Old Guy Gets Lucky with Young Chick

"Big tits! Tits! Tits! Tits!"

Only, for fear that I was being too aggressive, I didn't say what I was thinking. I just enjoyed the moment of massaging unwrinkled skin that was so young and so soft. A master of massage, I made sure that my delicate hands and experienced fingers made an impression on her soft, supple skin, before she could even voice her protest.

"Thank you," she said looking at me with a smile. "You have great hands. That feels so good."

Kneeling beside her, while looking down into the deep, glorious chasm created by her huge mammary glands, I wondered if she was imagining my hands massaging her breasts and my fingers fingering her nipples, as I was imagining my hands massaging her breasts and my fingers fingering her nipples. Just as I was imagining massaging the rest of her body, I wondered if she imagined me massaging her thighs, buttocks, and pussy.

"You're getting a bit of a burn," I said.

"Oh," she said looking down at herself, before looking at her watch. "Maybe it's time I get out of the sun."

Thinking I was going to lose my opportunity to make a love connection with my young, big, beautiful red flower, I watched her packing up her stuff.

"How about some lunch?"

"Lunch?" She looked at her watch again. "Sure, I could eat something."

How about me, I wanted to say? How about a foot long hot dog, I wanted to say, while thinking of her sucking my cock as I touched, felt, fondled, and caressed her magnificent melons, before lowering my head to suck her nipples? Yet, again, the gentleman that I have, unfortunately, grown to become, I controlled myself from being too forward too soon. Ah, if only I were younger, I'd be all over this beautiful, sexy bitch. Yet, then, again, if I were younger, I'd, no doubt, be wasting all my time chasing after that young, blonde, beautiful, tattooed, tight assed volleyball player.

"We can walk up to the boardwalk," I said. "There's a place that's air conditioned. We can sit inside, while still enjoying the view and looking out over the water."

"Oh, that would be nice," she said fanning herself with her book. "I'm so terribly hot," she said flashing me those baby blues with a smile that made me imagine waking up beside her naked.

I watched a bead of her perspiration collect at her neck and, as if the sweat was on a water park slide, I watched it glide down and disappear between her big boobs. I so wanted to reach out my finger and capture it, before it vanished between her big breasts. At first, thinking that I should suppress my first thought, instead of just blurting it out, against my better judgment, I let it fly.

"You have no idea how hot you are," I said with a big grin.

She gave me a look that confessed she wasn't sure if I was being sincere or making fun of her. I sensed, because of her weight, she was unaccustomed to compliments. Just as was my friend Natalie, I imagined she was made fun of a lot.

"Thank you," she said flashing me her smile that lit up her face and eyes.

"You're very beautiful," I said using that as an opportunity and, when she didn't turn away, as an invitation to stare at her longer.

"Oh, aren't you the charmer," she said in a fashioned flow of thick Irish brogue and giving me a big, bright smile. Instantly, I was in love.

"Shall we have lunch?" I offered her my arm.

When, her hand took hold of my arm, I imagined her taking hold of me and directing my hard cock in her soft, warm, and wet pussy.

"Only," she said looking at me with worry, "will they let us go inside in our suits?"

"Unfortunately, no, we'd have to change out of them first," I said knowing full well that with this being a beach, swim attire was appropriate and welcome.

"Oh," she said looking around. "There's no place to change around here."

"Typically, people change behind a held up towel," I said with a devious smile that turned into a devilish grin.

"Oh," she said again, but this time biting her lip. Was she imagining herself stripping naked, while I held up a towel around her tits? Was she excited by that thought or embarrassed by it? I couldn't tell.

Allowing my imagination to get the better of me, I imagined her stripping out of her bathing suit and standing naked behind the thin layer of cotton that I was holding and that suddenly fell, darn. As if shadowed by twin full moons, I imagined my eyes filled with her massive breasts. Hoping she'd agree to change, hoping she'd strip out of her swimsuit, hoping she'd allow me to hold up the towel around her, I gave her my best shot, while trying not to reveal my hidden agenda and sexual intentions to her.

"I can hold up your towel, if you hold up my towel, and promise not to look, just as I promise not to look," I said with a silly grin.

"Me looking at you is not what I'm worried about," she said with a sly look, a fun grin, and a chuckle.

