The Tears that I Remembered

Story Info
The lives of two older women change forever.
2.5k words
4.43
16.6k
15

Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/16/2022
Created 04/22/2013
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Note: This may start a little slow, but most of my stories take some build up. The vampire aspect of the story is somewhat subdued and presents itself fully more. I appreciate the usefulness of a quickie, but I've always found that hard to write. As always thanks for your interest.

*

When I think back to my youth, I don't remember being all that sexual. Like so many girls in my day "sex" was something that I mainly learned from my mother. The more technical aspects were given to me in a dusty old book she gave me when it looked like I had a reasonable gentleman caller. Make no mistake: young women were having sexual relations with their men, but it wasn't talked about.

I was taught that it was something that I would do with my future husband. I fell in love, married, had the kids, raised them, sent them off to their lives, and was left with that accomplishment. Then my husband died. This was another eventuality that I was supposed to know was coming, but you never accept it. Michael was never a perfect man, but he was mine.

My children offered what solace they could, but they had their own lives. I was invited to live with them. On the surface that was very appealing. I loved them and my grandchildren, yet I never liked the idea of settling into the role of "grandma". I liked the companionship of my husband and going out as a couple. My family worried about me being alone. This is the ironic "second childhood" you experience when you get older. It's patronizing and rather insulting. Your loved ones do really care, which makes you feel worse. Did you ever want to know what makes old folks crabby? It's the helplessness in the face of sympathy. "You're old so we must pity and love you for it."

I didn't want it. My best solution was to find a new companion. A second marriage didn't appeal to me. Another woman though...She would understand.

I had friends of my age, but so many had their own problems. Eventually, with the help of an on-line program I found Helen. She was two years younger than I was: seventy. When you get that old you measure the effects of time differently. You compare the number of pills you both take and the different ailments that time or God has seen fit to levy on you.

Helen was a multiple divorcee, who had lived a relatively outgoing life until chronic illness took a toll. New medication steadied her condition, but the damage was done. She was Italian-American by birth, and in her old pictures had a thick mane of black hair and creamy olive skin. Age had weathered that, but she was still very attractive. I was rather envious of her really. I had been a rather average-looking pale blonde girl in my youth.

After two weeks of getting to know each other she moved in. My family said it was good that I found someone to spend my time with. I knew that they thought I was in denial, but I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction. Helen became my new partner. In the old days this was considered to be a normal thing, and so it was with us. It was probably easier than it would've been if my husband had lived longer. They say a man's mind goes before his wife's. That seemed like a great responsibility, but Helen was sharp as a tack. She reminded me of every pill and every doctor's appointment, which helped me maintain the level of dignity which I wanted.

I began to really love her in a way. Not like people talk about women loving women now, but of a love you only get when another person knows all of your weaknesses. They don't write poems about that.

"Grace," she said to me. "You're better than my first two husbands. You actually listen to me."

"Only because you're usually right," I said, and that was our life.

Then one night, just after the sun when down, Helen had a visitor: a tall man of probably twenty years old or so. I thought he was her grandson. She seemed very perturbed to see him, and asked for some privacy, which I of course gave her.

Two hours later the young man left and Helen was on the verge of tears. I asked her what was wrong, but she put up her strong front as always. I let it go. If you care for someone you give them the space when they need it. Three days later we were having lunch at one of our usual restaurants when she asked me a question.

"If you could have what you once had...if you could go back, would you?"

"Back to my husband? Probably, but I would still want you to live with us."

"No," she said. "I mean before that. When you were a truly young woman and did what you wanted."

I smiled at the delightful whimsy of it. "Maybe that was you, but I usually lived at the behest and service of others."

"That's why this is important," she said. "You and I know what it is to lose that freedom that we once craved."

I had to play along. When it's someone you care about you have to. "I suppose. Why? You seem odd since that boy visited you. Is he a relative?"

"No. A lover. I cheated on my first husband with him."

"Helen! Surely you must be joking. That boy is young enough to be your grandchild."

"He wasn't always though. I haven't seen him in almost forty years."

