Now things were delightful when I went over to Zelma’s. She would call me up and leave a message on my voice mail that she needed to suck her lollipop and I was on my way. While things brightened up considerably for me, I found she had some rules. One was I could not hold her head at all and fuck her mouth. Evidently, some guy really abused her in the past and skull fucked her terribly and she wanted no part of that anymore. I could only touch her shoulders but NO head or hands in her lovely white hair. I could live with that as her sucking continued to send me into bucking orgasms. Another time I wanted to straddle her and cum on that sexy and wrinkled face but that also ended abruptly as she did not want cum anyplace on her skin---her pussy and her mouth were the only places and I could take it or leave it. I, of course, took it but wondered what past life experience was so traumatic that cum on the skin became nasty.
I did slip on that one time when I came over and she asked if I wanted to see a porn video. Certainly was my response so after she put the VCR tape in, she sat on the couch and I lay with my head on her lap and pulled one of those soft tits and big nipples into my mouth to nurse away as we watched. It was an old, blurry, many times copied over tape of European porn that pretty much centered around animal sex in the barnyard. Horses, dogs, ducks……it, indeed, was new to me but the Shetland ponies and naked milkmaids got to me as she was slowly stroking my dick. The sight of a horse blow job was enough to send my cum shooting skyward to land all over her hand and arm. Man, she stood up and dumped me off the couch and gave me hell about cumming on her and not in her. The video was turned off and forgotten as I calmed her down.
My usual visit consisted of the two of us retiring to the bed room and she would adjust the door with the mirror on the back such that I could get a nice side view of her wrinkled lips sliding up and down my cock in the mirror and a second view looking down at her white hair as she slowly bobbed up and down. I finally was able to hold off to enjoy things and when I was cumming she would stop all movement and seemingly relish the squirting and squirting I would do in her mouth. She was no deep throat queen and that was fine with me as her ministrations to the top end of my penis was more than enough. After spitting in a washcloth, she always sucked up the last drop and crawled up to the pillow for some relaxed conversation. I asked her to swallow once but she said no as while she did not mind the taste, the cum would upset her stomach (pain and diarrhea). As a medical person, I can believe that, as people are different.
Once, she wanted a doggy-style fuck as she had been practicing her Kegels and wanted an evaluation of her pussy muscles. As a gentleman, I certainly agreed, and using my highly calibrated sensor, I firmly grabbed the hips of that soft, beachball bottom and pushed and pulled it over my dick slowly to measure the squeeze it got. I pretty soon got carried away but I told her that the Kegels worked and she had a 25 year old pussy again. Her sucking for the second round later was almost, well, appreciative.
To give you an idea how my penis sucked all the blood from my brain when I went to see her, once after we had a particularly nice time, as she was licking the last of the cum off my softening hard on, she mentioned her girlfriend in the front room thought I was cute. I never even saw anybody when I headed for the bedroom well ahead of Zelma. I suggested that her friend join us for another round when I recovered but no dice, she would just have to wait until we were through and the two women could resume their visit. We did have a second round, though, as Zelma had the most wonderful warm hands (very pretty too) and she stroked and pulled my foreskin with magic. Those manicured fingernails scratched my balls again and again which always had an effect on me and I felt again that warm mouth and smooth gums cover me. (Another rule: no ball sucking---too much hair) After we finished, I dressed and went out into the front room and, sure enough, there was her friend, a very grandmotherly type, with a smirk on her face. I embarrassedly greeted her and apologized for practically running by her on the way to a blow job and not even saying hello. I was forgiven with another grin.
Zelma was a very social person and our after-orgasm times had some very interesting conversations. She told me of her love of little babies when she was 14 but the poverty, she lived in did not give her a dad or a mom who cared much. She was told by an older cousin that he could give her a baby and that it was a special thing he could do. It was, indeed, a special thing that he could do and fortunately she never got pregnant with him in spite of lots of drives to the countryside and back seat bingo. However, later on she did get pregnant, went through abusive men, tried to raise her kids, worked low paying jobs, failed as a hooker (her words) and had what could charitably be called a hard life. Her experiences made me feel that I had been living in box my whole life but are beyond this forum. Our playtimes were coming to an end, though.
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