thick, massive dark bush.
I didn't hesitate to rub my face in it. Her fragrance smelled like roses or maybe tulips; not that it mattered to me. When my tongue began to explore her opening, she sighed audibly. "Yes, Greg, eat me. Eat my pussy."
I didn't need to be asked twice. Not only did I enjoy eating pussy, but as you'll see I have some expertise.
It took a while for my tongue to find her clitoris through that mass of pubic hair, but when I did, Marty when wild. She was animated and got louder. She fucked my face.
I'd learned over the past few years to revel in those amazing orgasms. After Marty came a second time, "Greg, you have to fuck me, my pussy needs your cock, please."
I did, but not before my tongue did her twice more.
This short, chubby fifty-year-old woman was an incredible fuck. I mentioned that she had a big ass. That ass began to move and never stopped: bouncing up and down and rolling left to right, then right to left. "Cum for me, Greg, I want to feel you fill my pussy. Cum, baby, cum for Marty's pussy."
I slammed into that slippery pussy harder and harder.
We were both breathing hard. "Thank you, Greg. Thank you for giving this old gal a thrill."
"Marty, you don't fuck like an old gal, and your pussy doesn't taste like old pussy."
"That's so sweet of you. Greg. Please stay the night. I'd like more in the morning."
Of course, I was going to stay. Another chance to rub my face in Marty's massive bush and eat her sweet pussy; who'd pass up that?
In the morning, "Greg, after what you did to me last night, I can't think of anything better than to start your day with a blowjob. It's been ages; bear with me."
It must be like riding a bike. Marty sucked and sucked. Deep throating my cock, playing with my balls. I could feel that I was getting close; apparently so could she. "Cum for me, baby, give Marty your cum."
When she finished, Marty crawled up and rested her head on my chest. While one hand played with my dying cock. "Greg, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed your cock. If you'll see me again, I'll gladly do you like that again."
"And fuck me?"
"Oh, yeah."
"And let me eat you?"
"If you want, but there's just one thing. I haven't been with a man in well over a decade, and I certainly didn't expect last night to end like it did. What I'm trying to say is that I've neglected to do any grooming or even trimming down there for a long time. If you even thought about eating me again, I promise, my pussy will look and feel more appetizing."
How to tell her?
"Ummmm, Marty. I-I loved eating you; I loved rubbing my face in your gorgeous bush, and your pussy was delightful to eat. I have some errands to run today, but if you'd like, I'd like to see you tonight and we can do it again."
"Really, Greg?"
"I'd be so disappointed if you touched even one hair," I laughed.
"Tonight, why don't I take you to The Steakhouse on Lake Shore Drive and then we'll see what happens?"
"I have a better idea, why don't we go to the bar where we met last night, have a hamburger and a beer and then we can come back here and I can have dessert?"
"Greg, my pussy was drenched from sucking your cock, but now under my ass there's a wet spot bigger than Lake Michigan."
That night, I did have dessert. It lasted much of the evening. I just couldn't get enough of Marty's delicious pussy. After each orgasm, she begged me to fuck her, but I was having such a great time, and my cock was so hard. Between her orgasms, I'd rub my face in her enormous bush. "My God, Greg, no one's ever done my pussy like you. Come up here and fuck me."
"Not yet." Then I'd massage her clitoris again with my tongue. When we finally did fuck, Marty was even better than last night; at least I thought so. "I can't imagine a better night in bed," I whispered after we finished.
"Are you talking about the fucking or the pussy eating?" She giggled.
"Both, but I have to tell you I've been with a few girls my age, and none have as sweet a pussy as yours. Unless you have other plans, I'd love to have your pussy for breakfast."
"How can a girl say no to that?"
I did have breakfast and Marty had cock. We did end up fucking one more time.
When we finished, "Greg, I was married twice and I've had a few lovers, but no one, not even mature men ate me like you did. Where did a boy your age learn to eat pussy like that?"
I explained.
TO BE CONTINUED
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