I shook my head at her. There was only so much I could take. "Impossible."

"I thought so too," she said, "But now I wonder."

I couldn't believe it. Helen, who had always been as grounded in reality as anyone and as sharp as a razor was slipping into the delusion of fantasy. I'd been certain that I'd be the first one it would happen to. Once again fate had proven to be cruel. I wasn't about to abandon her though. Helen dropped the subject, and we proceeded as we always did. One night I went to bed early as usual...

I woke up only a few hours later to the sound of screaming. It sounded like some gaudy horror movie at first, but after a minute I knew it was Helen. It was that moment that both of us had come to fear: the panicked moment when you realize that you're dying. I struggled to get up—my hips troubling me as always. This couldn't be happening to Helen. Not my Helen!

After fighting to get my robe on, I waddled down the hall to Helen's room, and knocked desperately at the door.

"Let me in, Helen. Let me help you."

"Stay away," she cried. Her voice higher than usual. "I need this."

I thought that it must be suicide. Sadly this is not uncommon among older folk. I pounded at the door, but to no avail. Eventually, exhaustion got the better of me, and I passed out. I'm not sure how long I was out. Hours or minutes. It didn't matter. When I woke I was certain that my friend was dead, and that I'd be stuck on the ground until my own screams brought a neighbor over to help.

Then Helen's door opened. I saw a young woman who couldn't be more than eighteen standing there. Her olive skin was tight and formed over a delightfully curvy body. She had the kind of mischievous sexuality in her appearance that a woman my age would see as being improper and maybe even "whorish". This made it all the more shocking when she finally spoke to me.

"Oh my God, Grace. Did you fall?"

"Who are you?"

She smiled. "It's Helen. Amazing huh?"

I yelled into the room for Helen. This girl had to be a criminal who broke in and attacked her. That's why I heard the screams.

"There's no one else here, Grace. Cut it out with the screaming. Our voices get so annoying when they're old. Like mine now? I haven't heard it in years."

"You can't be Helen. Helen is seventy years old."

"Was, but now look at me." She arched her young and svelte body. Her firm breasts were high on her chest and not sagging to the earth like mine.

She then listed all the pills I took and when. Then the names of my doctors and all the little complaints I had about each one. The information was perfect.

"This isn't possible," I said.

"It is." She retrieved one of her old photos, and the face was nearly identical. I did notice that he old self wasn't nearly as busty as she was now. Helen, apparently, helped me to slowly get up. My legs were asleep, and she had to guide me to the couch. My hips were killing me.

"It hurts so much," I whimpered.

"I know, dear," she said, "But it will be fine."

It was unnerving to have someone so young say that to me, and made me feel like I was in a hospital bed with a young nurse fidgeting over my pitiful complaints. It was almost intolerable.

"How did you do this?" I asked.

"Not right now. I need to make sure you're alright. Did you need a half a Vicodin?"

I shook my head. Pain pills were hard on my stomach despite their wonderful effects. Instead she made me comfortable, and even massaged my legs. While that once had been a wonderful thing between us, it was now very awkward. The rest of the night went that way. After several hours I felt better, and insisted that no doctors be called. Learning the answers I sought was much more important.

"Helen," I said. "If that is you, tell me what happened."

This beautiful, young woman before me seemed to collect her thoughts for a time.

"That man you saw me with was my boyfriend decades ago. My marriage was already dead on the inside and I was focusing more on work. Thomas was a wonderful distraction that I found, but he left me instead of staying. Then he appeared that day you were with me. He was an archeologist in his day and focused on the early Americas. You've heard of the fountain of youth?"

"You must be kidding. Let me guess, he brought his fountain with him and tossed you in?"

Helen burst out laughing. "Of course not. He has become it."

"What?"

"His blood and his...cum. I haven't said that word in years. He looked me up on-line somehow and gave me his gift."

She shuddered all of a sudden and stood with her legs crossed like a nervous girl.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm..."she struggled to say it. "I'm so wet...I need to...I'm sorry."

