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Giving An Older Man A Night To Remember - MyErotica.com

Christine's Adventures 9-11 minutes 11/15/2021

With the help of my very sexy girlfriend.

Christine's Adventures

He was a very accomplished man and a great intellectual hero of mine. I’ll call him Geophrey, because he did spell his real name weirdly like that. Somehow I got to meet him at a bookstore reading some years ago. I was 25 and he was 65. He asked me for my number and I gave it to him.

About two months later he called me.

“Listen,” he said. “You should know, I’m a very happily married man. I didn’t call you because, well, I needed a little time to get over the infatuation. I’ve lived a long life and I know my infatuations never last longer than two months. So it’s safe to meet for coffee and chat about great books or what have you.”

So I met him for coffee and we had a great time. Then another two months went by.

“Listen,” he emailed me finally. “You surprised me. My infatuation didn’t wear off like I thought it would. When we met for that lovely coffee I have to admit, I was in a state of intense arousal for the entire time. You are so very lovely, intelligent, but most of all, I do believe you are the funniest woman I have ever met. I would love to have your company, so how about you come over and have luncheon with my wife and I?”

“Luncheon?”

I had never heard that word, except for this horrible cold cut my stepmom used to serve us, called luncheon meat. I hated luncheon meat, but I agreed.

His wife was a lovely grey-haired lady of about 65 who served us sandwiches — no luncheon meat! — in this little pavilion in their back yard. They told me all about their gardening. There were vegetables and flowers everywhere and little stone pathways. It really was like heaven.

As I was bidding my farewell, she held my hand and looked at me with a smile.

“It’s so lovely to have met you,” she said. “And if you wish to pursue a friendship with my husband, you have my absolute blessing. You are a very charming young woman and I couldn’t imagine a nicer friend for Geophrey.”

That was weird.

A week or so later when we met for coffee, Geophrey explained.

“My wife has declared herself done with sex,” he explained. “But she gave me permission to have an affair with you.”

“An affair?”

“Well,” he said. “If you’re interested in, you know, getting together every now and then, I would love to see you say, every three or four months. And see what develops.”

“You would, huh?” I said. “Every three or four months? And what am I supposed to do in between? Read your books and watch videos of your lectures?”

He wasn’t taking the bait.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you have ways of entertaining yourself, Christine, without relying on my books or my lectures.”

After that coffee, he gave me an open-mouthed kiss goodbye and I open-mouth kissed him back. For like five minutes. I could hear his breath quickening and almost felt his heart racing against my breast. I was worried I would give him a heart attack.

“Bye!” I said quickly, and I hurried away.

“Oh Christine,” I said to myself. “What are you doing! He’s old enough to be your grandpa!”

A few months went by, and he called me again. After this coffee, we sat in the front seat of his old Mercedes together. It was one of those 1980s style Mercedes, very rectangular, and I imagined he’d owned it for thirty years.

In the front seat, we kissed again and he put his hand up my skirt. He just felt around in between my thighs. He never went underneath the panties. I looked at him, worried, because he looked like he was going to have a heart attack again.

“You do set my heart to racing!” he admitted. And we stopped fooling around. “I’ve never quite been so set on fire by any woman, in all my long life.”

That was good for my ego to hear, of course. He heaped on the praise with big helpings of sugar. How perfectly desirable I was. I was like his ideal of youthful femininity.

“Ah fuck it,” I said to myself, and I unzipped his fly. His old pecker popped out, hard as a rock. I gave it a couple of pumps and bam, he shot all over the steering wheel and let out a scream like he was seeing a ghost.

“Ahhhhh!”

I waited for his breathing to subside.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

“Never better darling,” he said. He squeezed my hand. “Thank you, darling,” he said, earnestly. “You can’t imagine how much that means to me.”

Later I learned that it had been about six years since his wife got cancer and had chemo and so forth, and he hadn’t had sex with anyone. Yeah, there was some pent up feeling in that ejaculation, lemme tell ya.

“Oh Christine,” I thought to myself later that night. “What are you doing? Wanking off grandpa in his old Mercedes. What’s this all about?”

I’m really not such a mystery to myself, folks. I know exactly what it was about. He was good for my ego. I guess being near someone as accomplished as him made me feel like some of his accomplishment rubbed off on me. Plus, the way he talked about me, well, I’ll admit it, I liked being praised like that.

