April Fleeter clenched her thighs together as she stood at the sink. That didn’t help. The need deep inside her would not go away. She had expected this when three-times-a-week lover, Jake, had given her the news.

“Bastard!” she yelled at the ceiling now. Jake knew husband Jeff’s ship was in Singapore, two months from a homecoming. He also knew damned well about her physical needs. Three days without a man and she was anybody’s. Jake had been willing to fill in for Jeff. Better than nothing, even if he was married. But he could never take the place of her Jeff, who at twenty-six was fit and virile. Jake‘s wife was never mentioned, and April was pleased to avoid the extra guilt of that.

Jake, on seeing the back garden enclosed by a six-foot hedge on three sides, had suggested that their evening summer trysts could be held on the lawn. In a street of bungalows, nobody could overlook their naked activities, while temperatures remained high.

For near three weeks, being serviced under the evening sun came near to satisfying April. Anyway, she was fully aware that, Harry, across the back, was ninety and could barely walk. Left was old, grumpy widower, Serge, retired from the services, and right, a sad old guy, George, totally under his wife’s thumb. In other words, no risks.

“Three old codgers, eh?” Jake had laughed one evening.

For a joke, she laughingly said, “And you make four.”

But she wasn’t laughing when he broke the news, that his wife, had bought them a Caribbean cruise for his birthday surprise. They’d be away for three weeks.

“You’ll be good and ready for me when I get back,” he’d chortled. His lack of understanding really hurt.

“Bastard!” she cried once more to the heavens.

God, this was her fifth day of frustration. With her raw physical ache uppermost in her mind, she flounced through to the sitting room wondering whether a shower with deep finger accompaniment might help. On the previous day, she had sat outside on the garden bench, fingers under her skirt, probing through her wetness, from clit to weeping entry, but achieved little relief. Her friend, Iris, had suggested a vibrator, but April could never imagine that taking the place of a real cock.

As she stood there dithering, the figure of a man in short-sleeved blue shirt passed left to right on her path in front of the window. Serge? Was it? What could he want? They’d only ever conversed across the front gardens. Was the old guy really going to call at her front door?

The almost immediate ring of the doorbell confirmed that to be the case.

Momentary hesitation, as she wondered why he would be calling. Only one way to find out. Uncertainly, she opened the door.

Several images impinged on her mind at once. Foremost was that she had never seen his ‘lived-in’ face clean shaven before. No greying stubble. And she had never seen him smiling so readily, as he greeted her, “Hello April, I hope you won’t think me obtrusive.”

“Not at all, “ she replied, noting how his normally wild. black, greying hair was now neatly brushed.

Under his arm he carried a slim, black laptop, and he raised his arm, nodded his head towards it, saying, “I wondered whether you’d be interested in seeing shots of the back garden.”

April had seen how he kept his front garden immaculately laid out, and so bright with pots and beds of petunias, gazania and lobelia giving a vivid blast of colour. His back garden might be even more dazzling. And after all, it would take her mind off what she was feeling now.

“I’d like to see that. Please come in. Sitting room first right.” Was that a look of relief on his swarthy face? He mumbled his thanks and as he squeezed past her there was the masculine aroma of newly chopped timber. April could not resist the thought, ‘If only he was thirty years younger.’ God, she would have dragged him in by the shirt! The very thought had her juices drizzling.

In the sitting room, Serge had placed the laptop on the table with one chair in front of it. Moving beyond the table, April pulled the window blinds half-closed, explaining, “I know bright light kills the screen in here.”

“Good point,” he said. Then in a deep voice that was just a little more positive than his earlier deferential tone, he told her, “You take the chair. I’ll stand behind you. Like light, seeing straight on is best.”

She bent to sit and was aware of her summer dress neckline dropping forward. April wondered whether he had noticed as he eased forward with his right hand finding the section he wanted. To maintain his balance his left hand rested lightly on her left shoulder. Silly, but that triggered a vague trembling through her body.

Control yourself, April, just get this over with, and then that shower.

“Here we go,” Serge declared, as the first picture appeared.

April was disappointed to see, in a very sharp picture, just a stretch of green lawn and the high hedging beyond. Oh, of course, it would look like that on his side, because no plants would flourish under the hedging. Just like her own garden.

Serge tapped onto the next picture in which the camera angle had shifted so it touched on the rear of the house, with the lawn and hedge still in view. But now her breath caught up in her throat. The three blue ceramic pots, all containing the bright red of geranium blooms were in her garden. It was her own garden.

