Every morning, I’d get up and before I would leave for work, I would water the plants on my second-floor balcony, except of course, during the winter months, when I’d bring them into the apartment. I always looked forward to the springtime, because the plants would be relegated to the confines of my small patio area and I enjoyed sitting around on my patio.

This was how I met Gladys. Gladys was eighty-one and a flirt. She saw me one day, watering my plants and she hollered up to me to say “hello.” I waved back at her and she waved back. Over a short period of several days, we exchanged waves, until one day she asked me to come downstairs because she needed some help moving a larger potted plant on her patio.

As I was moving the plant, I looked back at Gladys and asked her where she wanted the pot. She smiled and pointed to a corner of her small patio. The next morning, she asked me to come back downstairs. She wanted the same pot moved to a different corner. I was more than happy to oblige. This went on for a couple of more days until I asked Gladys what was going on.

“I’m eighty-one,” she said. “I wished I was twenty-one, because you have a nice tush.”

I liked Gladys. She was honestly refreshing and she made a great lasagna. Gladys told me her husband had passed away and I proffered my apologies.

“No need to apologize,” said Gladys, “He was an asshole. Why I stayed with him over fifty years is beyond me.”

I was stunned by Gladys' declaration. Gladys became the grandmother I never had, and I developed a great affection for her charm, her wit and her brutal honesty.

“I should fix you up with my granddaughter,” Gladys told me once. I thanked her for the offer, but I told her that I had a girlfriend. Gladys was unmoved.

“I’ve seen your girlfriend, and my granddaughter is much prettier,” Gladys declared. That was pure Gladys.

Then one day, after watering my plants, I peered over my balcony railing to see if Gladys was home. Instead of seeing Gladys, I found a very cute and young twenty-something-year-old girl. sitting on the patio, reading a book, sporting gym shorts and a way-too-tight t-shirt.

I watched her for a few minutes as she sat turning the pages of her book, which she had propped on her tanned legs. One of her hands rested on her thigh and after a few minutes, I saw her hand gravitate towards the inside of her thigh and close to her crotch. Her fingers slipped past the edges of her shorts and I stood in amazement as I watched her fingering herself.

Wow!

My cell phone rang, and my book reader peered up in my direction. I quickly answered the call and then I disconnected it as soon as I realized it was a stupid sales call. I peered back down to the patio, which was probably about twenty to thirty feet away.

To my surprise, she hadn’t changed positions. She withdrew her hand from under the edge of her shorts and proffered a lazy hand wave in my direction as she looked up at me. I nodded my head to acknowledge her gesture and then I quickly retreated to the safer confines of my patio.

I nervously peered back over my balcony railing and asked, “Where’s Gladys?”

I was stunned to find out that Gladys had passed away. I quickly withdrew to my patio in shock. Gladys was very special to me. We had bonded in an unexpected way. I gathered up some inner fortitude and peered back over my patio balcony.

“Are you related to Gladys?” I asked.

“Yes,” came the reply, “I am Joan, her granddaughter.”

I introduced myself and proffered a quick apology and condolences to Gladys’ granddaughter.

“My grandmother thought a lot about you,” Joan replied. “She said that if she were fifty years younger, that you and her would have made a wonderful couple.”

“Thanks,” I replied, “She said some great things about you as well.”

Joan closed her book and asked me to come downstairs. I wasn’t sure if I should, but then I remembered Gladys telling me, “Never look a gift horse in the mouth.” It was an age-old adage that carried a lot of meaning.

Joan met me at the front door to Gladys’ apartment. I was surprised to see the apartment completely redecorated and outfitted with different furniture.

Joan invited me in, and I followed her out to the patio. She pointed out a large potted plant in the corner and said that it was mine. I thanked her for the generous offer but told her that I couldn’t take it.

“She said you’d say that,” said Joan as she stood behind me, probably checking me out just as her grandmother had done several months before.

I looked back at Joan and asked if she was going to be sticking around.

“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly, “I have to finish out the lease agreement for my grandma.”

As she spoke, Joan pulled at her taut nipples, which seemed to be pressing against her overtly undersized t-shirt. She didn’t make any effort to hide anything.

Damn.

“Your grandmother told me about you,” I said, “But she didn’t tell me you . . . “ I let my voice trail off.

“A hottie?” she replied, finishing off my unfinished sentence.

“Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but it probably fits,” I replied.

“She said you had a cute tush,” Joan proffered. Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.

I chuckled.

“Yeah, she had a way with her words,” I replied.

“Yes, she did,” Joan replied. “I’ll miss her.”

“As will we all,” I replied.

Joan offered me a drink. I was more than happy to join her.

“I’ve got juice, tea, water, coffee, Coke and a bottle of tequila,” Joan replied.

“Tequila?” I asked. I liked the way she casually threw that in the mix.

“Sure,” she replied, turning and heading into the small kitchenette as I looked at her patio and all the plants on it.

A few seconds later and Joan sauntered out of the kitchenette with the bottle of tequila in one hand and two shot glasses in another. Our first toast was to Gladys. Joan downed her entire shot glass and then she quickly refilled it.