"Oh, you needn't worry about me trying to sneak a peek," I said with a serious look. "I have a brother who's a priest and another brother who's a doctor."

"I see," she said, "as if that makes a difference. And what do you do?"

"Me? I'm a writer."

"Oh? What do you write?"

"Erotic literature," I said with a laugh.

"Figures," she said returning my laugh, while, no doubt, surmising my agenda with a look. "Well, if you promise not to look, too much," she said pausing to give me an admonishing look, "maybe you can hold up my towel around me and I can stand behind my car and change out of my clothes."

"Just let me grab my clothes," I said leaving her for a moment to jog to my blanket and back. I couldn't believe she was going to allow me to hold up a towel around her, while she stripped naked. "Okay, I'm ready," I said returning and shaking the sand out of my blanket and rolling it up, before shaking the sand off my pants, briefs, socks, shirt, and shoes.

We walked about a quarter mile to her car and once there, she opened her car door and pulled out her clothes. Oh, my God. Her bra was the biggest bra I've seen in my life. Her brassiere looked like an oversized promotional item that they use when shooting a parody for Victoria Secret's lingerie commercial. Her bra cups were so big that an elephant could have worn them for earmuffs.

"Okay. No peeking now," she said shooting me a sexy look, handing me an oversized beach towel, and turning her back to me. "I'm ready."

Me, too, I wanted to say, but didn't, while watching her lower her bathing suit straps and wiggle out of her one piece swimsuit. In the sexy way she said she was ready told me that she was ready to play a game of exhibitionism and voyeurism. Alas, our sexy game of exhibitionism and voyeurism would have been so much more fun, if only she faced me and hadn't turned around.

Being the horny, albeit older gentleman that I am, I held up the towel around her but, of course, because I was so much taller than she was and because her body was so full figured shapely, I had a clear down towel view of the top of naked Rubenesque ass, along with the rest of the back of her hourglass figure. From the down towel view that I had, I wished she was facing me, so that I could have gotten a good look of her monster sized breasts. Only, as soon as I thought that, I realized that I could see her reflection in the back window of her car, with additional glimpses of her tits , areolas, and nipple shots in the rearview mirror.

"Wow! There is a God."

"Pardon?" She turned to face me, after covering her big breasts with her hands, and shooting me a look of violation.

"Sorry, I was just talking to myself," I said. "Now, there's a bit of smog," I said instead, while looking up to the sky, to cover my misspeak.

"Oh."

When she turned back the other way, I watched as she put on her giant bra and I could feel my cock stirring, pulsating actually, while enjoying the view. Then, she put on her blouse, but without buttoning it all the way and leaving it open enough to expose even more of her cleavage than when she was wearing her swimsuit. With her cleavage and shear bra cups so exposed and in plain sight, I so wanted to reach my hand inside her towel and inside her blouse and cup her immense bra clad breast. I couldn't wait to kiss her, while feeling her massive tits and fingering her huge nipples through her blouse and bra. Then, tit for cock, it was my turn to change out of my bathing suit. I couldn't wait.

Figuring she'd hold the towel up as high as I held the towel up for her, she held my towel waist high, while facing me. Being just as forward as she was, not even bothering to turn around, willing to give her a free show of my semi-erect penis, after she gave me a free show of her ass and her tits, I stayed facing her, while watching her stare down the towel. Just as she wasn't shy about looking at what I had, I wasn't shy about showing her what I so wanted her to see.

"Nice cock," she said looking up at me with a sexy smile.

Oh, God, she likes my old, shriveled, limp cock. I love this sexy playful woman.

"Thanks," I said with a shit eating smile. "Nice tits."

"You saw my tits?" As if angry that I peeked, she looked up at me with violation, before giggling, "How?"

"You were facing your rearview mirror. I tried my best not to look, I said putting my splayed fingered hand over my face."

"Oh," she said with a shrug and a laugh, before making eye contact. "Do you like big tits?"

Asking a man if he likes big tits is akin to asking a man if he likes beer, football, cheerleaders, and naked strippers on a pole.

"Do I like big tits?" I laughed. I looked down at her big tits, before peering in her eyes to make what I was about to say more personal. "I love your big tits."

