It's All a Matter of Balance

He stared at her heart shaped trim of dense black pubic hairs, traces of stubble scattered around the image, the lower point leading to a textured double formation of inner labia with a markedly deep groove between. He licked his lips, seeing how her camel toe formed. Ruthie turned, her big hip swaying, not bothering that he could see between them when she stopped, twisting her upper torso, her legs a foot apart. Suddenly she jutted out her bottom, her back arched dramatically, her hands on the knees.

"The water Herbie. Get it and take part. Balance it on my butt yeah?" she huskily simmered, sliding her hands up her legs, her butt still projecting at him, her legs still planted apart. Ruthie's upper frame was gently curved so her head and shoulders were near to where they'd be when standing. She was incredibly sinuous.

He gently placed the brimming tumbler on the bottom of her spine; a plateau of taut dark brown skin just millimetres further than the vee shaped indentation at the top of her arse crack. Afraid of knocking and spilling it, he had to concentrate letting go of the receptacle, his hands a blur of old age and nervous anticipation, but there it was - on it's own, unsupported, quivering, shiny on a surface which wasn't smooth but fine goose bumps. Herbie noticed an inch long, lighter brown scar three inches to the right, slightly lower on her glorious globes.

"How long...?"

"...Can I stand like this? Depends on how tired I am really, it's quite demanding this position, but once everyone has their photos and videos, like you're doing, that's it...show over." Ruthie stood up straight, the plastic clattering to the earthenware tiled floor, water all over. She grabbed the towels and proficiently mopped it up, then sauntered to where he'd jumped out of the mess, sitting down on the sumptuous floral cushion of a large wicker chair.

"Mop me up as well if you don't mind please," she suggested, handing him slightly damp towels and bending over, leaning the arms of his chair.

Herbie had a raging hard on at this point, a fairly rare event for the 63 year old, but not unknown. He felt it better to stand and eased up beside Ruthie's bendy body. He started dabbing at where he'd positioned the water and then round and about then stopped.

"Come on Herbie, don't be shy, I'm not that skilled to prevent it dribbling everywhere, mop me up please," she snickered, flapping a hand under her and up between her splayed legs.

He gulped, looked at her wet shiny crack, the pink flesh of her palms beckoning and started wiping rather than dabbing further below. Ruthie wiggled her butt as his hand roamed through her crotch, telling him to go right through to the front and don't miss any drops.

The towel slipped and he was piercing between her labial flaps suddenly with his fingers...finding perhaps what she had meant as drops. It was more like a fine slime to him so he readjusted the towel and continued. Ruthie slung a hand round her and grabbed his bulging groin.

"Hey fella, think I've found a better tool for doing the rest, don't you think?" she murmured.

He took a deep breath, gasped, licked his lips, grunted as she found his balls and zipped down his flies. Being nearly six feet tall, the tall elegant Congolese performer was too high groin to groin even when bending forward, so he tried raising up on his toes. In the end being five eight, he took the initiative, tapped her on her rump and the expert that she was lowered, allowing him to stick his purple and red knob end in to the flaps his fingers had recently spread. Herbie grunted as he gained three inches easily. Ruthie sighed and wiggled backing on to his eager thrusting. Seconds later they were fully joined and he was soaking his full six inches in a delicious wet hot slop, enjoying her vaginal muscles giving him long forgotten sensations along his dick.

He developed a steady shag, slow and easy both for his age and that was the way he was, deliberate, well versed in sexual experience and cultured gentle approach to the woman's appreciation of a fuck.

"We've got a visitor," he chuckled. Ruthie tensed and raised her head, looking around. "It's OK, outside on the window cill," Herbie guided her. A Robin had perched, looking at them.

"Oh you," she chuckled. "You are lovely...mmmm! That's good, oh yeah!" she stammered.

He built the pace, feeling her fingers under his slapping balls, fingering her lozenge bulb shaped anus, noting it's accurately figured bald surrounds until a circle of two inches gave way to the same heavily forested crotch. Ruthie sensed his pace and need, knowing she wouldn't climax at this point, she could save it till Mr Rabbit satisfied her later.

"Save me some Herbie...some of your spunk," she urged him.