I’m shallow. So shallow.

But this praise wasn’t just coming from any old person. See, Geophrey had received a lot of acclaim. Like, a President had hung a medal around his neck. He‘d won a ton of awards. He was the shit.

And him thinking that I was the shit made me feel like I was the shit, too.

This was the slowest foreplay ever though. I wanked him off a few more times. Then after about six months, I said, fuck it, and I gave him a nice blowjob right there in the front seat of the Mercedes.

Holy shit.

I thought I really did kill him that time. It took him about five minutes to recover after he shot his load in my mouth.

He was kind of doubled over in my lap afterwards, breathing heavy and his eyes kind of rolled back.

After he regained his composure he claimed that he had “seen God” while I was sucking his dick.

“That was unlike any blowjob I’ve ever had,” he swore. “And I’ve had a few, young Miss, I’ve had quite a few. But that…Your lips…Your lips feel like…”

“Velvet?”

“Yes! Precisely. How did you know!”

“Guys have told me that,” I said. “Around Manhattan Beach, they called me Blue Velvet. Ask the surfers. They said I had the softest lips like velvet. See, I was what’s affectionately known as a blowjob queen.”

I saw his eyes cloud over then, at the mention of other guys. And that was my first taste of his possessiveness.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he said, when he dropped me off. “And I don’t want you sucking anybody else’s dick until then, you understand?”

“Excuse me?” I said, mortified. “I’ll suck whatever dick I want to suck. Who the hell are you to tell me what dick I can suck? How dare you? Do you know I’m a kickboxer and you’re an old man? If you ever say anything so horrible to me again I’ll kick you right in the head. I’ll bring on early Alzheimers, I swear I will. Or maybe you’ve already got it, Grandpa. Nobody tells Christine what dicks she’s gonna suck, you understand?”

He was fuming.

I got out of the car and slammed the door. He peeled rubber out of there at about a hundred miles an hour. I was certain that was the last I was going to see of him. I’d called him grandpa, after all. That was low.

But the next day I got some flowers and a note from him with an apology. And a promise to behave himself in a more gentlemanly fashion.

Nevertheless, the next time we met, I began our coffee on a combative note.

“I just want to tell you about all the dicks I’ve been sucking since our last date,” I said. “I’ve sucked Robert’s dick and Paul’s dick and Jimmy’s and Johnny’s dick at the same time — that was quite a trick, one in each cheek, like this. I’ve sucked so many dicks I think my mouth has attained a permanent O shape. Look.”

I made an O with my mouth and looked at him.

He laughed pretty hard.

“Oh Christine,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, never! You’re a true original. I’m so lucky to have run into you at that book store.”

“You sure are,” I agreed. “An old fart like you getting his dick sucked by a young piece of ass as hot as this one? You hit the lottery, Grandpa. You better remember that and don’t fuck it up by acting like you come from another century.”

“I do come from another century,” he said. “It’s not my fault. It was the way we were brought up. Men didn’t like to share their women in my day.”

“Well,” I said, softening. “If you really wanna know, I haven’t been sucking any dicks at all since we last met.”

“Oh good,” he said.

“Just pussy,” I said, and I swear he spit out his seltzer water he was so taken aback.

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around with this girl, Melissa,” I said. “She’s a model.”

It was the only model I had ever dated, and I wanted to brag about it. But of course, it gave old Grandpa some ideas.

“Will I get to meet this young model Melissa?” he asked.

“No!” I said. “I’m old fashioned. I don’t like to share my men with anyone, see?”

I sucked his dick in the Mercedes a few more times, and sure enough, he would always pull some old fashioned macho shit afterwards, telling me that I was “his” and that he didn’t want me seeing anyone. I would ball him out and he would apologize. I would tell him that I was never going to let him fuck me because he was too possessive. Once he fucked me, I knew he was going to be absolutely impossible.

I came up with a different idea.

I’d already secretly planned it all out with Melissa. She was really fond of my stories about Geophrey, and we had both agreed that the first time I actually fucked him, it should be a menage and we should absolutely blow his mind.

“I’ll fuck him,” said Melissa. “He’s handsome. He looks like one of those old movie stars — Cary Grant or something.”

“It’ll be like fucking in black and white,” I said, and we both laughed.