Sexy Senior Citizens

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Young wives find that older men are good sex partners also.
6.7k words
4.09
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Author's notes: . I found this gathering dust in the corner of my hard drive. I had completed the first draft on a little better than three chapters of what I hoped to be a much longer work, before writer's block sat in and I put it aside to write Momma and Me. Since I don't like the idea of 13 submissions, (now don't tell me I'm superstitious, I THINK OF IT AS NOT TAKING CHANCES.), I decided to dust it off, write it a little tighter, and see what you guys thought about it. Is it worth the effort to continue writing? (You're a tough bunch of critics, if you think something is a waste of time, you don't hesitate to say it.)

Because it was planned as a longer work, you'll notice characters mentioned that were to come into play later.

As always, I welcome your comments and details on what you think I've done wrong; as well as your suggestions on how to improve the story if I decide to finish. THANKS the dreamer.

*****

CHAPTER ONE

The small town of Jones Corner, located on a major US highway, rested for over a century in what people called the Carolina Low -country. It existed mainly as a supply point for farmers and a bedroom community for people who wanted country living, and didn't mind a long drive twice a day, in order to make good money working at a major defense plant.

Anyone who wanted to eat and not cook had to drive at least twenty miles to one of the larger towns. Back in the fifties, a fellow named Joe Appleby got the idea to open a little Mom and Pop type place, serving what today would be called fast food. Joe Appleby's Place, as the locals called it, was an instant hit.

They served homemade sandwiches and desserts of all kinds, but the item that put him on the map, of places to eat, was the lowly hamburger. There were very few, who sunk their teeth into the third pound freshly butchered beef patty served on a slightly toasted bun, that didn't come back time and again for another.

Joe was a pretty sharp business man, so he decided there was no reason that people in the other towns wouldn't feel the same as his customers. He visited the local bank, there was only one, and in a few weeks a replica of Joe Appleby's Place was springing up in the neighboring town.

"Joe, a name like Joe Appleby's Place is too damn long." Mike Jones, a decedent of the founder of Jones Corner and Joe's best friend since childhood, remarked, one freezing January morning; removing his hat and coat while waiting for an order of "sh*t on the shingle," also known in the more civilized world as "Creamed beef on toast." What made it different from most others was Joe used ground hamburger meat, seasoned to perfection. Nobody knew exactly what he seasoned it with, not even Mike.

"What do you mean, too long? It's my name."

"Yeah, Joe, I know it's your name but it just don't sing—you know what I mean, it's not catchy."

"Catchy, huh?" Joe mulled it over in his mind all morning. By the time Mike came in for his afternoon cup of coffee, Joe realized his friend was right. He joined Mike with a fresh pot and by the time the friends had finished the pot, what would one day become the JAPS restaurant chain was born. JAPS—short for Joe Appleby's Places.

JAPS, the favorite meeting place for locals, made money, some would say "hand over fist," until that fateful day, several years later when a state surveying crew ordered lunch at JAPS and let the cat out of the bag. The Interstate was no longer just a rumor; a major exchange would be located less than a mile from JAPS.

"Oh, hell!" Mike's words of wisdom for Joe were short that morning. "Everybody flocks to something new, Joe. The new fast food places will wipe you out, unless you come up with a great idea soon."

Great ideas were Joe's specialty. He made trip to the bank and called a good contractor. By the time the first car pulled off the Interstate; it had a choice between two well-known fast food restaurants and JAPS.

True, the Yankees traveling I 95, had never heard of JAPS, but Joe had played two cards; JAPS now looked like an up and coming fast food place, with a lot of the "Old South Look," on the outside, while inside it was roomy and arranged for diners to eat and run, but there were also corners where groups could sit and talk as long as they desired, while sipping on bottomless cups.

Joe had hit the jackpot. The senior citizens, known locally as the JAPS Gang, and then shortened to just, the Gang, had already formed the habit of swapping lies in JAPS for most of the morning. Their numbers grew and their cars were sitting in the parking lot.

It was only natural for people to be curious about that many customers in an unheard of place, and they just had to see for themselves. Once treated to JAPS great food and service, many passed the word, and JAPS became the favorite place for not only locals, but the North-South tourist trade as well.

