Gullible Joe

Why me?

The characters, situations and actions in this story are merely figments of an unusual imagination. So unusual, in fact, that the author doesn't actually exist.

NC<18 -- No characters under the age of 18 are depicted in this story.

This is a copyrighted original work of erotic fiction. All rights reserved.

Gullible -- adj. easily deceived. See photo at right.

Yeah, that's me in the picture. I'm Joe.

Gullible?

Remember that whole thing about how people with college degrees make more over their lifetime than those that don't?

Bought it.

Remember that whole thing about how great a profession it was to be a teacher?

Bought it.

Remember that story about how "sweet little old ladies" are harmless?

Bought it.

So what happened?

I liked English in High School and was asked to tutor some of the other kids and enjoyed that, so I decided to go to college to become an English teacher.

As part of the program I was sent out to a school district with a single elementary school, a single middle school and a single high school to do my student teaching gig.

Turns out I don't like little kids. I don't like big kids more. And some of the bigger kids liked me too much. I decided that going to jail because one of them told a lie to get back at me for turning down their juvenile advances wasn't for me. Or for not turning down some of those advances.

So there I was, bachelor's degree in English without a job and student loans to pay off. Yippee!

I got to move back in with my parents! Ugh!!

Then my Mom told me her sister, my aunt, was looking for some help at the active adult living facility she ran down south. I'd been to the area a few times on spring break and thought, hey, if it was warm and sunny all year long and the facility was fairly new and shouldn't need much maintenance. And next spring, there would be drunken coeds not far away.

It sounded like a great plan. See. Gullible.

So I agreed to take the job, packed my car and headed south.

I got there and got settled in pretty quickly. Found out there weren't really any set hours since I was technically on call 24-hours a day. For the first month or two I was there I had a great time.

I had plenty of time to take my kayak to the nearby river and just cruise up and down, and tried with little success to hit on the redneck girls who came to the river to drink and swim with their friends.

I should have known things were changing because for the last week or two before the "Event" I had started getting more and more calls to go to apartments for little things. I was beginning to get concerned about the electrical system in the community because there were a LOT of light bulbs blowing out.

I mentioned it to my aunt and she said it probably had to do with the fact that the community wasn't that old and, that if all the bulbs had been put in and started to be used about the same time, it stood to reason that they would all start to fail at about the same time.

Reasonable? Logical? If you bought that, they should put your picture next to mine.

The "Event"? Yeah. That.

I got a call to go to Mrs. Johnson's apartment because she was having some sort of trouble. It pissed me off because I was just getting ready to go kayaking and had on a tank top, some long swim trunks and sandals.

It turned out the bulb in her bathroom had gone out while one of the other women that was there had gone in to use it. Apparently they were having a party or a meeting or something, you know, whatever it is older women do when they have a lot of time on their hands.

I was concerned again because I could have sworn I had just changed that same bulb a week ago. I changed it and was searching my memory to decide whether this was the place I remembered. The apartments all looked alike to me. And seeing the women didn't help because they all tended to look alike to me, too.

I dropped the burned-out bulb in the wastebasket in the bathroom as I came out, smiled and said, "Good as new, Mrs. Johnson. Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you." Figured it was just good customer service and it had become pretty much habit to say any time I finished a job.

As I went to leave, she said, "Hang on, Joe. Could you do one more thing for me, please?"

"Sure, Mrs. Johnson. What can I do for you?"

"I'm having a little bit of a hard time getting out of this chair today. Could you help me up?"

"Sure, Mrs. Johnson." I stepped in front of her chair and held out my hand to her.

She grabbed it and said, "Just brace yourself and let me do it, OK?"

"Sure!"

She pulled herself forward and I had to grit my teeth. I knew she was older, but she wasn't THAT old and she shouldn't have had THAT much trouble getting out of that chair.

She moaned and groaned as she pulled on my hand, but kept falling back into that chair. The longer she tried the more unusual her moans and groans started to sound. Shit, if I hadn't known any better I'd have thought she was getting off on this.