"Thank you," she said with a blush, while cupping and lifting her bra clad breasts with both hands, in the way that Mae West would do. "My breasts are my best feature," she said so rehearsed, as if she had said that to a hundred men, who only wanted her for her big tits but rejected her because she was fat.

Did they not notice that she was beautiful? Did they not notice that she was fun and funny and had a brain in her head that was so much bigger than her body? Could they not see the person beneath the over abundance of skin? Beautiful inside and out, I was mesmerized by Maureen.

"Not hardly," I said.

"What do you mean?" She nearly dropped my towel and looked at me, as if I had just insulted her.

"Your big brain, sense of humor, kind spirit, and beauty dwarf the size of your big breasts. Your big breasts are hardly the biggest part of you."

"Thank you," she said with another blush, while making solid eye contact. There was a long pause, where she appeared that she was about to cry. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Actually, I can't remember the last time someone complimented me. No one ever compliments me," she said with a sad smile and a shrug. They just see that I'm--"

"Shh," I said putting a finger to her lips, before leaning down and following my finger with a kiss. I put an arm around her big back and parted her lips with my tongue. Just as I surprised her with a kiss, she surprised me by returning my kiss. Then, when we parted, she looked shocked that I kissed her.

"Wow, you took me by surprise. I wasn't expecting that."

"Sorry."

"Don't ruin that kiss with an apology. I enjoyed it," she said.

"If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?"

"You're not supposed to ask a woman her age," she said looking at me coyly, before looking at me with interest and asking me her question. "How old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?" Adjusting my stance and posing, as if I was doing a Captain Morgan commercial, I tilted up my head and smiled, while blinking my eyes.

"Seventy?"

"Very funny."

"Fifty?"

"Thank you," I said. "Actually, I just turned sixty."

"I'm twenty-five."

When she said that she was twenty-five, I couldn't help but feel that the dirty old man police were about to run out and arrest me for violating some obscure law that reads how wrong it must be for a man to have sex with a woman thirty-five years his junior.

"Twenty-five? Twenty-five? Oh, my God," I said with a nervous laugh, while figuring that was the end of my chances of bedding her.

I was shocked. I knew she was young, very young, but I was hoping she was, at least, older than my daughters, or at the very least, 30-years-old. Now I felt certain that there'd be no way a 25-year-old woman would want to have sex with a 60-year-old man. When I was out of college, out of the military, and working and married for ten years, she was just being born.

"Is my age a problem for you?"

"I have shoes older than you," I said with a laugh.

"Well, I won't hold your age against you for being so old, if you don't hold my age against me for being so young."

"I'd love to hold it against you," I said pushing my cock up against her big belly and slowly tracing her long line of exposed cleavage with my fingertip, before lightly running my open hand across the top of her exposed breasts. "Got milk?"

I was hoping she'd reach inside my towel and grab my cock. I was hoping she'd fall to her knees and take me in her mouth. Instead of going to lunch, I was hoping we'd have wanton sex right there, behind her parked car.

"Gallons," she said with a laugh, while allowing me and watching my hand explore more of the top of her breasts.

Accustomed to old, wrinkled breasts that sag lower than my testosterone, I couldn't believe what wonderful breasts she had. I so wanted to reached deeper inside her big bra to explore her nipple, but I didn't dare. Too soon in our relationship, that is, if there was to be one, hoping to just tease her and make her want more, I didn't want to ruin my chances of spending some intimate time with her.

"They're so soft, yet so firm," I said running my hand across the upper width of her chest. "Your skin feels like silk. I love it."

"Okay grandpa, that's enough. Get dressed so that we can have lunch," she said with a laugh. "Maybe we can save these for dessert later," she said looking down at her breasts, while watching my finger having sex with her cleavage, before removing my finger from her chest and buttoning her blouse.

Dessert? I couldn't believe she suggested that I could have her breasts for dessert. Who is this playful woman and why in the world would she be interested in an old codger like me?

As soon as we walked up to the boardwalk, there was a long line of people casually dressed waiting to get in the restaurant. No doubt, wanting to get out of the hot sun and into the air conditioned comfort of the restaurant, before heading home, it seemed that everyone had the same idea.

"It looks like we didn't have to change out of our swimsuits after all," she said shooting me a surmising look.