CHAPTER TWO

A few years passed. Mike retired and became unofficial leader of the gang. They spent every morning, if they didn't have a doctor's appointment, enjoying the house special, a SOS plate. Then they would hang around drinking free coffee until eleven while telling some of the biggest lies ever heard in the Low-country. That in itself was a noteworthy accomplishment, for the area had long been known for its tall tales.

Mike was a widower who hadn't let himself go after losing his wife. Standing just a tad over six feet, with a full head of silvery white hair, and a body formed by years of hard work, he was considered a catch by the widows and divorcees, who gathered at JAPS each morning. In fact, more than a few women, who fell in neither category, had slipped Mike a folded paper with their numbers while mouthing "call me."

Mike, being a pillow of the community, would have summarily dismissed such shenanigans. However, being one of the few male members of the Gang, whose plumbing always worked, felt it his duty to keep up moral on the home front. While the husbands toiled away keeping the Navy equipped and ready to protect the world, Mike kept their wives happy.

Unfortunately at least one of the Gang's women, probably one who had a vacant spot she felt only Mike could fill, made a call to the husband of this morning's winner of "Mike's Queen For A Day," or at least "Queen For An Hour or Two" contest.

When Mike's selection of the day opened her door to Mike, he took her into his arms, showering kisses over her face and neck. He continued to hug her with one arm, while the other hand slipped under her top, where he found she hadn't bothered with a bra that morning.

"Auhhh," she moaned as he rubbed each breast in turn. When he tweaked her nipples between thumb and forefinger, she started tearing at his clothes.

"Easy, baby. I got to wear these things out of here." He stopped loving on her long enough to help her remove his clothes. As soon as she pulled down his boxers, his engorged cock flopped almost in her face. It wasn't porn star sized, but it was of a respectable length and if it had any more girth, few women would be able get it in their mouth. She didn't hesitate. She wrapped both hands around it, gave it a few strokes, licked the purplish glans, and then took it in her mouth. She sucked on it like a Pro, until Mike pushed her away.

"Hold up, Baby," everybody was Baby to Mike. That way he wouldn't make the mistake of calling out the wrong name in the throes of passion. "You keep that up and you'll miss the main event." He helped her strip down to her panties and then scooped her up as easily as he would a child, and carried her to her bedroom.

Mike laid her gently on the bed, and then he leaned over and started kissing on her. He began at her feet and worked his way up her leg. She spread her legs widely, allowing him easy access to her inner thigh; she tensed when he reached her cotton panties, as if she expected him to spend a little time in that area.

The musky odor of a turned on woman, mixed with just the hint of a perfume Mike couldn't readily identify, filled his nostrils as he traced the outline of her vee then moved to the skin just above her hairy cunt. She squirmed as he made his way, with quick, nippy kisses, up to her breast.

Her breasts were full, yet stood firmly away from her chest. Age and gravity hadn't had time to do their work. Nipples, the size of small marbles, protruded from caramel colored aureoles. They looked like cherries atop an ice cream sundae. Mikes tongue slithered around first one , then the other, before he took one in his lips and tugged on it to see just how far he could get it to stand out.

Her hands were tearing at him, feeling every part of his body she could reach, before she discovered she could get her hand on the cock she needed so badly. She wrapped her hand around it and started pumping. That started feeling too good and Mike knew he better move on to bigger and better things.

"Hurry!" She urged, while lifting her hips to facilitate removal of her white panties, when he caught the waistband and started tugging them off her shapely hips. Mike noticed her panties were wet, and as he tugged them past her ankles, he finally identified the heady fragrances; Wind Song and pussy, filled the air.

Dropping them on the floor, he crawled onto the bed. He positioned himself on all fours, between her legs. She spread them as wide as she could while he got in position, then getting a better idea she pulled her knees as far toward her shoulders as she could.

Mike helped by catching under her legs and propping her legs over his broad shoulders while he kneeled in position and swiped the head of his cock through her moist slit, letting her juices coat it for easier entry.

Placing his stiff cock on her moist labia, he shoved gently. He could feel the head of his cock slip into her warm, slick passage. Her cunt's inner muscles resisted briefly but when she wiggled they relaxed and he slipped in until their pelvic hairs meshed.

"Uhhh," she groaned trying to push up against him.