I was embarrassed about it, but the way she was breathing and the noises she was making was starting to get to me and I had to surreptitiously adjust my junk several times to keep it from hurting.

Yeah, that's right. I was getting horny just listening to this older woman make noises. It had been months since my last date in college, and that was more of a drunken hook-up at a party than a date. I'd had to resort to rubbing one out every once in a while since -- usually in the shower after I got back from checking out the redneck hotties at the river.

We had had severe storms the last couple of days and I hadn't been to the river and so hadn't jacked off in a few days. I guess the pressure was building up and that's why her noises were getting to me.

I thought I saw her smile and wink to one of the other ladies just before she said, "I think I'll do it this time."

I braced myself again as she started to pull as she rocked forward and back like she was trying to build up some momentum to finally make it to her feet. She almost made it one time, then fell back. When she did, she really grabbed my hand hard and I started to fall toward her.

To keep from falling into her I kind of threw myself back, grabbing her hand pretty hard in return. I thought I must have hurt her hand by grabbing it so hard because as I fell back and pulled her up out of the chair she said," Oh! Oh!" and her hand went limp and slipped out of mine.

That caused me to continue backward. I tried to move my feet to keep my balance but it felt like something must have been behind them and I started to fall.

Unfortunately, I guess the combination of things had finally given Mrs. J the momentum she needed because she started to come up out of the chair, then seemed to slip and she fell. But forward this time.

As she fell forward she flailed around with her arms, feeling for something to grab onto.

The good news was she found something. The bad news was that what she found was the sides of my shorts.

When her face hit my stomach, it was enough to make me finally lose my balance and back I went.

She must have had a pretty desperate death-grip on my shorts, because as I fell backward and she fell forward, I could feel my shorts being dragged down over my ass and thighs.

I landed on my back and must have really hit my head a lot harder than I thought, because I suddenly saw lights flashing in my eyes. I started to laugh to myself because it reminded me of the cartoons where someone falls and they see stars and moons and stuff.

Then I realized there was a weight on my thigh. I lifted my head and saw Mrs. Johnson's head on my thigh with her face turned inward and only an inch or so from, well, my Johnson.

I scrambled out from under her and quickly pulled my shorts back up and bent down to help her up, apologizing over and over.

To my surprise, she batted my hand away and I thought, Oh shit. I'm about to get fired from this cushy job 'cuz this old bitch is pissed at me for making her fall.

To my even more surprise, she pushed herself up to her knees and used that momentum to rise quickly and smoothly to her feet.

I stood there, literally speechless. Not only could I not say anything, I don't know that I was actually able to form a coherent thought. The words kept running around inside my head, ricocheting off the inside of my skull and then off each other, But... chair... trip... hand... but... feet... fell... shorts...

Then she smiled at me and I tried to place the look on her face, because I was sure I had seen it before. I had just enough time to think I had seen it on a documentary last night about lions. In fact, it was the look on one of the lionesses face when she realized the zebra she was going after was trapped and had no way out.

Just enough time to think that, then she said, "I think that'll do, Joe."

Wait! Where did that voice come from? What happened to the frail-sounding voice she had been using a few minutes ago?

"How old do you think I am, Joe?"

"I...I...I... Uh, I don't know, Mrs. Johnson. Probably old enough to be my grandma, I guess."

"Yeah, you're probably right about that, Joe. And to you, that must seem ancient. To us, the number doesn't make a difference.

"See, we have needs, Joe. Needs that we have a hard time finding guys around here to help us meet. So some of us got together and decided that you're going to help us out."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Mrs. Johnson?"

"You might find this hard to believe, but women our age still have needs. Sexual needs, Joe. There are some things we can take care of ourselves with our fingers, or toys.

"But there are some things that fingers or toys just won't do for." As she said that, her eyes slowly drifted from my face and down my body to linger around my crotchal area.

"Mrs. Johnson, uuummmmmmmm..."