Oops, I wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, I quickly changed the subject for fear that she'd think that I was an old degenerate only after her big tits, which I wasn't, of course. I was not only hoping to see her tits, feel her tits, and suck her nipples but also to get a blowjob, too.

"I hope you don't mind a long wait," I said hoping she'd be willing to wait in line with me, instead of scurrying away and disappearing in the crowd, never to seen again.

Knowing she, no doubt, had better things to do than to stand out in the hot sun with me, I felt disappointment that I was pressuring her to wait with me because of my invitation to a free lunch. The chance that I had being with this young, busty beauty was quickly evaporating with the heat of the hot sun. My disappointment was short lived, however, with her reply.

"It's too hot to stand outside and wait. My cottage is not far from here. Why don't we go there? I don't mind cooking something, so long as you promise to behave," she said putting a hand across her exposed cleavage, as if closing the gate to the funbag playground.

Better than standing in line in the hot sun waiting to be seated, better than sitting in a restaurant, even with her request and with my potential promise that I behave, the invitation to her cottage was an open door that gave me more than a glimmer of hope of having an afternoon of some hot, sexy fun with her.

"I'll be good, that is, unless you want me to be bad," I said giving her my best Jack Nicholson raised eyebrow impression.

"We'll see," she said giggling and looking at me with those big baby blues.

Deciding to leave my car parked where it was, we walked back to her car and drove to her cottage. It was within walking distance of where we were at the beach, but with all she had to carry in this heat, she had driven to the beach.

Once inside her cottage, it was beach cozy, so long as each person didn't have too many possessions to clutter up the place. With only enough room for a very affectionate couple to live in loving comfort, so long as they didn't mind bumping into to one another, I imagined living here in blissful happiness with her.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Water. Thank you," I said.

"There's a water cooler in the corner. Help yourself."

"Thanks," I said grabbing a paper cup and downing a few, while contemplating my surroundings.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to shower. There's a bathroom to your right, if you'd like to freshen up a bit."

Shower? I wondered if that was my invitation to join her? Was that my cue to follow her upstairs, strip naked, and shower with her? I imagined her standing in the bathroom naked with the door wide open and giving me a full view of her naked, plus sized body, as I entered the room. I imagined lathering up her bigger than double D breasts, while she lathered my cock and balls in the shower. Or was she just taking a shower because she was sweaty and sandy from the beach? Not wanting to ruin my chances of a fun afternoon, I didn't know what to do. I decided to act the gentleman that I needed to be to not scare her away.

"Thank you," I said availing myself of the downstairs bathroom to make myself look more presentable, after lying out in the hot sun. "Damn, I look so frigging old," I said staring back at my reflection in the mirror. "Dad! What the Hell are you doing here? I thought you were dead," I said when realizing how much I looked like my father, when he was an old man, probably as old as or younger than I am now.

Finally, when she returned, I was already sitting in the living room watching the ballgame. She was wearing a long flowing, colorful sundress and it was obvious that she wasn't wearing anything but panties underneath.

"How does an omelet sound to you?"

"That sounds great," I said turning off the ballgame and getting up from the chair. "Can I help you in the kitchen?"

"Well, if you're good with a knife, you can chop some onion, mushroom, and parsley."

The kitchen was small enough that we had to squeeze by one another. Instead of turning around the other way, I made sure that I faced her, so that she could inadvertently rub those two giant melons across the front of me.

"Sorry," I said purposely bumping into her. "Pardon me," I said grabbing her around the waist, as I squeezed by her with a chuckle.

"Somehow I don't think your apologies are sincere," she said with a laugh, when I gave her a hug, a kiss, and a tickle.

"The omelet is nearly ready. Go make yourself comfortable in the living room and I'll serve you. Would you like a beer?"

"Okay," I said.

Whether on purpose or accidental, I didn't care which, but when she came in the living carrying the two plates, she leaned down in front of me to give me a great down dress view of her breasts.

"How's that?" Staying in that position, until I noticed her and answered her question, she put the plate down on a tray table in front of me, while looking up and catching me looking down.

"Amazing," I said.

"I was referring to the omelet, not my boobs," she said with a laugh. "You're incorrigible," she said with a giggle.