A flick of a finger and the next picture proved it. Same shot, only she was in it, almost naked, arms and legs wide, as though offering her pert breasts to the sun. No time for protest or query before the next revealing shot. This showed her spreadeagled, totally naked, on the lawn with an equally naked and clearly rampant Jake lowering his face towards her thighs.

As Serge fast-forwarded the pictures there was only a hint of all the lascivious things she and Jake had done together. April was finding her emotions somewhere between anger and despair. Shouldn’t she be protesting? What Serge said from just behind her made her even more desperate.

“We old codgers aren’t all stupid, you know.” Had he overheard that? He had moved his right hand to her other shoulder, and she found herself held facing the single shot of Jake entering her ‘doggy’ style, with her head thrown back, mouth open as though baying at the moon. “Lover boy is away for three weeks. Jeff for two months. Would you like to see these on the world wide web?”

April was looking now at herself kneeling in front of a leering Jake, as her mouth enveloped his cock. Despite the immediate shock of these revelations, she was fearful that the pictures had turned her on more than she had been already.

Bending close to her ear, Serge observed, “Your silence is commendable. Will Jeff be so quiet seeing these?”

April found her voice at last. “So this is some kind of blackmail?” She hoped her voice remained steady.

Her eyes were fixed on the erotic scenes as Serge went on, “But now, final pictures that told me how desperate you might be.”

A swift montage of hot-blooded images before a shot April immediately recognised. She was alone, seated on the garden bench, one hand on her breasts, the other poised on the hem of her skirt. The skirt she’d worn for the first time just yesterday.

And the next shot, with her skirt following her hand as it slid up her thigh, had April recalling just how she had reacted to her probing fingers. The “Ooh” on her lips proved that. But in the final image, with her skirt returned to its original position, April saw that her hands were clenched, her brow furrowed, and she was biting her lower lip.

“What would you call that expression?” Serge asked. “I saw disappointment, frustration, bitterness, longing, all mixed together.”

“So?”

“So, I knew you’d soon be seeking release. I thought I should at least offer that.”

“Like I said, blackmail.”

Serge’s voice was very quiet, very respectful as his hands turned her body to face him. April gave a startled gasp at what her eyes took in, first, his craggy face, but just below her eye-level, his cotton pants jutted and jerked as though some massive creature struggled to be free.

“If you were to unzip me. I think you’d find that ‘blackmail’ is less appropriate than ‘white male’.”

Her hand made an involuntary movement towards that surprising bundle. How stupid was she being?

“But you’re—”

“An old codger? You might prove that.” His hand closed over hers and moved it towards that bulge. “I’m fifty-nine. You are—?”

April drew in a deep breath as he released her hand near his zip, and she said, “I’m twenty-five. That will be—”

“Don’t calculate. It hurts.” And he chuckled, and it was the open friendliness, the non-threatening nature of his chuckle that encouraged her out of any uncertainties. She pulled his zip down, and like some escaping animal, the biggest, broadest cock she had ever encountered burst out.

She had read of and had heard the male boasts about the size of their appendage, but Serge’s was something else. There was no sign of boastfulness when he modestly asked, “Could that maybe satisfy you?”

“Could you prove it?” April’s response surprised her, but her ache on seeing that cock had gone beyond all bounds.

Serge’s face was expressionless as he took her hands and said, “Stand up.”

She stood up readily, anticipation making her heart pound. Their bodies were not touching but his manly face came closer as he murmured, “Always start with a kiss.”

Next moment, his full warm lips brushed along hers. That’s all it was, a mere brush, before April felt his fingers under her dress and moving unerringly to her wetness.

Her gasp of pleasure was too loud, but unavoidable, as he touched her soaked labia. “Ah, no panties. Good,” he growled and immediately withdrew his hand. “You need no play. Excuse my use of force.”

April had no time to wonder what he meant as his two hands gripped the hem of her dress, and popping a couple of buttons, pushed it up to bare her whole lower body. His knees bent slightly and the next second she felt the power of his mighty thrust that drove his massive hardness right to the very core of her, lifting her off her feet.

On tottering steps, he propelled her, uncompromisingly impaled on his immense rod, his hips continuing to lunge so that, by the time her back crashed against the wall, she had already had the fastest climax of her life. No sparks, no flashing lights, only her blindly inflamed senses as her body was washed by waves of rapturous joy.

He was fifty-nine! She shouldn’t be allowing this.

Crashing against the wall brought her out of her blissful stupor, and she became aware of Serge’s increased pace in his pounding. He hadn’t come yet, but she knew he was close when his breath became short gasps. And even that was exciting for her. She raised one leg, wrapped it around him, hugged him with it, hoping to repay all the unexpected pleasure he had just given her.