"Oh, yeah, Joe. Mmmmmmmm!" and she licked her fucking lips like she was, well, like she was licking up drips of cum after a blowjob.

"Mrs. Johnson. I can't..."

"Yes, Joe. You can. And you will." Her eyes dropped again and she said, "And where your brain might be saying 'No', your body is saying 'YES!'.

"Did you happen to notice the flashes, Joe?" I nodded. "Good. Do you know what those were, Joe?"

"I thought I hit my head really hard."

She giggled. "No, Joe. Those were smart-phone camera flashes, dear. We're not so old that we're not tech savvy. So here's the deal. Every one of our phones has a picture of you on your back and my shocked face staring at your prick only inches from my face. By now, they're already attached to multiple draft e-mails and tucked safely away on our private pages of some of those famous social media sites.

"You'll do what we want because if you don't, those pictures will get leaked."

"So? I could just move back up north and try to find a job up there."

"Obviously you were an English major and not pre-Law. See, there's a few little things, like one called 'sexual assault'. You've heard of that? And there's another one called 'civil lawsuit'. You know, that's the one where your aunt loses her job?"

"This is blackmail!"

"Hey, that's a legal term. Good for you."

"I'll tell her what happened and she'll take care of this," I said as I walked to the door.

"Go ahead. We'll be in touch."

I forced myself to walk slowly to my aunt's office to prove to them, as much as to myself, that they didn't scare me.

When I got to her office, my aunt was waiting in the open door.

"Come in and have a seat, please, Joe." I did.

"This may be hard for you to believe, but Mrs. Johnson..."

"I know, Joe. I got an e-mail a few minutes ago. I am shocked that you force an older woman to put her face near your exposed crotch."

"But... but... but... I didn't do anything!"

"That's not the story the picture shows."

"But they can't make me..."

"Yes they can, Joe. I had to dump a lot of money into this place. It wouldn't be 'just' me getting fired. I'd be financially ruined. Please, Joe. For the family?"

"What do they want me to do?"

"Mrs. Johnson told me to tell you to go back to her apartment."

"Shit. OK."

"I'm really sorry about this Joe. But thanks." She smiled wanly.

I trudged back to Mrs. Johnson's apartment trying desperately to walk with some dignity and not like a little kid. I was 22! I was a MAN!

"Welcome back, Joe. Come on in. Would you like a drink?"

"Huh?"

"Would you like a drink?"

"I could use a beer, if you have one?"

"Sorry, Joe. I've got pineapple juice, apple juice or water."

"What're you drinking?"

"Scotch on the rocks."

"Can I have one of those, please?"

"Not for you, Joe. Pineapple juice, apple juice or water?"

"Pineapple juice, please."

She brought it to me and then said, "Where were we?"

"You were blackmailing me into doing who knows what?"

"Oh, Joe. Don't be like that. I think if you relax, you'll enjoy this much more."

"Ah, the old, 'smile and act like you're having fun' line?"

"I think you're going to have fun, Joe. Now come sit over here."

I went over to the chair she was patting and sat, trying not to slump.

She sat on the arm of the chair and started running her index finger tip through the hair around my ear.

"You know. You're right. I'm 58, and I am old enough to be your grandmother. But that has some positives for you as well. Now, let's get started. You'll need to lose your shorts for this."

I lifted my ass cheeks and slid my shorts off and she slid off the arm of the chair and onto the floor in front of it.

That look was back on her face.

"I was telling you the truth before. We can use fingers or toys to please ourselves quite well. And we don't have to try to teach someone where or how to touch us to hit the right spot and rhythm to get us off.

"But what we all really miss is the feel of a nice hard cock in our mouths. And we especially miss the taste of a nice mouthful of cum.

"So we're going to give you a few conditions on your diet and routine. But we are also going to ruin you for 'normal' women.

"You see an old or at least older woman kneeling here.

"What you're not seeing or realizing is that what's kneeling here in front of you is 44 years of perfection of the art of the blow-job."

I was still trying to wrap my head around what had come out of her mouth when she managed to wrap her mouth around my head.