As I did, I looked over at Betty, climbing the ladder out of the shallow end. Her bathing suit gapped forward slightly, and I could see faint stretch marks at the top of her breasts. She looked at me, and caught me trying to peek down her bathing suit.
“Having a liitle look, are we?” she asked, smiling up at me.
“Guilty as charged, Your Honor,” I replied with a grin.
“Well, Dearie, hold your horses; you’ll see soon enough. I hope you don’t mind a few stretch marks. ‘Course, I feel like I earned them. They did feed three babies, you know. For years, I was embarrased by them; I even hid my boobs from Jake for a while. Then one day, just out of the blue – we were standing in the kitchen, drying dishes together – he said, ‘ Really, Honey, I like your stretch marks. And I don’t mind that your boobs sag a little, now that you’re no longer a child. They look happy, and lived in, and they made our babies happy, and that’s the way it should be.’ I don’t mind telling you, it was just so sweet I got a little teary. So I went over and gave him a big hug. Then we finished drying the dishes.”
“Aw-w-w,” I said, and got a little teary myself, just listening to her tell about it.
She grabbed her towel off the chaise and snapped my bare ass with it, and said, “Enough of that. You don't need that suit bottom. Leave it here, and just come in the house and screw me, before I lose my libido.”
As we passed through the kitchen, I noticed a wall phone hanging by the doorway, and was reminded that Grace said she’d call me . I wondered how she got my number, since it is a cell phone, and not published. I also noticed a distinct drooping of the elephant’s trunk, but was not terribly concerned. I knew I wasn’t an eighteen-year old anymore, and it didn’t stay up these days, without constant encouragement. At best, it kind of hung at half-mast, unless either I or someone else was actively playing with it. Mr. Rogers came into my head again, saying, “Can you say ‘high blood pressure’, children”? I giggled a little under my breath. Or at least I thought it was under my breath, but apparently there was absolutely nothing wrong with Betty’s hearing.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked over her shoulder. “Not my fat ass, I hope.”
“No.” I almost used the punch line from the joke, and said, “I like fat asses”, but quickly thought better of it. I continued, “ I was thinking about Mr. Rogers asking the kids if they could say high blood pressure.”
She stopped then, and turning around, looked down at my slowly drooping and receeding penis. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that too much. It just proves we aren’t children anymore, and know that some things take a little longer than others. But we also know they are usually worth the extra effort of waiting.”
I had a sudden fleeting thought that maybe I was beginning to like Betty more than I had planned on. I knew that my original intention was just to have a no strings attached roll in the hay, and maybe some friendly banter and chitchat over dinner and probably too much wine. But just the casual way she said that, made me think that I could really get to like this woman, and I had a sudden flash of understanding. One of the things that I hadn’t been able to ever come to grips with was why EA, who was twenty years my junior, would have been interested in me. I was easily old enough to be her father though she never called me “daddy” when we were in bed, thank you very much. YUCK! “Who’s your Daddy? Who’s your daddy?” Ew-w-w-w. In fact, her parents were barely ten years older than I, and would have been less, had she not been a late baby. But I suddenly realized that age after a certain point, really is mostly just a number. And I found myself not only lusting after someone old enough to be my parent, but actually beginning to have romantic attractions, as well.
All those thoughts passed through my head in less time than it took to walk through the kitchen, and the dining room, and down the hallway to Betty’s bedroom. But, of course, the mind is not constrained to real time; it is only our physical beings that are.
As I rounded the doorway into the bedroom, I paused in the entryway. I felt a little as if I was entering an inner sanctum; a private place, where not many had been invited heretofore.
The walls were painted a neutral grey, and across the room, directly opposite the door, was what was obviously a man’s dresser. It was very high style art deco, with matching veneer on the drawer fronts in a chevron pattern, and had rounded corners, with a contrasting veneer wrapped horizontally around the sides. It was topped by a round mirror, held in rounded vertical brackets on each side that stepped inward as they approached the widest portion of the circle. On top was a small box, with rounded corners in the same color veneer as the chevron drawer fronts. I assumed it was for cufflinks, studs, and collar stays. Also on top, in a silver frame, was an eight by ten black and white photo of a much younger Betty, wearing a 1940’s high-style one piece bathing suit, and holding a trophy. She was wearing heels, and stood with one knee in front of the other, facing the camera. She was posing just like the Betty Grable pinup that I remember seeing on the wall in my dad’s workroom. She was wearing a smile, that had it been any broader, would have hurt her ears. In a word, she was a knockout.
And so was the current Betty. I walked further into the bedroom, and looked to see her bent over, facing away from me peeling off her wet suit. Her legs stretched out straight, and went all the way up from the floor to her round buttocks. I felt the elephant stir once more as I gave her an appreciative whistle. She giggled, and, stepping out of the suit, bent down to pick it up. I could see her outer lips as she bent over. They were completely hairless, and darker than the rest of her skin. They were slightly puffy, making two rounded berms either side of a narrow valley, resting between the more rounded hills that were her ass cheecks. I quickly crossed into the room, and swatted her bare buttock as she stood up. She yelped, and said, “Who gave you permission to smack my ass?”
“No one,” I replied with a grin. ”God helps those who help themselves, you know.”
“In that case, I’m helping myself to this.” And she reached out and took my now hardening member in her hand. “ Let me help by holding this for you, while you take off the rest of your swim suit,” she said.
I crossed my arms, reached down to the lower edge of the top, and pulled it off over my head in one motion. As my nipples fell free of the wet suit, the cold air hardened them, and my breasts bounced slightly as the suit cleared.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, “You really DO have boobs. They’re kinda small, though,” she added.
“Well, you weren’t expecting real breasts, were you?” I asked. “After all, I have been producing testosterone for the past forty-odd years. We’re cutting back on that though, so they’ll probably grow some,” I added. “This ageing business ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. Oh, it’s nice, taking longer to cum, but it’s not so nice taking longer to pee.”
“Well, look at it this way,” she said. “At least you still have a prostate, and can get it up. Jake had to have his removed about twenty years ago, and never could get it up after the operation.”
“You mean you haven’t had sex in twenty five years?” I asked, incredulously.
“Nope. I hope it hasn’t grown shut.”
“Didn’t you use toys, or ANYTHING?”
“Not inside. I have a little vibrator that I use sometimes, and that’s okay. Penetration feels good, and makes me feel full, and helps me get off, but that's not how I cum. What I like is on the outside.”
While we had been talking, Betty had taken our wet suits, and crossed the hall into the bathroom. She laid them over the shower curtain rod, and came back into the bedroom, with a tube of KY jelly in her hand. Looking at it, I said, “Oh, I doubt we’ll need that; the condoms I have are lubricated.”
“Condoms?” she asked, her eyes opening wide.”Whatever for? It isn’t as if I’m about to get pregnant. Or if I do, we’ll be rich, because it will be a miracle that we can sell to Jerry Springer or one of those guys.”
“ Let’s sit up on the bed, and I’ll tell you.