It was something new to him but she'd said save, so he ploughed her towards the end until she told him, after several gut grunting cumming bangs, to pull out slowly and leave his cum pumping knob there. Herbie wasn't a world traveller without realising she knew what she wanted although he'd never had instructions like that before. He panted and gasped with effort, watching his slowly weakening cock exit the sluicing mire they'd whipped up. Ruthie pulled away and turned, sucking his dick and then sinking onto the chair, splaying her legs high and wide. She dipped her longs slender jewelled fingers over her slimy white slavered twat and raised them to her mouth and sensuously licking them.

Herbie smiled at something he had never seen before. Her coiffured minge contracted then expanded and a gooey cream of spunk, bubbled and sputtered out from her deep dark orifice to trickle down to her sphincter. Enthusiastically Ruthie scooped as much as she could on her finger tip transferring it to her mouth, swallowing the lot, then swiftly going back for more, her fanny an all action tensing and relaxing spectacle, forcing Herbie's seed out. He had seen the ping pong girls in Bangkok and knew the skill and force they could muster, but he'd never experienced what he thought was a cream pie.

"Leave some in there Ruthie," he chuckled. "They can't do their thing in your mouth."

"Hah! Nice one matey, but no chance. It's not possible for to me make sprogs any more, you'd be pleased to hear...although I wouldn't have minded one of yours, being such a gentleman. Just Lucie, she was a handful but she's good. Shall we clean up?"

They went upstairs. He gentlemanly let her have the bathroom first, even though it was roomy but Mebin was undertaking renewal and DIY work when home, much to Lucie's annoyance Ruthie told him, as if he never finished things, so a small ladder and a bag of tools and dust sheets occupied space.

Cheekily, instead of sitting on a lovely comfy window seat on the landing with a superb view over the area and on over the landscape towards Box Hill, Herbie ventured into the master bedroom. A pale yellow negligee lay on the bed. He had noticed Ruthie's room at the top of the stairs, her trademark long white coat so distinguishable on a hanger, her travel bag, so he stealthily opened the top drawer of a chest and prided himself of years of voyeuring and peeping nosiness, finding it over flowing with Lucie's panties, thongs and knickers. He fingered them, knowing they were clean and thought her dirties box would be in the bathroom. Going back to his safe seat, he saw the laundry basket behind the door. Ruthie was singing some show tune and the shower was running so he delved into the basket.

It was a treasure trove to the confirmed lifetime snooper, thong sniffer and panty watcher. He knew he didn't have time to savour the basketful, so selected a deep pink and red, striped patterned pair of briefs and a lace trimmed white thong. Both were lightly stained, the thong string crisply hard. They were easily hidden on his shorts. At the very top of the pile was a simple pair of white briefs, with no trims or added decoration although he examined them closely for pubic hairs snagged in the seams. He thought they were warm, but Herbie ignored them after a quick sniff and lick, on the grounds Lucie could have only worn them briefly that morning.

Ruthie appeared fully towelled up to find Herbie perched on the window seat, the found pair of small binoculars raised to his face.

"Anything about?" she asked.

"Our Robin friend or one of them, Greater Spotted Woodpecker, several Wood pigeons, a Collared Dove and loads of LBJs," he told her, packing the bins in the black case and placing it back on the cill.

"LBJ?" she queried, strolling into her room, leaving her enormous fluffy towel behind her on the floor. Herbie being a tidy sort, picked it up and smoothed it on to the bed. "Little Brown Jobbies," he chuckled. "Small birds difficult to identify...for some people. Won't bore you with details," he added, watching Ruthie change the towel she had round her head for a fresh dry one. "Can I keep these...as a poignant souvenir?" he waved a tiny pair of knickers, found on the floor.

"Yeah! go on then you dirty bugger," she scoffed. "Look, all clean and sparkling now," Ruthie chuckled, swivelling on her stool, showing him her beautifully manicured and trimmed crotch.

"Hmm! Sparkling? Maybe it was frothy earlier," Herbie giggled admiring her clean, dry cunt. "Lovely...hang on!" He used his camera again. "Just for the boys," he snickered.

"So you meet every week?"

"Yes, good exercise and old man's chat, put the world to right."

"Well don't be so obvious. Lucie saw and heard you all betting on me. Anyway, got enough to convince them?" she asked, primping her hair. Herbie told her they would be wanking over her forever and she giggled, getting on with her all important appearance.

He ran her to the station and they made promises to meet up again, subject to her booking engagements, some abroad and subject to his multi charity work.

THE END