Old Lady, who are you? How old are you? Sixty? Seventy? Years long gone, leaving you still here. Grey hair, sagging breasts, wrinkles on face and neck, eyes tired, and filled with loss and pain, Did you ever laugh? Have you ever lived, loved, known happiness?
Ever had fun? Given pleasure with body, heart and soul? Embraced a lover in your bed, naked skin sliding over nakedness, feeling the heat of arousal growing into a flame, that only the fluids of your climaxes can extinguish? Tasted cock? Eaten pussy? Come with screams of ecstacy? Did you? Ever?
Young girl, how I envy you, and pity you. How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-one? So young, so much life still to live, so much to still enjoy. I see you, stood there, gorgeous in your nakedness, firm shapely tits, nipples crinkled with pleasure, smooth skin, rich thick hair cascading down to a neck made for nibbling, ears perfect for whispering words of love, and suggestions of delightful eroticism.
Slim waist for hugging, sexy firm bottom for caressing, spanking, teasing. For having a hard cock or smooth fingers pushed inside that tight bum-hole, making you scream for more.
Shaved pussy, tight still, and always hungry for a lover's hands, mouth, tongue, or maybe cock, when men are allowed between those soft white thighs, that open so easily to the right words, the right touch. Even now, you can feel the warm wetness beginning, at the images my words are creating for you.
How old am I? I lost count long ago, maybe seventy, might be more. Hair now left to go grey, because there is nobody who looks at me, nobody to please or to create desire in, nobody left.
In my time I had many, soft and smooth and sexy girls, mature women with the experience of years and the touch of arousal as their gift to me.