Helen flopped onto the couch next to me and pulled up her nightie. She wore nothing beneath it, and I saw her lithe and tight body. I stared at the glistening wetness between her legs. Helen had only the slightest trace of hair at the top of her pussy. I used that word. I never used to...

Helen began frantically kneading her fingers into her pussy, and squirmed atop her own hand. I sat and watched with my mouth agape. I had never in my life seen such a thing.

Her breathing became frenetic as she increased her speed. Her other hand massaged her breasts and I could only watch in supreme fascination.

"Helen...what?"

"I'm sorry, Grace, but I need it. I haven't felt this in years. It's so strong."

The musky scent of her sex was in the air. As I watched I felt the slightest tinkle within myself, but I just didn't seem to have enough of it within me.

"Grace she said, and looked into my eyes with need. "Please help me."

"How?"

"Could you...could you put your finger in my butt?"

"Helen, are you crazy?"

"Yes! I need it, please. We help each other, right? There's no embarrassment between us anymore."

So much of me wanted to run away. To remain in that quiet and safe life, but this was Helen. I loved her. Maybe not in that way, but she was desperate.

"What do I do?"

"Just spit on your finger, and tease around the hole. It has to be slow or it will hurt."

I leaned in close and felt the heat coming off of her. Helen propped herself up on the couch, and I got a marvelous look at her masturbating. I hadn't done it in decades and seeing another woman do it was incredible.

"Please hurry."

Her young and tight bottom was exposed to me. The small and wrinkled star moved intensely as though it was dilating. I licked my index finger up and down and finally spit all over it. I lightly teased around the entrance as she told me to do so. I tickled, prodded, and applied pressure.

Slowly, I worked it into her and Helen yelped, and then sighed in pleasure.

She was so tight and the heat inside her was immense. This was totally new to me and very scary in many ways, but I was committed now.

"Keep going," she cried. "I'm almost there."

I obeyed her, and as I worked in another finger, Helen's hand that had been fondling her breasts began pounding the armrest of the couch. The juice from her pussy flowed down onto my hand, and I couldn't help but look at that magnificent crevice and wonder what it would be like to put my finger in there...or maybe even my tongue.

Helen cried my name and her whole body shook with her orgasm. Her eyes squeezed tight, and she held her breath, and shook her head repeatedly.

After a tremendous sigh and exhale she relaxed. I removed my fingers and leaned back to bask in awe of her. She was amazing. I couldn't believe what we had one. What I had done. Instinctively, I sniffed at my fingers, but there was no trace of any foulness whatsoever. All I could smell was her wonderful juices.

"What did we do?" I asked not believing it.

Her eyes opened and she smiled at me with young dimples showing.

"You helped me," she said. "I haven't done anything with another woman since I was in school. You were great."

"I don't know what to say."

She kissed me then. "I want to help you, and you will say 'yes'."

"What?"

"I'll bring Thomas back here. He'll do for you what he did for me."

"Uhhh..."

"Think of it, Grace: you and I as we were. We could do stuff like this all the time, and I'll do it for you. I want to pleasure you. Please say 'yes'."

"I'm scared, Helen. This doesn't seem right."

"It's okay." Helen held me. "We still have some time. Think about it though.

I could think of nothing else.

Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
2 Comments
YgraineYgrainealmost 11 years ago
Well, well, well......

Your characterisation and scene setting is very good. The scene at the end seemed unnecessary and out of place given the strength of your earlier writing, but that's just my opinion. You may want to watch for all your "that"s - most of them are unnecessary. Good luck with the rest of your story.

jpb531jpb531almost 11 years ago
Interesting

I like where you're going with this.

Share this Story

Similar Stories

The Making of Vampires Ch. 01 Fighting the Empire.in NonHuman
A Big Side Effect A girl's medicine causes a strange...growth. And urges.in Transgender & Crossdressers
Irish Eyes His love was betrayed, what next.in Romance
Bound to My Mate Ch. 01 A chance encounter with her life mate.in NonHuman
Supernatural Earth Pt. 01 Vampiress, Mine.in NonHuman
More Stories