"Yessss," she moaned when Mike withdrew until the head was barely in her channel, and then shoved it back in as deep as it would go. He continued with long, slow strokes. She was groaning with each stroke, while Mike muttered things like, "Oh! Oh! Oh, Baby, I can't take much of this." Finally, when he really could stand no longer, his cock started diving in and out like the piston on a revved up V-8.

"Awwww! Ohhhhhh! Yessssss, give it to me," she shouted loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Her entire body shuddered, then relaxed.

Mike's balls actually hurt when they pumped shot after shot of sperm into her spent pussy.

They were lying side by side, enjoying the afterglow, when the front door banged open and one very pissed off husband stormed into the bedroom. The naked couple sprang up, searching for their clothes; unfortunately, they were out by the front door and a completely unreasonable husband stood in the way.

"This ain't what it looks like, Honey," the wife said, lifting a leg to pull on her panties. Mike could see his cum dripping down her thigh, so there was no way the husband could miss it.

"What the hell is it then!" the husband roared. "It looks just like you let this old fart fuck you." He started for his wife, who was on the other side of the bed from Mike, so Mike tried to get to his clothes. Faster than Mike thought possible, the husband jumped to block his way, took one swing, which caught Mike squarely in the eye, and turned his attention back to his wife.

Mike was no coward; this was just a time for flight rather than fight. He hurried to collect his clothes and was almost dressed when he heard, "You Bitch!" followed by a sharp slapping sound,

"Don't you ever hit me again, you limp dick bastard!" Another equally sharp slap followed, but this time he thought was from a smaller hand.

Mike took a quick look into the bedroom where the couple were hanging on to each other, apologizing and promising never to do it again. Assured they weren't going to kill each other, Mike was about to leave when the wife, who was facing him, made a "call me" sign with her hand. Mike gave her a thumb up sign, received a kissing gesture from the wife, and went to JAPS.

CHAPTER THREE

Mike bought a drink and some fries; getting caught fucking a guy's wife had a way of making you hungry, and then he claimed his normal seat back in the gang's corner. Only Jody and Carrie were present. He noticed Jody had finally got Carrie to sit close to him. Jody, who used to be a major player, and claimed to still be available—that is, he claimed it when his wife wasn't around, was always coming on to all the women. Carrie seemed to be his favorite target.

Carrie was a pleasingly plump widow of about fifty five who claimed she hadn't had an oil check since her husband died. She kept reminding Jody he was married, but Jody continued to try to slip his hand under her behind when she sat close enough. Strangely enough, for one who protested so much, she almost always chose to sit close to Jody. Today, Mike saw she was actually sitting on Jody's hand and Jody was grinning like the cat that ate the canary, especially when he saw Mike approaching.

Carrie had no idea anyone was around, for the gang's corner was as secluded from the rest of the dining room as Joe could make it.

"Stop—you're just being bad. Why can't you behave like Mike, he's always a gentleman." She was protesting, but still sitting on Jody's hand, wiggling her bottom. Suddenly she jumped up like she'd been shot. She had just realized they had company.

"Oh, it's only you Mike. I was afraid it was one of the gossips." She rearranged her dress as she spoke. Finally she got a good look at Mike's face and saw the shiner he was sporting. "What happened?" She was all motherly as she examined Mike's black eye.

"Damn fellow!" Jody had a good idea of what happened. He'd noticed wifey pass the note to Mike when she left after breakfast. He also saw Lucy, who wanted Mike to eat crackers in her bed, so bad she could taste it, go outside to make a phone call as soon as Mike left. It didn't mean anything to him at the time, or he'd have given Mike a warning. After all, men who were players had to stick together; even if they were competitors "You should have ordered steak and told them not to cook it. That's a real shiner you have there. Was it worth it?"

"No comment." Mike knew the price one sometimes had to pay for playing. Remembering the moaning and how it felt when he was buried in her to the hilt, Mike grinned. "Hell yeah!" he answered.

Two cups of coffee later only Fay, a tall angular widow had joined the Gang. She had sat on the bench, as close to Jody as she could get. Carrie, still at Jody's other side, looked daggers at her.

Jody was in heaven; he just wished some of the other men would come in and see them. Maybe then they would believe him when he claimed he still had "it."