April knew when he began spurting into her. He yelled out and his movements were so vigorous inside her that she was sure that she would have another orgasm. Not quite. He was quickly detumescent and slipped out of her. Even soft, his cock was impressive.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I usually last longer than that.”

“Me, too,” she admitted, her feet back on the floor. “You were so forceful. What I needed.”

He nodded his satisfaction, “My guess was a good one. I sensed you wanted early release. I’m generally gentler than that.”

April reached for the box of tissues from the table and sitting on the edge of the sofa began, openly, cleaning off the combined juices that had seeped down her thighs. She offered the box to Serge, who sat beside her, and she watched surreptitiously as he stretched out his lengthy limp cock.

“How many women have you—?” She stopped, fearing she was being too personal.

“You’re the only lady I’ve been with since my Lydia passed away three years ago.”

April couldn’t help expressing her shock and regret at that. Looking into his deep brown eyes she knew he was telling the truth. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Was all she could say.

“Sorry for giving me access to your delightful body?”

“Is that how you see it?”

Serge lobbed the soiled tissues into a bin before turning to her, his eyes wide with frankness, “The sight of your body as you’ve passed has tormented me for months.”

“But these picture—how did you —?”

“Surveillance. That was my speciality in the service. Spying on enemy positions. Sound and photos.” He paused, as though weighing his words. But he continued, “A fortnight ago I heard your rapturous pleas on the other side of the hedging. Curious, I enlarged a small gap in the hedge and saw you being serviced by lover-boy.”

“So, you decided to show me—”

Serge held up a hand, “Wait—what I decided was for my own lonely benefit.”

April was trying to be angry, but there had been something, almost pleading, in his voice, “Go on,”

“I took all of these pictures plus sound recordings, and on lonely nights I viewed them and with my hand imagined I was doing it to you.”

Should she feel flattered? Annoyed? Or was this an opportunity to take it further? Her mind balked at the idea initially. Fifty-nine, for God’s sake. He could be her grandfather. But she had a vague curiosity to know what he meant when he said he could be gentle. “And now you have had me, are you satisfied?”

His dark eyes looked at her soulfully, “I’m fully aware of how much you love Jeff, but I’m also aware of your needs. I’d fear you might choose wrongly in fulfilling those needs. You have already with this Jake person.”

Why wasn’t she annoyed at his rather personal observation? Maybe because he was correct? April unexpectedly found her breathing becoming difficult, “So?”

Serge stood up, glancing at his watch, “I must go now. Gym appointment in half an hour.”

“You go to the gym?”

He smiled , “Oh, yes, we old codgers have to keep ourselves in trim, you know.”

“I am sorry about you hearing that.”

“No worries,” he laughed. “Look, I’ll leave you my cell phone number. If the need strikes again. Call me. I’m right there. Our entrances to the back of the houses are adjacent. It’ll be no bother slipping across unnoticed.”

His offer had her pondering. He was fifty-nine-years old. That notion constantly plagued her mind. But he had clearly thought the situation through. To his own advantage? Or had she learned that he provided more than Jake ever had? Would she benefit from his availability? Maybe both. With memories of his stunning hardness penetrating her hot, desperate channel, she watched him write down his number before he left by the rear door.

Before exiting, he turned back and said, almost sternly, “Whatever you decide, beware of strangers.”

For God’s sake, for the past hour he’d been her lover, now he’s talking like a strict father. Even if he was fifty-nine, that didn’t give him the right to treat her like a child.

But April had no doubt what her next course of action would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accordingly, three days later, recognising the familiar deep, physical ache, April reached for the phone. But she checked, considering how she should be dressed. Silk robe over her bare body? No, that would be too brash. But keep it simple. She finally settled for a thin, pale lemon, button-up summer dress, no panties, no bra, because she didn’t need one.

Excitement rising, she dialled his number from the kitchen phone.

Instant response as his deep brown voice growled, “Winters.”

So that was his surname. “It’s April.”

“You must be mistaken. My calendar tells me it’s August.”

April sensed his teasing tone, “You know—”

His chuckle was light, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Two could play the teasing game, “I have a fire needs dousing.”

There was silence at the other end. “Hello—hello.” The phone had gone dead.

Before exasperation hit her, the kitchen door swung open and there he was, a broad smile lighting his weathered face, “Fire dousers incorporated, at your service, ma’am.”

He looked smartly casual in pale blue pants and dark blue shirt and his eyes wandered, openly, up and down her body, his head nodding admiringly.

Surprised at Serge’s swift arrival, April was momentarily speechless, while his admiring glance brought on familiar secretions between her thighs. Crazily, given the situation, all she could say was, “Coffee?”