I offered her my shot glass and she refilled it as well.

“Here’s to new friendships,” Joan toasted, raising her shot glass filled with the golden-colored liquor.

“New friendships,” I repeated.

“And getting fucked up,” Joan shot back, proffering a very pronounced wink.

“And getting fucked up,” I repeated, raising my glass to meet hers.

I downed my drink as Joan declared, “And getting fucked.”

“…and getting fucked,” I repeated after swallowing the liquor.

Joan downed her drink and shook her head violently from side to side as the liquor settled into her stomach.

“We better take it easy,” I declared, “or we might just get real fucked up.”

Joan declared that she didn’t care, as she poured herself a third shot glass of the liquor. I held on to my glass, just to be on the safe side.

“Here’s to getting fucked up and getting fucked,” she proffered, raising her glass in the air in my direction.

I raised my empty shot glass and she quickly halted the toast, telling me I couldn’t toast with an empty shot glass. I told her that two was my limit. She chided me for being a “pansy”.

“Come on,” she declared, “The funeral is over and it’s time to party!”

I closed my eyes and shook my head back and forth. Joan, however, was not going to let me go that easy.

“Come on,” she pleaded. “My grandmother would not want us mourning. If she were alive, she’d be partying with us.”

Joan downed her shot glass and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at me and I knew by her look, that I was in trouble.

She smiled and asked me if I thought she was good looking.

Duh, yes!

“So, what’s my best asset?” she pressed. I extended my hand and told her to fill up my shot glass.

I tipped my glass in her direction and swallowed the golden liquor, which hit my stomach like a ton of bricks.

“So?” she pressed as I tried to adjust to the liquor and its effect on me.

“Your tits,” I replied.

“You like my tits?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

She then unceremoniously stripped out of her t-shirt, proudly displaying her 34C-cup boobs, with light pink, dime-sized areolas, on top of which sat her very hardened nipples. She teased her nipples between her forefingers and thumbs, as she took a step toward where I stood in front of her.

“Would you like to feel them?” she asked.

I didn’t have to say a word. I placed my hands on to her breasts and began to massage them, as she stood in front of me, with her eyes closed. She hummed her approvals as I gently worked her boobies with my fingers and the palms of my hands.

The liquor had loosened us both up. I looped a finger into the elastic waistband of her gym shorts.

“What do we have down here?” I asked.

“Whatever you want,” she breathlessly replied.

I gently pulled her gym shorts downward, and past her shaved pubic area. In an instant, she stood completely and unabashedly naked in front of me, as she stepped out of her gym shorts.

“You are freaking gorgeous,” I declared.

“So are you,” she replied, as she pushed herself in against me, her hands finding their way to my crotch.

We made our way into her bedroom and onto her unmade bed. I toe-to-heel kicked off my shoes and made my way onto the bed. She helped me out of my jeans and my underwear as I stripped out of my t-shirt.

Joan was sexy as hell. Her grandmother was right. We orally pleasured each other until we had to stop. She pleaded for me to fuck her and fuck her, I did. I lost track of all time as she straddled my hips, and then we flipped after only a few minutes of intense copulation. I drilled my cock deep into her pussy so hard that I thought for sure I may have overdone things.

Joan wrapped her legs around me and would not let go. She began to shake and tremble, pushing out guttural sounds unlike anything I had ever experienced before, her hands balled up into white-knuckled fists, that she beat on the bed.

I asked her to let me fuck her from behind, and she willingly agreed.

“But I don’t do the ass thing,” she said.

I didn’t either, so that was not a problem for me. As I drilled my cock back into her pussy, she once again began to tremble, beating her clenched fists on the bed. She lowered her head and began to violently shake, uncontrollably, as I emptied my load deep inside of her.

She collapsed forward on her bed, and a rope blast of my cum shot across her rosy red cheeks and onto her lower back.

I collapsed onto my stomach on the bed beside her. I simply lay there for the longest time. I closed my eyes. I was wasted and spent. My head was pounding and my stomach (oh, Lord!) was hurting.

I have no idea how long we lay there. It was late afternoon when I finally woke up. Joan was still passed out beside me. I checked to make sure she was still breathing.

I stealthily got dressed and made my way back to my apartment. It would be days before I got the guts to go back onto my patio. When I did, I noticed the big potted plant that Gladys had me move several times was gone.

Joan stepped out on to the patio and peered up at my balcony.

“Well,” she declared, “You finally came out of your shell!”

“Where’s the big pot?” I asked.

“It was time for it to go,” Joan declared. “I have to make room for some more stuff.”

I nodded my head and said that “at times, we all have to make room for new stuff.”

Joan silently shook her head in agreement.

“Do you want to come down and share a drink?” she asked.

“That got me in trouble the last time I did that,” I replied.

“Trouble,” said Joan, “is relative.”

“A relative or relative?” I replied.

“Both” she replied with a sly grin.

“I’ll be down in five,” I replied.

Next week, I cancel my lease and I move downstairs, permanently.