He was so horny he had to make it with somebody. His wife was spending a week with the girls at Edisto Beach, so nobody would be checking on him. He'd never get a better chance. The problem was, as long as both Fay and Carrie could hear his question, neither would agree to meet him. There was no need to ask.

First the girls left; then Mike finally followed. Jody had a few errands he needed to run; that would give both Fay and Carrie time to reach home before he called. He tried Carrie first, but didn't get an answer.

"Oh well" he thought, "Carrie's my first choice; especially considering the way she wiggled her plump ass on my hand today; but Faye ran a close second. I'll just see how it feels to saddle up a skinny woman instead of a plump one."

When Faye didn't answer either, Jody tried every woman he thought might want to play. He struck out every time. "Just my luck—one week I can play, and nobody to play with." Jody thought.

He had a few things that needed finishing around the house, so he decided to get those out of the way and then go back to JAPS for supper. (In that corner of the world, the meals were breakfast, dinner, and supper, in that order.)

JAPS was crowded with tourist when he got there, but none of his friends were about. Since nobody ever claimed it took much to entertain a country boy, he chose a seat by the entrance, where he could watch women from the time they got out of the car until they ordered.

He was about to go home to watch TV when his patience was rewarded. After a constant parade of run-of-the-mill women, he hit the jackpot. A short, petite black haired woman got out of a fairly new Corvette. When she did, her dress slipped up almost to her love nest. Before she could pull her too short dress back down, Jody got a good look at her perfectly shaped legs, and a glimpse of fire-engine-red panties.

His eyes followed her all the way to the counter. Jody was aware of the old saying, "beauty is in the eyes of the beholder," but any eye that didn't behold beauty in this woman was blind. Jody knew a pretty woman when he saw one and this apparition now before him, in a Barbie Doll shaped body, complete with a fine featured face, a cute turned up nose, and boobs that would make a handful even for his big hands, was a beautiful woman.

She moved out of his sight in order to pick up her order and Jody thought he'd had his thrill for the day. He looked out the window again at another woman walking across the lot. She wasn't as hot as the last one, but she'd do in a pinch. When she went to the restroom before entering the food area, Jody looked to his left again and almost fell off his seat.

The petite woman had chosen a table just across from him, one of those high jobs with bar stools. In her short, tight dress she had trouble getting up on the stool while keeping things covered. She finally made it, but she was sitting so that her knees were at Jody's eye level. When she reached for her cup, her knees parted and Jody got a good view of the red panties. If he wasn't mistaken, that was tendrils of black hair peeking out of the leg bands. If only Mike and the boys were here—they'd never believe him tomorrow.

"Got far to go?" Jody asked when she caught him staring.

"Disney World," she replied. "Do you know how long it will take from here?" Her voice had a strong hint of the Irish.

"Took me six hours, last time I went' Jody replied. "Of course I wasn't driving a hot Corvette. That thing of yours is a beauty."

"Thank you; do you like the car too?"

If he hadn't finished his fries, he would have choked. "Beauty and wit," Jody said. "A rare combination these days." She grinned, showing off a perfect set white teeth, outlined by puffy looking lips, covered in bright red lipstick, which was now smeared from eating.

They talked while she finished her meal. Both were sorry to end it. Before parting, she emptied half of the bushel bag that women call a handbag, over the table. "A girl needs to touch up her face," she said, dabbing on little lipstick. Jody thought she was stalling.

"Want to go for a beer? It's about the only thing you can buy in this town after sundown."

"Thanks, but I better not. I'm married and I don't think my husband would approve of my drinking with another handsome man, even if he is old enough to be my father."

"Ouch! You know how to hurt a guy, even while you're paying a compliment."

She just flashed Jody a smile that would shame even the sun, and then piled everything back in her bag and walked to the door.

"Wait! You didn't tell me your name."

She stopped and turned. "I didn't, did I?" One more smile and she was out the door.

"Damn! Another fish that got away, and this one was trophy class. Sure wish I had a picture to show the Gang tomorrow," Jody thought.

He sat there a few minutes, reviewing what had just happened, before getting up to leave. That's when he spotted it; her billfold had fallen on the floor and she hadn't seen it. Grabbing it he rushed to the door, but the corvette was gone. "Now what do I do?" He thought.

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