Moving towards her, he smiled, “No, thank you. Maybe after we’ve doused the fire. Where is it?”

He had put his hands on her shoulders and had that stern look again as he said, “You’re sure about this?”

April was regaining her composure as she half-joked, “Fires must be dealt with. I’m positive.” But was she? That cold fact that he was fifty-nine kept intruding. However, she turned away, “Follow me.”

Despite her doubts, a wave of joyous anticipation was washing over her, as she led him to her bedroom. “Nothing to see,” she almost giggled. “You may have to search for it.”

His chuckle as they entered her room was pleasing, “Slow burning embers, eh?” And, to her delight, he wrapped his arms around her, adding, “Ah, this bedroom has the aroma of you.”

April willingly accepted his warm kiss. More reaction deep down. His lips were soft and meshed so seductively with hers. He was fifty-nine. That thought would not go away.

Serge broke the kiss and took one short step back, trailing one hand down her dress-covered belly, stopping just above her mound. His fingers pressed as he looked into her eyes and murmured, “This where the fire is?”

The pressure of his fingers triggered her to begin unbuttoning her dress as she replied, “Oh, yes, but it’s spreading.”

His hand now stopped her unbuttoning, “May I have the pleasure?” Then without waiting for her, what would have been eager approval, he popped one button after another. When he reached the last one, a mere shrug of her shoulders and she stood exposed in front of him.

His eyes widening, all he said was, “Wow!”

Serge quickly removed his shirt, and April found that rather than having an aging body he was amazingly muscle-toned with a healthy tanned skin. As he unfastened his buckle, he must have noticed the surprised expression on her face because he explained, “Three gym sessions a week help keep me in trim.”

With one kick he heaved his dropped pants onto a chair, and April, eyes fixed on his impressive semi-erect cock, cheekily asked, “How do you keep that in trim?”

He shrugged as he reached for her, “Until three days ago, it was occasional lonely hand work.”

Serge placed his hands on her bare shoulders, and before she had time to anticipate what he would do next, he had given a gentle push and she stumbled back to fall onto the bed, legs in the air. Within second, he was lying alongside her, and April learned that when he had said he could be gentler he had meant it.

Not sure that was exactly what she needed, April was, nevertheless, completely engulfed by his manner. When he kissed her, his lips were warm, and she felt his teeth, then quickly, their tongues entwined. His hands smoothed over her breasts. She was prepared for, wanted, the harsh roughness of their first encounter, but his touch was indefinable, sometimes light and melting, almost soothing.

Yet, slowly, gradually, such tenderness was getting to her. Briefly she was thinking that Jeff would do this to her as they shared their loving. Serge broke their kiss to murmur, “God, it’s been so long. Thank you.” His kisses moved to her neck and down her throat, where her blood pumped wildly. and she recognised the tumult starting within her, intense, full of wanton desire. He had intended to douse the flames, but he was only stoking them, as his hands spread possessively over each part of her body, breasts, belly, her moistened slit, her clit and buttocks.

Surrendering to the thrill overtaking her, she closed her eyes, and could imagine he had twenty hands, stroking, adoring, fingers exploring her every part. And many mouths that travelled everywhere, nibbling, sucking, licking. His teeth, wolf-like, seemed to sink into her fleshier parts. She wanted it. Wanted to be devoured. Almost wild with the need to be taken, invaded, penetrated.

While her spirits soared above her, his erect member pressed against her thigh.

As she reached for it, he moved completely over her, on top of her, welded together from mouth to toe. Shivers ran through her body. He whispered into her ear seeking permission, while he raised her legs and entered her

Her whole body became a secret passage, and this enormous, immense, hot intruder was so welcome. Rolling, he had them lying side by side, huge inside her, but very still. Not moving. Simply savouring this intimacy.

Enjoying this fusion of their bodies, April, aware that she had been selfishly taking his amorous explorations, felt an impulse to repay. It was a devilish extension of their recent moments, a time for choices, for commitments, and she drew back so that his hardness slipped from her.

Sitting up, hair over her face, eyes misted with passion, her whole body and mind aflame with desire, she looked down at him as he lay on his back. Fifty-nine-year-old no longer mattered. Her lips flickered over his skin, until they touched his erect moist shaft, catching the aroma of herself. Kissing all around it, making him gasp. “You don’t need to.”

“Yes, I do.”

A grateful look on that craggy face, but she was aware of his hand on the back of her head, not pressing, yet somehow encouraging. Obediently, eagerly, she lowered her mouth to engulf him, her tongue worked feverishly on his hardness as she tasted her own juices.

Was she finding that age didn’t matter as her mouth slid up and down, occasionally raking with her teeth? He grunted, and a faint salty taste overlaid her own tartness. She raised her head and looked down at him. "Over?" she asked.

A weak smile crossed his lips as he shook his head, "Just a prelude. I must be getting old.”

Her mouth drew back from his hardness, and she snuggled her body close to his. Given the demands flaring inside her, the volcano she'd felt earlier demanding to erupt, she could not believe how they could delay their climax, just caressing, feeling each other with a tenderness that belied the intensity that raged inside them.

She touched him everywhere. He was all muscle and erectile tissue. She raised her body to rub against him.

His mouth suckled and licked at her breast, teeth threatening to consume, yet delighting her. His fingers plunged deep into the honey that seemed to be oozing from her. His lower lip stroked along her greased labia, before his mouth nuzzled into those juices, allowing his tongue to probe her most sensitive parts only briefly, sensing, correctly, that it was driving her way over the edge.

April was sure her entry was widening like a mouth desperate for food. Then his shaft was there, and she was desperate for it, hungry to claim its power

He moved her so that she lay on him, her legs straddling his, and as he entered her, she knew that this way he could see himself disappearing inside her. For herself, she could look away from his face and see the action she had craved. His entrance into her willing, so eager passage.

Their bodies undulated together seeking the ultimate. April felt his iron cock filling her, immense from entry to cervix as they found a similar rhythm. Her whole body, her very soul, now clamoured for the climax. She moved quicker, demanding her orgasm. He recognised this, and his tempo increased.

The climax was spreading between them, between their mouths and their sexual fusion. April would never be able to explain that moment as their movements launched her away somewhere beyond sensibility. Only Jeff had achieved that, and he would always remain her King. Yet the fires were intensely locked inside her, spreading, flaring, searching every nerve end, until the pleasure of mutual release had her crying out in what was half sob, half laughter, only vaguely aware of Serge’s accompanying gasps and moans.

They lay for some time, chuckling, touching like innocent children. “Did I douse that fire?”

She laughed, “No, you made it flare up.”

His face fell.

“Flared so wonderfully that it burned itself out.”

“I’m pleased,” he said, pausing thoughtfully, before adding, “I suppose if you’re April I must be — what? September?”

“A very warm September,” April laughed, finding surprising comfort in him holding her in the crook of his arm.

After a brief silence, Serge asked tentatively, “Is there a chance you’d like this to continue beyond today?”

April found an immediate response on her lips yet couldn’t understand why any doubts kept her silent. Serge took advantage of her hesitation to say, “I’d do nothing to break your loving relationship with Jeff.” He shook his head slowly, “But I do fear that your wild libido could lead you into the wrong hands while Jeff is gone.”

“You think so?” But she knew exactly what he meant

“You’re already mixed up with that creepy Jake.”

“He is out of it,” April said flatly.

“Pleased to hear that,” Serge smiled, “but to make sure—”

“Yes?”

“I transfer your naughty pics to your laptop, and you have his e-mail address?”

April grinned, “His private one.”

“Ideal. Select a couple that show him, but your face is hidden by your hair. E-mail them with a little message.”

“Like?”

The lines on his face deepened in thought, “Oh, you’ll think of something.”

April liked the idea, and she laughed as she suggested, “Any contact and your wife gets these and more.”

“You needed little prompting there,” Serge laughed with her.

Ideal, then doubts crept in, “But I’m married too. Isn’t that rather hypocritical?”

Serge leaned to kiss her, “But you have certain physical problems, dear lady, that I’d be happy to assuage while Jeff’s away.”

April was near scolding herself for worrying about age difference, but she was so happy with what he’d suggested that she tried to put a teasing expression on her face as she chuckled and asked, “Are you sure you’ll have the strength for that job?”

His arm squeezed her closer, “Need more proof?”

“Oh, yes please.”

By the time he left they had set a clear pattern of how things should develop. They parted laughing, agreeing that a pattern was set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And, to April’s joy, the blissful pattern evolved wonderfully well. She recognised that she was the chief benefactor. Serge’s respectful treatment of her physical needs was so gratifying, especially when he allowed her to express exactly what she wanted, gentle or occasionally rough, it was her mood that dictated, and Serge was happy to oblige. But, from the outset it was purely carnal.

When Jeff was home, for two, three or sometimes four-week spells, Serge slipped kindly into the background. At such times, her delight was in Jeff always instigating the where and how of their lovemaking. After being away he could be demanding, but, for April, having Jeff inside her, remained bewitching. She knew that being with Serge, in no way impinged on her love for and time with Jeff. There was that part of her heart that only Jeff could reach.

But knowing Serge was always patiently waiting was so comforting.